Page 16 of A Relentless Rake

Soperfect.

That was her, she thought miserably, the perfect model of orderliness and propriety. Positioned by society at the edges of rooms where elderly spinsters and ladies’ companions dressed in grays and browns did their best to fade unnoticed into the wallpaper. Traditional and mannered. Chaste. Sexless. Destined to simply wither away a little bit more each day until nothing was left but a shriveled, empty husk.

She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to force down a rising scream of desolation.

Oh, how she wanted so much more! She wanted the happiness that came with having a home of her own, a husband who loved her, and children. Most of all, she wanted the passion and joy that should have been part of living and loving. She’d tasted that once, had believed it could be hers…

But that was so long ago now that it seemed like a dream. No, a nightmare. She’d been only eighteen and swept up in the promise of a future with the man she’d loved, so young and foolish…so lucky to escape without completely ruining herself and her family.

This was her life now, as a paragon of moral propriety. A role model of respectability.

A fraud.

A loud rap sounded at the door, and she startled. She barely had time to wipe her eyes before Henry hurried inside.

His ingratiating smile faded into a puzzled frown as he glanced around the room. “Mrs. Adams said Lady Gantry was here.”

“She was but couldn’t linger.” Olivia reached for her account book and flipped it open to that month’s ledger. She kept her gaze lowered to the columns of figures that never seemed to balance so he wouldn’t see any trace of emotion on her face. “Her niece is coming to work for us. She’s going to serve as a companion for the younger girls.”

He scoffed. “You mean Lady Gantry coerced you into creating a position for a poor relative.”

She didn’t dare raise her eyes. “Exactly.”

“If you think it best.” He blew out a frustrated sigh. “But I wanted to invite the baroness to my Society presentation.”

Olivia looked up, surprised. “Lady Gantry would never attend a lecture at the Royal Society. Too bluestocking for her tastes.”

“I know.” He approached her desk and, without asking, looked through the papers she’d put there. “But I wanted to invite her anyway. Flatter her so she would tell her friends that she was a special guest.”

She arched a brow at that bit of dishonesty. “You mean so the fellows would see her name on the guest list and know that you have connections in society?”

Caught in his lie, Henry answered that with a grin and reached for the stack of mail.

“Looking for something in particular onmydesk?” she asked, unable to hold back her irritation. Even after five years of successfully managing the school, Henry didn’t completely trust her.

“Just checking what’s arrived.” He held up the white card. “From the Countess of St James?”

“Her annual ball is tomorrow evening.” She put out her hand and waited for him to place it on her palm. “That invitation needs to be returned.”

Several society ladies were patronesses of the Everett School, so Olivia often received invitations to afternoon teas and book clubs where having a bluestocking in attendance gave the gathering intellectual credibility. If that same bluestocking also happened to manage the school for which the hostess served as patroness, then the woman could also flaunt her charitable works. Two birds, one stone. Despite knowing the real reason behind the invitations, Olivia attended every event she could.

But those weren’t balls, and Lady St James wasn’t a patroness. This one was a mistake.

“You’re attending, of course,” Henry said.

She snatched back the invitation. “Of course I amnot.”

“Why not?”

She nearly laughed. “Women like me don’t attend soirees like this.” The countess’s ball would be the event of the season, certain to be a crush, and the kind of see-and-be-seen evening that drew princes and dukes. Perhaps even the regent himself. There wasn’t room for a schoolmistress. “I’d be a misfit.”

“You should go,” he told her. “You might meet someone—”

A bitter knot twisted in her stomach. He didn’t mean she would meet a gentleman. She wasn’t foolish enough to misunderstand that.

“—who will donate to the school,” he finished.

Being right didn’t dull the prick to her pride.