is pressured unmercifully until she allows me to bake.”
“Lucky for Papa that he had a chance to take some with him. And to make your acquaintance.” She added the last hurriedly. For the love of God, why had she brought up Papa’s departure? She had avoided mentioning it before. From the corner of her eye she watched for Lady Olivia’s reaction.
“I am so pleased to have met him, even if it was only for a few minutes.”
Beatrice felt some relief. At least one of them knew how to make polite conversation.
Papa’s send-off had been a private and thoroughly feminine event, surrounded as he was by his daughters and the countess. Then Lady Olivia had come hurrying in from the kitchen, bearing two perfect cinnamon rolls. She was kind enough to wrap them up for Mr. Brent.
“He certainly was in good spirits, and that was even before I made him a gift of the cinnamon rolls.”
“I have not seen him this happy in months.” Did she sound defensive? She hoped not.
“It’s quite obvious that he and the countess are very fond of each other.”
“You are not shocked by it?” Beatrice blurted out.
“No,” Olivia said. “Never.”
Abandoning the pretext of purely social conversation, Beatrice looked directly at Olivia. “Do you think it disloyal of me to be happy for him? Mama has only been gone a little over a year. She wanted us happy more than anything.” Beatrice ignored the well of tears.
“Of course it’s not disloyal.”
Lady Olivia’s words were reassuring, but then what else could she have said?
“My own brother fell in love again after the death of his first wife, and it was not nearly as straightforward as your father and the countess.”
Beatrice had no idea what to say to that. A dozen questions filtered through her mind.
“And one of my other brothers married a woman who pretended to be a prostitute in order to save lives in France during the war. At least I think she was pretending.”
For the love of God, which brother was that?
“And wait until you meet David and Mia. She is forever irritating him and she insists that she does it on purpose because making up is so much fun.” Olivia wrinkled her nose, and her cheeks grew pink. “I do not care what Jess says; the love of a good woman makes a man happier than anything else in the world.”
“What does Jess say?” Beatrice could not resist that leading statement.
“Jess is a puzzle to all of us,” Olivia said, not answering the question. “He gives the appearance of a man given to little more than gaming and women, but when you think of what he did for Annie Blackwood you have to know that there is more to him than he allows most people to see.”
“Who is Annie Blackwood?” And what were she and Lord Jess to each other?
“One of my dearest friends. She was the daughter of my governess and like a sister to me. She is still at Penn ford and I doubt she will ever leave.”
Which did not answer Beatrice’s question, or at least the part about Jess. Lord Jess, she reminded herself.
“Mayhap he will fall in love here,” Olivia said with a lightness that did not match the wistfulness in her eyes. “I so wish he could be as happy as I am.”
“What kind of woman would it take?” Beatrice really hoped Olivia would answer her even if it was an impertinent question.
“He needs someone who can see below the surface and find the man who is loyal to the extreme, is honorable regardless of the consequences, and loves his family even though he is estranged from them. And that last makes no sense at all.”
“Yes, it does.” Beatrice stood so quickly that the branch that was her seat shook. “You can love someone even when they are irritating. Sometimes Ceci will drive me near mad with her worry about her appearance and her hair and what she should talk about, but I always love her.” Having made her point as forcefully as she could, Beatrice sat back down carefully.
“Yes.” Olivia slipped off her branch and moved over to sit on one of the chairs, which all but swallowed her. She looked like a doll sitting in her owner’s chair. “Sometimes Michael talks to me like I am one of his parishioners.”
She lowered her voice in imitation of her husband. “Olivia, the first Commandment means there is no work in the kitchen on Sunday.” Olivia made a face again. “Then