The Louise Allen Collection: The Viscount's Betrothal / The Society Catch. Louise Allen
suggest that you do so,’ she riposted sharply in an undertone as they came up to the others. ‘Olivia, see who has managed to get here after all. Henry, come and show me your favourites.’
She drew him away down the gallery, keeping up a flow of small talk until she judged they were safely out of earshot.
‘Why are you trembling?’ Henry demanded when they finally stopped in front of a large canvas of the Grand Canal in Venice. ‘Has Weston said something to upset you?’
‘Yes…no…I don’t know! Him just being here upsets me. I am worried that he might guess there is something between you and Olivia, and I am afraid he will guess how I feel about him. I want to be with him so much, but when I am all I can do is bicker and sound fractious.’
Adam watched Decima while listening to Olivia’s animated explanation of how much she was enjoying the exhibition. ‘Sir Henry has been telling me all about Vienna, and Paris and the sites of Rome. He is so well-travelled, and describes things so vividly, I can almost imagine myself there.’ Adam could not recall her speaking to him with such freedom since their betrothal. ‘The heat and the smells and the romance of it all.’ She sighed, making the blonde ringlets on either side of her pansy-face bob charmingly. ‘I would so love to see it all for myself.’
It pained him to snub her, but it was no part of his plan to have her think him sympathetic; he had too much ground to make up from the time he had spent listening to her recount her woes at the Longminster house party.
‘Indeed? I am sorry to disappoint you, Olivia, but I have a fixed disgust of foreign travel.’
‘Oh.’ Her lower lip quivered pathetically. Any man of the slightest sensibility would want to comfort her, but Adam had been down that road already. ‘But I imagine you enjoy travel in the British Isles?’ she ventured. ‘Scotland, perhaps? I dote upon Sir Walter’s romances.’
‘Scott? Certainly not. I do hope you are not given to novel reading, Olivia. And as for Scotland, I would as soon sit under a pump for a week—one can then become wet, cold and miserable without the inconveniences of travel.’
‘Oh,’ she said again, thoroughly crushed. Adam just hoped he was providing a suitable contrast to Freshford, although it felt like kicking a kitten to be doing it.
It had seemed such an ideal solution, to throw Olivia and Freshford together. He was obviously besotted with her despite his efforts to hide it and Adam could not imagine that she could find a more compatible husband. But the combination of Olivia’s perfect obedience, her terror of her parents and Freshford’s apparently rigorous sense of honour was going to make this trickier than he thought. It didn’t help that Decima seemed so fixed on ensuring he treated Olivia as he should.
What if he did manage to disentangle himself from this coil with honour and she would not have him? Adam closed his eyes briefly, seeing Decima’s face against the blackness of his lids. At least he could explain what had happened, how he felt. If he couldn’t have her, that would be poor comfort indeed.
He came back to himself to find Olivia was regarding him anxiously ‘Do you have a headache, my lord?’ He could not persuade her to use his given name. All his attempts met only with a blush and a stammered, ‘Mama says it is not proper or respectful.’ Not for the first time Adam quailed inwardly at the thought of a wedding night with a bride who could not even bring herself to relax to that extent.
‘No, not a headache. Have you seen enough, or would you like to stay a little longer?’
‘No, thank you, I am quite ready to go, but I must wait for Decima and Sir Henry.’
‘No need. My business meeting this afternoon has had to be cancelled as my agent is unwell; I can escort you home.’
‘Oh, Sir Henry promised to lend me some of his foreign sketchbooks—but perhaps you would not care for me to borrow them?’ She looked up at him anxiously.
‘By all means, if that would give you pleasure.’ Well done, Freshford. Adam grinned at the approaching baronet, Decima still on his arm. The man’s tactics for maintaining perfectly respectable contact with Olivia were excellent, and very encouraging. But he still could not see how, unless Freshford could be persuaded to abduct Olivia and carry her off to the border, he was going to manage the thing. And Freshford did not strike him as the sort of gentleman who would even contemplate such irregularity.
‘It seems you have been kind enough to promise Olivia a sight of your sketch-books, Freshford. Would it be convenient if we return with you now?’ Sir Henry agreed immediately, but Decima narrowed her eyes and her brows drew together in a fleeting frown. If he was not careful, she would overset his entire scheme. This called for more dramatic action than he had at first contemplated.
Decima fretted all the way back to the Freshfords’ house, but Olivia’s presence in the barouche prevented her giving tongue to anything but careful comment on the exhibition. Olivia had quite naturally climbed into their carriage, only realising as she sat down that perhaps she should have gone with Lord Weston. But he seemed indifferent about the matter, causing Decima even greater anxiety.
Was he so blind? Should she say something? But to do so would be to suggest that Henry might act in a dishonourable manner—and that, of course, was unthinkable. With a sinking heart Decima decided that she would have to have an intimate talk with Olivia.
She was still brooding on exactly what form this embarrassing conversation should take when they arrived back to find Lady Freshford and Caroline entertaining in the green salon.
‘Decima, my dear, see who is here!’ Lady Freshford welcomed her with a smile that only Decima and her children would have recognised as desperate. ‘Your brother and dear Lady Carmichael.’ She smiled at her son, who hastened to introduce Olivia and Lord Weston.
Blushing, Olivia protested that she had no wish to disturb Lady Freshford whilst she had company, but Adam accepted the offer of a chair and a cup of tea with alacrity, urging Olivia to sit down beside him. Decima saw the light of unholy glee in his eyes and shut hers in horror. Adam was settling down to become fully acquainted with Charlton.
But Charlton, with his usual single-minded concerns for his own priorities, rapidly returned to what he had obviously been discussing before they had arrived.
‘I was just saying to Lady Freshford, it is most kind of her to look after you, Dessy, but now we are in town there is absolutely no need for her to be troubled. In fact, if you pack now, you may return with us immediately.’
‘But—’
‘But, Lord Carmichael, I would be most distressed if dear Decima were to leave us,’ Lady Freshford cut neatly across Decima’s protest. ‘In fact, I would find myself quite at a stand, for in making my plans to bring Caroline out, I had no idea that Decima would not be able to stay with me for the entire Season.’
‘Dessy? She is assisting with Miss Freshford’s come-out?’ Hermione regarded her hostess blankly.
‘Why, yes. I am not strong,’ Lady Freshford said, with a brazen disregard for the robust health she enjoyed. ‘And dear Decima is able to take much of the burden of chaperonage from me, besides being such a help in showing Caroline how to go on.’
‘Dessy?’ Charlton interjected.
‘Why, certainly.’ That was Adam, leaning back in his chair and smiling benignly on the astonished Carmichaels. ‘Miss Ross’s style on the dance floor is much admired—I am sure it is not just Miss Freshford whose mama is pointing her out as an example of grace and deportment.’
‘My mama is always very happy when she knows Miss Ross is with me,’ Olivia chimed in with her sweet smile.
‘But Dessy is single and—’
Adam cut in before Charlton had the opportunity to display his