Lady Olivia's Undoing by Anne Gallagher Page A

a small piece of cake, and popped it
in her mouth. “What are you really doing here, Constance? And do
not tell me it is because of renovations to Hargrave House.”
    “I hardly know. Reginald insisted we stay
here. He refused to remain in Cornwall. I thought, as the girls
did, we would spend Christmas at the seat. I have no idea why he
wishes to remain in Town.” She sat at the long table.
    “Yes, especially here.” Olivia poured a cup
of tea and brought it over to Constance. She poured another for
herself and sat across from Constance. “You would think he would
stay away as my Boxing Day Ball is very near to date. An easy
excuse from Cornwall.”
    “Olivia, I must say, I have never seen
Reginald so frightening.” Constance swirled the spoon in her
cup.
    “What do you mean? Has he harmed you?” From
the very first moment she had met him forty years earlier, Olivia
did not trust Reginald. He had wanted to marry her, almost
relentlessly pursued her, but Olivia had seen something in Reginald
that she could not tolerate. Jealousy. Olivia could never marry a
man who would not trust her. Six months later, Reginald married
Constance. Reginald could never be jealous over Constance.
Constance would never stray.
    “No, Olivia,” Constance said. “Nothing of the
sort. Reginald seems to be involved in some kind of intrigue. I
cannot tell you what or whom it involves. Since arriving in
England, he is nearly giddy with anticipation, happily waiting for
the day when he is triumphant in his resolution. I have never seen
him so… cocksure of himself. As if he cannot lose.”
    Olivia was curious. For years, she had tried
to find something against Reginald, but for all his lack of
character in her quarter, he was a decent and some would say,
kind-hearted man. Reginald Leighton, Fitzhugh’s nephew, now the
current Duke of Hargrove, sat on several boards to charities, most
pertaining to the Army widows and orphans. He was a member of
White’s, although had a few Tory friends, but was on all accounts,
considered a conservative.
    Reginald doted on his wife and daughters,
with never a hint of scandal spoken of him. Olivia couldn’t decide
if he was as boring as he appeared, or a wolf in sheep’s
clothing.
    Throughout the years, Constance had never
once complained about her husband. He seemed to be a very loving
spouse and father. And however reluctant she felt, Olivia did have
to give Reginald credit for taking Constance as his wife. She was a
true Churchill, stubborn to a fault and did not suffer fool’s
gladly for all her maladies, quaking nerves, and personal drama.
Constance was also one of only a very few whom Olivia considered a
true friend. And because of that, Olivia had never spoken a bad
word about Reginald to anyone.
    “What kind of intrigue?” Olivia asked. “A
scheme? For money? For political gain? What do you think it could
be?” What indeed?
    “I can hardly tell you.” Constance took a sip
of her tea. “And there is really nothing to explain it. I have no
evidence, no proof. It is only a wife’s instinct.”
    Olivia smiled. “And sometimes that is all the
proof we need.” She took another bite of cake. “Shall you attend
Winsbarren’s with me?”
    Constance rolled her eyes. “Oh, Livvy. Could
we not rest for a few days before we make the circuit? I am so
travel-weary. When we arrived in Cornwall, the house was full of
the lesser Leighton’s. Truthfully, I think that is why Reginald
insisted we leave.”
    “Come with me to the ball. If only for a few
hours.” Olivia asked. “I must go. They are particular friends of
mine.”
    “And how does John feel about you traipsing
all over Town without him?” Constance had been made aware of the
circumstances surrounding John, by the barrage of letters from
Olivia while Constance and her family visited America.
    “John understands it is part of who I am,”
Olivia said sadly.
    Constance leaned over and patted Olivia’s
hand. “What is it?”
    “I am