July 28, 1808
4 Half Moon Street, London
Dear Lord Baynes,
I hope you and your family are faring well in this desolate heat. In Bath we have some respite from the summer thanks to our waters.
I will begin by telling you that your letter did not come as a surprise. I knew that sooner or later you or Lady Baynes would reach out to me. I knew when I first recommended her to your employ of the similarities she shared with your wife. Though I know well enough that she is of no kin to her.
You must have noticed her brilliance and other aspects that make it impossible for her to be the base-born child of some common folk. You have the power and resources to delve further into her ancestry. I am positive she is of aristocratic stock.
When she arrived on our doorstep, she was garbed in fine linens—silk and the softest wool. There was no letter. One of the footmen did recall seeing a woman running off in the night. I believe that finding her will help us to find Miss Fairfax's parents.
Regards,
Miss Clearwater
“He had business to attend to in Bath,” explained Catherine. She had not missed the tradition of afternoon calls. Her friends from Miss Clearwater's had not become any more cultured. In fact, they must have gotten more silly and frivolous. From the tips of their kid leather boots to the tops of their turbans, all the ladies cared to discuss were their marriageable daughters. They all had at least three years before they were ready to be launched into Society. At least her current caller was straight-forward.
“What a shame,” said a Lady Nelson, of moist eyes and quivering voice. She had a frightful little cat sitting on her lap. Long white coat and rather evil blue eyes. She carried Princess Posy with her everywhere, trailing cat hair in their wake. “I had so hoped to see Lord Baynes again.” She rubbed Princess Posy behind her ears. “I did see Lord Dryden's card in the hall...is he here?”
“He is visiting with my daughters,” she replied. It was unlike Lady Nelson to be so indirect. She must be inhaling far too much cat hair.
“I saw him the other day at the British Museum.”
Ah, thought Catherine, here it was. Hindsight was bittersweet. Olivia's casual entry into London had caused a smattering of uproar. Not a lot, but enough for Lady Baynes to kick herself over allowing her to be seen in public on the arm of Philip. The scandal sheets picked up on the scent and proclaimed Olivia to be a distant cousin to the Viscountess Baynes. Neither Catherine nor Philip had refuted the claims.
“My cousin, Miss Fairfax, is a great lover of history and archaeology. Lord Dryden was gracious in escorting her to the museum. I would have been of little help for her inquiring mind.”
“I cannot think well of academic-minded women, but the world is a different place than it was when I was a girl. Right, Princess Posy?”
The cat offered a meow to her human. Lady Nelson patted her head. “Why is she not accepting calls with you?”
“Miss Fairfax is a particular favourite of my daughters.” Lady Nelson's eyebrow quirked in interest. She scratched beneath Princess Posy's chin. “I am very lucky to have her in my household.”
“Household...yes,” she murmured. “I have nearly overstayed my welcome. I would hate to be here when someone else came calling. I look forward to your ball next week, Lady Baynes.”
Catherine rose to her feet, watching her amble out. That blasted ball! She had forgotten about it. How unlike her.
“I have so much work to do!” She cried. Catherine licked her lips before drawing them into a pout. She had been far too busy with outfitting Miss Fairfax in clothes befitting her assumed station. That girl was a beauty though her tastes ran simple. She turned her nose up at silken gowns with tiers of Venetian lace but embraced a beautiful ivory ballgown in with an overlay of delicate silver net. Catherine also convinced to order a couple of day gowns in a shades of Cerulean, Pomona and Puce. The dear girl promised to pay the expense of the new wardrobe. She even offered to forfeit any future wages until the debt was repaid. Catherine found her protests charming and insisted they were gifts for such splendid work with the twins.
At the very moment while Lady Baynes planned a ball, her handsome cousin had the governess pressed against the door of her bedroom.
“Lord Dryden,” Olivia began. But he placed a finger against her lips. Happiness lit up his handsome face.
“Philip. Call me Philip.” He insisted, drawing a finger down her cheek. Her skin was velvety smoothness that prickled beneath his light caress.
She wanted to protest. Calling that familiarity improper made her a hypocrite when the pair of them were hiding in her bedchamber. "Philip." Her lips grew into a smile.
"Olivia." She shuddered beneath his feathery touch. "You will be attending the ball, yes? Please save me a dance or two or dozen."
"I would give them all to you." She heard her voice reply.
“But you cannot.”
Olivia shook her head. “That is of the utmost impropriety.”
“Two sets? The first and the last.” He insisted.
“I should not even be in attendance except the whole city believes me to be a poor relation. I will commit to this role until I can no longer.”
“Then what will happen?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I will address that when the time arrives.”
“I can take care of you.” Fingers closed around her upper arms. She winced at the sudden contact afraid of his vice grip. Her eyes shot open in surprise. He did not squeeze her into submission. His grip was loose and tender.
“I-I cannot allow such an event to occur. You must understand, Philip, if you turned your gaze to someone younger then I would be ruined.”
“Who is to say that would happen? You know now the depth of my feelings.”
“Who are you to say it will not? No matter how much you may think you feel for me...you do not know how you will feel in a year let alone a month.” Olivia side-stepped away from him. She covered her face with her hands. “I cannot keep having this conversation. I am so close to accepting your offer. Believe me, Philip, I fall asleep to dreams of a life with you. Any kind of life. Even one that would shame the rest of my days. But, I cannot. I cannot!” She repeated forcefully. A rawness edged her voice. It unnerved him. He shut his eyes and let out a breath.
“Olivia...please, darling, please...I will stop asking. I am a boor for making such demands of you. The life I offer you is not for a paragon such as yourself. You need a man who will offer you not just love and wealth but security and marriage. If I were free of my earthly bonds, I would happily wed you. You are so...just so lovely.” Philip said with a sigh. He twisted a lock of her earth brown hair around his palm.
Olivia’s lovely face scrunched into a frightful glare. “Lovely?” she echoed. “‘Just so lovely?’ That is why you would happily wed me?”
“It is just one of the many reasons, darling. I swear.”
“No, you just want me as your mistress because of lust. You make speak of love, but your heart is only entranced by my beauty.” She crossed the room in a few strides, her petticoats and skirts billowing about her legs. Olivia’s stomach was churning with this unknown fury. This emotion was rare for her. One did not become a governess when they were prone to anger. “You only want me…” she paused, vision clouding over the words that simmered in her throat. “Because I look like Lady Baynes.” That thought had often floated around her mind when the hour was late and she could not find solace. But, the madness that provoked these thoughts never ventured into daylight.
Philip recoiled with the weight of her words. They stung with their absurdity and frenzy. Philip could only shake his head. “That is madness,” he managed. Olivia’s eyes widened, eyebrows rising high onto her forehead.
“Are you calling me mad?” She stuffed her trembling hands deep within her skirts. Olivia opened her mouth to suck in some air. She felt strange. This was not her. She did not have shaking hands and shout at men. Olivia Fairfax was intellectual and in full control of her emotions. She did not hide away to empty chambers and kiss married men. She was mad. He was right.
Olivia liked to be in control. There were few aspects of her life in which she was complete control. Her heart and her body would not be given to Lord Dryden. They were hers alone. She felt him walk towards her and she backed away.
“Olivia, what is wr--” He watched as she turned her back to him. Philip sighed. There was no use. She was shutting him out. In minutes, he perfect delight had transformed into despair. “I will leave you, Miss Fairfax.” She twisted her neck at those words. Hazel eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She swallowed and nodded her head.
“You do not have to leave…but perhaps it is better if you do.” A smile twisted her lips. “Yet, I do not want you to go. I do not understand this.” Olivia loathed these feelings that washed over her. Not because she was some heartless monument to academics who despised romantic entanglements, but because she did not understand them. She hated to not comprehend things. She felt helpless and adrift.
Philip remained standing. “I know that what I offer you is lacking. You should have everything and more and I cannot offer you it all. You are right in saying that I do not know how I will feel about you in a month, but that is where you will have to trust me. I do not know that you will not take a love behind my back. Except I know the sort of person you are and with that I know that you would never.” He paused noticing the tension gradually drain from her face. “I will not say I love you, but the feelings I hold for you are so great in such a short span of time that it must grow into love.” His voice was soft and seemed to loosen her stresses and worries.
The governess admired his honey-coloured hair in its indomitable side-part and his expressive blue eyes that spoke only of affection for her. She wanted him in the ways of fairy tales and ones that made young girls blush. But she did not know for how long.
“I will say that you are completely wrong in assuming I am only attracted to you because of your resemblance to Cat. It is there, surely, but as I told you on our first meeting, I find you infinitely more beautiful. She is nothing compared to you and you are everything to me.”
“Y-You are so good with words, Philip,” she said. “I fear I cannot spin words into prose as sweetly as you. But...I want you. Body. Soul. Everything.” She would never has his name. She would never be Lady Dryden. But she would have him.
Philip scooped her up into his arms. Her feet dangled off the ground. She wondered how their difference in height affected bedroom activities. He kissed her cheek and then her lips.
“Darling, I will speak with Baynes at once. There are some papers to be drawn up and arrangements to be made.” Olivia wriggled out of his grasp and regained her footing on the floor.
“Arrangements? Papers? Is this a contract?”
“They are simply measures to protect you.” Philip raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “To be honest, I am not entirely sure what this whole deal entails.”
“You have never taken a lover?” Olivia asked in a whisper.
“Well yes...and then no. Certains events are bound to happen on The Grand Tour. But then I got married and nothing since then. I have not lain with a woman since my wedding night.”
She gasped before covering her mouth with a guilt expression. Philip smiled. “Do not worry. It is not something a man forgets how to do.”
“Oh no, I am not worried about your...uh, bedroom skills. I was merely shocked that you had not..eh...sought to relieve yourself since that night.”
He raised his shoulders. “I have been busy attending lectures.”
“But you never felt the urge?” She inquired further. Philip blinked his eyes, jaw falling open. Her question, asked with bright eyes and a glimmering smile, surprised him. He, of course, knew her to be intelligent on all matters of academic--languages, mathematics, and history. She spoke just as easily on sexual urges as if she inquired about the newest artifacts from Egypt.
Her question was foolish. Of course he had urges. Plenty of them. But opera singers did not catch his fancy. He also did not enjoy the brothel scene. It was amazingly easy to stay celibate with a wife who took lovers.
“More often recently than before,” was all he said. She tilted her head to the side.
“I see.” But Olivia did not.
Philip looked over at a wall clock. It was nearing four. He took hold of her hands. “I must go, Olivia. Baynes is probably at his club.”
“I must attend to my charges. I have not taught them at all since we arrived in London as if they even noticed.”
“Good bye for now. Do not forget about the ball.” He stooped to kiss both of her hands.
“I will not,” she promised. Philip released her hands and turned to leave. She stopped him and tugged him back to face her. His brows furrowed into unasked questions. Olivia licked her lips. In a fluid motion, she wrapped her arms around his neck to tug his face closer to her own and then rose on the balls of her feet.
Then she kissed him. Lips warm and untutored moved against his own with tenderness. Philip had never been kissed by a woman before. With the handful of kisses he could account for, he had been the bestower. It was different and exhilirating to have someone desire to kiss you first. From the top of his side-part to the tips of his long fingers and Hessian boots, he was undone. He was not himself. He was certainly and newly in love.