Lady Olivia And The Infamous Rake. Janice Preston

past the painful lump that had formed. Not long after that memory, she had been told her mother was dead. She had been just five years old...she barely understood at the time but, as she had grown, she had finally understood that she would never now have the chance to make her mother proud of her.

      The sound of her door opening shook her from her memories and she quickly opened the drawer in front of her and flung the jewellery inside. She would put them back in the safe later.

      ‘How are you this morning?’ Nell’s violet eyes were wide with sympathy.

      ‘I am very well.’ Olivia ignored the pounding of her head. She did not deserve sympathy. She crossed to Nell and took her hands. ‘I am sorry for disturbing you last night, Nell.’

      ‘I do not mind, although I should have preferred it if you had told me your plans. Mayhap I could have persuaded you not to go...that it was a mistake.’

      The mischief in Nell’s smile suggested she was well aware that Olivia would not have listened to her and, despite the guilt and worry causing Olivia’s stomach to alternately clench and roil, she laughed. They had been firm friends ever since their first meeting at the start of the Season, even before Nell’s stepsister and Olivia’s father had met and fallen in love.

      ‘Have you thought about how to get the necklace back?’

      ‘No.’ Olivia rang the bell for Hetty, her maid. ‘But I am sure I shall find a solution.’

      ‘And Freddie definitely does not know about the necklace?’

      ‘No. You have not told him, have you?’

      ‘No, not about the necklace, but I did tell him we spoke last night because he looked so worried I was almost afraid he would speak to Lady Cecily about it and she, of course, would be duty bound to tell your papa when he returns.’

      ‘Did Freddie find Alex?’

      ‘Yes, although he stormed off when Lord Hugo scolded him for putting you at risk. Freddie was quite impressed by his lordship... He has promised to help Freddie watch out for Alex until your papa comes home.’

       Impressed?

      Olivia pictured those lazy, mocking eyes and that hard edge to his smile as he goaded her into agreeing to a guinea a point. Now her head was no longer fuddled with the effects of punch, she realised Lord Hugo had seemed like two completely different men the night before. She had no trouble reconciling the Lord Hugo Alastair of notoriety with the bored, cynical man in the supper box, but the man who had come to her rescue, and who had escorted her home...safely...and who had, according to Nell, agreed to help Freddie watch over Alex...he was less easy to define. Which was the real man? She trusted Freddie’s judgement, but...what if it was an act and, somehow, Lord Hugo meant Alex harm? She’d told him things last night she would never normally reveal to anyone outside her family. Was he the sort of man who might use those revelations against Alex? One thing was for sure. Somehow, she must contrive to speak to Lord Hugo and try to make sure Alex was at no risk.

       It is a pity I cannot so easily deal with Lord Clevedon—unless I reveal all and throw myself upon his mercy.

      At the moment, that was her only hope. She had been scared last night by his insistence that she dine with him when she redeemed her necklace but now, having thought it through, she realised her disguise as a female of lax morals had prompted his treatment of her. Clevedon was a respectable and well-respected nobleman—if he knew Beatrice’s real identity, he surely would not still insist on her dining with him. Would he?

       But...if I reveal to him that Beatrice was me, will he keep my secret? Or will he tell Papa?

      Maybe, if she prayed most devoutly at church later, God might show her another way.

      The door opened and Hetty came in with a jug of water. Nell squeezed Olivia’s hand.

      ‘I shall see you later.’

      * * *

      Reluctance slowed Hugo’s steps as he neared the Bruton Street town house where his mother resided with his new stepfather, Sir Horace Todmorden. His lack of enthusiasm did not stem from any disinclination to see his mother—he loved his mother and, despite his initial doubts about their whirlwind courtship and marriage last year, he had to admit Mama and Sir Horace were happy together. And having Mama living closer to hand—instead of at the far end of the country at Rothley—had proved more agreeable than he had anticipated.

      No. His reluctance was entirely due to the fact that Mama was nobody’s fool. He inhaled deeply and then released that breath with some force. He must do this. He could not leave things as they stood. It was his fault Olivia had ended up playing to such high stakes and had been forced to pledge that necklace and it behoved him to set her mind at rest. He walked on with renewed purpose and rapped on the front door.

      ‘Good morning, Stape,’ he said as the door opened. ‘I’ve come to escort my mother to church.’

      The butler’s eyes widened slightly, then he stepped back and bowed as Hugo strode past him into the house.

      ‘I shall inform her ladyship of your arrival, my lord, if you would care to wait in the salon?’

      Not ten minutes later the door opened and Mama swept in, already dressed for church in a dark blue pelisse and matching hat.

      ‘Hugo?’ She crossed the room in her normal brisk fashion and placed both hands to his chest. ‘You are real.’ Her dark eyes twinkled as she looked up at him. ‘I felt certain Stape had made a mistake. I almost accused him of helping himself to the brandy while dear Horace is away.’

      ‘Mama. Looking as beautiful as ever, I see.’

      Hugo kissed her cheek, then gave her a hug, feeling his heart lift.

      ‘But what is this nonsense? You? Escort me to church? Stape must be mistaken about that.’

      ‘There is no mistake, Mama. With Sir Horace away, I thought to offer my services, that is all.’

      His stepfather had been called back to his estate near Brighton and was not expected to return until Tuesday. Mama tilted her head to one side, making her look more than ever like a bright-eyed, inquisitive bird.

      ‘Well, I am delighted to accept, my dear. In fact, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to walk into St George’s upon your arm, but...’ her eyes narrowed ‘...I know you. You are up to something. And I shall be watching you.’

      She smiled, wagging her forefinger at him, and Hugo—who was already wondering how on earth he might contrive a private word with Lady Olivia Beauchamp without setting the gossips of the ton on fire—knew that his own mother, with the sharpest eyes of anyone in his acquaintance, would be the first to notice any particular attention. And, worse, she was the only person with enough nerve to interrogate him about it.

      ‘Watch all you like, Mama. If a son cannot do his mother a service without an ulterior motive, then what is the world coming to?’

      Mama smiled serenely as she pulled on her gloves. ‘As you say, my dear. Come then. Shall we walk, as it is such a lovely day?’

      Hugo bowed and proffered his arm.

      As they crossed Hanover Square on their way to St George’s he saw her, alighting from Cheriton’s town coach. She was with her aunt, Lady Cecily, as well as her eldest brother, Avon, Freddie Allen—the Duchess’s brother—and the Allens’ stepsister, Lady Helena Caldicot. She and Olivia made a striking pair, both tall and willowy, but as different in colouring as it was possible to be, with Lady Helena’s silver-blonde locks contrasting with Olivia’s raven-black hair. No sooner had the pair set foot on the pavement than a pack of eager young pups clustered around them: bowing, proffering their arms, clearly striving to be the favoured one. Hugo bit back a derisive snort at the sight. At least he had never made a complete cake of himself over a woman like that.

       No. You have made very certain never to risk