Olivia nodded, knowing that any insistence that she return to Bloomsbury now was futile. She could see that it still snowed outdoors—and she knew Augustus would not hear of it even if the weather had improved.
Willa smiled at her response. “Well, then, I know why my brother all of a sudden is paying such close attention to the supper menus.”
Olivia smiled but was unsure of what to say. She supposed that Augustus had told his family about his proposal, but she couldn’t be sure.
As if her reading her mind, Willa said, “He has told us, Miss Watson, that he has asked you to marry him.”
“He has,” Olivia said, surprised that she only stammered a little. “But I am not sure it is a good idea.”
“And why is that? I will admit that I do not know you well, Miss Watson, but I have to say, thus far, I approve of my brother’s choice in every way.”
“You are very kind, Lady Willa. But you must understand the source of my hesitation. I used to work as a maid in this house. Your brother has been born to every privilege. Our marriage would sink him in the eyes of many.”
“I do not think Augustus cares about that. But I can understand how it would be uncomfortable for you. It is not always easy—well, the feeling of love can be simple, but the reality much harder.”
“You speak as if you know something about it, Lady Willa,” Olivia said, softly, meeting her blue eyes, darker and more earthly than Augustus’s, but still beautiful.
The young woman blushed deeply. “No, I do not.”
“Are you sure?”
They held each other’s gazes for a long moment. Olivia did not want to push if Willa was not inclined to share.
“Perhaps,” Willa finally said, looking down into her cup. “At least, in my case, I know that myfeelingsare easy enough to understand. But that does not mean there aren’t barriers on all sides to expressing those feelings. Even if the feeling was shared… I can understand what you mean about—well, practicalities.”
“I feel just the same,” Olivia said, softly. “My feelings for your brother are simple. It is how the world will receive us that gives me pause.”
Willa raised her eyes.
“I haven’t said anything, in my case, to the—person, in question. Or my family.”
“I understand. But you might confide in your brother. He sees more than you think.”
Willa blushed even deeper but nodded.
“Are you two speaking of me?”
Augustus strode into the room, closely followed by the Dowager Countess.
“Yes,” Olivia retorted, suspecting that Willa was tongue-tied. “I was wondering if you always see so closely to your supper menus.”
The rest of the hours before supper passed in amiable chat between the Dowager Countess, Willa, Augustus, and herself. Right before dinner, Elizabeth and Petunia appeared once more and joined in the light mood of the evening, which had gained a cozy quality from the haze of falling snow.
Olivia had to admire Augustus’s manner with his mother and sisters. It was hard to imagine that she had thought him so recently to be a degenerate and scoundrel. His tenderness with these women made such a thing appear absurd. She knew men were capable of great hypocrisy in such matters and yet his softness with them, his easy comfort, confirmed her belief that she had completely mistaken him upon her return from England.
When they went into dinner, Augustus escorted her. When he led her to her seat at the table, he pressed his hand, briefly, to her lower back, and she tried not to swoon. It made something wild and hapless beat inside of her. She was ashamed to say that, despite their wholesome company, it made her want to find a small, dark space in which to press against him. She wanted him, once more, completely at her mercy.
The meal was delicious. The food at Carrington Place had always been so—Mrs. Phelps and the Dowager Countess insisted on it. Even the food that Olivia had eaten as a servant here had been unusually good, she remembered. It was one of the things that made working at Carrington Place an enviable position.
Once they had finished the soup course, the Dowager Countess sighed. “I suppose it is hopeless to expect a letter from your brother. Percy would not be so cruel as to send anyone out in this weather—especially now.”
“I am sure he is staying at the Mappertons, mother,” Elizabeth said, “Or has stopped in with one of his many friends over on that side of town.”
“Elizabeth is right, mother,” Augustus said, “He is soon to be a married man with a wife of his own. We cannot worry about him as we are used to doing.”
“I know you are right,” the dowager said, biting her lip. “But I still don’t like the idea of him out in this cold.”
“I am sure that he is not,” Olivia said, “Mrs. Mapperton would have never let him leave the house under such circumstances. She would never accept it.”
