Olivia returned the ledgers she’d been examining to the shelf and left the room, wondering what among her few gowns she might wear to play whist. While she looked forward to the evening with pleasure, she cautioned herself to keep a professional distance from Lord Redcliffe. Once she found the proof of his uncle’s trickery, she would restore her father’s reputation and request the money owed him be paid to her. Then her position here would end.
She sighed. To see this beautiful old house restored appealed to her, and it would be hard to leave before its completion. But she would not change her mind. The sooner she escaped the temptation Lord Redcliffe might become, the better. But she disliked their association ending on bad terms, as it surely would.
Pushing such disturbing thoughts aside, she went to see if Michael, their new under footman, who’d gone on an errand for Sam some hours ago, had returned and wasn’t dillydallying with a maid.
In the corridor, she caught sight of herself in the long, gilt-edged mirror. She smoothed her hair. The cap made her look the part of an efficient housekeeper, but she didn’t much care for it. She wouldn’t wear it again. In her bedchamber, she took her one evening gown, made at Lady Lowry’s request, from the wardrobe. Olivia wore it at a weekend party where her employer insisted she attend to the guests. It showed far more of her breasts than she approved of, and she’d disliked how the male guests ogled her.
Should she wear it? The pretty gown suited her. She chewed her lip as the thrill of dressing to gain a man’s approval made her remember her girlhood. But it was not Mr. Williams’s approval she sought. Really, did the earl’s opinion matter so much? Yes, it did. She wanted him to look at her as a man did a woman he found attractive. It was a risky way to think. She must remain alert should he attempt to lead her down a path that would end in disgrace.
In her shift, she washed herself using the bowl of hot water she’d brought up from the kitchen, which was now tepid. They left her soap and powder at Lady Lowry’s. An oversight or her former mistress’ vindictiveness? But she’d go without rather than ask for them. The soap she’d found in one of the guest bedchambers smelled luxuriously of roses. The scent made her feel feminine. After drying herself, she dressed. She’d taken a small, oval, gilt-edged one from the guest wing. She’d replace it when guests came to stay.
Leaning the mirror against the wall gave her a limited view of herself. The gown of printed muslin featured a blue border around the hem. Lace trimmed the scoop neck and the short sleeves. Her slippers matched. She wore the pearl earrings she would never part with, which had belonged to her mother. The gold, heart-shaped locket she wore around her neck was a present from Papa. He’d called her the belle of the ball on the night of her come-out party.
She’d danced the night away but had failed to fall in love with any of the men there. Nor in the ensuing years. She didn’t have a London Season. Papa was happy to keep her home with him after Mama died, and as things went downhill, he needed someone to care for him. Olivia arranged the delicate link chain, glad her father would never know how difficult her life became after he died.
Her hands trembled as she pulled on the white cotton gloves. Her hands were not as pretty as they should be. She put her fingers to her cheek and nervously leaned closer to the mirror. The smattering of freckles across her nose were more visible, and she had no powder. She’d been out in the sun too much and must take care. She had an excellent recipe for Denmark lotion. If only she had the time and the ingredients to make it.
At the drawing room door, Jack’s eyes widened as she approached him.
“Good evening, Jack.” She sounded more composed than she felt as he rushed to open it.
Would she be the subject of gossip among the servants tomorrow? Another thing to worry about. She should have refused the invitation. Made up some excuse. But the chance to enter that world she had left, even for a few hours, was just too tempting.
The two gentlemen in evening dress rose from their chairs beside the fireplace. For the briefest moment, it brought back her life with her father when they’d entertained. She pushed away the sad memory, and with a smile, she crossed the floor to them.
“Ah, Miss Jenner, good evening.” Lord Redcliffe averted his gaze from her low neckline and gestured to the sofa. “A glass of Madeira?”
“Thank you.” He looked wonderful in a dark blue superfine coat and pale trousers. She swallowed nervously, in need of a glass of wine.
Williams sat on the sofa beside her. He smiled kindly. “A busy day, Miss Jenner?”
“Yes, indeed, sir. And still much more to do.”
“I’m sure of it. A heroic effort is required, and I admire your fortitude.”
Redcliffe handed her the crystal glass. “I notice you’ve tidied the steward’s office. Mr. Pike now works for the squire. I have need of a new steward.”
Her shoulders tensed. “I readied it for him. I expected you to engage one.” A new steward would make it extremely difficult for her to continue her search.
“Thoughtful of you.” Seating himself opposite her in the upholstered chair, he crossed his long legs. Raising his glass, he drank, his eyes thoughtful as they rested on her.
Did he suspect her? He had visited Northoaks. How much did Lancaster tell him about her father? Olivia took a hasty sip, allowing the flavorsome liquid to slip down her tight throat. She disliked being secretive, but it was necessary. “I’ve left the guest bedchambers to do because Mr. Williams tells me you have no immediate plans for house guests.”
“Quite so.” Some emotion darkened his green eyes. Was it mistrust? She would have sworn it was desire a moment ago—or had she been indulging in a fit of vanity?
Williams drew her into a discussion of the remarkable improvements the new gardeners made. “A pleasure to see the flower beds weeded and the lawns scythed.”
She welcomed a change of topic. “Most particularly, the gardens around the fountain.” She sat back as the wine soothed her. “Such a delightful vista. They will be quite lovely next spring.”
Was she rambling? Olivia found nothing more to add to the conversation from her limited knowledge of gardening, and as neither Williams nor his lordship seemed inclined to continue, she finished the last drops of the Madeira and glanced down at her glass. She’d drunk it all.
The earl rose and took her glass. “Another?”
He must think her fond of drink. She couldn’t look at him, but as it eased her nerves, she nodded.
He handed the glass to Jack. “A Madeira for Miss Jenner.” He bent to offer her his arm. “Shall we begin our game?”
She rose and placed a hand on the fine material of his sleeve, breathing in his cologne, as they strolled the length of the room to the card table. A long evening ahead. How could she concentrate on whist? She feared she would play badly. If they invited her again, she would decline. Even the short time spent in this world unsettled her and made her yearn for something forever gone, which she’d thought she’d come to terms with.
