Page 20 of A Lady Most Wayward (The Queen’s Deadly Damsels #5)

Three days of riding from sunrise to sunset answered three questions Olivia never thought to ask.

Was sleeping outside charming? Decidedly not.

Would she ever be comfortable on horseback?

Surprisingly so. Did the Duchess of Dorsett have any human emotions at all outside of anger?

A resounding yes, but they were a tangled mess.

And with good reason. The woman had gone through hell, and she was still reeling from Liza’s death. It was a fearsome blow.

After their night in the cliffside cottage, Olivia expected the duchess to resume her snarky attitude.

Philippa certainly made it clear the last thing she wanted was Olivia’s comfort or concern.

But the following morning, she had gone out of her way to make tea for Olivia.

Her hand had lingered on Olivia’s waist when she helped her mount.

Throughout their three-day journey, she had taken care to stop more often and travel at an easier pace.

But the true shock came on their last night.

Most of their food was gone, but they had been hoarding a shortbread cookie.

When Philippa had handed the prized treat to Olivia with a ridiculous excuse about not liking shortbread, Olivia knew the woman was trying to apologise.

I won’t let you off so easy, Duchess. If you want my forgiveness, you’ll need to ask for it outright. After you help me get Hyacinth to safety, and before you lock me in Newgate.

Olivia shook her head at her own stupidity.

She knew Philippa had more feelings than she wanted to admit, but she wasn’t sure if any of them included friendliness toward Olivia.

Even if they did, it wouldn’t stop the duchess from accomplishing her goal of ensuring Olivia faced judgement for her crimes.

And how could Olivia argue with her? She was guilty of being willing to sacrifice children she didn’t know for the child she did.

A child she was going to see in mere moments.

Hope and fear battled within her. Hope that Hyacinth might be grateful for her return. Fear that she wouldn’t.

They plodded along the gravel lane leading to the small farmer’s cottage made entirely of stone. It perched next to a green field ending in a rocky cliff. A path of steps cut from the stones led down to a cove where sand sparkled in the autumn sunlight.

A young man emerged from the door and squinted against the sun as he watched them approach. Well-worn breeches, a homespun shirt, and a battered waistcoat declared his station in life.

‘Callum! It’s good to see you,’ Olivia called from the horse’s back, not wanting to alarm the young man.

His stern face softened in recognition, though he did not smile.

Light-brown hair curled into his grey eyes.

He crossed thick arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels.

‘Lady Smithwick. I’m hoping you’ve come to collect your daughter and get her far away from here. She’s a terror right and true, she is.’

Philippa shifted behind her, and the horse slowed to a stop in front of Callum.

‘And who is your travelling companion?’ Callum stepped forward to assist Olivia in dismounting.

‘Just a friend.’ Philippa spoke before Olivia could. Looking at Callum’s outstretched hand as though it were a rotten limb infested with the plague, she easily swung her leg over the horse and slid nimbly to her feet. Callum took a step back, his eyes assessing the duchess.

‘And do you have a name, or shall I call you “friend”, though I must admit you don’t seem very friendly.’

‘I’m not.’

The hostility sparking between them was neither necessary nor helpful.

Olivia stepped between Philippa and Callum. ‘This is, er…’ She’d forgotten the blasted name they’d given Philippa. Gertrude? Edna? No, it was something with an ‘H’.

Philippa’s derisive snort created a hot blush to creep up Olivia’s neck. ‘You can call me Winters.’ Not a bad pseudonym, as she was currently projecting about as much heat as that frigid season. And since it was so close to Philippa’s actual name of Winterbourne, Olivia was sure to remember it.

‘Um. Yes. Miss Winters is an old chum from finishing school. She knows of our situation and has offered to help.’

Making no move to take them into the house, Callum kept his sharp gaze on Philippa.

‘Isn’t that so very generous of her?’ But his tone implied no compliment.

Indeed, he seemed much like a bear guarding his den.

‘I’ll have a word with you in private, Olivia.

’ His eyes never left Philippa as he spoke.

‘You’ll do no such thing. Wherever she goes, I go.’ Philippa raised her eyebrow like a guillotine blade ready to claim its next victim.

‘Is that because you don’t trust me, or you don’t trust her?’ Callum tipped his chin in Olivia’s direction.

‘I don’t trust anyone, save myself.’ Philippa strode forward and stopped toe to toe with Callum. ‘Now, take us to Hyacinth so we can collect her and be on our way.’

‘I shall not do a blasted thing until I speak with Lady Smithwick.’ Callum fisted his hands by his side. His jaw muscles clenched, and he held his ground against the duchess.

Satisfaction that at least she had made a good choice in leaving Hyacinth with Callum filled Olivia with some comfort.

He might not like her daughter, but he was willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect her.

Few men had the courage to stand against Philippa.

Even less would do so on behalf of a girl they hardly knew.

Philippa narrowed her eyes. ‘Fine. But be quick about it. We were attacked by highwaymen on our journey here. They carried with them a note outlining our route, so someone is working against us. The same person might have sent others here if they have even a hint of suspicion as to Hyacinth’s whereabouts. ’

Callum held his ground for another moment, no doubt digesting the information. Glancing at Olivia, he tipped his head toward the house.

‘Come inside. You, stay out here.’ He jabbed his finger at Philippa, and Olivia couldn’t stop the smug smile curling her lips.

Finally, a man was willing to stand up to the beautiful woman instead of shrinking back in fear.

Philippa caught her gaze. Her eyes darkened.

She threw her shoulders back and jutted out her chin, a warrior holding back her charge, but not for long.

Olivia sailed by a fuming Philippa and entered the sparse, but meticulously clean cottage.

She had spent a few days there with Hyacinth when they first fled London, making sure her daughter was settled and that she would be safe before Olivia returned to town to collect her prize.

The snug home was designed with the front door opening right into a small parlour.

Beyond that was a hallway leading to the back of the house, where the kitchen and larder could be found facing the sea.

On her right was a staircase leading up to the bedrooms. The parlour was empty, and there were no sounds of voices in the rest of the house.

‘Where is Hyacinth? Is she well?’ The words came out in a rush. Olivia wanted to grab his arm and shake the information free.

‘She is as well as a spoiled, selfish, spiteful girl could be expected. If I’d known how much trouble she’d be, I wouldn’t have agreed to this, no matter how much my mother esteems you.’

‘You didn’t agree. She did.’ Mrs Hughes was once Olivia’s nanny. She had been young Olivia’s favourite person for all her childhood, and that affection only grew as she transitioned from girl to woman. ‘Where is she, by the by?’

Callum’s dark eyebrows lowered over his grey eyes. ‘With your daughter. They’re thick as thieves, those two. Miss Hyacinth has Mam convinced she should be taking more walks. They’ve gone down to the shore. Mam’ll probably fall on the rocks and twist her ankle following that wild hellion.’

The news of her daughter forming some kind of connection with Mrs Hughes when she had no interest in Olivia struck a chord of jealousy within her that twanged painfully.

But she pushed away the disloyal feeling and chose instead to focus on defending Hyacinth’s honour.

‘She’s hardly a hellion. The child had to make do without a mother for ten years.

It’s no wonder she’s formed such a connection with yours.

She was always so kind to me when I was a child. ’

Mrs Hughes had been a part of Olivia’s life from the moment she was born until a few weeks before Olivia’s marriage.

Mrs Hughes found a sweetheart of her own.

A handsome farmer with a young lad of four who needed the kind of help Mrs Hughes was ready to give.

She married and made the move to the Cornish coast. While saying her goodbyes, she promised to always be there if Olivia needed anything.

Even then, Olivia imagined Mrs Hughes knew Olivia’s future would not be easy.

Her nursemaid never liked Percival, though she wouldn’t say a word about it to Olivia’s father.

Olivia wrote to Mrs Hughes during the first few years of her marriage, and the sage woman shared advice, encouragement, and understanding. She became Olivia’s anchor in a troubled sea until Percy dragged her kicking and screaming across the Channel to an asylum in Germany.