“No. She’s to be in the Blue Room. I was quite explicit in my letter.”
MissWainbridge’s delicate jaw twitched. “I hate to disappoint, Aunt, but MissKline is in the Blue Room at present.”
“She must be moved, then.”
Olivia should protest—she should declare the Gold Room more than adequate. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a stir while a guest under this roof, but before she could speak, approaching footsteps, confident and full of purpose, echoed from the adjoining corridor.
She could surmise the owner of the footsteps before she even saw him.
Mr.Wainbridge.
He was uncommonly handsome, with jet-black hair and a broad smile. He shared the color of his sister’s enchanting dark eyes. His intricately tied linen cravat was brilliant against his tanned skin, and the precise cut of his pewter broadcloth tailcoat emphasized a tall, athletic figure.
“Aunt!” His rich baritone voice echoed in the cavernous space. “We’d almost given up hope of you arriving today.”
“Had I a choice?” she snipped. “The guests began arriving yesterday, did they not? You simply cannot host guests without a hostess. You’d be a laughingstock.”
Seemingly unaffected, or perhaps amused, Mr.Wainbridge grinned, reached forward in a familiar act, took the older woman’s hand in his, and pressed it to his lips. “You’re right. How good you are to save us from utter humiliation.” He lifted his gaze to Olivia. “And you must be MissBrannon.”
Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but Mrs. Milton took her arm and, by doing so, silenced her. “It is. Miss Brannon, this is my nephew, Mr. George Wainbridge. Has a dinner hour been set?”
“Y-yes,” he stammered in a shocked response. “We will dine in about an hour. But I—”
“That will not do. Instruct Mrs.Dareton to delay it by one hour.”
MissWainbridge frowned and cast a worried glance toward her brother. “But, Aunt, the guests have already begun to gather in the drawing room. Another hour would be—”
“MissBrannon and I must have time to prepare, especially now that we must wait for MissKline to vacate the Blue Room. No, no. This is the way it will be done. MissBrannon, come along.”
Olivia hesitated. She was drawn to the siblings’ warmth and friendliness, but she had to remember why she was here. She was at Cloverton Hall as a guest of Mrs.Milton for a very specific reason, not to feel welcomed or comfortable.
Olivia curtsied and turned to follow Mrs.Milton, but MissWainbridge placed a soft hand on her arm to halt her. “My brother and I are very happy to meet you, MissBrannon. I hope we can get better acquainted during your time here.”
In the wake of the kind sentiment, Olivia realized exactly how much of a physical toll the journey had taken on her. She was tired. On edge. And even homesick. But she straightened her shoulders. Every bit of discomfort would be worth it if she met the goal ahead of her. With renewed determination, Olivia smiled in response.
She fixed her gaze on the back of Mrs. Milton’s retreating form as she followed her toward the great staircase. Now was not thetime to become distracted by the numerous artifacts all around her and the voices of other guests wafting through the open doorways.
She lifted the hem of her traveling gown to ascend the great staircase when two gentlemen turned the corner at the landing above her and caught her attention. Olivia’s eyes met another’s so familiar that she nearly stopped in her tracks.
Lucas Avery.
It could be no other.
His olive-green eyes widened in recognition. His pace slowed.
Fearing he might address her, Olivia flicked her gaze forward and refused to look in his direction. From the corner of her eye, she spied him bow toward Mrs.Milton and then toward her.
Still, she did not look toward the two men. Even after she turned the corner at the landing and ascended the second flight of stairs, she declined to glance back.
In that single, unexpected moment, her optimism and eagerness fled, making her steps feel sluggish and her head abnormally light.
Mr.Averyknewher.
What was more, he could very well be here for the same reason she was. Would she be in some sort of competition with him? Or worse, would she have to work with him?
It would do no good to speculate, not until she was able to gather more information. But she knew one thing: the Averys were not to be trusted.
Chapter9
