Page 20 of A Lady Most Wayward
Damn the woman for being so…
Beautiful? Smug? Desirable? Dominant?
Yes. Exactly.
Olivia knew she was conducting a silent conversation with herself. But as the duchess refused to participate, she had little choice.
‘You are not my guest. You are a suspect. If you want wine, come and pour it yourself.’
Olivia stood, placing her now empty bowl back on the tray and grabbing the bottle in jerky motions. She sloshed wine into her glass and took a hearty swallow. Philippa had to tilt her head up to watch Olivia, and Olivia saw the flare of her pupils as she wiped a droplet from her mouth with the back of her hand.
Good. I shouldn’t be the only one damned by my desires.
‘You have disliked me from the start, but it matters not.’
‘I dislike you because you are shielding the leader of a nefarious group of men intent on harming innocent children for their own gain.’
The burst of tart and spicy grapes turned to vinegar on Olivia’s tongue. Because Philippa was right. She turned and walked back to the bed. ‘I’m not shielding him. I’m shielding another innocent child from harm. My daughter. He will take great pleasure in destroying her if I don’t keep my promise.’
Philippa leaned forward. ‘What promise?’
Olivia exhaled a shaky breath. Even sharing this much might prove disastrous. But if she could get the duchess to believe her, trust Olivia even the smallest way, she might aid Olivia in getting her daughter out of England. Far enough away from the Crow to ensure Hyacinth’s safety. What happened after that mattered little.
‘I promised to help Percival in securing orphans for the Crow.’ Admitting her sins only increased her shame. ‘And I swore no matter what, I would never reveal the Crow’s identity.’
‘Your brother told me he is willing to take your daughter into his custody and protect her. Isn’t that a better fate for Hyacinth than living on the run with you?’
Olivia shook her head so violently, wine spilt from her glass and trickled down her hand. ‘He can’t protect her. No one can. Except me. You’ve no idea how powerful the Crow is or how far his influence extends.’ How she wished she could pour out everything to Philippa. To divest herself of the burden and let someone else carry the weight of responsibility. But even if Philippa believed her, which was unlikely, if the Crow suspected her disloyalty, her daughter’s life would be compromised. He would find a way to get to Hyacinth, and he would kill her. She was fairly certain her daughter’s location was unknown to the Crow, but he had spies everywhere, and England was merely an island. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered.
‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you know.’
‘And I can’t tell you what I know until Hyacinth is safely away.’
Philippa tapped a finger against her lip, drawing Olivia’s attention to the curve of her delectable mouth.
She’s trying to distract me. Minx. That’smytrick, and I won’t be played by my own tactics.
Forcing her focus back to the woman, Olivia ignored the memory of Philippa’s teeth scraping over her skin.
‘Then we are at an impasse until we reach your daughter.’
Olivia nodded. ‘Exactly.’
Philippa stood, placing her glass on the tray. She brushed her hand down the wrinkled skirt. ‘I hate these clothes.’
Humour tilted Olivia’s lips into a smile. ‘I knew you would.’
The duchess picked up her carpet bag and hauled it to the other side of the bed, plunking it onto the mattress. Unclasping the leather strap, she rustled through the contents. Lifting her head, Olivia had to bite her cheek to stop the giggle from bursting free. The poor woman looked horrified. ‘Is everything in here some variation of pink, lavender, or mint?’ She pulled out a white lacy nightgown and shook it at Olivia. ‘Are you jesting?’
She couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. It felt decadent to give herself over to an emotion so light and frothy, if even for a moment. Perhaps the wine was stronger than she thought. ‘You might want to look in my bag.’ It had been Ivy’s idea to play a trick on the duchess, but Olivia was enjoying herself immensely. Even if her joy was temporary and aided by wine.
Philippa narrowed her gaze and stalked over to the other bag, not bothering to bring it to the bed. She crouched down and unclasped it, shoving the mouth open wide. ‘These are my clothes.’
Olivia wiped away a tear of mirth. ‘Ivy wanted to see you in a colour other than black. I didn’t think you would agree to wear that.’ She tipped her chin at Philippa’s lavender gown. ‘What lengths you’ll go to in order to get your man. Or woman, I suppose.’ Hopping off the bed, she snagged the nightgown from where Philippa had tossed it and swayed her hips slightly more than necessary as she made her way to the changing screen. ‘I suppose we should get some sleep. I fear our coachman will want to make an early start.’
* * *
Philippa was going to kill Ivy. Right after she murdered Olivia. The woman was inflaming more than just her rage, and Philippa couldn’t forgive herself for acting so recklessly.
