Page 14 of A Lady Most Wayward
Shock kept Olivia’s mouth open until she remembered to snap it shut. The duchess was actually admitting something intensely personal about herself. To Olivia.
Because she plans on killing me when this is through. She needn’t worry about me spilling her secrets when I’m six feet under the earth and rotting.
‘Are you surprised at my honesty? I’m sure it’s a novel experience for someone who lives in deceit. I think the moment I really knew was when sunlight caught my best friend’s hair. A breathless need to run my fingers through those strands nearly felled me. I’ve never met a woman in my life with hair more beautiful than hers.’ Her gaze flicked to Olivia’s ringlets and then quickly back to her face. ‘What about you, Lady Smithwick? Or will you dissemble?’
Olivia lifted her chin. The duchess was trickier than Olivia expected. If she avoided her question, she would prove herself a liar. Something Olivia was desperately trying to change. But if she admitted the truth, Philippa would know something just as intimate about herself as she now knew about Philippa, and she would lose the upper hand in this verbal sparring match.
In the end, she decided on honesty. ‘Eighteen. I was newly wed, and the marriage bed held no charm for me. Although I didn’t act on my impulses until later. I suppose I hoped the attraction for Percy would grow with time. It did not.’
‘With a husband such as yours, I’m not surprised.’ Philippa’s dry assessment of Percival was hardly flattering but completely accurate.
‘He wasn’t overtly cruel. At first. But when he discovered me with my lady’s maid five years into our marriage, he was… displeased.’ Olivia broke eye contact with Philippa as a distant memory resurfaced.
‘Filthy, invert, whore!’ Percival grabbed Olivia by her hair, wrenching her from where she crouched protectively over her lady’s maid, Daisy. Thank God Hyacinth’s nursery was two floors above them. At least she need not fear her daughter would hear Percy’s raging anger.
Daisy’s eyes were huge with fear. She screamed as Percival hit Olivia with an open hand.
Olivia tasted blood, but she felt no fear. She felt nothing at all. Everything went numb.
Her fingers unerringly brushed over her cheek. His first smack hadn’t been his last that fateful afternoon. One punch had been so hard, the white of her eye had turned red for days. Pulling herself out of the past, she forced a brittle smile. ‘I suppose I’m a liar and a cheat. Disrespecting my marriage vows, with a woman, no less. You must be so pleased to find out my past matches your overall impression of me.’
Philippa held her gaze. Olivia wished she could read the duchess’ thoughts. But likely, she didn’t want to know the inner workings of Lady Winterbourne’s mind. Still, her words surprised Olivia. ‘Disrespecting an institution that disrespects women is hardly a sin in my eyes.’
Olivia shrugged. ‘So, I suppose I’m just guilty of lying to my husband.’
Philippa’s lip curled. ‘Hiding your true nature from your husband may be the only thing we have in common.’
It wasn’t a compliment, but neither was it a cutting remark. Olivia looked at her lap and smiled. ‘She was such a lovely girl. Daisy. When she kissed me the first time, I finally understood what all the fuss was about. Like champagne fizzing in my belly and through my veins. Percival sacked her and sent her away, but at least he didn’t whip her. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I think he thought he could beat the Devil out of me. That’s what he would say, at any rate, when he was issuing his punishments.’
‘Based on the rumours about you, it would seem your husband’s efforts were successful. Though he wasn’t able to inspire your fidelity.’
Olivia looked out the window as rain began to splatter against the glass. She hated the rumours Percival sparked about her. But she used his vitriol against him when he finally brought her back from the asylum. ‘Ah, yes. His wayward wife, throwing herself at any lord with an ounce of wit or charm. Surely someone with your skills in investigation can see through such a blatant lie. He raged for months after discovering me simply kissing my maid. Can you imagine his wrath if I engaged in such infidelity with men?’ She turned to stare at Philippa. ‘But then, maybe your ability to discover the truth isn’t quite as developed as you thought.’
Philippa shifted her foot. It was a subtle move that put her leather boot between Olivia’s sturdy travelling shoes. Tension stretched between them like a violin string. Olivia moved her foot just enough to brush against Philippa’s boot. Like a bow dragging across the string, a resonant vibration sang over Olivia’s skin.
‘He lied about your many conquests?’
‘He did. Daisy was my only indiscretion. Percival destroyed her and kept me locked away for a decade as punishment.’ Olivia shifted her foot back and stiffened her spine, breaking the invisible tie connecting her to Philippa.
‘Men are singularly spectacular in their capacity for cruelty.’ Philippa’s low voice barely carried over the sound of rain on the roof and the crunch of gravel beneath the carriage wheels.
‘Another thing we have in common. Our view of men. Miraculous.’ Olivia glanced at Philippa and was struck by the flash of pain in her eyes. ‘Was your husband equally brutal?’
Philippa pressed her lips together as if holding back the words by sheer force of will.
Olivia shook her head. ‘Never mind. It is none of my business. I think we are approaching our next stop.’ Relief at being able to escape the small space crammed with unspoken words was only eclipsed by knowing a privy waited several moments away.
The driver gave them surly instructions to be back at the carriage in no less than ten minutes. That’s how long it would take to trade horses. They needed to be on their way to make the next inn before nightfall as it would be a long day of travel. ‘It’s not safe on these roads at night. I won’t risk me life for two silly ladies in a rush to start their ’oliday.’
As Olivia walked around the inn to find the necessary – a dilapidated shack near the far corner of the property, surrounded by forest – she passed three men standing in a tight circle, smoking cheroots. Two wore the clothes of gentlemen. Their boots were shined to a dull sheen. Well-fitted trousers showed off their muscular legs while each of their jackets was tailored to emphasise wide shoulders and narrow waists. One wore a tall hat; the other’s head was bare. The third must have been a steward, for his clothing showed more evidence of wear, his hair too long to be fashionable, his boots scuffed and worn. One of the gentlemen tipped his hat at Olivia, a mischievous glint lighting his dark eyes. She returned his smile with one of her own, though nothing about the man appealed to her. It was mechanical to respond to men’s interest with feigned appreciation. It caused less of a fuss than dismissing them out of hand.
When she emerged from the necessary a few minutes later, the gentlemen had wandered to the edge of the property and directly in her path, blocking her way to the front of the inn.
‘Hullo, love. Where are you travelling on this fine day?’ the man with the hat asked.
A bold question and one he would never dare ask if he knew her status as a marchioness.
Olivia ducked her head, looking at him through her thick, golden lashes, presenting the perfect picture of a shy maid as fear, ancient and elemental to any animal of prey, thrilled through her. ‘My party is waiting for me, sir. I’ve no time to dally.’ She attempted to sidestep the gentleman, but he anticipated her bid for escape. Olivia nearly crashed into his chest as he matched her movement. He put a hand on her hip, ostensibly to steady Olivia, but his fingers tightened against her in a gesture far too familiar.
