Chapter 1
An Awkward Situation
Stepping along the dirt path,Olivia Redfield hoped she wouldn’t stumble upon any couples who’d snuck away from the ball with wicked intentions. Not that she begrudged them such pleasures, but she needed to be alone. She required utmost privacy.
This normally wasn’t an issue for her. She’d never lacked time to herself, away from the prying eyes of others; that was, until her sister’s betrothal—to a future duke, no less. Olivia exhaled loudly, wondering how far away from the ballroom she ought to go. A burst of laughter from farther along the path disturbed the quiet.
She obviously hadn’t yet traversed quite far enough.
“Oh, bother!” Hopping from one foot to the other, she glanced from side to side and then stepped off the path as her need became more urgent. Perhaps if she were to weave her way deeper into the shadows of these magnolia trees. Or behind one of the intricately manicured box hedges. Since the Great Manor of Ashton Acres sat at the highest point of the estate, she need only travel downward.
A cloud shifted to cover the moon, momentarily concealing the path.
She needed to settle on a spot quickly, having already delayed too long. Normally, she wouldn’t care if her dress caught on any of the branches, but her sister Louella had commissioned this gown specifically for the pre-wedding ball. Mindful of the delicate material, Olivia lifted her skirts and carefully maneuvered down the slope and deeper into the darkness.
Mama would kill her if she knew what she was doing, as would Louella. But—Olivia swallowed the sob that unexpectedly rose in her throat—the ladies in the retiring room had been most unkind.
Not to Olivia’s face. But they’d spoken loudly enough that she could hear their opinions easily enough even from the foyer.
“I thought they kept her hidden away because she was simple!”A matronly and cultured voice had halted Olivia before she could enter.
“But that devil eye––moving on its own like that! How terrifying and retched for the poor viscountess! Some are convinced the girl’s a witch.”
“Lucky for the family, the younger sister is so beautiful. I’m surprised they allowed the elder girl to attend.”
Olivia had begun shaking. She’d wished she was brave enough to enter the room with her chin held high. She’d wished tears hadn’t pricked at the back of her eyes.
Tears of anger more so than hurt.
If she really was a witch, she’d curse them all to Hades!
Idiots! To imagine the devil controlled her eye.
Instead of confronting the gossiping biddies, Olivia had waited around the corner of the foyer for them to empty the room.
And waited.
And waited some more. Apparently, the ladies had an abundance of topics to gossip about.
Olivia had delayed so long, in fact, that she nearly waited until it was too late, which was why she now found herself traipsing down the hill in the Duke of Crawford’s beautifully manicured gardens.
She could postpone no longer!
Stepping into one of the darker shadows, Olivia adjusted her feet, arranged her skirts so they were out of the way, and crouched carefully. Had a minute more passed, she might have embarrassed herself.
And now, balancing carefully while squatting in such an undignified position, she wondered if the women in the retiring room had had the right of it. No true lady would ever resort to relieving herself in their host’s garden, whilst a ball took place less than fifty feet away.
She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to make it all go away, if only for a moment. She would not cry. She wouldn’t allow them such a victory.
“Hello?” a male voice called out just ahead of her, intruding most troublesomely upon the solitude she required.
Throughout the evening, not a single gentleman had approached her. But, of course, one would choose to do so now.
She held her breath. Maybe he would go away if she remained silent.
A few branches snapped nearby, and some gravel came tumbling down the hill as the sound of crunching steps grew louder.
She completed what she had set out to accomplish but was afraid to move in fear the sound would draw the blighter closer. Dash it all! Her knees were already protesting and if she remained crouching much longer, she’d likely fall over backward.
