It was only natural that the young woman would assume they would be in the same social circles, given the circumstance. How would MissWainbridge react to the knowledge that Olivia had spent her summer days at her uncle’s shop and not at concerts and cotillions?
“Perhaps we have and didn’t know it. London can be so crowded.”
“True. But we are here now, and I am eager to know you better. Are you acquainted with any of the other guests in attendance?”
Olivia would not reveal she was acquainted with Lucas Avery—not until she absolutely had to. “I don’t believe so.”
“Well, I will personally see that you are introduced to each one.” The brightness MissWainbridge had displayed when first entering the chamber returned, and she squeezed Olivia’s hands in her own. “I will leave you to finish your preparations. The others have gathered in the drawing room, but I’m sure you are waiting for Aunt to come down. I must get back to them, but I shall see you soon?”
Olivia agreed, and then the young lady, in a flurry of lustrous fabric and a wafting rose scent, exited the chamber.
Once all was silent again, Olivia sighed and turned once more to assess the new version of herself that peered back at her from the mirror.
Miss Wainbridge did seem genuine, kind, affable—the sort of person whom Olivia would, under normal circumstances, warm to and count as a friend. But time had also taught her to be cautious. If all the years of working with the wealthy had taught her anything, it was that the affluent operated under a different set of rules and ethics. She’d developed a keen sense of judgment when it came to character, and she needed to rely on her experience, especially now that she was blurring the lines of what it meant to be one of them. Yet as she sat in the stillness, the heavy weight of guilt dampened her. She did not believe in telling falsehoods. She abhorred deception, and yet the path she was on dictated both.
True, she might never see these people again, and if she were to be successful in this one opportunity, she would have to take greater control of her emotions. Otherwise, this entire endeavor could prove more harmful than helpful. And that simply could not be.
Chapter10
Olivia’s father had told her the story behind the Vinci necklaces dozens of times. Andrea Vinci was one of the most sought-after jewelry makers in all of Italy at the turn of the previous century. At the height of his fame he became greedy. He employed his artistic skill and created jewelry out of glass and metal. The pieces appeared luxurious and his reputation was sterling, so no one questioned him when he sold them for the same price as his authentic pieces. His clients paid whatever price he asked because theybelievedthem to be valuable—not because they were.
She secured the Vinci necklace around her neck and pivoted. The fire’s light caught the expertly cut glass stone and refracted glimmering slivers of light against the papered wall. She smoothed her fingers across the piece and rested her fingertips on the sleek pendant.
What would her father think of this scenario?
She returned to the mirror to assess her reflection, uncomfortably aware that she was assuming a role she’d never played before. Donned in this gown she now looked the part, but would she act the part?
She straightened the necklace and patted a curl into place. She had no choice but to fight those feelings of nervousness and inadequacy as they rushed her.
Because that was all they were—feelings.
They were not a reflection of reality. She was at Cloverton Hall by invitation, after all. She possessed a unique skill—a skill she was proud of. She could not—would not—allow herself to feel any less than the other women simply because of money.
When Mrs.Milton was ready to join the others for dinner, they made their way through the long first-floor corridor, which was shadowed with the evening’s gathering darkness. Candles wavered in their sconces on the paneled walls, casting flickering amber light on every manner of painting and bauble that lined the broad walkway. As they approached the great staircase, Olivia decided to use this time to her advantage. “You mentioned you are the hostess for the gathering. Does that mean you know all the guests?”
Mrs.Milton took Olivia’s arm and leaned heavily on her for support as they descended the stairs. “I’m familiar with some of the ladies and their families, but the men are from George’s set. I’m sure these gentlemen and ladies will be agreeable, but every person is here for a purpose. Ladies seeking an advantageous match. Gentlemen on the prowl for their own self-indulgent pursuits. Consider yourself warned, my dear, not only against the men but the women as well.”
“The women?”
“They know nothing of you. Therefore, you are competition for attention from the men. Marriage, my dear. I daresay marriage is on the mind of many in attendance.”
Olivia stiffened at the suggestion. There was far too much she hoped to accomplish before she would succumb to that fate. Eager to put her client’s mind at ease, she placed her hand atop Mrs. Milton’s. “My business here at Cloverton Hall is purely professional.”
“Is it?” Mrs.Milton raised a sparse sable brow. “I’ve yet to meet a woman who’d overlook an opportunity to further her station. No doubt someone will endeavor to tempt you, but keep your business to yourself. Should anyone inquire as to the nature of our relationship, all you need tell them is that you are a friend. Reveal nothing of significance of yourself, not only for the sake of our little project but for yourself. No one is ever as they seem.”
Mrs.Milton fell silent, and with each step down the great staircase, the volume of the voices emanating from the drawing room increased. At the stair’s foot they turned into the drawing room, and the magnificence that met Olivia stole her very breath.
Thick painted oak panels covering the tall walls were broken by four separate windows and two veranda doors on the chamber’s far side, all of which were open to allow the breeze in from the south garden. Small clusters of chairs and sofas were spread throughout the space. Portraits in heavily gilded frames depicting various generations of Milton family members adorned nearly every spare bit of wall, and heavy wine-hued tapestry curtains hung from the ceiling to the floor.
No fire lit the broad marble grate, but dozens of beeswax candles flickered around the room, adding a warmth and glow that infused magic into every detail. Happy chatter and spiritedlaughter from genteel women in smart gowns and from sporting men in high-collared wool tailcoats echoed from every surface.
Olivia did not have time to consider where she would stand or whom she would speak with, for MissWainbridge was at her side.
“Aunt! MissBrannon. You’ve joined us at last.”
“Isabella.” Mrs.Milton sniffed her greeting. “It is a wonder we made it at all, being in such a rush.”
“Well, you’re here now, the both of you, and I’m glad for it. It would have been such a shame for you to miss the first gathering.”
