“I recognize many of you.” An entrancing Italian accent colored Mr.Romano’s deep voice, and he bowed, dramatic and low. “A pleasure to see you again, ladies.”
Miss Wainbridge continued, “You shall all have the opportunity to sit for him during the coming week, and he’ll be offering instruction for those ladies who would like it.”
As quickly as the man arrived, he excused himself, citing the need to get settled before dinner.
When all was quiet once again, MissKline clasped her hands before her. “What a thrill!”
MissHaven fixed a pointed, uncomfortable stare on Olivia. “Surely you know of Mr.Romano, MissBrannon. Even if you’ve not been in society much this Season, you’ve certainly seen his work.”
Olivia recognized the veiled insinuation in MissHaven’s tone, and she hesitated to reveal yet another deficiency in her knowledge of social protocols. “I’m not familiar with Mr.Romano, no.”
“How is it he has escaped your attention!” Shock creased MissStanley’s smooth brow. “He is the most celebrated miniature artist, and he’s been all the rage the past two Seasons.”
Without giving Olivia the opportunity to respond, MissKline hurried ahead. “You do surprise me, MissBrannon. Not musical, not familiar with Mr.Romano. You’re a rare specimen indeed. But never you mind that now. You’re in for quite a treat, I assure you. And to think my mother nearly forbade me from attending this party! Nothing against Mr.Wainbridge, of course, but he is still establishing his place in society. I shall write to my mother and inform her that Mr.Romano has joined us. It will ease her mind immeasurably.”
Conversations raced on. Miss Kline turned to speak with her chaperone, and Miss Haven whispered with Miss Stanley. Theywere all aflutter with news of Mr. Romano’s arrival and with plans for the concert tonight. Olivia participated in the conversation as much as she could, but the longer she was in the company of these ladies, the wider the gap in their refinement grew.
Perhaps there had been more truth to what her uncle and Russell had said than she’d given them credit for—she was nothing like these women, and she feared the differences were really about to make themselves known.
Chapter18
Never had a conversation exhausted Olivia so.
As she and Mrs.Milton left the other ladies in the drawing room, her ears rang with the hidden questions and subtle slights that had been lobbed her way.
They’d intended to identify her social flaws. And they’d succeeded—to a point. Olivia felt judged. A little tricked. But if anything, the treatment made her more determined than ever to make this entire event a success.
Olivia turned to ascend the great staircase, but she was stopped by Mrs.Milton. “I’ve recently been informed that Mr.Avery did not attend the hunt today with the other men. He is up to something deceptive, I’m convinced.”
Olivia frowned, concerned at Mrs.Milton’s sudden change in demeanor. “I’m sure it was nothing. Perhaps after dinner we could—”
“No, no. I intend to deal with this once and for all. And you will accompany me.”
Unsure of what awaited her, Olivia quickened her pace to keep up with Mrs. Milton as they trod along the broad corridor,past the great hall, past the dining room, and to Cloverton Hall’s far end—a part of the house that Olivia had not yet seen. Mrs. Milton suddenly stopped in front of a paneled door, pivoted, and knocked.
“Enter.”
The muffled response had barely been spoken before Mrs.Milton wrenched the door handle and thrust the door open. She stomped in, her arm still looped through Olivia’s, leaving her no choice but to awkwardly follow into what could only be Mr.Wainbridge’s study. Its state struck Olivia: It was chaotic and messy. Crates were piled up against the wall. Uneaten food sat atop the table.
Mr.Wainbridge jumped to his feet from behind a desk and reached for his discarded coat. “Aunt. MissBrannon.”
“I will not be put off, nor will I be deceived, George,” Mrs.Milton blurted before releasing Olivia’s arm and pushing her way farther into the chamber. “I know who Mr.Avery is, and about Avery & Sons. I demand to know why Mr.Avery is here.”
Mr.Wainbridge only blinked in response. He looked from his aunt toward Olivia, as if she somehow held the explanation, and then back to his aunt. “Mr.Avery is a friend.”
“Is he now?” Mrs.Milton drew closer, bold and brazen. “How dare you attempt to profit from my husband’s death by selling off his antiquities collection. It’s deplorable.”
Mr.Wainbridge’s expression twisted at the allegation. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re accusing me of, but whatever your issue is, perhaps we should discuss it in private. MissBrannon certainly does not want to be party to our conversation.”
“No, no. Miss Brannon will stay.” Mrs. Milton returned to Olivia’s side. “I insist he leave immediately. Not a single item that belonged to my husband will be sold. Am I quite clear?”
Mr.Wainbridge donned his coat and stepped around the desk. “You’ve misread the situation. It’s not my intention to dismantle what my uncle built. It is my intention, however, to see that the estate is productive and cared for. I’m doing what is necessary to secure a strong future.”
“And you think throwing expensive parties and engaging extravagant entertainment helps matters?”
“I can only assume you are referring to this house party. And my answer is yes.”
Mr.Wainbridge’s amiable manner dissolved before her, and his dark brows lowered. He leaned forward and swept his arm out. “This entire event is a calculated investment, which you’d know if you’d but asked me about it. Cloverton’s finances are in such a state that if I do not secure other forms of income, then the entire estate faces ruin. Not only that, but Isabella will require a dowry, and I’ve none for her. I fear for her future! Instead of offering condemnation, I would think that you of all people would understand the importance of prudence. I don’t know how well you were acquainted with Cloverton’s finances, but—”
