Lady Farquhar's Butterfly by Beverley Eikli Read Free Book Online Page A

‘My
feelings? That you are the kindest man I’ve ever met.’
    And the lie
she was forced to utter. ‘Of course I’ll stay.’
    With an effort
she curved her lips into a smile as she gazed upon his strong
features, his warm open expression. She wanted to commit them to
memory.
    For how could
she see him again when the child she presented to the world as
Lucien’s heir denied the man she loved his rightful
inheritance?”
    *
    ‘Is it to be
the vermilion silk or the Pomona green?’ With a decisive snip,
another dead-headed rose dropped into Amelia’s basket.
    Had Olivia
known Amelia was on her knees behind the rose arbour she would have
chosen another route back to the house.
    Max’s sister
had not gone out of her way to be friendly. Olivia suspected she
considered her a brazen fortune-hunter and, indeed, she could
understand Amelia’s concern at her charming, good-natured younger
brother making no secret of his susceptibility to Olivia’s
charms.
    As Olivia
hesitated over her answer, Amelia smiled suddenly. ‘Try them both
and we’ll choose, if you like.’ Rising stiffly, she added, ‘I’ll
come to your room directly after luncheon. I don’t know if Max told
you we’re expecting guests for tea.’ Taking Olivia’s arm she began
to walk with her to the house. ‘Miss Hepworth and her mother are
visiting us from Bath.’ She glanced at the sky. ‘I hope we shan’t
have more snow. It’s two hours when the roads are good and Miss
Hepworth is an indifferent traveller.’
    Olivia managed
a sweet, responsive smile. Amelia was warning her off; telling her
Max had another contender for his affections. Not that it mattered,
she tried to convince herself, as Amelia led her away. She had no
claim to Max’s affections and never would have. But this new
knowledge had come to her so recently and with such startling
clarity that the pain was almost too acute to bear. She wished only
she could find her way to her room and cry out her anguish in
peace.
    Stopping to
rearrange a dead rose that was in danger of falling from her cane
basket, Amelia said blithely, ‘Miss Hepworth is a sweet girl.’
There was the tiniest pause. ‘With a nature that has not been
spoiled by her fortune. I believe Max will see the wisdom of such a
match.’ The smile she slanted at Olivia was guileless.
    But then,
women such as this, Olivia thought bitterly as she concentrated on
the toes of her boots as they walked towards the house, were always
bursting with the stuff when they appeared at their most innocent.
The man who had all but told her he loved her had been on the verge
of committing himself to another when she had entered his life.
    Another who
was far richer and undoubtedly more worthy.
    ‘I believe Max
told you a little about how he came to have wardship over his
cousin’s son.’
    Olivia was not
surprised at the conversational tone. Max’s sister was reinforcing
her opposition using the subtlest of means.
    Without
waiting for a reply, Amelia went on, ‘Max and his cousin, Lucien,
were the sons of twin brothers. Or perhaps he’s already told you
the sad story?’
    Still, Olivia
did not answer. Of course she knew, but hearing it from Amelia
highlighted the fact that she was acting a charade, being given
information as a stranger would. Information calculated to
highlight her point: despite her guilt, indignation flowered as
Amelia expanded her theme.
    ‘It’s not just
on Max’s personal account that it was a tragedy Lucien’s father was
the twin born ten minutes earlier’ – Amelia made no secret of her
bitterness, now – ‘since he was destined to become the gamester of
the family.’
    Olivia’s
throat grew dry. She understood the direction Amelia’s veiled
warning was taking, couched as it was in predictable homily: the
desperate struggle of a once-great family to survive its past.
    With unfocused
gaze she stared ahead as they continued towards the house. She
could not look Amelia in the eye just as she knew she