Page 46 of House of Thorns
“You’ll be off then?” the woman asked.
Olivia nodded. Mrs. Lambert knew her first stop and her second.
“Then good luck to you, lass.”
Olivia sighed. With the banker, she would need it. Grimacing, she left and hurried to the river.
The day was warm, and the bluebells bloomed abundantly. In no time at all, she’d gathered a bouquet. Closing her eyes, she buried her face in the flowers, letting pleasant memories of the past parade through her mind as the soft petals brushed her cheek. Almost, she could hear her mother’s sweet laughter once again, playing a soprano to her father’s bass as he sang while working the press.
Then, as swiftly as the memories came, they faded.
Silently, she made her way to the kirk, a time-worn building of stone surrounded by a black-iron fence. She slipped through the gate and picked her way past the older, ivy-covered gravestones, their stone faces weathered and covered with lichen. As she stepped around an old mausoleum, Olivia drew up short.
A man knelt at her mother’s grave.
Startled, she stepped back, taking cover behind the mausoleum’s cold stones and then slowly, peered around the corner.
The man’s shoulders shook as he covered his face with his hands. Then, he shifted his weight, revealing gray hair under his hat. As she watched, his head turned to the side.
Her heart stopped.
Surely, her eyes deceived her. How could her grandfather, the Duke of Lennox, be kneeling at her mother’s grave…weeping?
He rose stiffly to his feet and brushed the tears from his cheeks, brusquely, as if they had no right to be there. She could only watch in open astonishment.
Then, he turned on his heel and she drew fully back behind the mausoleum. Her grandfather was difficult as it was. She harbored not a single doubt that he would be beyond displeased to discover she’d witnessed his private moment.
As the Duke approached, she inched around the tomb, keeping out of his line of sight.
He didn’t even glance her way. He strode out of the cemetery with a purposeful step and disappeared around the corner of the kirk.
For a moment, she was tempted to dash after him. Why had he come? Why now? Why acknowledge her mothernow? After so many years?
Anger warred with the confusion he evoked.
Then, the ephemeral scent of bluebells reminded her of her true purpose for being here.
She wouldn’t dishonor her mother’s memory.
Shoving all thoughts of her grandfather aside, she turned her feet to her mother’s grave.
* * *
“As I’ve said a dozen times before, it’s unseemly for a man of my position to discuss business matters with a…a…a…”
Olivia sat across from the banker, but she no longer listened. Husband. Again. The banker never failed to remind her that he wished only to do business with her husband. He’d only dealt with her so far out of courtesy and respect to her father, but such courtesy could only last so long.
“Do we have an understanding?” the man asked.
Olivia rose to her feet. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Trent.”
There was no use in prolonging the displeasure for either of them. Without a word more, she swept out of the bank and marched across the street.
For the first time, she felt the sharp pang of visceral fear. What if shecouldn’tmake Mr. Pitt’s last payment? She would have to sell every sheet of music she had, and at a discount, to come up with the money needed…but what if it wasn’t enough? And what if Louisa didn’t return? What if her dream of revealing her father’s music to the world remain only that…a dream?
A man stepped into her path.
“Pardon me, sir,” she muttered, sidestepping him.
A hand dropped onto her arm. “Olivia?”
She looked up, startled.
It was Nicholas.
