He bowed, but Mrs.Milton did not address him. Instead, she reached her hand out toward Olivia. “Come, MissBrannon. The hour has struck eleven. I’m certain the ladies are ready to retire for the evening.”
Olivia curtsied toward Mr.Avery in parting before allowing Mrs.Milton to take her arm. As they joined the group of ladies in the center of the room, Olivia observed Mr.Avery’s retreating form.
She’d done it. She’d made the request of him. Mr.Avery had not had time to respond before they were interrupted, but at least she’d made her request known. Either he’d honor it, or he would not.
It was as simple—and as complicated—as that.
Chapter14
When Olivia returned to the Blue Room, a cheery fire roared in the grate and beeswax candles in chambersticks and candelabras illuminated every corner and tabletop. The finely woven wool blankets atop her mattress tick had been turned down, the velvet curtains had been loosed from their holdings, and her nightclothes had been pressed and draped over the chaise lounge.
She dropped her shawl on the high-backed chair next to her bed and stood for a moment, allowing the silence and soothing glow of saffron light to soothe her frayed senses. Somehow she’d managed to successfully navigate her first dinner at a house party without any glaring mishaps. What was more, she’d been able to talk with Mr.Avery.
With a satisfied yawn she unclasped the Vinci necklace and held it, admiring yet again the way the fire’s light sparkled against the intricately cut angles. The more she considered her conversation with Mr. Avery, the more it was oddly gratifying that he noticed it and appreciated it in the same way she did. In fact, speaking with him was not nearly as uncomfortable as she’d anticipated. He’dbeen cordial. Personable. But wasn’t that the Averys’ gift? To make others feel comfortable and then take advantage?
Mrs.Milton interrupted her musings by appearing in the doorway to the dressing room, shattering the thought that she was finally able to be alone for the night.
Teague followed her, still fully dressed in her daytime attire.
“You were speaking quite familiarly with that young man,” Mrs.Milton proclaimed as she crossed the threshold. “Mr.Avery, was it? I wasn’t aware you’d been introduced.”
Olivia carefully chose her words. “I am acquainted with his family.”
Mrs.Milton’s wrinkly cheeks colored, and she huffed in disgust, if not anger. “How exactly are you acquainted?”
Olivia flicked her eyes toward Teague in search of some sort of assistance or explanation, but found none. “His father and my father were business associates many years ago.”
“So he knows of your expertise,” Mrs.Milton surmised sharply.
Olivia could only nod.
“Will he deduce why you’re here?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“You said a business associate,” she blurted. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Olivia selected her words with care. “Our fathers were once business partners, but they separated more than a decade ago. His father, Timothy Avery, died earlier this year, but Mr.Lucas Avery now operates Avery & Sons.”
“I knew I recognized that name!” She flung the words almost like an accusation. An enraged expression darkened her eyes, andMrs. Milton began to pace. “The insolence! I know what he’s doing.I know.”
Confused at the odd reaction, Olivia attempted to follow her meaning. “Mr.Avery?”
“No. My nephew. He clearly has invited Mr.Avery to sell my husband’s collection.”
Hoping to calm the agitated woman, Olivia lowered her voice. “It is possible that Mr.Avery is simply an acquaintance? From what I observed he seemed to be quite friendly with everyone, and I—”
“No, no,” Mrs.Milton snapped. “George sees only money, not the time, the effort that has gone into making Cloverton Hall what it now is.”
Olivia wanted to offer comfort, but what could she do? Or say?
In truth, she had no doubt that was exactly what Mr.Avery was doing. The relationship between Brannon Antiquities and Cloverton Hall died with her father, and since then every antiquities dealer had been vying for a foothold to the infamous collection. Clearly Mr.Avery was building a rapport with Mr.Wainbridge.
The older woman pointed a podgy finger in Olivia’s direction. “You must find out what he is doing here.”
“Me?” Olivia’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, I couldn’t. I’m certain he’s—”
Mrs.Milton’s aggressive visage silenced her.
