Almost through no power of her own, she lifted her hand in response. He took it with his fingertips—so lightly, so gently, that his touch sent a bolt of fire surging through her.
He held her gaze as he lifted her hand higher and grazed the top of it with a fluttery kiss.
If only they could stay here, together, in this moment when only the two of them existed, when everything else subsided. But as lovely as it was, she had to remember who she was. Who he was.
As reason slowly won the battle, Olivia begrudgingly eased her hand back.
“I must be going,” she managed to say. “They’ll miss me if I’m gone much longer.”
“I’ll escort you.” He released her hand and straightened his posture.
“Thank you, but it is probably best if I return alone.”
“I understand,” Lucas conceded. “I’ll send word about Wainbridge as soon as I can.”
As she turned to leave, a crooked smile crossed his face. The pragmatic air that had directed their conversation up until this point began to evaporate. His playful expression, which she had grown so accustomed to at Cloverton, was beginning to return. And she liked it.
“Good day, Olivia.”
The use of her Christian name slowed her steps. “Good day, Lucas.”
Chapter39
How awful it was to be so suspicious of someone she thought she knew so well. All afternoon, Olivia worked alongside Russell as she normally would, but mistrust tightened her stomach, making her feel nauseous and unsteady.
For shehadtrusted Russell. Implicitly.
The idea that he’d been lying to her for possibly years repulsed her.
“You’ve been quiet all day.” Russell placed a crate on the floor in the middle of the storeroom. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m tired, is all.” Careful not to let him suspect she knew anything about his connection with the counterfeit chinoiserie, she forced herself to look at him, and then to the crate he’d brought in. “What are you doing with that?”
“Remember that set of silver French candelabras your uncle bought at auction last year at Flanner’s? An inquiry to purchase came in while you were at Cloverton, and I’m taking them to a fellow in Harlow.”
“Anyone we know?”
“Nah. Fellow by the name of Herman.”
Normally, Olivia would not think twice about such a trip, but now her skepticism flared. He’d made dozens of such trips over the course of the past several years. Had his purpose behind those trips been sincere, or had they been made with nefarious intentions? “Will you be gone long?”
“Not sure. Thought I’d stop by the docks over in Brighton and along the coast while I’m there. Make the most of the effort.” He glanced up at her and paused his action. “What’s the matter? You look angry.”
“Angry? No, of course not.” She forced a smile. “It’s just that I’m trying to familiarize myself with all that happened while I was gone.”
“Think you’ll be fine without me?” He grinned.
Olivia leaned her side against the doorframe. The inflection in his voice, which had been so commonplace and typical for so long, now rang with incongruity. “I’ll be perfectly fine.”
Later that night, after everyone else had gone to sleep and Russell had departed for Harlow, Olivia crept to the storeroom. She’d never be able to sleep—not with her newfound knowledge and her conversation with Lucas racing through her mind. There had to be something about Russell she was missing—and she was determined to find it.
Russell’s bedchamber was just off the storeroom. He’d lived with her family for as long as he had worked for her father, and in that time she’d never been to his chamber.
She hesitated before entering. The door was not locked, but then again, she’d be surprised if it were. The thought of intruding into someone’s personal space unsettled her, but what choice didshe have? If she was going to accuse Russell of something this serious, she’d need substantial proof.
She lifted her candle higher and stepped inside his room. The windowless chamber was long and narrow, and it consisted of a bed in the corner, a table and chair on the opposite wall, a wardrobe, two stacked chests, and a trunk.
Wasting no time, Olivia placed the chamberstick on the table and moved to open the wardrobe door. Inside hung hats and clothing, and shoes lined the shelf across the top. Nothing seemed suspicious, so she abandoned the task and moved to the chests. Slowly, quietly, she opened the top one and drew the candle closer. Letters, handwritten notes, and small boxes cluttered the interior. Methodically she pored over them, careful to remember the location of each. With each word she read and each box she opened, fresh guilt heaped heavy on her. So far, everything seemed completely harmless.
