She would not appear a victim. Nor would she beg, grovel, or explain. She straightened her posture and returned her arm around Mrs.Milton’s seemingly delicate shoulders. “Come, Mrs.Milton. Come away.”
After that, no one spoke. For what could be said?
Once Mrs.Milton stood in the threshold to her room, Olivia turned to the Blue Room. Tears blinding her vision, she entered the chamber, but not before she heard the voices from the other end of the corridor explode in harsh whispers. But she heard none of what was said. For she knew the truth—she had gambled that this opportunity would pan out and blossom into an even bigger opportunity. But she had been wrong. And now it was over, and it was time for her to return home.
Chapter33
Rain misted down, saturating Lucas’s formal tailcoat and dripping from the brim of his beaver hat, as if Cloverton Hall itself were commiserating with him regarding the frustration brewing within the walls.
He’d not slept since he returned to Cloverton Hall from Whitmore House. He doubted anyone really had, for shouts, confusion, and angry outbursts had left everyone ill at ease. Even now, he paced the stable courtyard, waiting—determined to speak with Olivia before she departed for London.
Stable hands bustled about him, preparing Cloverton’s carriages for the unanticipated departure. Horses stomped and whinnied as if protesting the unexpected morning activity.
Lucas ran his hand down his face to wipe away the moisture. All the options went through his mind, but try as he might, he was unable to make sense of them. No one could have anticipated what happened to the Cavesee Vase, and until there were answers regardinghowit happened and who was responsible, no one would experience peace.
At length the door from the back conservatory opened. Two footmen exited first, carrying a trunk between them. Mrs. Milton’s lady’s maid, another servant, Miss Brannon, and Mrs. Milton followed.
He jogged toward her through the rain, mindless of how the mud splashed on his boots. “MissBrannon, a moment. Please.”
She looked surprised, if not startled, to see him. Her eyes, which had been so vivid and bright mere hours ago, had dimmed. Her complexion was cool and pale. She said something to the servant next to her, handed her a small valise, and turned back toward him.
He took her arm and guided her to a sheltered spot just outside the stable to guard against the weather. Sensing he didn’t have much time, he forged ahead. “Are you all right?”
Her face was barely visible from beneath her bonnet’s broad brim. “I am.”
“I’d like to offer my services as an escort, should you feel more comfortable traveling with one.” He held his breath, determined that their time together would not end like this. Surely the connection he’d felt the previous few days had meant as much to her as it had to him.
Her distant tone was a knife to his chest. “That is kind but not necessary. The driver will make certain we arrive safely.”
He shifted. Why would she refuse? He spied the footman securing her trunk—they hadn’t much time. “I can’t help but think somehow I could have prevented this.”
“How could you possibly have prevented it?”
“Wainbridge saw your father’s name on the Cavesee Vase’s bill of sale and asked if you were related.”
“And I hope you told him I was.” She lifted her chin and finally met his gaze.
The fire in her statement encouraged him. “I did.”
“Good.”
An odd moment of panic seized him. Surely he was overlooking a way to fix the misunderstandings. He had to prevent her from leaving. “What can I do?”
She swallowed hard. “I told you that I came here hoping to prove something, remember? Maybe that was just not meant to be.”
Behind him, the carriage was ready. Lucas’s time was running low.
“I have to go.” She looked over at the carriage, then turned back toward him and offered a hint of a smile. “But how nice it is to know that the Averys are not the monsters I believed them to be.”
He would lose this battle—he could not prevent her from going—but he at least had to secure hope that this dreadful morning would not be their final interaction. “Perhaps when I return to London, I could call on you. Would that be permissible?”
She nodded. “Goodbye, Mr.Avery.”
As Lucas watched Olivia bid a tepid farewell to Mrs.Milton, doubts stabbed his optimism. Like it or not, he was a different man now. She alone had opened his eyes to what an authentic, pure connection could be, and it was intoxicating—far more intoxicating than any other vice.
He determined in that moment that this would not be the end. This glimpse into what the future could be was realigning everything he thought he wanted out of life. He would pursue Olivia Brannon, for she was taking with her a piece of him that he could not live without—his heart.
***
