Page 44 of Pursuing Mr. Mattingly

Chapter Thirteen

July 18, 1819

As time went by, Oliver couldn’t help but think he was walking around with a cloud of gratitude clinging to his shoulders.

He’d married a wonderful woman, had a clever but energetic daughter, enjoyed a large, extended family, and quite honestly, he’d never felt as grounded or needed more in his life. There was no doubt in his mind that he was meant to be at Ettesmere Park for this time, for this season, and though his wife wouldn’t have a long life, she had enriched his existence even in the short time that he’d known her.

Now, he was due in the attics for the purpose of choosing a costume for the dowager’s masquerade ball that would go off in a handful of days. Sophia had promised to meet him there to help in the process since he had absolutely no idea of what he wished for a disguise. But when he reached the open door at the top of a set of narrow, wooden stairs, the sound of voices from within made him pause.

“Are you certain no one will know who I am if I wear this gown?” The speaker was Hannah, but as Oliver peered into the long attic, he couldn’t readily see her.

“Absolutely.” Sophia was there as well. “The skirts are rather more voluminous than the styles we wear today, but with the laced bodice and that white wig, you shall be transformed.”

From his vantage point, the girl’s long-suffering sigh held doubt. “The wig is ghastly and heavy. Did women truly wear such things in grandmother’s youth?”

“They did. So did gentlemen.”

“Ugh.” Fabric rustled. Perhaps the gown in question was being folded. “What will you wear?”

“I haven’t decided yet. There is so much to choose from.”

“You should be a princess.”

A pleased chuckle came from Sophia. “Why?”

“You have that sort of look, and I’ve always thought you secretly might be.” Hannah’s tone filled with sadness. “It might be the last time you can pretend you are one.”

“That is very true. Perhaps if I discover the right gown, I will indeed pretend to be a princess.”

Oliver knew exactly what Sophia’s expression would look like. Her eyes would have filled with tears, and slight panic would mix with sorrow on her face. He’d seen the same countless times since he’d married her, but usually he was always there to cajole her into a better mood or encourage her to smile. Right now, he didn’t wish to interrupt this tender moment, so he remained at the door, unashamedly listening.

“You and I need masks, Mama.” More rustling ensued, followed by a thump as if something heavy had been inadvertently dropped.

“There are two masks made of lace and beads in my bedchamber. One for me and one for you. Your grandmother had them imported from Venice for this event.”

“That sounds exciting!” Once more, Hannah’s emotions had swung to the other end of the spectrum. Footsteps echoed. Perhaps they were moving toward the door. “May I ask you a personal question, Mama?”

“Of course, dear.”

“Have you fallen in love with Oliver yet?”

Such an innocent question, but his ears strained to hear the answer.

“I am quite fond of him, yes.” A guarded note had crept into Sophia’s voice, but why? After everything, did she still not trust him? “But I must say he is a lovely man, and I’m glad I married him.”

Oliver smiled. At least there was that.

“Is he a good kisser?” The bright note of curiosity in Hannah’s voice never failed to lift his spirits.

“He is wonderful in that quarter. In fact, kissing Oliver is one of my favorite things.” There was no mistaking the affection in Sophia’s voice. “Sometimes, when I’m feeling sad, he’ll come over and he’ll kiss my forehead. I adore that, for instantly it makes me smile, and I don’t feel so alone or hopeless.”

At the door, his grin widened. His adjusted how his spectacles sat, but this was good.

Hannah snorted. “It sounds like love to me, Mama.”

For long moments, the only sounds he heard where trunks being opened and closed, as well as the rustle of fabric.

Finally, his wife spoke again. “If I let myself fall for him, it will hurt all too much when I leave this world.”

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