Father always seemed so...reliable. I cannot comprehend why...’
‘I don’t either, Colin. It makes no sense.’
‘Nothing makes sense at the moment. I went by Brook Street, but Lady Phelps said you were visiting this church with Nora. I thought she is your chaperon, Olivia. You should not be here on your own.’
‘I am not on my own. Nora is awaiting me in the carriage.’
‘Nora is hardly an adequate chaperon in London.’
‘It is merely a church, Colin. Not Vauxhall Gardens.’
His eyes widened. ‘I trust Lady Phelps is not taking you to such places, Olivia. They are not at all the thing, you know.’
‘That was a figure of speech, Colin. If you must know, we do not go about much.’
‘Then why not come to Mama and Phoebe in Harrogate?’
‘There is some important business I must address in London.’
‘Surely Mr Mercer can...’
‘No, Colin. He cannot. Please let us not argue. How is Phoebe faring?’
‘Still in shock. It is doubly hard for her. She has barely begun to recover from Jack—’ He stopped. ‘I’m so sorry, Olivia. I know Jack’s death was painful for you as well.’
Olivia resisted the swiping claw of anger that demanded she strike out at his unknowing cruelty. She was accustomed, a little, to people presuming her friend Phoebe was the greater sufferer from Jack’s death. There was no point in trying to explain that the loss of a twin brother might be even more devastating than the loss of a fiancé. What mattered was that Phoebe herself never presumed her loss was greater. She knew how close Olivia and Jack were. Had been.
‘Please don’t apologise, Colin. I hate that people won’t talk about him with me. It makes it worse. He feels even more dead that way.’
He clasped her hand, shaking it a little. ‘You always say the strangest things, Olivia; if you’re not careful you will end up like one of those bluestocking quizzes.’
She smiled a little stiffly. ‘Then I shall have to school my tongue. When must you return?’
‘Tomorrow. I do not like leaving Mama for long. Phoebe tries, but Mama needs me there as well. When will you complete your...your business?’
The barely veiled condemnation in his voice struck home. She hated not being there to support Mary Payton and Phoebe during their mourning, but she hoped once they knew she was acting on their behalf they would forgive her defection.
‘Very soon, I hope. Please do come dine with Lady Phelps and me this evening, Colin.’
She clasped his hand briefly, but as she let go he grabbed it and pulled her back towards the church. She wanted to resist, but her guilt made her weak and she followed. The church seemed smaller now, a little stifling.
‘What is it, Colin? You know it isn’t proper for me to be here alone with you. I told Nora I would only be a moment.’
‘I believe that is the first time you preached propriety to me, Olivia; I cannot recall the number of times Mama had palpitations because of you and your brothers. I am glad to see you are finally growing up.’
‘That is one way of phrasing it, certainly.’
‘Couldn’t you convince Lady Phelps to come with you to Harrogate? We... Mother and Phoebe missed you these past two years since you left Gillingham. I never understood what happened between you and Bertram and of course we followed Father’s lead and stood by you, but the truth is I admit I am glad you jilted him. He was never right for you and I must say I don’t think the heiress he married last year is very happy with him either, if that makes you feel any better. But the point is I...we all miss you since you left.’
‘I will come as soon as I am able, Colin.’
‘What if I tell you I would like you to come?’ He moved even closer, taking her other hand as well. ‘Everything is so upended and somehow you always made the strangest things seem...commonplace. Coming to visit you with Father over the past two years while you were staying with Lady Phelps I have come to... I hardly had any idea how much I depended upon your presence until... I cannot say anything, under the circumstances, but once we are out of mourning...’
She forced herself not to move, not to pull her hands from his. This wasn’t Bertram, this was Colin, there was no reason to feel so stifled. It was not as if she had not contemplated this solution to her conundrum. She had noted Colin’s migration from friendship to admiration during his visits with Henry. If she could not redeem Henry Payton’s name and reputation by any other means, marriage to Colin would grant him access to her fortune and he could provide for Phoebe and Mary Payton without them suffering any qualms of conscience.
But as he pressed her hands between his, the gap between good intentions and reality widened and she struggled against the need to pull away.
‘You will come soon?’ he prompted and she breathed deeply and nodded. He bent to touch his mouth to her cheek and she held herself still even as his lips slid and settled on her own. It is only Colin, she reminded herself. This is not Bertram and you are no longer a gullible fool. No one will ever take advantage of you that way again. Ever.
He drew back, his blue eyes warm and his cheeks pink, and finally she allowed herself to move, pulling her hands from his.
‘I must go or Nora will worry. Please tell your mama and Phoebe... Tell them I will see them soon. Be strong, Colin.’
She hurried outside to the awaiting hackney, narrowly missing a pushcart piled high with casks. Inside, she tugged off her gloves and kneaded her palms, trying to chase away the stinging pressure that always came when memories of Bertram returned.
‘I’m so sorry I kept you waiting in this horrid weather, Nora. You will not believe who is in town...’
‘I saw Master Colin approach you, Miss Olivia. I told you this was foolishness itself. You aren’t twelve years old, hiding in trees so you can listen to your brothers’ talk unseen. And you needn’t tell me to save my breath, I know you won’t listen. Just put this shawl over your legs, it is almost as cold as back home. I take it you didn’t tell Master Colin the truth?’
‘I cannot, you know that. I may uncover nothing and I do not wish to give him false hope.’
Nora sighed, but didn’t answer, and Olivia turned to look out the window and caught herself as she rubbed again at her cheek, as if she could wipe away the underlying memories of her disastrous betrothal.
She did not regret jilting Bertram—marriage to that deceitful wretch would be far worse than heartbreak and ostracism—but she deeply regretted telling Henry Payton the truth and then swearing him to secrecy. Poor Henry had taken her side and then faced the fury of Bertram’s family without complaint, even when Bertram’s father Sir Ivo made it impossible for Henry to work in Gillingham. She did not even try to escape her culpability—it was her fault he had to spend so much time in London away from his wife, therefore her fault he sought solace with other women, therefore her fault he was dead.
None of this was Colin’s fault, but
