Page 52 of A Lady Most Wayward
Jealous? Good.
Olivia had no intention of trying to seduce Ivy. The woman was clearly enamoured with her handsome husband and showed no interest in the fairer sex, and Olivia had only ever felt friendship for Ivy. But if her closeness with the woman inspired any envy in Philippa, then Olivia was glad for it. The duchess wanted a physical relationship with her, excluding any other bonds, but that was meaningless. She would seek out friendship and comfort where it was offered, manage her own pleasure in the solitude of her rooms, and Philippa could go hang.
‘Thank you, Ivy. I hope you know how much your friendship means to me. I know I apologised for my betrayal, but I shall never forgive myself for deceiving you last summer.’
Ivy batted away Olivia’s guilt with a gloved hand. ‘Pish. You made an impossible choice to protect your daughter. Any one of us would have done the same thing in your position. You had no one to help you but yourself. But that isn’t true any more.’
Tears filled Olivia’s eyes, and she swallowed past a lump threatening to choke her. ‘Thank you, Ivy. You’ve no idea what your forgiveness means.’ She had been fighting alone for so long. To know she had allies – women and men who would join with her against her brother – was an impossible dream. A dream being realised.
If only the impossible dream of being with Philippa could also be realised.
But that would mean the stubborn woman would have to admit she’s wrong. That loving again after losing someone so dear is possible.
And Olivia wasn’t sure herself if that was true.
As they settled next to each other on a well-padded settee swathed in brocaded upholstery as deep blue as Philippa’s eyes, Ivy leaned close to Olivia. ‘How are things with you and Philippa? I hoped the journey might bring you to a more convivial place, but it seems you are still at odds.’
Olivia narrowed her eyes as she watched Philippa pour herself a snifter of whiskey. ‘We would find common ground. If the arrogant, smug, stubborn woman would ever deign to admit someone else might be right once in a while. That she doesn’t need to be some bloody martyr on her pyre of lost love, smouldering forever alone. Never being willing to light a new fire.’
Blast. I’ve said too much. And muddled a metaphor, I’m quite certain.
Ivy’s gaze bounced back and forth from Olivia to Philippa. Before she could voice a response, Philippa called the group to order.
‘After chasing the Devil’s Sons for nearly a year, finally, thanks to Olivia, we have the identity of the Crow.’ Philippa kept her gaze on every face but Olivia’s. ‘But now we know the Lord High Chancellor is our target, we must proceed with even more caution.’
Penny Renquist, former maid who recently married the Marquess of Stoneway in a scandalous union, leaned on the armrest of the wingback chair where she perched. Liam Renquist, her golden-haired husband, stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. ‘This is dire news, Philippa. If the Lord High Chancellor is the mastermind behind this flesh trade, how deep does the infection spread? Can we trust the Queen? The Prime Minister? Could they all be part of this, or at least complicit?’
Liam squeezed his wife’s shoulder and shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine the Queen would ever sanction such behaviour. Why ask us to investigate these crimes if she knew the leader all along?’
‘I would make the same argument for the Prime Minister,’ Killian interjected. While Killian and Drake worked for the Prime Minister with the mission of bringing corrupt peers to the House of Lords to be tried for their crimes, Liam, Philippa, Hannah, and the other Damsels were covert operators for the Queen who held little confidence in England’s lords to hold their brethren accountable. It was a divide that once kept the group on opposite sides, but this new information changed things.
‘I think it would behove us to assume nothing. We can’t say with total certainty who is on our side except for us.’ Reading, Commissioner Worthington’s secretary and a new member of the group sat on a hardback chair, a ledger perched on his lap and a quill clasped between his elegant hands. One was distracted from focusing on his finely featured face by the presence of a nearly non-existent moustache struggling to make an appearance.
Edward Worthington brought a cup of brandy to Ivy then turned to face the group. ‘Much as I hate to admit it, I think Reading makes a good point.’
‘A brilliant point, some might say.’ Reading kept his eyes on his ledger, a small smile playing on his lips.
Edward rolled his eyes.
‘So, we trust each other, and no one else?’ Drake’s rough voice filled the space like thunder.
Philippa, resplendent in a deep-purple gown only a few shades lighter than black, tapped her finger against her glass. Olivia begrudgingly admitted Philippa’s lady’s maid, Delacroix, was incredibly talented. She must have magic fingers to create the intricately coiled braids and curled twists in Philippa’s elaborate coiffure.
Philippa had sent a maid to assist Olivia, who did her best with the wild tangle of Olivia’s curls. In the end, they determined a loose braid cascading over her shoulder was the best option. And it was glorious to be wearing a clean and freshly pressed gown. A pale-green confection of frothy lace that enhanced Olivia’s eyes and complemented her fair skin. It was cut low enough to reveal her décolletage, and while she would like to pretend she didn’t choose the dress to intentionally torture Philippa, she couldn’t deny the flush of pleasure when the duchess’ eyes had stalled on her silhouette as she descended the stairs before dinner, nor the several times during their meal she’d caught her host’s gaze trapped just below Olivia’s chin before quickly darting away.
Returning her focus to the discussion, she tried to keep up with the plans bouncing back and forth between their assembled party. A heated debate was ensuing, with Killian and Drake on one side, Hannah, Millie, and Penny on the other. Liam was wisely staying quiet.
‘He must meet with his men at some point. If we follow him long enough, he’s sure to betray himself.’ Drake’s voice was carefully controlled, though his hand fisted at his side convulsively.
‘That could take weeks, Drake. Or even months. With Hyacinth in his clutches, we don’t have that kind of time. We need to strike quickly. Decisively,’ Millie argued, her ample bosom jostling with each word, which seemed to momentarily distract her husband, much to his chagrin.
‘What we need is evidence. Something tangible and concrete to tie the Chancellor to these crimes,’ Killian interjected, avoiding the glare of his wife.
‘What kind of evidence do you imagine the man keeps? He is far too smart to leave a paper trail, Killian.’ Hannah stood, stepping away from her husband and plunging her hand into a cleverly sewn pocket in her dress. Killian’s eyes dipped to that pocket, then back to his wife’s face.
‘Darling, I certainly hope you aren’t planning on throwing that dagger at me.’
Just as he said the words, Hannah pulled free a muff pistol. ‘I’ll leave the daggers to Millie.’ She glanced at the redhead and winked before returning her focus to Killian. ‘My aim is better with a pistol at any rate.’ The flash of challenge in her eyes prompted a flush high on her husband’s cheek.
