Page 3 of A Wallflower Demands Satisfaction
Once they were settled inside and headed west toward Berkley Square, Olivia leaned back with a sigh.When she looked at Will and her brother, she couldn’t help but remember their early days when they’d all made their homes in the rookeries.Will, a tall, broad-shouldered man, now twenty, had resembled more of a malnourished scarecrow back then.And her brother Dickie…cleverest spy in the Dials…had filled out and grown into his lanky frame at barely sixteen.
Will, the oldest of the three, because of his size and strength, had easily found a job as a drover, carting vegetables from Surrey to Covent Garden’s market.After years of hard work, he’d abruptly shown up at her laundry at Goodrum’s one day, grinning nonsensically in a garish Peelers uniform.Her stomach had dropped like a heavy stone into a pond out of fear for him, but she’d pretended enthusiasm for his new occupation which she was privately certain would not end well.
She’d lived a hard life from the time she was a child of three and had been abandoned on a street corner in Seven Dials by whoever had been caring for her.She often wondered if she’d ever had a mother who’d loved her, but whenever that thought had intruded into her busy life, she’d roughly shoved it to the side.She’d spent a number of years being trained and used as a pickpocket because of her innocent looks.About the time she’d turned eleven, the procurers who roamed the streets and alleys of Seven Dials had tried several times to lure her into a life of prostitution.She’d been hiding and doing whatever she could to steal or earn enough food to eat by day and hiding beneath piles of refuse by night to escape when she’d met Dickie.He’d taken her home to his mother, and that very night she’d become his sister as if they’d shared actual blood.From that time forward, she was under his protection.When he’d been taken into care by Lady Camilla Bowles Attington Carrington Whitby and her nephew, Lord Carrington-Bowles, surgeon to the poor of the Dials, he’d insisted Olivia be protected alongside him as his beloved sister.
Olivia had gone to work at Goodrum’s House of Pleasure as a laundress.Before a year had passed, she’d researched the best ways to care for the clothing of the rich, and had taught the tricks she’d learned to the rest of the staff at Goodrum’s House of Pleasure.The owner of the establishment, Captain El, now the Duchess of Chelmsford, had appreciated Olivia’s gift for managing people and pleasing clients.She’d made her manager of her laundry, and since that time they’d made a fortune pleasing the rich and particular denizens of Mayfair.There were certain lords, whilst in residence at their country estates, who’d deliver their linen shirts by mail coach to Goodrum’s door for Olivia’s ministrations.
Tonight, she’d turn her back on all she’d known and sneak into the Chelmsford mansion.She’d walk through the back servants’ entrance as plain Olivia Jones.In the morning light she’d become Lady Olivia Whitcombe, niece of His Grace, Perseus Whitcombe, Duke of Chelmsford.
A hand reached out in the coach’s darkness and covered hers.Another hand soon followed, pressing softly atop her brother’s.“This is what I’ve always wanted for you, Olivia,” Dickie muttered low.
The third companion echoed her brother’s declaration.“You deserve a fine gentleman as husband and the safety of a forever home, Olivia.”Will’s disembodied voice trembled across the vastness of the Goodrum’s carriage and startled her.Nothing frightened Will.They’d faced down vicious thieves, gang leaders, and worse over the years.What the hell was he wavering about now?He sounded more like a small, lost boy than Will Beckford, London’s newest, and toughest, Peeler who patrolled some of the wickedest neighborhoods of the rookeries.
2
APRIL 14, 1830
CHELMSFORD MANSION
* * *
Berkley Square
Olivia took her time spreading marmalade on her thickly buttered toast, careful to keep her fingers at a proper, ladylike angle.His Grace, Perseus Whitcombe, Duke of Chelmsford, quietly lowered his copy ofThe Timeshe’d been hiding behind ever since she’d joined him at the breakfast table.
“Where is, um, Her Grace?”She added “Your Grace” at the last minute, causing her face to flush hot beneath her infernal lace cap.She’d been assured by her aunt, Lady Camilla, every proper lady of the ton should wear one during mornings at home.
He gave her a mischievous look.“I thoughtyoumight know.”And then he laughed.When his entire face lighted up at the small joke, she suddenly suspected what few members of the ton realized.She saw a glimpse of what made Captain El become animated at the mere mention of the duke’s name.
Olivia fairly itched to ask the tall, handsome, unflappable duke how he and the duchess had met, but she knew that would be an intrusion too far.
“And, please.Anyone hearing you address me as ‘Your Grace’ would doubt the veracity of our familial connection.”After a short pause, he added, “Uncle Percy is what my brother’s children call me.”He hesitated another tiny moment.“And that’s how you should address me as well if we’re to pull off a charade in public that you’re truly a long, lost niece.”
She stiffened and frowned.
“That way, we’ll have time to practice here at home before we’re out in society.”
“All right, ‘Uncle Percy.’”She relaxed a bit at his explanation and tucked into her cup of hot cocoa and plate of Cook’s perfectly golden toast.
The duke explained, “My wife comes and goes at all hours.I’m never quite sure where she is, but neither of us ever doubts the depth of our affection for each other.”He took a deep sip of black coffee and continued.“As you well know, much of her work centers around saving and protecting those who cannot defend themselves.I trust when I awaken to an empty bedchamber that she’s off somewhere, rescuing someone in some dark corner of the world.”
“Are you never concerned for her safety,…Uncle Percy?”
A sober look replaced his former cheerful mien.“She is an elusive creature, feared from the depths of the London rookeries to the velvet-hung drawing rooms of Mayfair, and all the way across the Mediterranean.”His engaging, charismatic smile returned.“I’m just grateful I can be here to provide the comfort and shelter of my arms when she returns from her latest adventure, good or bad.”
* * *
After her adopted “uncle”left for a meeting at Westminster, Olivia asked for an additional pot of hot tea to be brought to the family sitting room where she could wait for Madame Clarot to complete the fittings for her coming-out ball dress as well as an additional, extensive wardrobe to get her through the Season.The closer the date of her coming-out loomed, the more nervous she became.She had to quell the urge to run from the Berkley Square mansion, screaming that she was an imposter who had to return to her lodgings at Goodrum’s House of Pleasure.Goodrum’s, where she managed a particular laundry for Mayfair’s wealthiest patrons, had come to feel like home.
The thing was, Eleanor Goodrum’s magnificent club was the only place she’d lived since she’d left the St.James Square mansion of Lady Camilla Bowles Attington Carrington Whitby.She and her brother Dickie had been whisked from the streets of Seven Dials by Lady Camilla and her nephew, Lionel Carrington-Bowles, a surgeon to the poor of the Dials.Dickie had supported her as well as himself over the years by peddling information.Information for which the immensely wealthy denizens of London were willing to pay handsomely.
Olivia had done her part by taking in laundry.When Captain El had discovered the young woman’s talent for keeping linens brightly clean and smelling of lavender, she offered her a job in Goodrum’s laundry.Within weeks, she’d been promoted to managing the business and had begun attracting the patronage of the wealthiest families, even when they were in residence at their country estates.They’d send their most delicate clothing to Goodrum’s by mail post carriage.Damn the cost.
And then something inexplicable had happened.Dickie had performed a favor of apparently such enormous service to the Duchess of Chelmsford when she was the former Captain Eleanor Goodrum, that he’d exacted a promise instead of his usual fee.He’d made her vow to ensure that Olivia would be given the opportunity to have a coming-out during the Season when she came of age.
As far as Olivia was concerned, she’d have been happy to continue on indefinitely as a laundress extraordinaire at Goodrum’s.She’d never even considered marriage, after the terrifying childhood she’d endured.Her expectations of the sort of life she’d one day have were minimal.Shelter, warmth, a full belly were luxuries she and Dickie had never imagined when they were merely trying to survive on the streets of Seven Dials.
Yet here she was, living in a duke’s mansion, waiting for an exclusive modiste to clothe her from head to toe in preparation for an adventure she wasn’t even sure she welcomed.
