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

could never
look Max in the eye again.
    Acid burned
her throat. He might forgive her the one deception: but not the
other.
    If she could
keep her tears at bay just two more minutes, she thought,
increasing her pace. Lord, she’d become well practised at holding
them back when Lucien had been alive.
    Max was the
innocent, in every way. He would never know how he had been cheated
and she could never tell him. Not when it risked the future of her
child.
    ‘Like father,
like son, Lucien followed his own father’s dissolute ways just as
Max, even-tempered and charming, favoured our father.’ Stopping at
the base of shallow stone steps that led to the portico she fixed
Olivia with her clear, level gaze.
    ‘Now, of
course, Julian will inherit Lucien’s estates. With Max’s guidance
we hope he might resist the temptations which were the ruin of his
father and grandfather. His father’s weakness was gambling, his
grandfather’s was useless causes.’ She gave a bitter laugh, adding,
‘Thank God the estate was entailed so neither Lucien nor his
grandfather could gamble that away. Our grandfather sold
everything of value he could lay his hands on to raise funds for
the failed Jacobite uprising of 1745. Now Max struggles to maintain
Elmwood’ – With a sweep of her arm she indicated the house and
beautifully manicured gardens, the fields falling away on all sides
– ‘while he leases out his own much more humble estate. He needs to
make a good match.’
    She nodded at
Olivia, her smile warm again. ‘I will be up later to help you
select your gown. You would look just as well in either colour.
Certainly Max will think so. Your unexpected arrival has been a
lovely diversion and I hope we shall be friends. Now, please excuse
me, I must speak to Cook.’
    She didn’t
even wait to see how her words registered with Olivia, slipping the
basket over her other arm before running lightly up the stairs and
through the doors which opened on cue.
    Struggling to
recover her composure Olivia turned back to the garden. She swept
her eyes across the beautifully kept lawns, her vision blurring as
she thought of that night a little over two years ago when Lucien
had been away hunting and of the terrible storm during which her
baby had been delivered.
    Dear God, why
had she not considered the implications of her actions before she
came here? Before she met Max?
    ‘Ma’am?’ The
housemaid’s voice issued down to her. Olivia turned to see that she
continued to hold the door open, her expression enquiring.
    She dropped
her eyes, mumbling, ‘I must have lost my handkerchief during my
walk.’
    Retracing her
footsteps she returned to the bench by the rose arbour. Some
minutes later Charlotte appeared at the foot of the hill, taking a
seat beneath a poplar tree while the boys played nearby with Max’s
King Charles Spaniel, Pansy.
    Julian was
trying to knot its ears upon its head but it kept rolling over
before scampering in circles around the children.
    Olivia stared.
It was hard to breathe as she watched his innocent play. He was
such a delightful child: dark, like Lucien, but eventempered,
sunny-natured.
    How she longed
to have him back, to be his mother once more, and how it tore at
her heart to know he would not thank her for wrenching him from his
happy home. She could see he thrived.
    She blew her
nose loudly, remembering the way the boys had laughed and shrieked
with delight as Max had played with them yesterday.
    She did not
see Max until he was nearly upon her.
    ‘Olivia?’ He
seated himself beside her.
    She kept her
head averted though she did not remove her hand when he took it and
rested it on the seat between them. She needed to enjoy his touch a
little longer.
    There was a
pause before he said, ‘Amelia told you about our guest this
afternoon.’ It was a statement, not a question.
    She nodded.
Rather than try to exonerate himself he said, ‘I was looking
forward to her visit … until you came along. You have