“I instructed Gardner to escort Elaine directly from Bath, where she has been residing, to the hell,” Griffin said as they began their second circuit of the park. Like an army of foot soldiers waiting for inspection, the tall oaks stood at attention on either side of the promenade path. He gave them no heed, turning to gauge Olivia’s reaction instead.
“Is that wise?” Aware of his regard, Olivia schooled her features and strove for a tone that was more neutral than indifferent. “She will not thank you for it.”
“There is no arrangement I can make that will garner her approval. I am under no illusions that she will return willingly. I have prepared Gardner to anticipate the very worst sort of behavior from her.”
Olivia could only imagine how lowering that must have been for him. She nodded jerkily, understanding. “Perhaps Mr. Gardner will not be tempted.”
“Oh, I am quite certain he will be tempted, but more in the way of wanting to stuff her in a trunk and shove it from a bridge. Gardner has the good fortune to be firmly set in his marriage and deeply in love with his wife.” He paused, frowning as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. “But then Ulysses had Penelope waiting for him when he succumbed to the call of the sirens.”
Olivia laid her hand gently on his forearm. The restraint was not to stay his steps, but to stay his thoughts. “He will not return to Bath alone, will he?”
“No. I have some concerns for the men who accompany him, but he assures me none of them will be alone with her.” He looked down at her gloved hand, then at her. “You think I am making too much of it.”
Her faint smile was gently chiding. “You alluded to Homer.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed. “It was kind of you not to pick up a stick and beat me with it.”
She let her hand fall away. “I was confident of your good sense returning.” She rubbed the underside of her chin. The soft kid leather of her glove was like the caress of his fingers against her skin. “Lady Breckenridge’s arrival presents me with the opportunity to take my leave. We should discuss that. I am not certain when—”
“Take your leave?” That brought him up short. He watched her walk on, then closed the distance quickly with a few long-legged strides. “What do you mean?”
“Are we discussing it?” asked Olivia. “I have the distinct impression you mean for us to have a row.”
That observation had the effect of cooling Griffin’s heels. “Do you imagine I want you leave?”
“No. The opposite, in fact, but I am hoping you will agree that this is not one of those times when you should have your way. I will be a distraction at best; at worst, a target for Lady Breckenridge and a shield for you. You can comprehend, I hope, that I have no wish to be any of those.”
“Do you believe I hold you or myself in so little regard that I would use you as a shield?”
“Of course not. It is the sort of thing that happens in spite of one’s intentions that it should be otherwise. I believe you will deal more fairly with your wife—and she with you—if I absent myself.”
It was the reasonableness of her argument that undid him. It didn’t matter that he had no liking for what she was proposing; he knew she was right. “I can set you up in a house,” he said finally. “I should have made the offer earlier.”
“It’s all right. I wouldn’t have accepted. In fact, I won’t now.”
“You mean to be difficult.”
“I hadn’t thought so, no. I was hoping we might reach a compromise.”
Griffin had the sense that what she was calling a compromise was merely getting what she wanted all along. He was set on telling her so, but heard himself asking to hear it instead.
“I thought I would return to Jericho Mews.”
“With your brother?”
“I doubt he is spending any more time there than he ever did. That is why it suits. Do you think he will not allow me to stay?”
“Temporarily? He will be pleased to have you. You will relieve him of all the responsibilities that have plagued him these last weeks: the staff quarrels, the budget, the creditors, the rent. Yes, he will most certainly welcome you.”
“I intend to be his guest, not his mother.”
Griffin shrugged. “I am not sure that matters. It is the sort of thing that happens in spite of one’s intentions that it should be otherwise.”
She recognized her own words being turned on her. “It seemed more pertinent when I was talking about you.”
“It frequently does.” His glance was wry. “This is what you want, Olivia? Jericho Mews?”
She caught the sleeve of his greatcoat and held on, raising her face to his when he felt the tug and turned. “No, it’s not what I want, but it is right for now.”
