Page 59 of The Butterfly
He muttered all of this while reaching past Serena for a handful of lemon tartlets, then slipped one into his mouth and chewed with relish, as if they were not discussing the potential for murder while Olivia’s daughter sat upon his knee. Thankfully, Serena was too engrossed in her tea and the little scone set in her saucer to notice.
“We will be ready to intervene,” Daphne declared while adding milk to her cup. “And when we do, we’ll announce our intention to prosecute Bertram. If he’s going to die, it must be done within the law. I will not let him drag Adam down with him.”
“Do you think Hart suspects what we are up to?” Olivia asked.
“No,” Daphne replied. “I’ve told him I am getting my affairs in order so I can be ready to depart for Dunnottar with you all when this is over. He actually believed me.”
That surprised her. Adam had always been perceptive, able to see through pretenses and lies. Olivia had certainly never been able to get anything past him—except perhaps, how deep her love for Niall ran. But then, she’d managed to keep that a secret from just about everyone.
“Very well,” she said between sips of tea. “I will be ready this evening.”
The rest of the day passed far too slowly for her peace of mind, the impending meeting putting her on edge. She tried to focus her mind elsewhere—spending an hour at the harp, another hour romping with Serena in the garden, and what was left of her evening reading before dinner. The meal was a solemn affair, with Adam brooding in his place at the head of the table, Daphne attempting to make conversation in spite of his horrid mood, and Olivia trying not to let her anxiety show upon her face. She worried that Adam might inquire why the three of them planned to the leave the house together, and she was not certain what they might say to throw him off the scent.
Fortunately, he announced his intention to spend the evening at his favorite club; they were not to expect him back until late. She wondered if Daphne had anticipated this. Whatever the case, it certainly made things simpler for them.
After she had tucked Serena into bed with kisses and a bedtime story, she found Niall waiting for her in the corridor wearing his greatcoat and hat, her cloak held over one arm.
“It’s time,” he said, holding the garment out to her.
Her hands shook so badly that she could not manage tying the cloak on herself. Niall took over the task, eyes probing hers as he deftly tied the ribbon at her throat, arranged the folds of the fabric over her walking dress, then lifted the hood over her head.
“I willnae ask ye again,mo gradh, but this last time, I need to be sure … Is this really what ye want to do? If ye say no, we can forget about the entire thing.”
Taking a shaky breath, she clenched her hands to still the shaking and squared her shoulders. “I am certain. It has to be done, Niall. I am a bit nervous to be socializing with people other than my family for the first time in years, as well as the nature of this meeting. But, I cannot back down … not now.”
He still looked a bit concerned, but did not argue, instead taking her hand to guide her downstairs. Daphne waited for them in the front vestibule, a pelisse bundling her up from neck to toes.
“Are we ready?” she asked, giving Olivia a long, measured look.
“We are,” she declared, sweeping past both her and Niall to get to the door. The longer they dragged things out, the more anxious she’d become. The sooner they got this over with, the better.
The others followed her from the house and down the front steps. Daphne took the lead then, guiding them the few blocks toward the home of the Bellinghams. They were expected in a quarter of an hour.
Niall kept a hand braced at the small of her back as they walked, the light touch both soothing and bolstering. She could do this. After all, she’d already told the entire story to Daphne. She’d wrestled with her demons, and while she still fought them—felt as if she’d battle them her entire life—Olivia realized she now stood on the winning side of things.
For the rest of the walk, she focused upon how freeing it felt to be outdoors, taking in the cool evening air, her breath turning into white mist on the breeze. They passed several people coming and going from soirées in Grosvenor Square, dressed in all their finery and absorbed in their own conversations. None of them paid her notice, not recognizing her as the sister of an earl who’d disappeared from society all those years ago. It was quite liberating to walk in London’s most exclusive neighborhood without bearing the usual scrutiny.
Perhaps when this had all ended, she could let herself be seen again, to be among people she once knew. It would not be easy, but neither had this been.
One step at a time.
First, she must close this door to the things that lay behind her. Only then could she truly look to the future.
They arrived at the Bellingham residence in record time. As they ascended the front steps, the door swung open, a rectangle of yellow light spilling out over them. A butler and duo of footmen greeted them, accepting their things and directing them to the nearest drawing room.
The door to a drawing room hung open, and as they approached, Olivia could see they’d been the last to arrive. The space was filled with several women and a handful of men—relations or guardians of the ladies, she supposed.
They were greeted by a woman similar to Olivia in stature and coloring—petite, with fair skin, dark hair and eyes. With a warm smile, she curtsied to her and Daphne, then offered Niall her hand.
“I am Winifred Bellingham, but you must call me Winnie, all of you,” she declared, before taking Olivia’s arm as if they’d been friends all their lives. “It is so good to finally meet you, Olivia. We’ve never been formally introduced, but I’d seen you from afar during your first Season. I regret that we are forced to make one another’s acquaintance under such circumstances.”
“So do I,” Olivia replied as she was led toward a half-circle of chairs that had been arranged facing the fire. It was here everyone sat, awaiting her arrival. “But I am glad we are doing this. Thank you for having us.”
Winifred patted her hand, then pulled her into the center of the semicircle. “It was no trouble at all. I am happy to do my part. Now, then … let me introduce you to everyone.”
As Daphne took a seat on the end of the half-circle, Niall hovered near the back of the room, where one of the men offered him a glass filled with what appeared to be brandy. He accepted it and nodded his thanks, remaining silent.
Olivia scanned the faces of the women as they were introduced, and what she found absolutely shocked her. Every last one of them was similar to her in some way.
