toes curled in her slippers and she resisted the urge to flee. She took one more deep breath. She’d never allowed herself to believe that he had died. She would have known in that place deep inside her heart where he resided. “It matters not. He left. He didn’t return.” And I’m the spinsterish, oddity wallflower at ton functions.
She frowned. She was about to be the oddity wed to the Earl of Ellsworth. A little shudder wracked her frame.
Mother reached for her hand and Olivia jumped. She’d been so enrapt in thoughts of him that she’d failed to note her mother’s approach.
“ Would you like to talk about him?”
Him. The man whose name could not be named.
Mother didn’t refer to Ellsworth but rather, Marcus Wheatley, a gentlemen her mother and sister had whole-heartedly approved of. He’d made Olivia laugh. He’d teased her.
Then he’d gone off to fight bloody Boney.
Silly cit. That’s what happen s when you go and fall in love with a viscount’s younger son. Those younger sons didn’t become lords. They became officers in the military or vicars.
Oh, how she’d wished he’d been a vicar.
“You do know you could have made a match of your own choosing? You are beyond lovely.”
Olivia knew what gentlemen saw when they looked at her : trim waist, golden Hair, fair skin, and flared hips. She might as well have been a broodmare to them.
Olivia sighed. “ Father will call for me soon?” Her dejected tone, pathetic to her own ears.
Mother hesitated and then gave a nod. “Yes.” She brushed back a loose golden curl that had escaped Olivia’s perfunctory chignon.
“And I don’t suppose any additional details about the European honeybee—"
“No,” her mother interrupted.
No, she supposed that ploy would not work again.
Olivia had run out of ploys, plots, and plans. She’d no longer be able to fend off her father’s plans to wed her off to…to…whichever fool was silly enough to want her.
“Olivia…”
“I’d like to be alone, Mother.”
Olivia reclaimed her seat by the window and stared out dismissively at the swirling flakes. Her mother’s golden visage, bow-shaped lips turned down in a frown, reflected back at Olivia, until she retreated.
The door closed with a firm, resounding click.
Olivia rested her forehead along the pane of glass. It would appear the winter Season was no longer to be her favorite. “I’ve run out of excuses, Marcus.”
The sound of muted silence met her statement.
There would be no reprieve. Not anymore. Olivia could no longer hold off her father’s machinations to see her wed.
Only divine intervention from the Lord himself would be enough to save Olivia now.
Chapter 2
A thundering boom echoed through the house. It bounced off the plaster and carried through the empty halls.
Olivia’s ears perked up. Father was in another of his tempers.
A maid went tearing down the hall, past Olivia, all but stumbling over her skirts in an effort to hide from the master’s wrath.
Hmm. After Father’s meeting with Lord Ellsworth, Olivia had assumed he would be all but waltzing around the house, humming Christmas ditties. Not that father waltzed. Or hummed. Or did anything remotely silly.
Unless…she paused mid-stride, a smile played on her lips. Unless the earl had rejected Father’s proposed arrangement. Hope stirred to life in he r breast and she rushed to the Blue Salon.
She closed the door with gentle precision and hurried over to the hearth situated at the left side of the room. Much like she had as a small child, Olivia placed her ear alongside the plaster.
Silence met her efforts. She angled her head a bit.
Still nothing.
Olivia furrowed her brow.
“I don’t care if God himself summoned her! She is not going! By god, I’ve just accepted the earl’s offer for her hand. I’ll not have Danby interfering.”
Olivia jumped at the unexpected outburst. Her eyes slid closed in despair.
So she was to wed the Earl of Ellsworth. Her stomach
She frowned. She was about to be the oddity wed to the Earl of Ellsworth. A little shudder wracked her frame.
Mother reached for her hand and Olivia jumped. She’d been so enrapt in thoughts of him that she’d failed to note her mother’s approach.
“ Would you like to talk about him?”
Him. The man whose name could not be named.
Mother didn’t refer to Ellsworth but rather, Marcus Wheatley, a gentlemen her mother and sister had whole-heartedly approved of. He’d made Olivia laugh. He’d teased her.
Then he’d gone off to fight bloody Boney.
Silly cit. That’s what happen s when you go and fall in love with a viscount’s younger son. Those younger sons didn’t become lords. They became officers in the military or vicars.
Oh, how she’d wished he’d been a vicar.
“You do know you could have made a match of your own choosing? You are beyond lovely.”
Olivia knew what gentlemen saw when they looked at her : trim waist, golden Hair, fair skin, and flared hips. She might as well have been a broodmare to them.
Olivia sighed. “ Father will call for me soon?” Her dejected tone, pathetic to her own ears.
Mother hesitated and then gave a nod. “Yes.” She brushed back a loose golden curl that had escaped Olivia’s perfunctory chignon.
“And I don’t suppose any additional details about the European honeybee—"
“No,” her mother interrupted.
No, she supposed that ploy would not work again.
Olivia had run out of ploys, plots, and plans. She’d no longer be able to fend off her father’s plans to wed her off to…to…whichever fool was silly enough to want her.
“Olivia…”
“I’d like to be alone, Mother.”
Olivia reclaimed her seat by the window and stared out dismissively at the swirling flakes. Her mother’s golden visage, bow-shaped lips turned down in a frown, reflected back at Olivia, until she retreated.
The door closed with a firm, resounding click.
Olivia rested her forehead along the pane of glass. It would appear the winter Season was no longer to be her favorite. “I’ve run out of excuses, Marcus.”
The sound of muted silence met her statement.
There would be no reprieve. Not anymore. Olivia could no longer hold off her father’s machinations to see her wed.
Only divine intervention from the Lord himself would be enough to save Olivia now.
Chapter 2
A thundering boom echoed through the house. It bounced off the plaster and carried through the empty halls.
Olivia’s ears perked up. Father was in another of his tempers.
A maid went tearing down the hall, past Olivia, all but stumbling over her skirts in an effort to hide from the master’s wrath.
Hmm. After Father’s meeting with Lord Ellsworth, Olivia had assumed he would be all but waltzing around the house, humming Christmas ditties. Not that father waltzed. Or hummed. Or did anything remotely silly.
Unless…she paused mid-stride, a smile played on her lips. Unless the earl had rejected Father’s proposed arrangement. Hope stirred to life in he r breast and she rushed to the Blue Salon.
She closed the door with gentle precision and hurried over to the hearth situated at the left side of the room. Much like she had as a small child, Olivia placed her ear alongside the plaster.
Silence met her efforts. She angled her head a bit.
Still nothing.
Olivia furrowed her brow.
“I don’t care if God himself summoned her! She is not going! By god, I’ve just accepted the earl’s offer for her hand. I’ll not have Danby interfering.”
Olivia jumped at the unexpected outburst. Her eyes slid closed in despair.
So she was to wed the Earl of Ellsworth. Her stomach
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