Mrs.Milton’s imperious expression remained stoic. “I must speak with Mrs.Dareton on the seating arrangements. I trust I can rely on you with the task of introducing MissBrannon to your guests?”
Without waiting for the young woman’s response, Mrs.Milton disappeared.
MissWainbridge’s eyes narrowed as she watched her aunt’s retreating form. “She’s been here just above an hour and already she is displeased.”
Olivia tried to read the meaning behind the words. Was it judgment? Annoyance? Insecurity? “Who is Mrs.Dareton?”
MissWainbridge refocused her attention on Olivia. “Mrs.Dareton is the housekeeper. I can only imagine what tasks she is going to send that poor woman on.” MissWainbridge looped her arm through Olivia’s as familiarly as sisters. “But on a more pleasant note, I’m quite elated to be the one who gets to introduce the newcomer to the guests. Everyone is curious to learn the identity of Mrs.Milton’s mystery guest.”
Olivia tensed at the thought of being the topic of conversation. “There’s no mystery, I assure you.”
“Do not underestimate the intrigue you bring to our little party!” MissWainbridge cast a coy glance at two of the men in the far corner, one of whom wore a crimson soldier’s coat and was staring in their direction. “The men are already taking notice. Who could blame them? You’ve captured their fancy.”
“I think that assessment may be a bit excessive.”
MissWainbridge tittered charmingly. “Are you really as modest as you seem? My uncle might be dead, and the fortune might have passed to my brother, but Agnes Milton is still as influential as ever. Her tastes and opinions once set the tone for the entire ton, and such esteem does not vanish overnight.”
The paradox was too unbelievable. Just last week Olivia was wearing an apron, covered in the dirt of decades-old, discarded items. But she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin to look out over the guests again. Tonight, however, she was amystery.
“Oh look, there’s George at last!” MissWainbridge exclaimed, and Olivia turned to see the gentleman entering from a door on the far wall.
MissWainbridge motioned to her brother, and he lifted his head in response.
Olivia had noticed that Mr. Wainbridge was a striking man upon first arrival, but now that she was calmer and rested, she took fresh notice of his appearance. His uncommonly dark eyes were wide and alert, framed by strong brows, dark lashes, and high cheekbones, and his height commanded attention. His cleft chin, while far more pronounced than his sister’s, left no questionthat these two were related. His manner was so easy, his smile so effortless, that it was impossible not to feel at ease, not to mention welcomed, in his presence.
He wove his way through the guests until he was within speaking distance.
“George, see who has managed to join us.” MissWainbridge angled her body to include Olivia in the conversation.
His white smile flashed and he bowed. “MissBrannon! I’m glad to speak with you again, for I was uncomfortable with our earlier greeting. I do hope you were not made uneasy by it.”
“Not at all. And I must thank you for your hospitality, Mr.Wainbridge. I know I was not on your original list of invites. It must have been quite inconvenient to have a last-minute addition.”
“Quite the contrary. My aunt and I do not see eye to eye on many things, but I think we both agree that you are a pleasant addition. But I fear I’m at a disadvantage.”
Mr.Wainbridge inclined his head toward Olivia and lowered his voice. “You see, you know more about me than I know about you. My aunt does not care for me. It’s not much of a secret, yet I fear it is necessary for me to plead my case to you. She does not know me or Isabella, not really. I can only hope her predisposition does not cast a shadow on your impression of us.”
Olivia noted his hopeful expression. His ingenuous eyes. He looked at her in a way that made her feel like he really saw her—in a way most people did not. It was... nice.
Mrs.Milton’s warning of not revealing too much flared, yet Olivia was still mistress of her own mind and actions. “I may be your aunt’s guest, Mr.Wainbridge, but I possess my own opinions.”
“Well then, such a relationship speaks to your credit. My aunt finds fault with most people. The fact that she found such goodness in you is quite a feat.”
How simple it would be to warm to the siblings and their inviting temperaments and to immediately count them as friends. Their cordial welcome had certainly stood in stark contrast to Mrs.Milton’s cooler, more distanced treatment, but ultimately Olivia had to rememberwhyshe was here. Her top priority, above all else, was to assess a collection she had yet to see.
Chapter11
What on earth was Olivia Brannon doing at Cloverton Hall?
The question vexed Lucas as he settled himself in the formal dining room. All around him polite chatter and reserved laughter echoed from the nearly twenty participants seated at the long table. Each person employed their finest manners and best behavior for the opening dinner. Glass and porcelain clinked. Silver sparkled, and an aura of expectant anticipation hovered over all. Lucas knew most of the guests. Many were friends of Tate and often present at his social gatherings. But never had he seen MissBrannon among them.
Lucas took a sip of his wine and cast another glance in the young woman’s direction. At one time he considered Olivia Brannon a friend, but after their fathers dissolved their business partnership, that friendship faded rapidly. When Mr.Brannon was still alive, Lucas would often encounter Olivia at auctions and the sort, but since his death, Lucas had seen less and less of her.
It was no secret that Brannon had taught his eldest daughter everything he knew, and every agent and purveyor in theantiquities business knew who she was. Even now that Thomas Brannon was at the helm of Brannon Antiquities, it was generally understood that she was the driving force behind most of their transactions.
By all accounts she was intelligent. Astute. And doggedly determined.
“I am growing concerned.”
