Only Olivia

Chapter Ten

Olivia exhaled a hundred worries upon departing the ball. Dancing and etiquette lessons flew away with the light nighttime breeze. She had not tripped. She had not addressed someone incorrectly. She did not tread upon any toes. The evening had been a success, but not one she hoped to repeat soon.

She missed her studies and her quiet room in Bath keenly as she mingled amongst the elite. Lady Baynes cautioned her that her guests were on the fringe of the upper class, but they still had the privileges and connections, if not the wealth. To be frank, Olivia enjoyed herself. Discussing the mundane trivialities of their lives proved to be a distracting treat.

Philip's large hand rested securely on the small of her back. He stood near to her, but his mind wandered. Those lovely blue eyes of his stared of into the dark gardens, a frown tugging on his lips.

"Do you ever think of your parents?"

Olivia faltered. Her foot caught on the hem of her gown, tearing an ugly rip up to her knees.

"What an unexpected question," she answered. Philip looked her over, a wrinkle marring his brow. He swept her up into his arms, holding her to his chest.

"I realize it is an odd question. You have never spoken about your experience as an orphan, so my curiosity got the best of me."

She let out a sigh. "I do not remember them, so it is better to ask if I ever imagine them."

"Do you?" With her ear pressed to his chest, Olivia took in the unending pounding of his heart and the rumble of his soft voice.

"I believe most orphans do...whenever they have the chance. Many of us do not live comfortably. I am fortunate...I live in a grand home in London while they live on the streets making their living as thieves...or worse."

Philip's steady stride led them to a bench, far from the commotion of the ball. The music still caressed the night air, the violin's notes soared above the commotion to treat the garden air to its melody. He sat her down carefully on the cool stone bench, standing instead beside her.

"I do not know from where I came. But all I hope is that my parents did not give me up on purpose. A mistake. An accident. Any sort of disaster is easier to bear than knowing someone gave up their child." She kicked around a pebble, her silver slippers illuminated in the moonlight. "Yet," she added, "whenever I think in such a way, I feel terrible afterwards. If it bettered their lives to not have me in it, then that is alright." Her voice choked out at the end, which she covered up with a cough. Olivia wanted to find her voice and ask what had spurned this topic. Lord Dryden never asked such questions without an intent.

Philip looked down at the governess. She focused solely upon the ground, on her fancy shoes and the ruined hem of her fancy dress. He touched the silky tendrils framing her face, fingers moving down to her chin. He tilted her head back, drawing her attention to him. Her hazel eyes stared at him, watery with unshed tears.

"My question has upset you."

"N-no...well, yes." She huffed, gaining control of her watery voice. "I had just enjoyed pretending to be some poor relation. It meant I came from a family, and you reminded me that I am just an orphan with no family of which to speak."

"I would make you my family if I could," he whispered. "My words may mean little to you, but it is the truth." His thumb wiped away a few lost tears.

She cracked a smile. "Your words mean a lot, Philip." Olivia patted on the bench beside her. "Join me. My neck is beginning to ache."

Philip complied, but not without a gentle tease. "You are still the height of a schoolgirl."

"I am an acceptable height," she retorted. "You are just a giant. But...a good-looking one." Olivia felt a giggle bubble in her throat. The earl's hands found their way to her face once more, caressing her warm cheeks, trailing down to her neck.