Lady Olivia To The Rescue by Julia Parks

propriety’s sake—not in the middle of Piccadilly.
    He had assumed she was out doing good works. He had assumed her errands were those of helping others. He had assumed entirely too much.
    Sheridan turned toward home. He would write letters to his children and give the letters and the books to his secretary to post. There were several matters his secretary had asked him to look into personally so he would spend the rest of the afternoon attending to business.
    Upon arriving home, he found a note from Richard. He tossed it aside then retrieved it. Opening the envelope, there was only a short message.
    Sheri,
    Instead of going together, meet me at Vauxhall tonight. I have a few things to do first and will be running late.
    Richard
    Sheridan crumbled the note. He toyed with the idea of simply forgetting their engagement. No, he would meet Richard there. What reason could he give for not going? That he had been in the doldrums over seeing his friend with Lady Olivia?
    That wasn’t true, of course. He had no reason to resent Richard and Lady Olivia going out together. He had been angered only at the thought that Miss Hepplewhite had dissembled to him, had led him to believe that her niece was out on business.
    And that, if he examined his motives closely, was not really true either. Sheridan, who prided himself on being truthful with others to the point of bluntness, was now lying to himself.
    But he didn’t care, couldn’t care, what Lady Olivia did or did not do. And he certainly didn’t care with whom!
    Sheridan bowed his head as it began to throb.
    Had the world gone mad, or was he the only one?
    “Hell and blast!” he muttered.

    Olivia arrived home with time to spare before dressing for dinner and her evening jaunts. She discovered her aunt prostrate on her bed, a cool cloth on her head.
    “I cannot go out tonight, my dear. I feel far too weak.”
    “I am sorry, Aunt. I hope you are not sickening with what befell Pansy. Should I call Mr. Jenson?”
    Her aunt sat bolt upright on her bed and said, “No! That is what started all this in the first place!” She fell back and the feather mattress let out a little whoosh.
    “Oh? You have the headache because of Mr. Jenson?” said Olivia, her tone teasing.
    “No, not because of him. Rather it was because of entertaining him and Mr. Pendleton. Do those two not realize I have other things to do than sit in the drawing room with the two of them looking daggers at each other?”
    “Looking daggers? Daggers of jealousy,” said Olivia with a giggle.
    Her aunt glared at her. “You are not the only one with gentlemen callers, my girl.”
    “Certainly not, Aunt. I meant nothing by it. I hope you recover quickly from your indisposition.”
    “I shall be fine, dear. I merely have the headache—a particularly wicked one, but only a headache.”
    “Very well, I shall leave you to Jinks’s ministrations.” Olivia opened the door, but she couldn’t resist one last quip. “Unless, of course, you need me to send for the doctor.”
    “Baggage!” said her aunt.
    “Rest well, dearest.” Olivia blew her aunt a kiss before shutting the door.
    Olivia went downstairs and wandered out to the garden. It was a lovely place to sit in solitude. Large shrubs lined the walkways, hiding her from anyone who might peer out the house windows. In the middle was an open patch of grass dotted with small flowerbeds. Here, she discovered the three-legged dog, Hasty, playing with Hawkeye. The cat raced from one flowerbed to the next, turning his head to the left so that with his one eye he could see the dog coming.
    “You will have to do better than that,” she said to the dog. He paused in his play and ran up to her, wagging his stubby tail with pleasure. “Good boy, Hasty. Now, go back to entertaining our friend. Tire him out so he will not want to play with my toes under the covers tonight.”
    As if he understood her, the dog trotted back to the flowerbed where Hawkeye lay in wait.