Charles smacked his fist against the carriage wall. Pain exploded in his knuckles and the carriage drew to a halt.
“Are you wanting to step out, Lord Devereaux?” the coachman called from outside.
Charles rubbed his hand—fuck, that hurt! Then he gestured to John, who leaned out of the window.
“Drive on!”
The carriage jerked into motion again.
“Forgive me, sir, I didn’t mean to distress you. I have no intention of engaging a gentleman to teach you the skills required.”
Who, then?
“What you need is a doxy. And I know just the woman.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Apackage hasarrived for you, your ladyship.”
Olivia set her teacup aside and glanced at the footman brandishing a silver tray. “For me?”
“Yes, ma’am. It arrived by messenger shortly after dawn.”
“You mean someone rode through the night to bring it?”
Olivia’s stomach tightened in apprehension. Had it come from Rosecombe? Was her brother unwell? Or Eleanor?
She reached for the package and read the inscription. But the hand was not her brother’s, nor was it Eleanor’s.
It was her husband’s.
“It came from London, I believe,” the footman said. “Mr. Reynolds said that Lord Devereaux has been in Town this past sennight. Perhaps it’s from him?” His forehead creased into a frown. “I do hope there’s nothing in there to give you cause for concern, ma’am. I can send for your maid if need be—or Mrs. Brougham.”
Her heart racing, Olivia tore open the package. A note fell out, bearing her name, and carrying the faint aroma of masculine spices, together with a small package, tied with a thin white ribbon, on which was written the inscriptionMme Beaulieu, hosier.
Hosier…
Olivia picked up the package and held it to her chest.
“You may go and take your breakfast now,” she said. “I’ll call if I need anything. Forgive me, Idon’t know your name.”
“It’s Colin, ma’am,” the footman said. “Mr. Reynolds appointed me yesterday.”
“Then you’re newly arrived? Welcome to Penham Park, Colin,” Olivia said, smiling. “I hope you’ll be happy here. Tell Mrs. Groves I said to give you a good breakfast for your first day. I hope you like bacon.”
A faint blush colored his cheeks, then he stammered his thanks, bowed, and exited the breakfast room.
Olivia waited for his footsteps to recede before she untied the ribbon and opened the package.
Cradled in a nest of tissue paper was a pair of silk stockings, together with a pair of brown garter ribbons. The stockings themselves had a fine weave, giving them a sheer appearance, like the surface of a pearl, and the tops were trimmed with delicate lacework. She ran her fingertips across the material, relishing the softness. Then, slowly, glancing toward the door, as if she were engaging in something very decadent, she lifted them up to the light. Sparkles shimmered across the fabric as if it contained tiny pieces of the sun.
They were the finest stockings she had ever seen.
Her hand trembling, she opened the note and read it.
Olivia,
I regret I am unable to return from London as soon as I would like and am likely to be required here for at least a month. Please accept this gift as a token of my desire to return home.
