Lady Farquhar's Butterfly by Beverley Eikli

down her autocratic nose at their visitor who sat in the
best chair by the piano, facing the ladies. ‘A child requires a
mother’s love above all else.’
    ‘I appreciate
that.’ Max spoke softly, his eyes roving over Olivia, his mouth a
thin line. ‘And I can see Julian is in good hands. I would be the
last to deny the boy has a very’ – the tiny pause was not lost on
Olivia – ‘loving mother.’
    There was a
knock at the door. Olivia froze in the midst of having her hair
brushed in preparation for dinner. She clenched her fists in her
lap as the door was thrust open.
    ‘Young lady, I
think you’ve some explaining to do!’
    Instead of
Max, who had every reason to make such a demand, though his
presence in such a manner would have been extraordinary, a
glowering Aunt Eunice swept into the room.
    ‘That’ll be
all, thank you, Dorcas.’ Olivia nodded dismissal at the maid and
waited until the door was closed before she said, defensively, ‘You
sent me on a mission to reclaim my son. I carried it out
successfully.’
    ‘This man,
Lucien’s cousin, Julian’s guardian—’ Aunt Eunice shook her head
before continuing, ‘You led me to believe Max was as unsatisfactory
as Lucien and you were only too glad to get away. My eyes tell a
different story.’
    Olivia turned
back to the looking glass, her voice dull. ‘I can’t imagine what
you mean, Aunt Eunice.’ She looked stonily at her reflection,
unwilling to meet her aunt’s eyes. Dorcas had just arranged her
hair with a tumble of golden curls threaded through with pearls on
either side of a centre parting. Her gown of gold and cream satin
set off her skin to perfection and around her neck the little key
that Lucien had given her on his deathbed nestled in the hollow
between her breasts.
    ‘Don’t tell me
you’ve gone to such pains with your appearance on Mr Kirkman’s
account?’ Aunt Eunice ground out. ‘The way you’ve rigged yourself
up you’ll have the two of them engaged in fisticuffs at the
dining-room table.’
    Olivia turned,
indignant. ‘Miss Latimer delivered my new dress this afternoon. I
had no idea Max would be accompanying Julian.’
    ‘Just as Max
had no idea that the woman who clearly turned his life upside down
and with whom he is undoubtedly in love, was Julian’s mother. Ah,
Olivia, it was ill done of you.’ An uncharacteristically sorrowful
look replaced Aunt Eunice’s anger as she rested her hands on
Olivia’s shoulders. She shook her head, slowly. ‘Have you learned
nothing since you married Lucien? Not even to trust your
instincts?’
    Olivia swung
round on her stool. ‘You think I’d trust Max with my heart? Max is
Lucien’s cousin. He looks like Lucien; he glowers like
Lucien. Surely you saw the way he looked at me. No doubt he has a
temper every bit as evil as Lucien’s. You hated Lucien! Yet
you would have me wed his cousin in preference to the eminently
suitable, wellregarded, upright and pious Mr Kirkman?’
    ‘There are
many men I’d rather you wed in preference to Mr Kirkman, though
your Aunt Catherine begs to differ.’
    The dinner
gong sounded and Olivia leapt to her feet. ‘Nathaniel can’t abide
unpunctuality,’ she said, desperate to escape her aunt’s scrutiny.
The last thing she needed was Aunt Eunice pressing her to accept
Max’s suit over Nathaniel’s.
    At the
dining-room door she nearly collided with Max. Bowing, unsmiling,
he offered her his arm.
    Olivia met his
assessing gaze with a distinct lack of composure before turning
towards the table where Aunt Eunice was seating herself beside her
sister.
    Max helped her
to her chair. ‘You’re even lovelier than I remembered, Olivia.’ He
spoke softly. ‘The last month has been a long one.’ Miserably she
bent her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. And the gentle
reproach.
    ‘I hope
Nathaniel deserves you.’
    Raising her
eyes to his she could discern no malice, nor did his tone or
expression hint at sarcasm. ‘Max, I’m