us be clear, Miss Cole, that even if you are the single most unaccomplished female of my acquaintance, you are still worth a sum of £1,000. That your brother would have me believe you are worth something more than that, I am willing to credit to his affection for you and a healthy regard for his own skin. He could hardly say you were worth less, then offer you—however temporarily—in place of his debt. You can agree with that, can’t you?”
Although it was reluctantly offered, Olivia nodded shortly.
“It is also true, though perhaps not so obvious, that the longer you remain under my roof, the larger your brother’s debt grows and your worth increases. I cannot conceive that you are less expensive to accommodate than any other of the females that I know.”
“Perhaps you will be pleasantly surprised, my lord. I do not require that you accommodate me. In deference to my brother’s predicament, you can rest assured that I will ask for as little as necessary to assure my survival.”
“Then I will be surprised. It is my experience that women who begin by having the fewest needs soon come to a place where they must needs have it all. If you prove to be the exception, your brother and I will both have cause to thank you.”
“Might I know what your intentions are?” asked Olivia.
“My intentions? Yes, I suppose they are uppermost in your mind. I believe I mentioned that you will have a room prepared for you, be attended by a physician, eat a meal that you can keep down, and have the comfort of your own possessions as they will be brought here. Other than the visit by the physician, I imagine every day will be like every other. You will eat, rest, entertain yourself, and stay well away from the activities in this house.”
Olivia listened to this and knew a profound sense of relief. It struck her that perhaps she should have had more faith in Alastair’s judgment. He had been in desperate straits, true enough, to suggest that Breckenridge accept her in place of the ring, but he hadn’t precisely sent her into a lion’s den. The viscount was not without scruples, it seemed, and he appeared to have no designs upon her person. She was under no illusions that Alastair’s admonition to Breckenridge that he show more care for her than he’d shown for the ring carried the weight of threat with his lordship. He would do as he pleased.
“I should like to return to my residence to pack my things,” Olivia said. She held out no real hope that he would allow it, but it was not an unreasonable suggestion.
“No. Your maid, or someone you deem better able to make decisions regarding your wardrobe, will have to do it. Otherwise, the task will fall upon someone of my choosing.”
“As you wish. I think I should offer some explanation for my absence, don’t you?”
“And so it begins,” he said under his breath. “She who has no needs is already asking for paper, pen, and ink.” He pushed all of it in her direction. “You may compose your missive here. Be certain that I intend to read it.”
Pulling her chair closer to the edge of his desk, Olivia murmured her agreement. With Breckenridge poised to take the paper immediately from her possession, she had little choice but to be brief and believable. She considered several different introductions, then decided that bold was best.
Olivia barely lifted the quill as she wrote, waiting until her words disappeared to nothingness before she deigned to dip her pen in the ink. She scratched out five sentences, read them over for legibility and accuracy, then signed her name. The ink had not yet dried when Breckenridge took it from her.
“Who is Mrs. Beck?” he asked, glancing up at her.
“Our housekeeper.”
“She will not question this?”
“I don’t believe so. She suspected Mr. Fairley and Mr. Varah were from Bow Street, and she is aware we spent very little time together before I left with them. I think she will be relieved to learn that they were friends of Alastair come to take me to him. As he has been gone from the house most of this last sennight, it seems reasonable to suggest that he has fallen ill and that I am to attend him.”
“You make no mention of where that is precisely.”
“I thought you might suggest something. It is not appropriate that I should put this residence.”
Griffin conceded the point. “Very well. To allay the concerns of your staff and avoid any true confrontation with Bow Street, let us agree your brother is recuperating at Wright Hall in Surrey.”
“Really?” she asked. “Surrey? Why there?”
“Because that is bloody hell where I say he is.”
She blinked.
Ignoring her startled look, Griffin bent to the task of adding the address as a postscript. He glanced over the missive and decided it would do. Tempering his impatience to be done with this thing, he said, “You have requested only one trunk. Will that be sufficient?”
“I will not be here long.”
He made a sound at the back of his throat that she was meant to take for skepticism and put the letter aside. “Someone will show you to your room directly. It should be ready by now, and you will wait there for my physician.”
It was the butler Truss who escorted Olivia to her room. He hadn’t much to say as he was clearly discomfited by her presence. Her bedchamber, he told her, was on the same floor as the viscount’s, but at the rear of the townhouse. He mentioned it only because he wanted her to know that he hadn’t put her in the servants’ quarters as it didn’t seem fitting. He made a point to explain that every other room in the establishment had a most particular purpose and that she wasn’t to be in any one of them without the express consent of Breckenridge himself.
Olivia had no reservations about agreeing to that.
The bedchamber was more than adequate for her needs. She was surprised to find that a small bathing room adjoined it. The copper tub was of such ridiculously large dimensions that she was sure the water would be cooled before it could be sufficiently filled. She had to squeeze around the tub to reach the washstand. Bracing her arms on the marble top, she confronted her reflection once again. In spite of her embarrassing bout of sickness, she could see that her color had improved since earlier this morning. Such was the influence of the viscount. Olivia counted it as a good thing she would not have to endure another interview with him during her stay. He was as desirous of ignoring her presence as she was desirous of being ignored.
All things considered, it could be much, much worse.
Olivia removed the tortoiseshell combs from her hair. She glanced around and saw that no brush had been provided. Using one of the combs and her fingers, she managed to weed the small knots from her hair and finally tamed it in a thick braid. To secure the plait, she removed the ribbon that defined her bodice and wrapped it around the tail. Satisfied, she poured water into the washstand bowl and applied a damp flannel to her face and throat.
Moderately improved in spirit, if only temporarily, Olivia returned to the bedchamber. It was comfortably appointed with a neatly made bed and night tables on either side of the plump pillows. A blue-and-brown plaid wool rug lay folded at the foot of the bed. A fire had been laid and there was a stack of logs on the marble apron. The armoire was sufficiently large to store what belongings would be brought for her and a narrow chest of drawers would hold incidentals and sundries.
There
