“I didn’t see her at all after you left. She’d confined herself to her chambers and refused to speak with anyone.”
Their conversation slowed. How handsome Lucas looked in his crisp midnight-blue tailcoat and maroon waistcoat. She noticed the careless manner in which his sable hair fell over his forehead, and the bright light filtering through the front windows emphasized the mesmerizing hue of his eyes. She felt like a schoolgirl, enchanted and hopeful, and it was an intoxicating, liberating sensation.
Lucas glanced toward the door before leaning a bit closer toward her and lowering his voice. “I understand that Wainbridge treated you horribly the night the Cavesee Vase was discovered, and it was shameful. You deserved none of it.”
Olivia rubbed her hand over her arm. “Mr.Wainbridge was shocked and upset. I understood his frustration—really, I did. I assure you, no harm has been done.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you that you left behind at Cloverton.” He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and then extended a folded handkerchief toward her.
Curious, she accepted it and unfolded the cambric kerchief to reveal the painted miniature of her likeness. A giddy laugh bubbled from her. “Why, this is amazing! What a talent Mr. Romano has. It is like looking in a small mirror.”
He leaned his head closer to her and looked at the painting. “It’s very beautiful, but I daresay it is because of the subject matter, not the painter.”
Heat rushed her cheeks at the compliment. How easy it would be to fall back to that place of infatuation with him—that feeling of elation at just being in his presence. But she had to be realistic. She now knew he called on her for a specific reason—to give her the painting. It would serve no purpose to jump to conclusions. She would not let her heart build up something that might or might not exist between them.
She sobered, recalling her discovery earlier that morning. “I want to show you something. Wait here.” Olivia tucked the miniature portrait in her apron pocket, hurried back to the storeroom, retrieved the chinoiserie piece she had discovered earlier that morning, and brought it out to him. “I came across this in our inventory earlier today.”
He took it from her, frowned, and assessed it for several moments. “This is a match of one of the replicas at Cloverton. Isn’t it?”
“Exactly what I thought.” She nodded, eager to discuss it further. “And it’s authentic. According to our records it was purchased three years ago, but the only documentation I could find was a bill of sale from a seller named J. Wakes.”
“I’ve not heard of him.”
“Neither have I. But my uncle has taken to attending the auctions for the unclaimed items at the docks. I can’t figure out how this would have gotten there. Surely it’s connected. Don’t you think?”
He returned the moon flask vase to her. “I’ll talk to my agents. They are more familiar with those auctions than I am, and they might be familiar with this Wakes fellow.”
Thumping sounds and a crash emanated from the storeroom, and they both turned to look that direction.
Lucas chuckled a bit and adjusted his hat beneath his arm. “I don’t think your uncle and Crane are too pleased with my presence here. And I can tell you are busy, so I won’t keep you.”
Olivia’s heart dropped. She didn’t want him to leave. In fact, this visit had given her the first real sense of happiness since she returned.
“But before I leave,” he said, “I was hoping I could beg a favor. A personal one.”
She raised her brow. “Oh?”
“My mother and your mother were friends.”
“The very best of friends, so I’ve been told,” she added.
“Since my father’s death, things have been quite difficult for her. I thought that maybe if you were to call on her, it might bring her a measure of happiness—a way for her to connect with the past but also see how life does go on.”
His words struck her—how familiar the sentiment was. “I know that sadness. My father suffered from it after my mother died. It is a cruel pain.”
“Our families have had difficult times. I would like to think that if we can heal from that, perhaps we would all be open to new things.”
She smiled. “I’d like that. Perhaps I will bring Laura. She has few memories of Mother. A visit would help her as well.”
“She’d be more than welcome. Perhaps next Thursday? I could send our carriage for you.”
After the visit arrangements were made and Lucas bid his farewell, Olivia watched him through the window as he turned down the street. Her head felt light. Her heart felt full. How would she ever return to work after this visit?
***
Before her time at Cloverton Hall, Olivia had never really noticed just how noisy London was at night. With the exception of the chatter from the other guests or the occasional hoot from an owl in the nearby trees, Cloverton slept in silence. London, in comparison, seemed wild and unruly.
The street outside her window was never still. Voices, movement, calls, and shouts—it was a lullaby she’d not noticed until it was absent. And now that it was back, she found it difficult to ignore and it kept her awake. Nearly a week had passed since she’d returned, and she still hadn’t readjusted to the nightly noises.
