Never had she expected such complicated emotions and odd encounters, but she would not compromise herself. She owed Mrs. Milton no loyalty other than to give an honest assessment of her collection. Other than that, Olivia was still mistress of her own thoughts and actions, her reservations and instincts.
And she suspected they were all about to be tested.
***
Olivia, now alone, paced the Blue Room. She’d be expected in the drawing room to mingle before dinner, but she had to gain control of her emotions.
The day—and all of its events—had confused her, infuriated her, frustrated her. And now she was about to be seated next to Mr.Avery for the duration of an entire dinner—the very man whose family had caused her own pain. And then, following dinner, she’d be the only lady without a musical piece to add to the concert.
Olivia stopped pacing, drew a deep breath, and glanced to her left at her reflection in a large cheval mirror in the corner.
Every so often, if she looked hard enough, she could see glimpses of her mother in her likeness. She saw it in her petite frame and her dimpled cheek, but the similarities went beyond the physical. Olivia’s memory of her mother was always bittersweet. She could vividly recall her adoration for her mother and the way she made Olivia feel deeply cherished. She’d always encouraged Olivia to follow her interests, even though they might not match society’s expectations.
Her mother would be proud of her, she knew—proud of her for persisting and remaining steadfast in her pursuits.
Olivia lifted her chin. She was proud of who she was and how hard she had worked to develop her talents too. There was absolutely no reason for her to feel shy or nervous about whatever she would face this evening.
A knock interrupted her thoughts, and the door opened. MissWainbridge entered, as lovely as ever in a gown of Pomona green luster with a gauzy overlay of white netting. Her shiny tresses were piled high atop her head, and incandescent jewels glittered on her neck and ears. But her face grew somber, and she reached out her hands toward Olivia.
“Oh, my dear, George told me what happened.” MissWainbridge’s eyes narrowed. “How Mrs.Milton argued with him in your presence. The idea!”
It was a wonder that she already knew of the incident. “It’s all right.”
“No, it is not. It’s intolerable! How difficult it must have been for you.” MissWainbridge lowered her voice. “He also shared that you might be privy to some personal facts about him and the nature of the estate.”
Olivia lowered her eyes. It was true. She was now aware of far more details about the Wainbridges’ situation than she wanted to know.
MissWainbridge’s words rushed out. “Such news could be devastating to my brother’s goals. You’re a good and kind person, I know. But if the others were to become aware of his situation, I fear—”
“I will put your mind at ease, Miss Wainbridge.” Olivia softened her expression and patted Miss Wainbridge’s hand. “I’ve no intention of sharing anything I’ve heard. ’Tis not why I’m here.”
Olivia snapped her mouth shut when she realized what she’d said.
Confusion flashed on MissWainbridge’s features. “What do you mean, it’s not why you’re here?”
Olivia faltered, chiding herself for not being more careful with her words. “I’m here as a guest, as a companion, to Mrs.Milton. Nothing more.”
MissWainbridge tilted her head to the side. “Oftentimes people attend these gatherings intent upon finding a match. I can’t help but wonder, has my aunt invited you here to further your prospects? Please do not be offended. That is the reason most of the women are here, me included. I am not a romantic, MissBrannon. I cannot afford to be. My brother will provide for me the best he can, but you’re aware of his finances. No, I must secure myself a husband with the means to support me. That is why my brother is hosting this party. For me, and for him.”
MissWainbridge’s words were clever—bringing her in, including her, stating her thoughts in such a way that left little room to refute them.
If Olivia was prudent, she’d do as MissWainbridge suggested and latch on to a wealthy young man. But that was not her goal. “I am not in search of a husband.”
“You jest.” Interest flashed in Miss Wainbridge’s eyes. “Do you already have an understanding with someone?”
“No, nothing like that. But as with you, my situation is complicated.”
“Well, I hope soon you’ll feel comfortable to share your story with me, for I should very much like for us to be friends.”
In that moment Olivia longed for just that—a companion, someone like her sister, to confide in.
Surely no harm would come from establishing a friendship with MissWainbridge. She truly did enjoy MissWainbridge’s company. But then again, Olivia was not naive. Was MissWainbridge genuine, as she appeared, or was she attempting to secure Olivia’s discretion? It was all disconcerting, and at the moment, she was tired. Worn. And she needed a gracious companion if for no other reason than to have someone to speak with when the evening’s events became overwhelming. “I should like that too.”
A smile brightened MissWainbridge’s face. “Good! Then you must start by calling me Isabella. And with your permission, I shall call you Olivia.”
They exited her chamber together, arms linked, and descended the great staircase to the drawing room, where the guests would gather before dinner. Already, voices and laughter echoed from the space, and despite the frustrations from earlier today and the obstacles before her, Olivia could not keep the anticipation from building.
In an attempt to strengthen their emerging amity, Olivia leaned toward Isabella. “You mentioned you were in search of a husband. Has anyone in particular struck your fancy?”
