Page 32 of The Butterfly
Maeve eyed him as if concerned, but knew better than to ask what was bothering him. Best for her to leave him to his own devices until he’d calmed. As the maid disappeared into the room, he took himself off to his own chamber, finding a footman to send for a bath along the way.
By the time the servants finally appeared with a hipbath and buckets full of steaming water, Niall had nearly worn a hole in the floorboards pacing back and forth.
The time spent shaving, bathing, and dressing hardly took the edge off, and he remained as restless as ever. Back home at Dunnottar, there was always something to do, some task to keep him busy. Here, there was far too much sitting and waiting, too much inactivity. He’d go mad before long without something to keep him from getting lost in his tumultuous thoughts.
So, he took himself off in search of something—anything to keep him occupied until it came time for him to sit with Olivia again. He found said diversion in the form of Lady Serena Callahan, Olivia’s four-year old daughter, who he found skipping rope up and down the corridor outside the nursery. With gleaming auburn hair and features one might call aristocratic—even on one so young—she was the spitting image of the family he hated. In truth, her face put him in mind of Lady Daphne, which one might think would make him loathe the little girl. But, one look into those innocent brown eyes, identical to Olivia’s, and he could not help but love her. It wasn’t Serena’s fault she’d been brought into the world under such horrid circumstances, and because she belonged to Olivia, Niall would do anything for her. He loved the daughter as much as he did the mother, his feelings for the child as tangled up in anger and bitterness as his feelings for Olivia. After all, seeing the woman he loved had birthed someone else’s babe only reminded him thathehad not sired one on her … that he never would.
“Niall!” Serena cried at the sight of him, dropping her skipping rope and dashing down the corridor toward him.
“A bhobain,” he murmured, crouching to catch her up when she threw herself at him with no regard to where she might land. “Have ye had yer breakfast yet?”
Just as Olivia understood his Gaelic endearments, so did little Serena. She had been taught that she was his ‘little darling’ and reveled in the fact that he never used the honorific toward anyone but her.
She nodded, curls bobbing around her cherubic face. She wore a smile, as always, a phenomenon that never ceased to amaze him. For a child who had been born in the midst of such darkness, she was a surprisingly sweet, sunny girl.
“Yes,andUncle Adam and Lady Daphne have promised that I may go outside if it does not rain.”
He hefted her up in one arm and continued down the corridor. He tried not to grind his teeth at the mention of that woman, or go off railing to anyone who would listen that he did not want Serena anywhere near the chit. She’d become too much a part of their lives, and he did not like it one bit.
“Sounds like ye’ve a full day ahead of ye,” he managed, setting her back on her feet. “But, guess what?”
She stared up at him with hopeful eyes and clasped her hands together. “What?”
He knelt before her, straightening the bow that had gone crooked atop her head. “Yer maw’s feelin’ much better today. After she’s had her breakfast and a bath, I bet she’ll want to see ye.”
Serena’s smile could have melted the iciest of hearts—it was so wide and warm. “Oh, I cannot wait! May I change my dress? I want to be beautiful when Mama sees me!”
Niall grinned. “Ye’re beautiful just the way ye are,a bhobain, and yer maw will think so, too. She missed ye while she was ill, and will want to see ye no matter how ye look. While we wait, why don’t we see if we can sneak some biscuits and hot chocolate from the kitchen?”
She clapped her hands together and bounced up and down with glee. “Yes!”
Picking her up again—because her little legs could never keep up with his long ones— he carried her off to the kitchen.
They spent a pleasant hour there, him silently listening to her childish prattle. The girl was as used to his sullen moods as everyone else in the household and so did not appear concerned that he sat scowling while she chirped and giggled, her upper lip stained with chocolate.
When Maeve arrived to inform them that Olivia was prepared to visit with Serena, Niall was left to his own devices. He wandered about the house a bit aimlessly, hoping to find some way to occupy himself, to take his mind off Olivia until he was inevitably forced to go back to her. As always, being away from her left a dull ache in his chest. Though being in her presence often proved just as tortuous, with the reminder of all the ways he could never have her foremost in his mind.
The sound of harp music drew him toward the open door of a large drawing room. Near a bay of windows, a large pianoforte sat beside a collection of music stands and small tables stacked with sheet music. In the corner, a harp stood, with the regal figure of Lady Daphne Fairchild seated before it on a stool. Tall for a female, she was a study in ladylike poise and grace, very much like Olivia. Back erect, head tilted just so, hands moving swiftly over the strings of the instrument she played. The sight of her stoked his annoyance, as always. Why wasshefree and happy and whole while his Olivia had been destroyed by the actions of her despicable family?
Sensing the presence of someone else in the room, he turned to find Adam standing a stone’s throw away from him. Leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest, he watched Daphne play, wearing an expression others might never be able to decipher. Knowing the man as well as he did, Niall could see his conflict, the confusion he wrestled with concerning the daughter of their mutual enemy.
Catching Adam’s eye, he inclined his head toward the corridor. Adam’s mouth tightened at the corners, but he straightened and came to meet him outside the room.
Once they stood just out of earshot of Daphne, Adam turned to him, hands folded behind his back.
“How’s Olivia this morning?”
“Better,” Niall replied. “The tremors have stopped, and Maeve says she ate a hearty breakfast.”
“That is good to hear.”
Darting his gaze to the open drawing room door, then glancing back at Adam, he cleared his throat. “I think it’s time we returned her to Dunnottar. In a day or two, she’ll be strong enough to make the journey.”
Adam’s brow furrowed. “We are not finished here. As long as Bertram Fairchild is—”
“Hang Bertram!” he spat. Then, realizing he’d raised his voice, he attempted to get himself back under control with a deep breath before going on. “We said we would repay him for what he did, and ye’ve done that, Hart. Ye beggared the entire family until they couldnae even hold on to their home. Ye coerced the uncle into killin’ himself. Ye ruined the sister and made sure the entiretonknew about it. Now, ye’ve come to London to rub his nose in it and move yerself into the very same home they were forced to sell. As far as anyone who matters is concerned, Bertram and his father are nothin’. They’re outcasts among their own people. It’s what we wanted. Short of shootin’ ’em both in the head, what more is there?”
“There’s always more,” Adam growled, his voice dropping low, his nostrils flaring as he advanced upon Niall.
