Page 16 of My Secret Duke

O nce they had arrived at the lookout site, the servants set up the picnic in a sheltered dip on the hillside. The meal was served, and afterward, the guests reclined comfortably on blankets and cushions. Even the viscountess was persuaded to lounge a little. Now she was half dozing while the others conversed quietly together.

The view from the lookout was beautiful. Olivia had grown up at Grantham, but today, it felt as if she was seeing this place through new eyes and therefore appreciating it more. She regarded the green slopes, where white and purple flowers peeked out from the grass, while the woods that bordered the Grantham estate were far below them. The sprawl of the grand house was plain to see, with its many chimneys, and from here, one would never guess how desperately in need of repair her home was.

Yes, she admitted to herself, it was beautiful, and yet, for some reason she preferred not to delve into, the view lost its magic because Ivo wasn’t here. How did one man’s absence dull her pleasure in the day?

Vivienne’s voice brought her back to the picnic. “Roberta was desperate to come with us.” She had tucked her stockinged feet beneath her skirts, and still looked very elegant. “I had to promise her all sorts of things to pacify her in case she followed us despite the dowager’s strictures. I am still rather worried that I’ll see her puffing up this hill toward us. Earlier, when Charles caught us up, I thought for a moment it was Roberta.”

Gabriel gave her a fond smile as he reached to take her hand in his, playing with her fingers. “You are very good with her,” he said, and his dark eyes were warm as they lingered on hers.

“It’s not difficult to empathize. I remember what it was like to be young and longing to do all sorts of exciting things.”

“Or one can just read a novel and pretend.” Annette joined the conversation. “How freeing to be a novelist and able to write exactly what one wishes to say and do.”

The viscountess lifted her head. “A ridiculous waste of time,” she said. Everyone else ignored her.

Adelina was determined to support her friend’s point of view. “In a book, one can visit foreign countries and perform daring deeds, and all from the comfort of a chair.”

“I do love a good romance,” Lexy sighed.

“One would do better to put aside fantasy when it comes to real life.” The viscountess was not to be ignored.

The conversation continued in a similar vein, with the fans of romance novels pointing out the benefits, while the viscountess tried to quash their enthusiasm.

“Olivia?”

Justina’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. When she turned, she found her sister was kneeling at her side, holding out a cup and saucer. Tea, of course. One could not have a picnic without tea.

“Do you think it was really business that called Northam home? He and Charles appeared rather worried. Didn’t you think so?”

Olivia was surprised her sister was talking to her again, and especially surprised she was talking about Charles. She noticed there was a flush in Justina’s cheeks, and she was fiddling with a flounce on her skirt. She didn’t seem to be enjoying the picnic either.

She opened her mouth to remind Justina that Charles was not the man for her, and instead heard herself say, “Northam seemed keen to have us believe it was nothing out of the ordinary.”

Justina met her eyes, her own clear and bright. “Exactly! They were trying to flimflam us, don’t you think?”

Olivia found herself smiling. “Perhaps it is another of Northam’s wagers. He had to rush off and race his curricle around London.”

Even as she said it, she felt a little guilty, a little disloyal. She was relieved when Justina took up the baton. “And Charles is to be his tiger!”

Olivia laughed at that. A tiger was a small man or boy, small enough to fit on the compact seat on the rear of the curricle. Charles would be far too big for such a position. Justina smiled back, although a little cautiously, as if she was apprehensive Olivia might turn on her again.

“Whatever it was that took them away, I refuse to allow it to spoil our day,” she said doggedly.

Justina sighed. “Me too.”

Olivia set down her teacup and saucer and reached to take her sister’s hand. As much as the reminder of Charles’s unsuitability was on the tip of her tongue, she did not speak the words. She just wanted everything to go back to the way it was.

“I’m glad you are yourself again,” Justina said.

Olivia stared. “I am always myself.”

“No. You’ve been truly horrible since the prince arrived.”

Justina was not normally so blunt. Didn’t her sister understand Olivia was only trying to help? “Don’t you remember how awful life was? I mean, before,” she said in a rush, when Justina gave her a curious look. “I just don’t want us to go back there. I want you all to be safe. If I marry well, then we’ll never have to go back to those days again.”

Her sister looked thoughtful. “I try to remember the fun we had and not the horrible parts.” Justina hesitated as Olivia stayed silent, and her tone gentled. “I know it was harder for you, as the oldest. You felt as if the world was on your shoulders, and you worried endlessly. I haven’t told you how much your care meant to us. To me. You are the best of sisters.”

Olivia’s face felt hot and her eyes stung. She blinked hard, aware she might begin to cry, and this was not the place for tears.

Justina squeezed her hand. “But those days are gone. We have Gabriel and Vivienne, and the Ashtons will march on, somehow. Perhaps not quite as Grandmama would like us to—we are rather a ragtag lot—but she is stuck in the past. She put aside her happiness for the family, and I don’t think any of us can do that. Or should want to.” A frown wrinkled her brow. “I wouldn’t like to think you were turning your back on happiness because you believed it would help us. That would make me feel quite sick. I… We can make our own choices, and our own mistakes. Can you imagine Robbie thanking you for marrying her off to some rich old man just to keep her safe ?”

Olivia swallowed. She felt confused, her thoughts floundering, as if the earth was rocking beneath her. “But surely if I…” If I marry the prince and make us rich, it would be a blessing to all of us. That was what she meant to say, but Justina stopped her.

“I would hate to think of you being miserable because you thought it was what we wanted, Olivia. I would be very cross if you did anything like that.”

Olivia stared back at her. Was it possible Justina was right? As awful as their lives had been, Gabriel was here now, and he had already told her he would not allow grandmother to push her into marrying a man she did not want to marry. Just as he had not married a woman he did not love. That did not mean he would not be grateful if she married a man with wealth and standing. Olivia was well aware that Gabriel’s finances would only stretch so far when it came to six sisters. But her sisters weren’t the only reason she had set her rather feverish sights on the prince. There had been the pain of being gossiped about and mocked, and her desire to return to London and finish her Season. It was the life she craved, and if she could help her sisters along the way…

Although now she thought about it, Grandmama had been happy to allow her to believe she was the only one who could save the family. Indeed, she had built on those beliefs, and Olivia’s dark memories of the past, until she was quite… frantic. But Olivia didn’t blame her grandmother. The dowager thought she was doing the right thing, just as she had always done what she thought was the right thing. Self-sacrifice was in her blood. Olivia admitted she had been rather flattered that her grandmother saw her as her replacement. The chatelaine of Grantham.

It had a nice ring to it. “ What did you say?”

Olivia came out of her reverie with a start. Her companions, whose conversation had become nothing but background noise to her private thoughts, had fallen strangely silent after the viscountess’s furious question.

All eyes were on Vivienne, and her usually calm face had taken on a strained, pinched look. At the same time, Gabriel was staring at her in disbelief, and Annette had risen to her feet, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. Her gaze flickered to her mother and away again, as if whatever she saw was too frightening to be borne.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and with a shake of her head, she turned and walked away. Behind her, the viscountess struggled to her feet, her face puce with anger, and stumbled after her daughter.

Olivia clutched hold of Justina’s arm and leaned in close to whisper, “What? What just happened?”

Justina looked as pale and shocked as the others as she put her lips to her sister’s ear. “The viscountess kept saying that only fools read romances, and even bigger fools write them, and suddenly, Annette blurted out that she must be a fool, and so must Vivienne, because they wrote that book. The one about the Wicked Prince that everyone is talking about. As soon as she said it, she tried to take it back, but it was too late.”

“ They wrote it?” Olivia hissed. “Did Gabriel know?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look as if he did.”

No he didn’t. Her brother looked as white and as shocked as the rest. Vivienne had written that silly book? And Annette had helped her? It seemed too ridiculous to be true, but Olivia could see from the guilt in Vivienne’s eyes, and Annette’s rigid back as she stood by the carriages being berated by her mother, that it was indeed the truth.

“Is that the only novel?” Lexy asked, agog at the idea. “Have you written any more, Vivienne?”

“No,” Vivienne gasped, seeming overwhelmed. “Oh please, can we not talk about it?”

Abruptly, Gabriel stood, beckoning to the servants to begin packing up. Any sense of lazy relaxation was gone as the others also stood. There would be no more picnic today.

“I had no idea,” Justina said, eyes wide on Olivia’s. “Did you?”

“No. It never occurred to me. Although…” The cousins were best friends, and there had been moments… hints, that there was some secret between them. But who would have thought it was something like that? And why on earth hadn’t Vivienne told Gabriel before they married?

“I doubt he would have cared,” Justina responded, when Olivia asked the question in a whisper. “He loves her more than anything.”

Well, that was true, although at the moment he didn’t appear to be very loving. But if Vivienne had said something, warned them, then they might have avoided what had just happened.

Another scandal. What did the prince think about a duchess writing romance novels? Would he laugh and shrug it off?

Maybe he had not heard?

But when she looked over at him, it was apparent he had. His face had that haughty look, and his mouth was a hard line of disapproval.

What must he think of them, a family that was embroiled in scandal after scandal? Olivia was sorry for Vivienne, she truly was, and she would be very upset if Gabriel and his new wife fell out over this. Her brother and Vivienne were a love story she felt she had had a part in, and seeing them happy together gave her hope that one day, perhaps, she could be happy too. But as she watched Nikolai swing himself up onto his stallion and set off back to Grantham without a word to anyone, she rather thought she had enough problems of her own.

“Oh no, they’re arguing!” Justina nudged her.

Gabriel was saying something in a hushed, angry voice, and Vivienne was responding apologetically, on the verge of tears.

As if by mutual agreement, everyone had moved away to allow them some privacy. As Olivia approached the carriage, she saw that Annette was seated, her shoulders bowed, while the viscountess continued to berate her.

“Maybe we should tell her the book was a hit?” Justina said.

“I doubt it would matter. In the ‘real world,’ ladies of quality do not do such things.”

Justina looked flustered and cross. “It was a wonderful book. I loved it. I can’t tell you how many times I have read it. Instead of telling Vivienne and Annette off, Gabriel and the viscountess should be telling them how proud they are.”

Olivia gaped at her. Clearly her sister did not understand the consequences of such an action, or perhaps she just didn’t care.

Justina was wearing a dreamy look and then she giggled. “That part where the prince tries to ravish her! Oh dear, imagine Vivienne and Annette writing that ?”

Olivia decided she would rather not think about any of it. If only she could pretend it had never happened, but she feared she was going to hear a great deal more about Vivienne and Annette’s book before the day was out.

After a journey spent in chilly silence, the subdued party arrived back at Grantham. Gabriel and Vivienne retired to their suite, while Annette disappeared to her room with her mother still in hot pursuit. Olivia saw her grandmother and Humber with their heads close together—of course the servants had overheard, and the news had spread. There was no hope of keeping matters en famille.

“What a to-do!”

Olivia had not noticed Felicia sidle up to her, but from her mother’s expression, she was overjoyed with this new family disgrace.

“The dowager must be beside herself,” she added, and now there was no hiding her smile. “You know that Prince Nikolai has left?”

Olivia stared. “What do you mean?” It occurred to her to demand to know if her mother had been behind those notes, but Felicia was already speaking again in that excited manner. As if it was impossible for her to hold the words in.

“He came back from the picnic, packed up his things, and returned to London. Your grandmother was incandescent with rage. Do you know she and the prince’s grandfather had an affair once? There was even talk of divorce.”

“Divorce?” Olivia stammered. “But that is—”

“Disgraceful?” Felicia said the word with relish. “Your grandmother was not always as beyond reproach as she would have you believe. I’ve wondered about that sanctimonious Humber too. Who knows what goes on between the two of them when the bedchamber door is closed?”

“Stop it,” Olivia hissed. “How dare you talk about Grandmama in that hateful way.”

Felicia’s smile fell, and right then, she looked dangerous. As if she was capable of anything. “How dare she replace Harry with his bastard and push me aside? I won’t put up with it, not any longer.”

And with that, she left the room.

Olivia stared after her, wondering if she should follow and demand to know what her mother was planning, but her head was aching, and suddenly, it was all too much. She made her own escape into the garden.

For a time, she simply walked, letting the smells and sights of nature soothe her. Without meaning to, she found herself once more at the archery targets. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel Ivo’s lips on hers, and his arms clasping her tight. It felt like a dream, and it may as well have been one. Ivo had gone back to Whitmont to do heaven knew what, and the prince had left without her being able to secure his affections, or his promise. Olivia should be in despair, but rather to her own surprise, she found she wasn’t.

It was as if this recent disaster had only solidified the decision she had been working toward.

She didn’t need to go to Holtswig after all. There were plenty of eligible gentlemen in London, and at the time she had made her debut, there had been plenty of interest in her. She had felt a little giddy at all the attention, as if she could take her pick, and if it hadn’t been for Ivo distracting her, she might well have done so.

Why couldn’t she finish her Season and make a sensible choice this time? The prince would not propose now—why had she pinned all her hopes on him? Besides, trying to keep him in a good mood was exhausting. She had other options, and knowing that filled her with new hope.

She wasn’t going to languish here at Grantham. She was tired of others deciding how she should live her life. Tired of trying to shoehorn herself into a future that didn’t fit.

Olivia wondered if she could discover a path that was particular to her. Follow it and find, at the end… Well, she wasn’t sure what she would find. Happiness, maybe. Contentment, perhaps. But whatever she found, whichever direction she went in, was for her to determine, and no one else.