Olivia jumped to her feet at the sound of the knocker, her heart leaping from trot to gallop as it had again and again throughout the very, very long night.
It was only ten o’clock and they had arranged for Lucas to arrive at one o’clock, but perhaps his night had been as fitful as hers and he had come earlier. She hoped so.
She had slept at some point, but woken at dawn with an abruptness usually reserved for cries of ‘fire’ and every time she remembered the events of the previous evening, alternating waves of hot and cold rushed through her, a mix of joy and terror. Of all the eventual scenarios she had explored for her future, she had not contemplated marriage to Lucas, but now that it was done she could hardly imagine it could be otherwise.
The thought that he might actually wish to marry her was peculiar, but somehow she did not doubt it. It was not that he loved her as she obviously loved him, but she could see why if he must marry eventually he would consider her a suitable wife, despite his frequent frustration with her wilfulness. They shared affection, humour, and then there was the attraction he had never hidden from her. Perhaps even in time all this would coalesce into the same intense need she felt for him, but even if it did not, she would count herself lucky to have secured as much.
She felt guilty to feel so happy when she had failed the Paytons so utterly, but perhaps together they would find a way to help them.
Together.
She squirmed again at the rush of joyful warmth and the rising thud of her heart as the drawing-room door opened.
‘Mr Mercer, Miss Silverdale,’ Pottle announced.
‘Mr Mercer. You are here early!’ Olivia said brightly to hide her disappointment. ‘It is not yet turned ten o’clock. This cannot bode well. Have you gambled away my three per cents on the “Change”?’
Mercer, never blessed with a sense of humour and certainly not about matters financial, frowned.
‘Certainly not, Miss Silverdale. This is not about our affairs, but I nevertheless felt it to be pressing enough to call upon you myself at the earliest opportunity, given your recent interests. I received a letter addressed for you from one Mrs Eldritch, I—’
‘What? Where is it?’ Olivia demanded impetuously. She snatched the sealed letter Mr Mercer extracted from his leather case. It was brief, but it brought her to her feet.
‘Oh! I must send for Lucas... No, this may be nothing and I cannot keep summoning him... Mr Mercer, I must beg your company for an hour or so. Can you escort me to Putney?’
‘Putney? But why?’
‘I cannot say. Have Pottle hail a cab and I shall fetch my bonnet and cloak and join you in a moment.’
It was one o’clock and snowing by the time Mercer helped Olivia descend from the cab at Brook Street. Heavy, slushy flakes gathered in the cracks on the pavement and she hurried inside when Pottle opened the door.
‘His Lordship’s here, miss. He arrived soon after you left, miss. He is...he is a trifle concerned, miss. We did not know where you went, you see,’ Pottle said in a hushed and hurried voice as she struggled to untangle the damp ribbons of her bonnet, his expression giving her a second’s warning before the door to the drawing room opened.
She didn’t respond to the warning in Pottle’s voice or to the expression on Lucas’s face, focusing on removing her bonnet and cloak and unbuttoning her pelisse. As Pottle removed the cloak from her grasp and melted away she considered requesting a pot of tea, but thought better of it. Refreshments would have to wait until she weathered this storm. Lucas stood aside, indicating the drawing room, his face blank, but the intensity of his fury obvious, so she entered without a word.
‘Three hours,’ he said as he closed the door behind him. ‘Pottle said you left over three hours ago without a word to anyone. May I be so bold as to ask where in hell you have been for three hours in the middle of a snowstorm?’
‘It is hardly a storm, more a flurry.’
‘Olivia!’
‘There was no need to worry. I was not alone. Mr Mercer was with me.’
‘That is no answer. You cannot just—’
‘Mrs Eldritch sent me a letter care of Mr Mercer.’ She rushed ahead. ‘I probably should have left a note explaining, but I didn’t think and I was certain we would be back well before noon. But then there was an overturned cart and our cab could not pass and we had to walk for miles to find another and then on the bridge...’
‘I don’t give a damn about overturned carts and bridges! You should have consulted with me before haring off on one of your misbegotten missions. Those were the blasted rules!’
‘Lucas, calm yourself. There is no need for histrionics.’
‘Olivia, if you knew how calm I am compared to what I might justifiably be at the moment, you would be very careful about issuing cautions. For all we knew Mercer ran off with you.’
The thought of Mr Mercer abducting her was so amusing she almost burst out laughing.
‘Mr Mercer has a specific vest for every day of the week and his housekeeper only varies his menu on Sundays. The thought of abducting me would likely send him into an apoplexy; he would as soon be devoured by wild boars. It was quite the other way around, I abducted him.’
‘Don’t split hairs with me, Olivia! I have permitted you to pursue these enquiries—’
‘Permitted! May I remind you that you have no authority over me, Lucas! It is not for you to permit or otherwise. Now, do please stop trying to play the outraged guardian and listen to me.’
‘Hell, I am not playing! You will not go anywhere again without a proper escort and without informing someone of your destination. Am I clear?’
‘Crystal. But you are outside your authority, my lord...’
He didn’t wait for her response, but stalked out, the door bouncing against the wall. She remained standing there, a whole maelstrom of unsettled emotions battling for prominence. She had been so excited to see him and tell him what she discovered. It never occurred to her that her absence might even be noticed, let alone have an impact on anyone. Still, he had no right...
She was still standing there when Lady Phelps entered with uncharacteristic diffidence.
‘You should at the very least have taken me along, Olivia.’
‘I didn’t want to force you out in this horrid weather, Elspeth. There was no need. Mr Mercer is perfectly proper...’
‘Lord Sinclair doesn’t know that. I told him you would be safe enough, but he is a worrier. He even went to Mercer’s offices in Threadneedle Street, but that was more than an hour ago and time kept ticking... Well, he didn’t say a word, but I tell you I could feel it in the walls. Men do not know how to worry properly, it is all shoved down and then the only way it can get out is in a burst of hot air. He is like my husband in that respect. I believe he thought you were so unnerved by the events at the ball, you convinced Mr Mercer to take you home to your brothers. He even sent his servants to the major posting houses to see if anyone by Mr Mercer’s description hired a post chaise.’
Olivia groaned. ‘I never thought...’
‘I know you didn’t, Olivia, and that is part of the problem. I told him you would not run and I think part of him believed me, but the other part must have worried even more, because we were out of ideas and he thought perhaps something terrible happened. I may not have approved of him, but, whatever his reputation and his past, I can see he takes his responsibility towards you very seriously. You are no longer on your own.’
‘Enough, Elspeth. I know you are right. I must apologise.’
‘Not right now. Give him time...’
‘No, it is best he fume at me rather than at the walls. There is something important I must say to him and it cannot wait. I am sorry to force you out into this weather, Elspeth, but we must go to Sinclair House.’