Page 34 of A Lady Most Wayward
She belongs in my arms.
Clenching her jaw, she spun toward the door. It was an impossible desire. The last place Olivia belonged was in the arms of the Queen’s Deadliest Damsel. A woman who long ago accepted she lost her heart when she lost Liza. So why now did it beat so painfully within her breast?
10
Callum was proving himself to be an accomplished cook. Afternoon tea had been a delightful affair with buttery shortbread, spicy Banbury cake, and tangy blackberry tarts. Mrs Hughes suggested an afternoon walk to rebuild their appetite before supper. They rambled over the fields to the cliff’s edge, Hyacinth striding ahead, refusing to converse with the group. Watching Olivia trail after her daughter, her gaze never once straying from the girl, her expression a mixture of hope and resignation, Philippa determined to find some time alone with the young woman. Someone needed to explain to her the sacrifices her mother had made to ensure Hyacinth’s safety.
Philippa let the sea air whip around her, wishing it could clear away the confusing emotions roiling within her breast. She rarely questioned her own actions. Her course was set, and she followed it without hesitation. But this case confounded her. Her initial estimation of Olivia being nothing more than a deceitful and manipulative woman was not entirely right.
Not right at all.
Doubt crept into her mind. Philippa was questioning her own judgement. Something she had never done in the past. But she’d never felt a sense of dread like she did when imagining Olivia facing the Queen’s consequences.
Later that evening, the party of five sat around a snug table in the parlour with a warm fire dispelling the autumn chill. Dishes of steamed peas, honeyed carrots, boiled parsnips, and late-summer salad were placed on the table for easy serving. A golden-crusted pie took pride of place at the centre, steam coiling up and emitting the buttery aroma of delicate pastry.
‘This looks divine. I rarely meet a man of the house who is also king of the kitchen.’ Olivia winked at Callum, who glanced at Hyacinth and blushed a furious crimson before ducking his head.
‘It’s just fisherman’s pie. Mam isn’t fond of cooking, and I don’t mind taking my turn in front of the stove.’
‘He’s being modest. Callum here is quite the chef. During the summer markets, people come from miles around to buy one of his pies. Leave some space for his plum pudding and custard.’ Mrs Hughes nodded sagely.
‘One wonders where he finds the time when he is so busy sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.’ Hyacinth held her plate out to Callum, her lips curled in a sharp smile, her eyes flashing with challenge.
Interesting. Hyacinth seems awfully committed to hating young Callum.
A tickle of recognition stroked along her senses, but Philippa focused on her own slice of pie instead. It was filled with some kind of flaky white fish with dill, leeks, and onions in a creamy sauce. Topped with seasoned mashed potatoes and melted cheese, her French chef would be hard pressed to create a more delicious meal. Her mouth watered as she took a delicate forkful.
Callum gripped the knife he held, his knuckles turning white as he exhaled through his nose. He roughly grabbed Hyacinth’s plate, cut a large slice of pie, and slapped it down. ‘This is my property. My farm.’ His eyes darted to his mother. ‘Mine and me mam’s. Anything that happens on this land is my business. Including letters you might be sending to a sweetheart.’
Hyacinth took back her plate, the pie nearly sliding off from the force she used to grab it from Callum’s hands.
‘My letters have nothing to do with you. And if I do have a sweetheart, that is my prerogative.’
Philippa’s ears pricked as Olivia turned her full focus onto her daughter.
‘You are writing letters? To a sweetheart?’ The marchioness’ green eyes grew alarmed. ‘If he were to share your location, Hyacinth, we are in grave danger. I explicitly forbade you to contact anyone.’ Her voice rose in fear. Philippa saw the slight tremor in Olivia’s hand as she scooped peas and carrots onto her plate.
Hyacinth turned the focus of her ire to her mother. ‘Why? So you can keep me isolated forever? I’m no better than a prisoner here.’ She spat the words as if they were poison in her mouth.
‘Enough.’ Mrs Hughes’ soft voice hardened as she slapped her hand on the table. ‘I will not allow you to speak of your mother so. Callum, you should have told me. Olivia is right. Hyacinth’s safety is threatened by anyone who knows she’s here. This young man may have already told people of your whereabouts.’
Hyacinth’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. ‘I thought you were on my side.’ Her trembling chin reminded Philippa of just how young the girl was despite her attempts to convince them otherwise.
Reaching out to cover Hyacinth’s small hand with her own, Mrs Hughes squeezed. ‘I am, dear. And so is your mother. You must understand, you are not safe.’
Hyacinth pulled her hand free, stood, and threw down her napkin. She fairly shook with rage. ‘No one here thinks I’m capable of making my own choices, but I’m not some stupid child! I’m going to bed. I suddenly feel very ill.’ She turned and walked from the dining room.
‘That went well.’ Olivia’s smile was so brittle, a breath of air would probably shatter it.
Mrs Hughes turned to Olivia. ‘You need to tell her what Percival did to you, Olivia. She’s only ever heard his version of events. The bastard. She doesn’t know the truth or how hard you have fought to return to her. Or what danger she is in right now. If she knew, she would feel differently. And she might act with more caution.’
Philippa’s opinion of Mrs Hughes was growing by the minute.
‘As for you.’ Mrs Hughes shook her fork at Callum like a chiding finger. ‘Next time you see letters from her going anywhere, you tell me right away.’
Callum’s cheeks reddened. ‘I didn’t think it were any of my business.’
‘Her safety is all of our concern,’ Mrs Hughes huffed. ‘She’s barely more than a child. Stubborn and impetuous, just like her mother. But don’t be hard-headed now, Olivia. Speak to your daughter.’
