‘Well?’ she asked. ‘Do you agree to help me?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Then why are you here?’
‘Because two days ago I met a delusional young woman making outrageous claims about my father’s death. I told you I don’t like being coerced, managed, threatened or interfered with and this qualifies as most of the above. So I came here to say that should I find that you are making any enquiries that involve my family name I will stop you. Am I clear?’
‘You are many things, Lord Sinclair, not all of which can be spoken aloud in polite company. You don’t like being threatened? Well, neither do I. If you plan to stop me I suggest you begin today because aside from your delightful billet this morning I also received a request from Mrs Pendle. She assures me she is eager for another session with her dear departed and I invited her to Spinner Street tomorrow at five. So I give you fair warning I shall discuss whatever I see fit.’
She marched out of the cloistered entrance, angry with him, but far angrier with herself at the depth of her disappointment at his rejection. She had so been looking forward to sharing her thoughts with someone intelligent, and Lord Sinclair, though he might try a saint’s patience, was plainly intelligent and probably resourceful. For a moment the concern in his voice and the softening lines of his beautifully carved mouth had lulled her into believing he could be an ally.
Well, he wasn’t her ally. He was an arrogant, cloddish, opinionated...
‘Miss Silverdale! Olivia!’
Olivia froze halfway to the carriage where Nora was waiting. Of all the bad luck—the last person she expected to see in London was Henry Payton’s son, Colin.
‘Colin! I thought you were in Harrogate with your mother and Phoebe.’
‘I came to consult Mr Ratchett about the will and see about extending our mortgage. At least until probate is granted...’ His voice wavered and she reached out, briefly touching his sleeve. She knew Colin as well as her own brothers and she had never seen him so pale and beaten.
‘I’m so very, very sorry, Colin. What can I do to help?’
‘I did not mean to worry you, Olivia. We are not on our last legs, though Mr Ratchett did tell me in confidence that Sir Ivo is putting pressure on the bank to foreclose. Still, he assures me they see no need to take such drastic measures as we have always honoured our commitments and he did count Father his friend, despite the...unpleasantness. Still, I think it would be best to sell and remove from Gillingham. I cannot see Mama returning there, not with all the gossip.’ He rubbed his hand over his forehead. ‘I never guessed... I don’t understand any of it. Father always seemed so...reliable. I cannot comprehend why...’
‘I don’t either, Colin. It makes no sense.’
‘Nothing makes sense at the moment. I went by Brook Street, but Lady Phelps said you were visiting this church with Nora. I thought she is your chaperon, Olivia. You should not be here on your own.’
‘I am not on my own. Nora is awaiting me in the carriage.’
‘Nora is hardly an adequate chaperon in London.’
‘It is merely a church, Colin. Not Vauxhall Gardens.’
His eyes widened. ‘I trust Lady Phelps is not taking you to such places, Olivia. They are not at all the thing, you know.’
‘That was a figure of speech, Colin. If you must know, we do not go about much.’
‘Then why not come to Mama and Phoebe in Harrogate?’
‘There is some important business I must address in London.’
‘Surely Mr Mercer can...’
‘No, Colin. He cannot. Please let us not argue. How is Phoebe faring?’
‘Still in shock. It is doubly hard for her. She has barely begun to recover from Jack—’ He stopped. ‘I’m so sorry, Olivia. I know Jack’s death was painful for you as well.’
Olivia resisted the swiping claw of anger that demanded she strike out at his unknowing cruelty. She was accustomed, a little, to people presuming her friend Phoebe was the greater sufferer from Jack’s death. There was no point in trying to explain that the loss of a twin brother might be even more devastating than the loss of a fiancé. What mattered was that Phoebe herself never presumed her loss was greater. She knew how close Olivia and Jack were. Had been.
‘Please don’t apologise, Colin. I hate that people won’t talk about him with me. It makes it worse. He feels even more dead that way.’
He clasped her hand, shaking it a little. ‘You always say the strangest things, Olivia; if you’re not careful you will end up like one of those bluestocking quizzes.’
She smiled a little stiffly. ‘Then I shall have to school my tongue. When must you return?’
‘Tomorrow. I do not like leaving Mama for long. Phoebe tries, but Mama needs me there as well. When will you complete your...your business?’
The barely veiled condemnation in his voice struck home. She hated not being there to support Mary Payton and Phoebe during their mourning, but she hoped once they knew she was acting on their behalf they would forgive her defection.
‘Very soon, I hope. Please do come dine with Lady Phelps and me this evening, Colin.’
She clasped his hand briefly, but as she let go he grabbed it and pulled her back towards the church. She wanted to resist, but her guilt made her weak and she followed. The church seemed smaller now, a little stifling.
‘What is it, Colin? You know it isn’t proper for me to be here alone with you. I told Nora I would only be a moment.’
‘I believe that is the first time you preached propriety to me, Olivia; I cannot recall the number of times Mama had palpitations because of you and your brothers. I am glad to see you are finally growing up.’
‘That is one way of phrasing it, certainly.’
‘Couldn’t you convince Lady Phelps to come with you to Harrogate? We... Mother and Phoebe missed you these past two years since you left Gillingham. I never understood what happened between you and Bertram and of course we followed Father’s lead and stood by you, but the truth is I admit I am glad you jilted him. He was never right for you and I must say I don’t think the heiress he married last year is very happy with him either, if that makes you feel any better. But the point is I...we all miss you since you left.’
‘I will come as soon as I am able, Colin.’
‘What if I tell you I would like you to come?’ He moved even closer, taking her other hand as well. ‘Everything is so upended and somehow you always made the strangest things seem...commonplace. Coming to visit you with Father over the past two years while you were staying with Lady Phelps I have come to... I hardly had any idea how much I depended upon your presence until... I cannot say anything, under the circumstances, but once we are out of mourning...’
She forced herself not to move, not to pull her hands from his. This wasn’t Bertram, this was Colin, there was no reason to feel so stifled. It was not as if she had not contemplated this solution to her conundrum. She had noted Colin’s migration from friendship to admiration during his visits with Henry. If she could not redeem Henry Payton’s name and reputation by any other means, marriage to Colin would grant him access to her fortune and he could provide for Phoebe and Mary Payton without them suffering any qualms of conscience.
But as he pressed her hands between his, the gap between good intentions and reality widened and she struggled against the need to