“Is she? You are a mystery, my dear. To everyone here. Do not underestimate the allure in that.”
The conversation fell silent for a moment, but then Isabella spoke again. “I do wonder, dear, if it would not make things easier if you were to share a little more about yourself. Perhaps by doing so, you might alleviate some of the questions around you.”
Isabella’s suggestion held merit, but how could she explain her situation in a way that both protected her truthandsatisfied the questions?
“It does seem odd that we know so little of you,” continued Isabella, almost with trepidation.
Guilt engulfed her.
This was her own fault. All of it. By attempting to fade into the background and be nonexistent, she was actually drawing attention to herself. If she shared the truth, she’d be shunned immediately. She thought she’d be unaffected by such a situation, but she’d underestimated how much time the guests spent with one another.
Isabella sighed. “Every person has the right to privacy, and I suppose we all have reasons for discretion.”
Her hostess’s kind patience made Olivia feel worse.
The rest of the evening felt contrived. And it made her miserable.
She laughed at Mr.Fielding’s jokes at dinner. She hung on to Mr.Romano’s stories of his childhood in Italy. She added her voice to the others and pleaded with MissHaven to regale them with another musical performance after dinner.
All the while she was distracted.
Mr.Avery was seated far away from her next to MissStanley, and judging by their laughter and smiles, he seemed quite content with his dinner companion.
When the ladies withdrew to the drawing room and left the men to their port, Mr.Romano joined them, and it was MissStanley’s turn to sit for a portrait. Olivia watched as the artist used his paints to re-create MissStanley’s likeness, but the longer she was in the room, listening to the other ladies, the more her neck muscles ached and her head began to throb.
The burning candles added a dense heat to the room. The air felt too thick. Floral perfumes, heavy musks, and the scent of too many bodies in one small space hovered over them all. By the time the gentlemen joined them, the wine had been flowing freely, as was evident in the men’s behavior.
Olivia was out of her realm... and she knew it.
And what was worse, she felt completely alone. She was no stranger to solitude, but here she lacked the confidence afforded by her usual environment. Everyone else seemed content, if not thrilled, with the tight quarters and intimate conversation. Even Mrs.Milton was speaking with two of the chaperones.
She glanced quickly in Mr. Avery’s direction, just as she had several times since the men joined them. He was speaking in the corner with Miss Kline and Mr. Tate. The sight of him incited an unsettling sense of disquiet in her. In the span of two days, she’d gone from considering Mr. Avery the enemy to viewing him as one of the only safe people present. She found herself drawn to the warmth in his expression, the dry humor of his personality, and the sense that they shared a secret—an understanding—that only a mutual background could afford.
She hoped he would look her way, or that he would seek her out for conversation. How had everything she thought she knew about herself and her beliefs shifted so radically?
She caught a glimpse of MissStanley, who was speaking intently with MissHaven. The elegant ladies cast glances toward her and resumed whispering. A pang of homesickness clapped hard in her heart, and she longed for the peace of her home and the companionship of her sister.
Fearing she might cry out of sheer frustration, she inhaled a deep, shuddery breath. This was not an idyllic visit to the countryside as she had envisioned in her naive daydreams. It was a place where bargains were struck and deals were made. The sights around her, the opulence, made her feel sick, and the heavy dinner felt unsettled in her stomach.
She spied Mr. Fielding walking toward her from the corner of her eye. The thought of speaking with him now seemed more than she could bear. Suddenly, it felt as if the air had thickened and there wasn’t enough to breathe. She gasped for air once. Andthen twice. She had to get away from here—somewhere the air was fresh and silent.
The other guests were blocking the path to the corridor, so she pivoted and darted through the open doors to the veranda. Outside, torches illuminated the garden and the intricate paths. Voices and laughter wafted on the night breeze. But for the moment, the veranda was empty, and at the far side of it, she leaned against the cool limestone railing and let the breeze rushing around the corner calm her frayed nerves and soothe the hot tears welling in her eyes.
She wanted to go home. She wanted her sister. Her small bed. Even Russell’s company seemed preferable to what she was experiencing here.
Chapter26
It was becoming... uncomfortable. And Lucas was not the only one to notice.
Tate joined him on a sofa in the far corner of the drawing room. The men had reunited with the ladies after dinner not fifteen minutes prior, and already he was out of sorts.
“You know I enjoy a good bit of entertainment, but this is disturbing even for me.” Tate dropped to the chair next to Lucas. “Your charm must be irresistible. MissStanley cannot resist it.”
Lucas scoffed and raked his fingers through his hair. His blood still rushed through his veins—a result of the possessive manner in which MissStanley had just clung to his arm. He all but had to force her to loosen her grip. “Is it that obvious?”
“Don’t look so sour, Avery. After all, congratulations are in order,” ribbed Tate. “There can be no doubt you’re the man she’s set her eyes on. And to think you said you weren’t interested in matrimony.”
“And I’m still not,” Lucas hastened to add.
