Page 112 of One Wicked Secret
“What inspired your costume, Olivia?” Elsa asked, having been too busy chasing villains to attend the meeting where the ladies shared their ideas.
Olivia smoothed her hand over her forest-green gown. “Hamlet. Ophelia’s connection to the natural world spoke to me. I wanted my costume to reflect the idea that all things return to nature in the end.”
“She spent hours sewing the silk leaves onto the mask,” Joanna added, her admiration evident. Dressed in a pale blue gown and gold mask, the Countess of Berridge embodied the grace and strength of Helen of Troy. “The green complements her red hair beautifully.”
The Marquess of Rothley certainly agreed. Along with MrDaventry and the Earl of Berridge, he had chosen to show his face. Despite conversing with the men, his gaze kept returning to Olivia.
Daniel entered the grand ballroom and joined Mr Daventry. She would recognise her husband’s strong, purposeful strides anywhere. He wore a black silk mask—the same one he had worn when he made love to her only hours before.
Elsa smiled to herself, the thought of those lonely nights at The Grange feeling like a distant memory. She shuddered, wondering what might have happened had she not found the courage to visit town.
“Will you dance tonight, Olivia?” Elsa asked, curious if Rothley would ever sign his name on the lady’s card.
Olivia’s sad sigh was haunting. “I prefer to listen to the orchestra play.”
Sensing the lady’s unease, the countess offered a comforting smile. “My husband knows every man here. You might not recognise their faces, but their intentions are strictly honourable.”
“Lord Rothley has forgone a mask,” Elsa added. “And you do share a deep love of sombre verse. I know he was keen to discuss the topic.”
Olivia’s smile was fleeting. “A lady should know her place in the world and not mistake kindness for courtship. I wouldn’t want the marquess to feel obligated to ask me to ride in the park.”
Joanna laughed softly. “The marquess is not swayed by expectation. He seeks what he desires, regardless of convention.”
Except the lord desired very little.
His cynical view of life would see him lonely in his dotage.
Olivia nodded thoughtfully. “Then if the marquess desired to dance, he would have been the first man to sign my card.” She glanced across the ballroom. “If you will excuse me, I promised Miss Barker I’d fetch her some lemonade.” Keen to make an escape, she slipped away into the crowd.
“Rothley is as stubborn as a mule,” Joanna grumbled when Olivia was out of earshot. “Have you noticed how often he’s looked at her tonight?”
“Yes, it seems to have become a habit.”
“Sadly, he will never do more than look. He’s allowed his anger to fester for a decade, and now it clouds his judgement.”
Betrayal affected people differently. Some went to great lengths to reinvent their lives, driven to prove their worth. Others lived with a stake through their heart and the organ never stopped bleeding.
“Perhaps the more you encourage the marquess to attend events, the sooner he might forget the woman from his past.”
Joanna nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
With the promise to discuss the matter later, Elsa went in search of Clara. She visited the retiring room, but The Crimson Contessa was not hiding there. Clara wasn’t dancing or taking refreshments.
“Have you seen Clara?” she whispered in Daniel’s ear, resting her hand on his arm. “It’s my turn to make sure she’s not off on some daring adventure.”
Daniel turned to her, his hand settling on her waist. “She was sittingon a bench in the garden, studying the dratted list she’s made.”
Elsa cautioned him to lower his voice. “I promised Clara we were the only ones who knew about her thirst for adventure.”
“Adventure? More like a path to ruination. Are you sure it’s wise to let her loose in London?”
Elsa hesitated. It wasn’t wise at all. But wisdom wasn’t what Clara was chasing. “Clara needs to see that her life isn’t over just because her scars are visible.” She remembered the light in Clara’s eyes during their conversation, how she had come alive, glowing from within as she spoke about her list.
“As long as she does nothing foolish while we’re away in Chippenham,” Daniel said. “Can you at least caution her to wait until we return to town before she indulges in one of her escapades?”
“I think it’s safe to visit Thorncroft. Clara wants to add a few more tasks to her list before she begins making solid plans.” She glanced at the open terrace doors, the gentle breeze and festoon of pretty lights a romantic lure. “Would you care to stroll around the garden with your wife while we secretly watch Clara?”
Something in his dark eyes said he wanted to do more than stroll. “Do you need to ask?” He clasped her hand and led her through the French doors onto the terrace. “How much longer must we stay?”
