and clearly your opinion of your daughter is unfavorable, to say the least, but Olivia needs you.” He paused and added, “And I’d like your blessing.”
“Our blessing?” Mr. Morgan repeated with a scoff as he lifted his bushy brows.
“I want to marry her—do what I should have done years ago.”
Silence fell over the room. Mrs. Morgan’s face relaxed the slightest bit, and Mr. Morgan sighed heavily. But in the end, he said, “You don’t need our blessing, Mr. Findley. Olivia is no longer any of our concern.”
It wasn’t until close to daybreak on Friday morning that Marcus’s fever finally broke. Olivia woke up to find her poor child drenched and moaning with his discomfort. She hated to wake Clara, but she couldn’t change Marcus and the bedclothes without her.
As they sponged him off and put on a clean nightgown, Olivia allowed the joy and relief to flood through her. He wasn’t in the clear yet, she knew that, but still…God had heard her prayers, and at least she had a bit of hope now.
Once Marcus was resting peacefully again, Olivia sat in the window seat, staring out at the snow-covered countryside as the sun came up on the horizon. She hugged her knees to her chest and thought of Rowan. Christmas was only a few days away now. Would he be back in time? Would he be back at all?
She glanced at Marcus and then back out at the snow. It didn’t really matter, did it? She had her most prized possession—her son. Companionship in the form of a husband wasn’t entirely necessary. She could get by—she’d done so this long, hadn’t she?
Yet, she couldn’t ignore the longing, the emptiness. It clutched at her heart like a vise, no matter what she tried to tell herself. She felt so alone in this world. Mrs. Stilton was her only true friend, but she wouldn’t be here forever.
Burdened by her thoughts, Olivia decided to try to sleep. She crawled into the bed, being careful not to disturb Marcus, and let her exhaustion overtake her.
It was hours later before Olivia woke up again. Without opening her eyes, she could feel sunlight on her face. However, she was so comfortable she had no desire to wake up yet, so she snuggled under the covers and heaved a sigh of contentment.
“Mama?”
Of course, that was one word she couldn’t ignore. She opened her eyes to find Marcus, her sweet Marcus, lying on his side facing her, his own eyes wide open.
Olivia came to her elbow and caressed his cool forehead with her other hand. “Marcus?” she said, unable to believe he seemed so well already. “How do you feel, my darling?”
He shrugged as best he could in his position. “Tired,” he said, his voice weak. “Did I miss Christmas?”
At this, Olivia couldn’t help but laugh. All the fear of the last couple days seeped out of her, leaving her feeling positively giddy. “Thank heavens, no!” she said. “You have two more days to rest and get well, my love.”
Marcus smiled and then closed his eyes again. In a matter of moments, his breathing evened out. Olivia slipped from the bed and pulled the counterpane over him before ringing for Clara.
The little maid appeared at her door within mere minutes. Olivia shared the good news and then asked if she could take a bath.
“I’ll bring the tub right up, ma’am,” Clara said, bobbing a curtsey. She started out the door and then turned back. “Oh, and you might like to know that Mr. Findley is on his way back from London.”
Olivia paced the floor of the yellow room at least one thousand times that afternoon, waiting to see Rowan riding up the drive in his carriage. Her ankle was still sore, but not enough to make her sit still. She knew it wasn’t going to make him get there any faster to look out the window every few seconds, but she couldn’t help herself.
Once Clara had told her he was coming back, she’d set to really thinking about what she wanted to say to him. She wasn’t a terribly bold person—not anymore, at least. As a matter