Very little caught Lucas off guard. He’d witnessed enough transactions, traveled in enough unfamiliar cities, and attended far too many society events to be truly dumbfounded by much.
The presence of none other than the incomparable MissOlivia Brannon, however, stunned him so much that he’d had to look her direction twice as he turned on the landing—once to identify her and again to confirm it.
There was no denying who she was, but why she was here remained to be seen.
She had to have recognized him. But she said nothing.
Tate took notice of her as well, and once they reached the ground floor and she was out of earshot, he whistled low. “Wainbridge is certainly delivering on his promise to host as many beautiful young ladies as he could invite. Lovely. Just lovely. If she is the sort we are to spend the next week and a half with, we are fortunate men indeed, Avery.”
Lucas smoothed his hair back from his forehead. If Tate knew the truth about Olivia’s fiery and determined personality, he’dprobably think twice about such a statement. But Lucas would say nothing about her—not until he’d had the chance to speak with her. “Calm yourself. That’s but the first young woman to cross our path besides Miss Wainbridge, and already you’re making assumptions.”
“Assumptions?”
“Yes,assumptions. Assumptions that the woman on the stairs would find you the least bit attractive. Besides, I thought your sights were set firmly on MissHaven.”
“That is true, but ’twould hardly be fair, or even sporting, to completely disqualify the lady before we even know her name. Am I not, after all, in my heart of hearts a true romantic? One never knows what unspoken charm will draw one soul to another.”
Lucas huffed at the ridiculous—yet characteristic—arrogance of the statement. What must it be like to have such a simplistic, singular outlook on life? “Come, Romeo. If you’re determined that all the ladies present should fall for your charms, you’d best be about it. After all, you’ve less than a fortnight.”
Tate playfully slapped the back of his hand against Lucas’s shoulder. “More than enough time.”
They arrived in the drawing room, and the opulent chamber scintillated with promise. Well-dressed gentlemen in starched cravats and tailored coats and women in shimmery fabrics and dripping in jewels were gathered—laughing, talking. A voltaic spark of energy surged in Lucas’s chest.
He was more than capable of handling George Wainbridge, the Cloverton collection, and any other undertaking that might cross his path. Miss Brannon was a surprise, yes, but it was justthat—a fleeting surprise. It didn’t matter why she was here; it would not affect him. Not for a single moment. For now he had to put the odd encounter behind him, for he could not forget his purpose.
***
Olivia waited for the chamber’s heavy paneled oak door to latch closed behind her before she released a long, steady breath.
Finally, alone.
The silence and solitude that the Blue Room afforded showered down on her—a welcome balm to her harried nerves. Her mind raced with all she’d just learned about the Miltons and the Wainbridges... and with the man she’d just seen.
She groaned at the recollection. Lucas Avery’s eyes had widened. He’d looked her way twice. He’d recognized her. She hadn’t expected to be acquainted with anyone at Cloverton Hall, and yet Lucas Avery, more than almost anyone, had the capacity to completely ruin her entire plan.
She loosened the front buttons of her rumpled traveling pelisse and shrugged it from her shoulders. She’d simply have to speak with him frankly, professional to professional, and ask for his discretion. The idea of asking Lucas Avery for a favor, be it great or small, aggrieved her, but what could be done?
With a cleansing sigh she propped her hands on her hips and turned her attention to the chamber that would belong to her for roughly the next week and a half. She did not fully understand why Mrs. Milton had been so insistent that she stay in this particularroom, but its sheer grandeur squelched the nagging thoughts of Mr. Avery. Two large mullioned windows overlooked Cloverton Hall’s main drive, and the afternoon light sliding through the paned glass highlighted Saxon-blue Chinese wallpaper that boasted birds and flowers, leaves and rivers. A giant carved mahogany canopied bed with indigo damask curtains stood perpendicular to the windows, and the wall opposite it boasted a grand chimneypiece with a ceramic sculpture of two dogs atop it.
Every tabletop and every bit of wall space of the chamber was adorned with artifacts begging for further study, but it was the windows and the landscape they framed that lured her.
She moved to stand before a window and traced her finger along the azure brocade curtain’s golden fringe, soaking in the sight of the lush grounds in colors of jade, sage, and chartreuse, stretching as far as she could see. The leaves of ancient elm trees danced and swayed in the early September breeze, projecting lacy patterns onto the manicured lawn beneath. How elegant it all was—how gorgeous and deliberate. Not a leaf or twig was out of place. Fluffy clouds hung over the distant woods, almost painfully bright in their wispy pureness.
Such a stark contrast from London, where even on days when the sky was blue, the ever-present film of soot and smoke dimmed its vibrancy. What would it be like to live such a life surrounded by this sheer beauty?
A distant soft knock sounded, and Olivia whirled.
But no one was there.
The knock sounded again, coming from behind the paneled wall. Then the entire panel of the wall swung open.
Olivia jumped.
A young servant woman with coppery curls poking from beneath a white mobcap leaned her head through the unexpected doorway. “I don’t mean to interrupt. MissTeague is helping Mrs.Milton prepare for dinner, so she asked me to assist you.”
Olivia gave a little laugh to mask her shock. “I had no idea there was a door there.”
“There’s doors like this all over Cloverton, but most don’t know of ’em.” The maid pushed the door open wider and entered the chamber with a large bucket in her arms.
