off the street.’ He tugged Olivia towards a flight of steps leading down to the basement area, where a door stood ajar casting a patch of light on to the flagstones. Freddie jerked his head, indicating that Hugo should follow.
Once they were hidden from view, he growled, ‘How can you have come to no harm when you’re out at this time of night, unchaperoned, with a strange man? Does Nell know?’
‘No. I did not wish her to be obliged to lie on my behalf, so I did not tell her. But you must not tell Papa, or Rosalind, or...or...anyone. You know Alex will get the blame and then he will lose Foxbourne, and he will be devastated and then he will disappear again like he did before, and no one will know where he’s gone, and—’
‘Olivia!’
She clamped her mouth shut.
‘You cannot possibly know what might happen in the future, so please stop imagining the worst all the time.’
Olivia stuck her pert little nose in the air again. Freddie caught Hugo’s eye and rolled his eyes and Hugo warmed to the man, who looked to be a similar age to himself.
‘Olivia, if you do not wish me to tell your father about this, I suggest you go inside and get to bed, now. And take Hector with you. If anyone sees you, tell them you came outside with me and Hector but, for goodness’ sake, keep your gown covered and hide that mask. You and I will have further words in the morning, after church.’
Olivia clutched Freddie’s arm. ‘But what about Alex? What if he’s in trouble?’
‘Leave Alex to me. Goodnight, Livvy.’
Her lips firmed. ‘Very well,’ she said, with a pout and a sigh. ‘Goodnight, Freddie. Goodnight, Lord Hugo. And thank you for bringing me home.’
Hugo bowed. ‘It was my pleasure, my lady. Goodnight.’
She stared at him—slightly resentfully, he thought, but he could not fathom why that might be—then she swung around and, with Hector at her heels, she vanished inside the house. Hugo found himself the object of Freddie’s scrutiny.
‘What happened?’
Hugo told the other man how Lady Shelton had persuaded Alex, Olivia and Neville to join them.
‘You have no idea where he went?’
‘No. Only that he wandered off with Lady Shelton on his arm. But that’s not all.’
He revealed Tadlow’s plan to wreak revenge on the Duke through Alex.
Freddie’s brow furrowed. ‘That wretch,’ he said, in disgust. ‘He is my stepsister’s uncle. A nasty piece of work. I must warn Alex to beware of him and just hope he’ll listen to me. Silly young chump,’ he added. ‘Let us hope he’s not courting more trouble than he can handle.’ He sighed. ‘I must away to Vauxhall, then. See if I can find him and warn him. Although if he’s been drinking he may well be in no mood to listen.’
‘Does he not have an incentive to mend his ways now?’
Freddie raised his brows.
‘Lady Olivia told me about Foxbourne and how much it means to Alex.’
Freddie nodded. ‘It means the world to him, but Alex is young and impetuous. A bit like his sister,’ he added with a grin. ‘And with both his father and uncle out of town, it’s too easy for him to fall back into his old habits. If the Duke finds out Alex took Olivia to Vauxhall against his expressed wishes—let alone that he left her alone with such an unsuitable group of people, if you’ll pardon my bluntness—then he will have little choice but to follow up his threat to put a manager into Foxbourne.’
He began to climb the area steps. Laboriously. Sympathy stirred in Hugo’s heart, and also something of a feeling of shame—whatever reasons he’d ever had for self-pity, at least he was fit and able. He followed Freddie up to the street.
‘I shall come with you,’ he said. ‘I have a hackney waiting in the Square.’
‘There is no need. You’ve done enough.’
‘I intended to return anyway. I’ll help you find Beauchamp first, then I have business of my own to attend to.’
Lady Olivia might have forgotten her reckless wager, and the price Clevedon intended to extract, but Hugo had not. Not only was there a wayward brother to track down, but he also had a necklace to retrieve.
* * *
Olivia clung on to Hector’s collar as they climbed the stairs. After the terror and excitement of the evening, tiredness all at once swamped her. Her legs felt cumbersome, as though they belonged to someone else, as she attempted to move quietly. The familiar surroundings appeared to be somehow distant from her—as though she was viewing them through thick, somewhat distorted glass. She realised she was a touch drunk.
All I need to do is get to my bedchamber without anyone seeing me.
A single candle burned in a wall sconce opposite the head of the stairs, as it did every night, and she resumed her climb up to the second floor and her bedchamber. She stumbled over the final stair as she gained the second landing and she swallowed down a giggle.
‘Shhh,’ she said to Hector. He looked up at her, somewhat reproachfully, she thought. She weaved a little as she headed along the corridor towards her bedchamber. ‘We must not wake Aunt Cecily. Or Lady Glen... Lady Glenlo... Lady G.’
She grimaced at the thought of meeting Nell’s formidable aunt, who had been living at Beauchamp House for the past few months, ever since Papa and Rosalind’s betrothal and their subsequent marriage.
Without warning, her throat thickened and her eyes blurred. She stopped walking and frowned.
‘But I like Rosalind... I mean, Stepmama,’ she said out loud. ‘Why do I feel like crying?’
The click of a door latch roused her and she turned, her heart thumping, afraid it would be Aunt Cecily. Her aunt would never swallow some cock-and-bull story about going outside with Hector. She would see right through Olivia. She released her pent-up breath as Nell peered from her bedchamber.
‘I thought you were my aunt,’ Olivia said.
‘But Cecily’s bedchamber is nowhere near here, Livvy,’ Nell said. She stepped out into the passageway, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘Why are you dressed? You retired hours ago, with the headache.’ She scanned Olivia from head to toe. ‘Have you been out? Where did you get that bracelet? What have you been up to?’
Olivia’s stomach somersaulted.
The bracelet. Mama’s necklace. Lord Clevedon.
How could I have forgotten?
‘Livvy?’ Nell’s voice was laced with concern as she grabbed Olivia’s arm. ‘Are you ill? Shall I fetch someone?’
Olivia wrenched her horrified thoughts from that dreadful game of piquet. ‘No. But I’m in such trouble. Oh, what am I to do, Nell?’
‘Shhh.’
Nell dragged Olivia into her bedchamber and thrust her towards the bed, where the rumpled sheets were—Olivia discovered as she slumped to the mattress—still warm. Nell lit a candle on her bedside table and then sat next to Olivia, her arm around her, as Hector padded across to flop down on the fireside rug.
‘What is it, Livvy? What happened?’
Olivia tugged at the ties of her domino and let it slide from her shoulders as her hands went to her neck, exploring the bare skin in the vain hope that the entire episode had been a dream—or a nightmare—and, somehow, miraculously, her mother’s necklace would reappear. Tears stung her eyes again.
‘Oh, I am a wicked, wicked girl.’
‘Livvy! You are frightening me. What has happened?’
Nell