“I know. I’m so glad she took me on as her maid.”
“Iamin the room, Susie,” Olivia said, laughing. She nodded to the biscuits. “Take another if you like.”
“Can I?”
“Susie, don’t be so forward,” Nicola said, “and you must take yours in the kitchen.”
“You’re just the same as me, Nicky.”
“I’m Lady Devereaux’s friend,” Nicola said. “There’s a difference, as I’m sure Mrs. Brougham would point out, even if Olivia’s too kind to say anything. And if Jacob and I…” She sipped her tea and shrugged. “Jacob is the earl’s brother.”
“Jacob eats in the kitchen with the rest of us,” Susie said.
“Well, heshouldn’t.”
“He’s welcome to dine in the main house if he wishes,” Olivia said. “He’s to inherit, after all.”
Nicola narrowed her eyes, then reached for a slice of shortbread. Susie bobbed a curtsey then exited the parlor.
“Do forgive my sister. She’s young and has yet to learn decorum. I hope she’s giving satisfaction otherwise?”
“She’s delightful, Miss Faulkes.”
“Nicola, please, Olivia.”
Olivia nodded, swallowing her discomfort. Friendships forged in the country developed at a quicker pace compared to London Society, where formal introductions were required before one could even speak to another, and given names were only used after months of intimacy. Nicola would, in all likelihood, be the closest Olivia might come to having a friend hereabouts. Her upbringing couldn’t have been so different to Olivia’s—raised on a tenanted property on a grand estate. And if she married Jacob, she might come to live in the main house.
If Jacob asked her.
“Will Jacob join us for tea?” Olivia asked.
“I told him to,” Nicola said, biting the corner off a piece of shortbread. “But he’s busy with that Mr. Carlton.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Olivia said. “They’re seeing to the repairs to your father’s farmhouse.”
“I don’t see why Jacob has to do it. He is the heir—at least, until you…”
She gestured to Olivia’s stomach, and Olivia averted her gaze.
“Forgive me if I offended you,” Nicola said.
Olivia shook her head. “It matters not.”
Nicola rose to take the seat next to Olivia on the sofa. Olivia bit her lip as a warm hand took hers, the skin smooth compared to her calloused hands.
She glanced about the parlor. By right of birth, neither she nor Nicola belonged here.
“You’re distressed. I can tell,” Nicola said. “Jacob said you seemed upset this morning when the earl left. Are you”—she lowered her voice—“with child?”
Recalling her husband’s words, Olivia sighed. “I hope not.”
A flicker of emotion gleamed in Nicola’s eyes that Olivia couldn’t fathom. Surprise, perhaps?
“Don’t youwanta child?”
“My husband…” Olivia hesitated, then shook her head. Friend or not, such matters were not for the ears of others. “It’s nothing.”
Nicola leaned forward and embraced her. “My dear friend, I won’t tell anyone. Not even Jacob, even though there should be no secrets between sweethearts or a man and his wife.”
