Olympia knew nothing about their fathers. None of them had been alive by the time she left the schoolroom. Though Lady Charles had made her very curious, it would be impertinent to seek details.
“All in all, I thought the duke took matters calmly and about as logically as he could, in the circumstances,” she said. “My behavior was irrational. There I was, changing my mind constantly and falling into the river and stealing the dog—and he took everything in his stride.”
“Of course he would,” said her hostess. “It’s nothing to what those three have done. Stop berating yourself. When men do the sorts of things you did, everybody’s amused.”
“But I’m not a man! You know caricatures of me will hang in the print shop windows and my name—of all names—will feature in Foxe’s Morning Spectacle. And nobody will say, ‘Boys will be boys’—because I’m not a boy!”
“Indeed, it’s most unfair,” Lady Charles said. “But you leave it to me. I’ll write to let your parents know Ripley brought you straight to me. It’s best they think so. You may trust me to find a way of putting matters so as not to distress them. I’ve had a good deal of practice, I promise you. The letter will go out this night, express. They’ll have it in a few hours and will sleep easy.”
“I should like to think so, but I very much doubt it. How they’ll face their friends, I cannot imagine—and how I wish I’d thought more of them before I climbed through the window.”
“They’ll get over it if you end up married to a duke,” said Lady Charles. “All the world will get over it.”
“That isn’t likely at this point. The Duke of Ashmont—”
“Needs you,” the lady said. “It’s perfectly obvious.”
“Not to me,” Olympia said.
“That’s because you don’t understand him as well as some of us do,” Lady Charles said. “I heard about your encounter near the Clarendon Hotel. The metaphor was obvious to me. Ashmont desperately needs to be pulled back from the brink. Like most men, he may have some idea he’s unhappy, but like most men, he doesn’t examine his feelings. As a result, he has no notion what the problem is. But some part of him must be weary of the life he lives and the chaos he creates.” She paused. “I wondered if Ripley was weary—of Ashmont or of that life—and if that was what sent him abroad without his friends.”
Neither man struck Olympia as weary with anything, but then, she didn’t know them as well as this lady did.
“But that is neither here nor there,” Lady Charles went on more briskly. “The point is, you weren’t having any of Ashmont’s nonsense, and that got his attention.”
“He decided to marry me because I made him go home and change his boots?” Olympia said.
“Your manner made him take notice of you. After that . . .” The lady considered for a moment. “I strongly suspect that someone told him he hadn’t a prayer of attaching you. That’s what I would have done had Ashmont mentioned to me a girl I approved of. He’s competitive to a fault. He’ll soon realize he’ll have to work to win your respect and love. And when he does—”
“If.” Olympia couldn’t help interrupting. She’d managed five younger brothers. She couldn’t look forward to playing nanny to a grown man.
“Not if,” said Lady Charles. “When. I know him as well as I know my nephew and the other idiot. Where one goes, there go the other two. They’ve been inseparable since they met at Eton. I should never have expected Ripley to go abroad without them, and stay for a full year. But as I said, it’s possible he was tired of that manner of life. And I do think he must have matured—not much, to be sure—but enough to do what he could to . . . well, not make matters worse today.”
Matters would have been better if Olympia had not seen him naked.
And if he had not kissed her in that not-friendly way.
But he was wild and had always been wild. A practical joker as well as a rake. The trouble was, she’d been exposed to more disreputability than she was used to, it had happened in the course of a few hours, and this had thrown her off balance.
When she wasn’t drunk or off balance, she was a practical girl. This was why she’d agreed to marry the equally disreputable Ashmont in the first place. Nanny or not, his failings aside, if she got a second chance, she’d be a great fool not to take it, because, after this debacle, it would be her last chance, absolutely.
Had Aunt Delia been at home to take her in, the scandal would have been muted. Now Olympia’s reputation must be in ruins. Ripley said otherwise, but he was a man—and a duke. He had no idea how quickly and harshly women could be judged. She’d traveled all day and into the evening in a closed vehicle with one of Their Dis-Graces. The world would soon get wind of the scenes enacted en route. She was descending into despair, horrific satirical prints filling her mind, when Lady Charles spoke.
“Listen to me,” the lady said. “Don’t underestimate Ashmont. It may take some time, but when he wins your respect and love, you’ll be happy you married him. I speak from experience. Charles was not my first choice. I confess, in fact, that I married him in resignation, if not despair. But he was determined to make me happy, and the testimony to my happily married life is my unhappy widowhood. Still, time heals all wounds,” she added more cheerfully. “Everybody says so, and I’m sure I’ll come to my senses eventually. But we can talk more later, if you like. For now, I recommend you try to rest.”
She went out, and a servant came in and collected the tea things.
Lady Charles had given Olympia a great deal to think about, as though she hadn’t enough already. Her mind racing, she was sure she hadn’t a prayer of resting. She began to pace the room, instead, trying to sort and catalogue everything that had happened to her today.
She didn’t remember lying down, and was very surprised when Pickard woke her to dress for dinner.
Though he wore to dinner a set of his uncle’s clothes, which didn’t fit, Ripley carried it off, as he’d done with the garments he’d acquired in Putney. He looked ducal and upsettingly attractive.
After an argument, Olympia persuaded him to keep his foot up on a chair. He did this with a lot of grumbling. But after a while, he forgot about the indignity, stopped grumbling, and became entertaining.
He talked mainly about his travels on the Continent, and he was a fine storyteller, like the writers of romance he was so fond of. He made both women laugh, again and again—and he looked so disarmingly mischievous and pleased with himself for accomplishing this.
This was good, because it took Olympia’s mind off family and scandal and Ashmont. It was bad because she could have listened to him all night. When last had she wanted to listen to a man who wasn’t talking about books? Why did it have to be him, of all men?
Still, she let herself enjoy the respite from inner turmoil. With servants going in and out of the dining room, private matters had to wait until after dinner.
They didn’t wait long.