Page 33 of A Lady Most Wayward (The Queen’s Deadly Damsels #5)
Olivia leaned back in her chair, the plush padding pressing pleasantly against her lower back, and wished her corset weren’t quite so tight. Philippa’s cook must be a sorceress for each course delivered to the massive dining table by a bevy of servants eclipsed the last in splendour.
She let her spoon rest in the remaining drizzle of caramel sauce on her plate from a crème br?lée that gods and goddesses might trade their ambrosia to eat.
‘That was delightful!’ Millicent Drake, a copper-haired temptress with a figure as full as her personality, sighed in satisfaction.
Her forest-green gown was cut low and highlighted a figure better suited to a Valkyrie than a mere mortal.
Her husband sat next to her at Philippa’s impressive dinner table.
Major General Beaufort Drake was a mountain of muscle and scars.
His closely cropped hair glinted nearly white in the light cast from the two chandeliers hanging above them.
Drake watched his wife with the smouldering gaze of a man who seemed more intent on savouring Millie than any dessert.
A scar cut diagonally across his face, making once austere features quite savage.
Millie didn’t seem to notice as he leaned close, whispering something in her ear that had her freckled skin flaming like a torch.
‘Beau!’
The dragon of a man let out a low chuckle, nearer to a growl than laughter, as she playfully slapped his arm.
‘Shall we retire to the parlour? Brandy, whiskey, port, and plotting are in order, I believe.’ Lady Hannah Killian, once Philippa’s ward and now the Duchess of Covington, placed her small hand on her husband’s much larger one.
Lieutenant General Robert Killian was the perfect opposite of his best friend, Drake.
Dark hair, fine features, and an athletic frame, which perfectly fit his tailored suit.
But the same heated blend of love and desire Drake displayed when looking at Millie filled Killian’s gaze when he turned to Hannah.
‘An excellent suggestion, darling. If I can manage to stand after stuffing myself to bursting. Lady Philippa, you really must share your chef’s secrets.’
Philippa raised a signature brow at Lieutenant General Killian. ‘I have no desire to be poisoned, Killian. A fate sure to befall me if I betray the cook. Shall we?’ She stood, leading the way out of the dining room and pointedly avoided Olivia’s gaze.
Grand. I don’t want to look at you either. I might fly from my seat and attack if you give me the least provocation.
The idea sent satisfaction thrilling through Olivia, although she wasn’t sure if she would pummel Philippa or offer some quid pro quo for her earlier ministrations. Either way, it would be explosive.
Callum, who had seemed a bit overwhelmed at the grandeur of the dinner and its guests, excused himself from joining the others.
Olivia gave him an understanding smile before he disappeared to his guest room.
A small part of her wished she could slink away to the safety of her own bed, but battle plans wouldn’t make themselves.
‘How are you getting on?’ Lady Ivy Worthington sidled up to Olivia on their way to the parlour after giving her husband’s arm a gentle squeeze.
Commissioner Edward Worthington’s face transformed from the serious leader of Scotland Yard to a smitten suitor as he watched Ivy glide across the floor, her arm entwined in Olivia’s.
‘I’ll feel better when we have a plan. I hate knowing that Cedric has Hyacinth.’
Ivy’s fair brow, a few shades lighter than Olivia’s, pulled down over crystal eyes. ‘Do you fear he’s mistreating her?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘No. I’m sure she is being spoiled silly in his bid to gain her loyalty.
Though I know he won’t hesitate to devise all manner of torture for her if I don’t comply with his requests.
Hurting Hyacinth after gaining her trust is one more tool in his arsenal.
He knows his betrayal will make whatever fate he plans for her even more devastating. ’
Ivy shook her head, a silky strand of sleek hair escaping her simple twist. ‘Monster.’
Olivia nodded her agreement.
‘We will find a way forward, Olivia. I swear it. Philippa has defeated far worse foes than your brother, and we are all here to help.’
Olivia slipped her arm around Ivy’s lean waist and squeezed in gratitude as they entered the parlour. Philippa’s sharp gaze flicked to them, and Olivia noted the woman tighten.
Jealous? Good.
Olivia had no intention of trying to seduce Ivy.
The woman was clearly enamoured with her handsome husband and showed no interest in the fairer sex, and Olivia had only ever felt friendship for Ivy.
But if her closeness with the woman inspired any envy in Philippa, then Olivia was glad for it.
The duchess wanted a physical relationship with her, excluding any other bonds, but that was meaningless.
She would seek out friendship and comfort where it was offered, manage her own pleasure in the solitude of her rooms, and Philippa could go hang.
‘Thank you, Ivy. I hope you know how much your friendship means to me. I know I apologised for my betrayal, but I shall never forgive myself for deceiving you last summer.’
Ivy batted away Olivia’s guilt with a gloved hand. ‘Pish. You made an impossible choice to protect your daughter. Any one of us would have done the same thing in your position. You had no one to help you but yourself. But that isn’t true any more.’
Tears filled Olivia’s eyes, and she swallowed past a lump threatening to choke her.
‘Thank you, Ivy. You’ve no idea what your forgiveness means.
’ She had been fighting alone for so long.
To know she had allies – women and men who would join with her against her brother – was an impossible dream. A dream being realised.
If only the impossible dream of being with Philippa could also be realised.
But that would mean the stubborn woman would have to admit she’s wrong. That loving again after losing someone so dear is possible.
And Olivia wasn’t sure herself if that was true.
As they settled next to each other on a well-padded settee swathed in brocaded upholstery as deep blue as Philippa’s eyes, Ivy leaned close to Olivia. ‘How are things with you and Philippa? I hoped the journey might bring you to a more convivial place, but it seems you are still at odds.’
Olivia narrowed her eyes as she watched Philippa pour herself a snifter of whiskey.
‘We would find common ground. If the arrogant, smug, stubborn woman would ever deign to admit someone else might be right once in a while. That she doesn’t need to be some bloody martyr on her pyre of lost love, smouldering forever alone.
Never being willing to light a new fire. ’
Blast. I’ve said too much. And muddled a metaphor, I’m quite certain.
Ivy’s gaze bounced back and forth from Olivia to Philippa. Before she could voice a response, Philippa called the group to order.
‘After chasing the Devil’s Sons for nearly a year, finally, thanks to Olivia, we have the identity of the Crow.’ Philippa kept her gaze on every face but Olivia’s. ‘But now we know the Lord High Chancellor is our target, we must proceed with even more caution.’
Penny Renquist, former maid who recently married the Marquess of Stoneway in a scandalous union, leaned on the armrest of the wingback chair where she perched.
Liam Renquist, her golden-haired husband, stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder.
‘This is dire news, Philippa. If the Lord High Chancellor is the mastermind behind this flesh trade, how deep does the infection spread? Can we trust the Queen? The Prime Minister? Could they all be part of this, or at least complicit?’
Liam squeezed his wife’s shoulder and shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine the Queen would ever sanction such behaviour. Why ask us to investigate these crimes if she knew the leader all along?’
‘I would make the same argument for the Prime Minister,’ Killian interjected.
While Killian and Drake worked for the Prime Minister with the mission of bringing corrupt peers to the House of Lords to be tried for their crimes, Liam, Philippa, Hannah, and the other Damsels were covert operators for the Queen who held little confidence in England’s lords to hold their brethren accountable.
It was a divide that once kept the group on opposite sides, but this new information changed things.
‘I think it would behove us to assume nothing. We can’t say with total certainty who is on our side except for us.
’ Reading, Commissioner Worthington’s secretary and a new member of the group sat on a hardback chair, a ledger perched on his lap and a quill clasped between his elegant hands.
One was distracted from focusing on his finely featured face by the presence of a nearly non-existent moustache struggling to make an appearance.
Edward Worthington brought a cup of brandy to Ivy then turned to face the group. ‘Much as I hate to admit it, I think Reading makes a good point.’
‘A brilliant point, some might say.’ Reading kept his eyes on his ledger, a small smile playing on his lips.
Edward rolled his eyes.
‘So, we trust each other, and no one else?’ Drake’s rough voice filled the space like thunder.
Philippa, resplendent in a deep-purple gown only a few shades lighter than black, tapped her finger against her glass.
Olivia begrudgingly admitted Philippa’s lady’s maid, Delacroix, was incredibly talented.
She must have magic fingers to create the intricately coiled braids and curled twists in Philippa’s elaborate coiffure.