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And done so alone?
“Lady Olivia, is that you?”
Olivia started at the voice, wondering who had intercepted her on the path. She turned toward the sound, finding the parish vicar strolling behind her.
“Reverend Thomas,” she greeted. The minister had been in his position since before she was born. He was a grandfatherly man. And while she no longer ascribed to his particular view of God, she was glad to see him.
“It is an unexpected pleasure to see you,” he said, coming abreast of her. “Is your brother in residence as well?”
“Yes. We returned this morning.”
“Have you given up on London already?” he asked with a conspiratorial wink. He knew how Olivia had fought to stay home after Marcus’s decree.
“I’m afraid we’ll be returning in a few days.”
“Will you be coming to the service tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.
The thought made her uncomfortable. “I am not certain what my brother intends.”
“Well, we’ve certainly missed you here,” the minister said.
She smiled at him, hoping it reached all the way to her eyes. “I can’t tell you how difficult it’s been being in London and knowing I must stay there until the end of the Season.”
“Surely it’s been enjoyable as well?” he asked her.
“I prefer the assemblies here over the balls there. And nothing compares to an evening staring at the sky and the stars from my bedroom window at Westin Park.”
Reverend Thomas smiled knowingly. “Well, I, for one, am surprised some gentleman hasn’t swept you off your feet yet.”
“Actually, Reverend, I swept one off his feet,” she said, thinking of the Viscount Danfield. That evoked perhaps the first genuine smile of the day. She wondered if the young man had recovered from his mishap.
But thinking about proposals made her mind naturally wander to Finley’s, which erased the smile.
“I’m not surprised to hear that,” he answered. But then Reverend Thomas scrutinized her, sensing the change in her mood. Olivia could feel his old, almost rheumy eyes on her. The man was much too perceptive.
“How have you been faring, dear?” The concern in his gaze was genuine, and, at his caring expression, she felt the tears well and threaten to spill over.
“I’m not entirely sure,” she confessed.
He nodded sagely. “Understandable.”
“Do you have a cure?” she asked with the glimmer of a smile.
He stopped, and the suddenness had Olivia backtracking to stand beside him. “Would you want the one I have to offer?” he asked.
She didn’t have to think about her answer. “No.”
It seemed her destiny was to disappoint everyone whose path she crossed today. The vicar looked absolutely crestfallen.
“I wish you would talk to me about it, Lady Olivia. We have known each other many years, have we not?” She nodded.
“I can bear the weight of whatever pain you carry. Or better, we’ll give it to God. He can shoulder it better than both of us.” His tone was hopeful, as though she might decide to trust him after five years of faith in nothing.
“Christ had His cross, Reverend,” she said, thinking back on the days when the words of the Bible meant something to her. “This one’s mine to carry.”
“Because you refuse to lay it down,” he said quietly. She heard him anyway.
Olivia was comfortable enough with Reverend Thomas to be abrupt and honest with him. “I don’t wish to talk about this anymore.”
The old man nodded but added, “God loves you.” He spoke slowly, as though she were a child.
“Not enough.” While anyone else might have needed further explanation, Olivia knew Reverend Thomas didn’t. He didn’t agree, but he understood.
“Don’t blame God for the actions of men, Lady Olivia.”
How little did Reverend Thomas know that she blamed God and her mother.
“I’ll grant you God didn’t pull the trigger that ended my mother’s life, but did He not hear all my prayers for her before?” Olivia couldn’t have foreseen the suicide, but she had feared her mother would drink herself into an early grave. And where had been the deliverance God supposedly granted to those who needed it?
“I can assure you, child, He heard your prayers.”
“Oh, did He not care enough to answer them, then? Is that it?” Her frustration, anger and latent grief made the words harsh. “How long can you talk to someone who never answers back?”
“Perhaps He didn’t answer,” the vicar allowed with a subtle nod. “Or perhaps, for reasons we may never understand, His answer was no.”
“It’s not fair,” she said quietly.
“Nor is it easy,” he said in agreement.
“So, I ask you, what can I expect from the hands of such a loving God?” she sneered.
“Grace, mercy and forgiveness,” he answered without hesitation.
But she doubted the truth of all three.
Nick ambled down the country paths, enjoying for himself the lush beauty of Westin Park. His friend’s estate created in him a stab of longing for his own country lodging—the estate he hadn’t seen in more than five years.
His country home should have been the first place he went upon returning to England. Instead, he’d opened up the Huntsford mansion in London. And he’d kept promising himself he’d return as soon as his affairs were in order.
But he knew that for the stalling tactic it was.
No longer was he the frightened five-year-old boy, jumping at shadows and cringing at the jeers and leers from his father’s friends. Nor was he the twelve-year-old, convinced he was a man already, who had to confront the truth that his mother’s appetites for deviance were no more refined than her husband’s. Nick wasn’t even the angry twenty-three-year-old who’d stormed from the house in a cloud of disgust and righteous indignation.
So why hadn’t he been back?
He wasn’t sure.
Perhaps he worried that his parents had desecrated the place of his childhood beyond redemption. Would he be able to walk down the halls and through the rooms without feeling that the lewd images of “parties” and drunken festivities had been imprinted on the very fabric of the house?
Maybe before he went back, he should hire a decorator to strip everything inside and refurnish the house.
And it was in the midst of his internal debate over what to do with his inherited estate that he heard two voices coming from the other side of the trees. The man’s voice was unfamiliar, but the woman’s voice was immediately recognizable. Lady Olivia.
Perhaps it was badly done of him, but there remained too much of the spy in Nick for him not to still immediately and remain absolutely quiet to hear what was being said.
What struck him, immediately upon overhearing the exchange, was that Lady Olivia’s words revealed a young woman who was hurt, angry and no longer trusting of God’s goodness. His heart ached for the bitterness and pain laced through each word she spoke. As before, he felt the uncommonly strong urge to reach out and comfort her. But within moments, the opportunity slipped away as the lady began walking back in the direction of the house.
Nick’s feet were moving before his mind fully recognized what he planned to do. Crashing through the brush and foliage, no longer caring to conceal his presence, he went after Lady Olivia. Nick couldn’t see her any longer, but he took a few steps on the worn path, figuring she must have been walking back home.
“Hello, there!”
Nick turned around and barely managed to stifle his grimace at being interrupted in his quest. He’d completely forgotten about the vicar once he’d seen Lady Olivia in tears.
“Hello,” Nick returned, striding back to where the minister stood in the middle of the path. He introduced himself, waiting impatiently while the Reverend did the same.
“What has brought you to Westin Park?” the older man asked. His eyes were full of genuine curiosity.
“I’ve come with my friend Marcus. I’ve only recently re turned to England and wanted a bit of time away from London.”
The minister smiled. “There seems to be quite a bit of that going around.”
Nick wasn’t sure what else to say. He never used to have a difficult time making conversation, but with Olivia’s flight weighing on his mind, his concern was finding out what was wrong.
He figured he might as well ask.
The worst Reverend Thomas could do would be to not answer his question.
“Was that Lady Olivia I saw leaving?” he asked.
Reverend Thomas smiled, but his eyes still look worried. “Yes.”
“Was she unwell?” he asked.
The older man looked as if he wasn’t going to answer the question. Nick was quickly losing the tenuous hold he had on his patience. Trying not to think of his friend’s little sister crying somewhere in the woods by herself, he waited for the minister’s answer.
“Lady Olivia has had a difficult time adjusting to leaving home,” he finally said.
Nick already knew that, and he thought he understood part of the reason why. Judging from the snippet of conversation he’d heard, however, Olivia sounded as though she had more to worry about than just being homesick. Marcus’s sister genuinely sounded bitter…and upset with God.
But Nick knew the family confidant wouldn’t tell him anything further than the surface truth. For all he knew, Nick was a stranger, and had no right to ask anything about Lady Olivia.
And he was suddenly, and surprisingly, disappointed to realize that he had no right at all.
Chapter Five
The next morning, Olivia rolled over in her bed, looked at the open drapes over the window and groaned. The bright sun streamed into the room, and she squinted against the light. All she had to do was roll over again and bury herself beneath the blankets, but sleep seemed far beyond her reach.
“Sarah?” she said to her maid, whom she heard bustling in her wardrobe.
“Yes, my lady?” the young girl asked.
“What time is it?”
“Time for you to get ready for church.”
“I’d really rather not,” Olivia grumbled, pulling the blanket over her head. It was a futile attempt to stop the inevitable; before long, Marcus would enter and drag her out of bed.
Sarah stopped at the head of the bed, and Olivia didn’t have to pull the cover down to see the look of indecision she knew would be on the young girl’s face.
“My lady?” Sarah asked.
“Yes?” The covers muffled the word.
“His lordship wanted me to come and help you dress for service.”
“I don’t feel well,” Olivia hedged. In truth, she felt sick to her stomach, though she knew it was an illness no amount of rest would cure. It had been years since she had been truly at peace with church attendance, but she had always borne through it for Marcus’s sake. Yet now, the idea of attending services in the church where Finley would likely expect her to stand as she pledged her life to him…no, she could not bear it. Not yet. Not today.
“Do you wish for me to inform the earl?” Sarah’s voice plainly begged her to say no.
“I’ll tell him when he comes in.” Olivia suppressed a smile at the girl’s sigh of relief.
“Thank you, my lady.”
Olivia didn’t have long to enjoy the sanctuary of her bed before Marcus came striding into the room.
“Wake up,” he said unceremoniously.
While Olivia was contemplating feigning sleep, her brother moved closer.
“I see Sarah has failed in her duties,” he said from directly above her. “I suppose I shall have to dismiss her.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Olivia said as she flung back the covers. She looked around, ready to stop her maid from leaving. But Sarah was already gone.
Marcus smiled. “I could, but I won’t. I just wanted to prove you were awake.”
“Hateful,” she muttered.
“So you say.” He picked up her cup of chocolate and handed it to her. “You had best hurry or we’ll not make the service in time.”
“I have a headache,” she said, trying to convince him to let her stay home.
“Convenient.” He dismissed her imaginary illness without another thought. “Now get out of bed. I shouldn’t have to fight with you as though you were still twelve.”
Olivia pursed her lips. “Fine, I’ll be downstairs shortly.”
“Sarah will return to help you dress,” Marcus said on his way out of the room.
Two hours later, Olivia sat between Marcus and the Marquess of Huntsford on the church pew. If there were a God, surely He was laughing at her now.
