“I think so, yes, that’s the tree at the end of the drive. Just another hundred yards to the house.”
The house’s shadowy form finally came into view. Olivia guided the sleigh close to the front door. Max got out first and reached in to help Olivia out. “Do you think it’s open? Can we get inside?”
“A key is kept above the door on the molding. At least I hope it’s still there.” She shouted to be heard over the wind.
Max reached up and stuck his hand into the snow built up on the edge of the ornate doorjamb and felt around for the key. Just as he was about to give up hope, his fingers found the large metal key. He made quick work of unlocking the front door. Leaning close to Olivia’s ear, he said, “Go inside. I will get the horse into the barn. Open the back door. I’ll bring some wood in.”
Then he shoved her inside before she argued that she could help him. He stomped over to unhitch the horse—poor thing. Inside the barn, it wasn’t much warmer than outside, but it was dry and out of the wind. After a quick search, he found a brush and gave the beast a good rub down. “What a brave boy you were. What a strong boy,” he murmured. He covered its back with a wool blanket, and soon it was nosing its way to a pile of hay at the far end of the barn.
Taking a deep breath, Max plunged back out into the storm, making sure the barn door was secure. He plowed his way across to the kitchen door at the back of the house. Under the eaves, just as he remembered, was a woodshed. He gathered an armful of wood, dumped it by the back door, and then went back for two more. Finally, he opened the door and worked quickly to pile all the wood inside the kitchen. When he could finally shut the door, he leaned back against it with a sigh of relief. What an ordeal. He was fucking frozen to the bone.
Where was Olivia? He moved through the kitchen to the front room and found her standing in the middle of the space like a statue. No, statues didn’t shiver. She had a flint box in her hands. He crossed quickly to wrap her in his arms. She leaned in against his shoulder, and he could feel her teeth chattering. “I t-tried to light the tinder b-but my hands won’t work. T-t-too cold.”
“You’re probably soaked. Come and sit here. I’ll get a fire going.” He gently pushed her onto the settee and took the flint box from her frozen hands. Then he rushed to bring wood from the other room. They were out of the storm, but the house was far from warm. After piling the wood by the fireplace, he made quick work of starting a fire. As a blaze began to grow, he tugged off his gloves and hat and turned his attention back to Olivia. She still sat in the same position, shivering and chattering; her eyes stared blankly ahead. He knelt in front of her. “Livvy, where can I find blankets? Is there anything left, do you think?”
The house was sparsely furnished. A settee and two wingback chairs were set opposite of each other across the area rug. But no tables or desk graced the room. The bookshelves were bare. He did not even see a candlestick on the mantel.
“Livvy?” he asked again gently.
Her eyes focused on him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Maybe upstairs, t-trunks in the b-bedrooms.”
He nodded. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”
Upstairs, he did indeed find bed linens and wool blankets in a trunk at the end of a stripped-down bed. The walls in the room were painted a soft blue, and he wondered if this had been Olivia’s room. Thankfully he also spotted two candles in brass holders sitting on the bedside table. He gathered everything and hurried back downstairs. The logs had caught, and the fire was roaring. But Olivia still sat frozen on the settee except for the chattering of her teeth. He needed to get her warm.
“Olivia, I need to strip you out of these wet clothes. All right?”
She nodded. He made quick work of her soaked gloves, hat, and cloak. Next, he knelt and removed her boots. Her wool stockings were wet through and he reached up and rolled them down and off. Her dress was wet as well in the front. “Stand up, please.” She obeyed wordlessly, and he turned her like a rag doll to undo the buttons of her dress. It took him twice as long because his own frozen fingers didn’t want to work properly.
Once he had her out of her dress, he assessed what else was damp. The hem of her petticoats were wet, but he didn’t think it was worth taking them off just for that. Her chemise seemed dry enough as well. He wrapped a large blanket around her and led her closer to the fire. The heat from the fireplace seemed to snap her out of her daze. She blinked up at him. “W-what about you? You must get out of those clothes too.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “I thought you would never ask.”
Olivia laughed, but it was a weak sound. He dragged both wingback chairs close and set them to face the fireplace. He laid her dress across one along with the stockings and cloak. Then he stripped off his wet clothes, draping them across the other chair. Olivia watched with round eyes from beneath her blanket. Max stopped once he was down to his shirt and small clothes. He grabbed up the rest of the blankets from the settee. Arranging them into a nest of sorts on the floor in between the fireplace and chairs, he wrapped one around his shoulders and then sat with his back leaning against the upholstered chair.
“Come here, Livvy,” he beckoned to her.
She moved to him and he settled her in between his legs with her back against his chest. Then he wrapped her blanket around the both of them. “Body heat should help.”
She snuggled against him. “How are you so warm still?”
“Trust me, my extremities are frozen.” He moved his bare foot against her leg, and she shrieked. He chuckled and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Even though it was midday, the storm still raging outside made the interior of the house dim at best. The fire crackled, and he stared into the flames. Slowly, Olivia stopped shivering. Her body turned lax in his arms, and he wondered if she was asleep. But when he glanced down at her face, she was also staring into the fire. Perhaps now, with her warm and snuggled against him he could ask his questions.
“Livvy?”
“Hmmm?”
“When did you find out about Henry and Mr. Galey? Was it after you were married?”
“It was before. When Henry asked me to marry him.”
“I’m confused. Why would you marry him if you knew?”
Olivia sighed, and it sounded bone-deep. She didn’t turn to face him but continued to stare into the fire. He didn’t think she was going to reply, but then she began to talk.
“It all started here in this house. My father had wanted to marry me off to Baron Hadley. Hadley had seen me at a party at Charlotte’s parents’ house. He approached my father with the offer of marriage. My mother forbade my father from making the match. Baron Hadley was three times my age and had already buried two wives.”
“About a year after you left, my mother got sick. The doctors said it was most likely cancer of the stomach. And when my mother died, my father wasted no time reaching out to Hadley to accept his offer. I stood up to him. I refused.” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head. “I foolishly thought that would be enough. Surely he wouldn’t force my hand. But I was wrong. He accepted Hadley’s offer, and the wedding date was set for June. I was desperate. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”