Page 10 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)

CHAPTER TEN

O livia sat before the vanity, her abigail carefully arranging her hair into an elegant coiffeur, twisting strands of her golden-brown locks into place with delicate pearl-tipped pins. The mirror reflected a picture of serene composure, but the faintest hint of a smile curled her lips, unbidden.

“Here you are, m’lady.” Her abigail brought her face powder.

“Thank you, but I think I shall not need it today.” Olivia pushed it aside. The few freckles she had spanned just over her nose with a few spilling onto her cheeks. They were hardly noticeable at all, but she wondered if Lord Cheshire would notice them.

Mrs. Morris entered the room, her expression lined with thinly veiled anxiety. “Are you prepared for this evening, my dear?”

Olivia met her chaperone’s gaze through the reflection, her smile deepening. “Quite ready, Mrs. Morris.”

Mrs. Morris blinked, clearly taken aback. “You are?”

Her surprise was not unexpected. Olivia understood her hesitation. Yesterday, she had been unprepared—reluctant, even—to so much as touch the pianoforte. But that was before Lord Cheshire had come to her rescue. Before he had guided her to the instrument and sat beside her, unwavering in his encouragement with his five note melodies and his ridiculous scales.

Her fingers still tingled at the memory of playing once more—not out of duty or expectation, but for the pure enjoyment of it. Every time she faltered, he had been there. He sat beside her for a large portion of the day, turning the pages of her sheet music with precision, offering an easy smile when she stumbled over a note.

That morning had been no different. While the others went about their usual amusements, Lord Cheshire had remained behind. He had not spoken much, nor had he hovered, but he had been there. A steady, unwavering presence. The coat of his sleeve had brushed against her arm more than once as he turned the pages for her, grounding her in the moment. The door to the music room had been open, leaving her vulnerable to passersby, but somehow, she had not minded the idea of being heard. Somehow in less than a day she’d remembered what she’d forgotten for so long—that she loved to play the pianoforte.

And it was all because of Lord Cheshire.

Mrs. Morris gave her a knowing look. “It is Lord Cheshire on your mind, isn’t it?”

Olivia hesitated for the briefest of moments, then, for once, did not deny it. “He was a great friend to me yesterday and this morning when I was trying to practice.”

Mrs. Morris pursed her lips in satisfaction, adjusting the lace trim of Olivia’s sleeve. “It looks as if you are more than halfway to falling in love with him.”

The words sent a shock through Olivia’s chest, sharp and unexpected, as though a thin thread of reality had snapped around her.

Falling in love?

With Lord Cheshire?

The thought, absurd only yesterday, now pressed against her ribcage like a force she could no longer ignore.

Hadn’t she decided that she knew better than this? That she would never again mistake fleeting moments for something real?

She had been a fool before, and she would not be a fool again.

But yesterday…

Yesterday had shifted something between them.

Lord Cheshire had come to her rescue when he had not needed to. He had stood by her in something deeply personal, encouraging her through what should have been an unbearable situation. And he had done it not because of their fabricated alliance, but because he had chosen to.

It had been easy with him. Too easy.

Mrs. Morris, unaware of Olivia’s inner turmoil, continued, undeterred. “But is he feeling the same way? You must find out if you do not know already.”

The words crashed over Olivia like a sudden storm, breaking through her carefully constructed defenses.

Lord Cheshire wasn’t actually interested in her.

He had been playing a part, just as she had.

Hadn’t that been the whole point?

Their alliance had been crafted to avoid entanglements, to shield themselves from the matchmaking schemes of their families and their hostess.

But suddenly, that wasn’t enough.

The thought unsettled her, twisting into something she wasn’t ready to name.

She turned her face slightly, watching as a flush crept up her cheeks, staining them with rosy betrayal. She forced herself to look away from her reflection, but it was too late.

Mrs. Morris had seen it.

“Oh, my dear,” the older woman sighed knowingly, reaching out to pat her shoulder. “You are blushing.”

Olivia pressed her lips together.

Mrs. Morris continued on, prattling about Lord Cheshire and how promising their courtship was beginning to look. Olivia let her believe it.

Let her attribute the blush to the mere mention of his name.

It would certainly make for a more convincing tale when the time came to report to her brother.

And perhaps, if Lord Cheshire ever did show a true interest in her …

Well, Olivia thought, gazing at her reflection once more, perhaps she could allow herself to think of him differently, in time.

But until then, she would do exactly as she had planned.

She would remain as unaffected as he was.

… Unless, of course, he gave her reason not to be.

Olivia stepped carefully down the sweeping staircase, the scent of beeswax and roses from the elaborate floral arrangements filling the air. She barely felt the weight of her feet upon the polished floors—tonight, she felt as though she were floating.

Her gown was a vision of white satin, the fabric shimmering with an ethereal glow beneath the candlelight. The high-waisted silhouette accentuated the graceful lines of her figure, while delicate lace trimmed the hem and bodice, catching the light like tiny drops of moonlight. The sleeves were modest yet elegant, tapering just below the elbow, and a sheer, gauzy shawl cascaded down her back, trailing behind her like mist.

For the first time in a long time, Olivia felt truly beautiful.

She had Lord Cheshire to thank for that.

It was an odd feeling, letting the warmth of his encouragement seep into her heart. He had been so kind, so patient in guiding her back to the pianoforte—not because he had to, but because he had wanted to. And though she reminded herself again and again that their alliance was a business arrangement, that it was not real, she could not deny the way his unwavering support had chipped away at her carefully built walls.

She sighed softly, pressing a gloved hand to her waist as she reached the last step. Perhaps Lord Cheshire is right, she thought, her heart aching at the mere possibility.

Perhaps she had allowed the past to hold her captive for too long.

Perhaps one failed moment at an altar did not have to define her for the rest of her life.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely registered Lord Cheshire’s presence until his deep, smooth voice pulled her from her reverie.

“You look like an angel.”

Olivia startled slightly, turning to find him standing just a few paces away. His gaze was steady, and though an easy smile played at his lips, his clear blue eyes held something softer, something deeper.

Warmth spread through her chest, unbidden and undeniable.

“You flatter me, Lord Cheshire,”she murmured, lowering her lashes as she attempted to regain her composure.

He took a slow step closer, and before she could react, he reached for her hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm. The simple gesture was grounding, steadying.“Not at all,”he said, his voice quieter now.“I speak only the truth.”

She could feel her heart pounding far too quickly, and for once, she allowed herself to soak in the compliment rather than dismiss it outright. She was not the girl who had been left waiting in a church. She was not the girl whose worth had been measured by another’s fleeting interest.

She was Lady Olivia Westfield.

And tonight, she was glowing.

“Thank you,” she said, as they moved into the room where the guests were assembled.

Conversation filled in the space around them. It didn’t take long before Lady Lansdowne called for silence, signaling that the musicale was about to begin. One by one each of the guests took their seats.

Lord Cheshire guided Olivia to a seat at the back of the room. It felt like a safe place from where she could observe throughout the first three musical numbers.

Lady Lansdowne announced several names at once. “Thank you, Miss Cox. You played that piece with such feeling. Next we will hear from Lady Catherine, followed by Lady Olivia, and finally Miss Harper.”

Olivia felt her pulse quicken when her name was mentioned. It is only a performance, she told herself, only a song. She barely registered Lady Catherine’s song as the weight of expectation settled over her, heavy and suffocating.

The nervousness seemed to prick every inch of her. Her foot bounced up and down with the sudden anticipation.

Lord Cheshire took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. His fingers brushing against her knee where her foot had begun bouncing ever so slightly. His touch was brief, just enough to still her nerves, and when she turned to him in question, he offered her a faint smile.

Lady Catherine finished her piece, and took a generous bow during the applause.

Once Lady Catherine returned to her seat, Lord Cheshire stood up. He held out his hand to help Olivia stand. Then he tucked her hand around his arm and escorted her toward the pianoforte.

As they walked together, he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear.“You are magnificent,”he whispered.“They will love you. But more importantly, play for yourself.”

The words curled around her, settled into her chest like something solid and real.

She took her seat at the pianoforte, acutely aware of the dozens of eyes upon her. The silence pressed in. Her fingers trembled slightly above the keys. Too much time had passed. What if she faltered? What if she proved, once again, that she was not enough?

Instinctively, she turned her head—seeking him.

Edward had returned to his seat, but his gaze remained fixed upon her, unwavering, steady.

Something inside her stilled.

She drew in a breath, letting the weight of the moment settle before she pressed her fingers to the ivory keys. The smoothness beneath her fingertips was familiar, comforting. She closed her eyes for the briefest second, then exhaled, allowing her hands to move.

At first, the notes were tentative, as if testing their strength after years of dormancy. Then, slowly, they swelled—melody weaving into melody, confidence blooming beneath her fingertips. She played, not out of duty or expectation, but because something inside her wanted to.

She did not falter. She did not second-guess.

The music was light, effortless, pouring from her as naturally as breathing.

And when she struck the final chord, the room erupted in applause.

Edward was the first to rise, clapping firmly, his smile wide and genuine. Others followed, murmuring words of admiration, their praise both unexpected and humbling. Olivia bowed her head graciously, her heart light, free in a way she had not felt in years.

As the evening carried on, she barely noticed the conversations buzzing around her—she was still lost in the sensation of it, the quiet thrill of reclaiming something she had thought lost forever.

Then, as if summoned by thought alone, Edward was beside her again, a glass of wine in hand. He offered it to her with a knowing look.

“I must say, Lady Olivia,”he mused,“for someone who claimed she had not played in years, you managed to make quite the impression.”

She let out a breath of laughter, accepting the glass.“Thank you, Lord Cheshire. Perhaps I had a good teacher.”

He lifted a brow.“I shall take that as the highest of compliments.”

“As you should. I do not lavish praise without cause.”

He smiled. “It’s too bad you aren’t interested in forming a connection here.” His tone was light, almost careless—but something about his words sent a ripple through her.

Olivia turned to him, fully expecting something in his voice—something to confirm the feelings that had been stirring inside of her all evening. She lifted a brow, pretending to consider his statement.“Why is that?”she asked, her tone deliberately coy, daring him to admit what she hoped he was truly thinking.

But instead, he diverted.“I overheard three gentlemen speaking about you just now,”he continued, gesturing subtly across the room.“They were quite impressed.”

She blinked, caught slightly off guard.Three gentlemen?That was unexpected.

She schooled her expression into something teasing.“Three, do you say?”She tapped a finger against her chin in mock contemplation.“And who might these admirers be?”

Edward gave a nonchalant shrug.“A few gentlemen, all vying for your attention, no doubt. You have quite the audience, Lady Olivia.”

She smirked.“Well, if they’re so taken with me, perhaps I shall seek them out and keep them company. I’d hate to bore you at every activity.”

“The devil you will,” he said, his expression equal parts incredulous and affronted.

Olivia turned to him, startled—then promptly burst into laughter.

Lord Cheshire straightened, clearing his throat as if to recover his dignity.“Besides, you wouldn’t like them.”He waved a hand dismissively.“They’re hideous.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching.“All three of them?”

“Every last one. An unfortunate lot, really. I saved you from a terrible fate.”

“Ah, how gallant of you.”

“Always,”he said smoothly, but his blue eyes gleamed with amusement. Then, lowering his voice just enough to make her shiver, he added,“And besides, you made me a deal. It would be rather unseemly of you to go back on your word.”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence.“So, what you’re saying is you don’t find me tiresome?”

The question was meant to be teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something a little too real.

Edward must have sensed it because his gaze softened. He moved closer, his voice quieter now.“Lady Olivia,”he murmured,“you are the least boring person I know.”

She stilled, her breath catching ever so slightly.

“You intrigue me,”he went on, his tone light but deliberate.“Your many talents, your sharp mind, the way you see the world through your sketches.”A small smile tugged at his lips.“Even your abysmal archery skills.”

Olivia let out a breathless laugh, nudging him lightly with her elbow.“You are unrelenting.”

“Undoubtedly.”

She shook her head, but her heart felt lighter—warmer—than it had in a long time.

Others had often been bored of her. That had been part of it, hadn’t it?

“You must understand,” she said carefully, glancing away, “the man who was meant to be my husband … he was not nearly as captivated by my talents as you seem to be.”

Lord Cheshire’s jaw tightened slightly. “Then I shall say this—” He leaned in just a fraction, his voice smooth and deliberate. “Fools rarely speak wisdom or truth. It sounds as though he was a fool who knew very little about you … or what you need.”

The words struck something deep within her, as if he had reached into her heart and gently unknotted something that had been tangled for years.

Lord Cheshire did not see her as something to be endured, but he truly saw her. The realization was both wonderful and painful at the same time.

Before she could respond, two well-dressed couples approached, lavishing her with praise for her performance. Olivia had always dismissed compliments before, uncomfortable under such attention.

But whatever had bound her to the past had loosened, if only a little. Tonight she smiled genuinely and accepted their kind words with grace.

Because tonight, thanks to Lord Cheshire, she believed them.