Free It Begins with a Kiss by Eileen Dreyer Page B

of the wounded and a surprise thunderstorm.
    Olivia felt so overwhelmed she thought she might find herself laughing like a lunatic. Could she dare ask the duchess for help? Could she put this lovely woman at risk?
    “I’m sorry,” she said, knowing how panicked she sounded. “Could you…? I mean, well, I must leave as soon as possible. You see, my patron, Mrs.—”
    “Bottomly.” The duchess nodded, carefully brushing water droplets from her skirt. “Yes, I heard she’d done a bunk. Left you in a lurch, did she?”
    “I’m afraid so. I thought I’d take my things to the tents with me. I will be able to look for another position later, when things… when…”
    “When we know whether we’ll be speaking English tomorrow or French,” Lady Kate said with a brisk nod. “Yes. Well, you won’t have to worry. You have a position now. Amazingly enough, I need a companion. Dreadful having to fetch my own shawls. It’s beneath a duchess’s dignity, don’t you think?”
    Olivia gaped like a landed fish. “What of Lady Beatrice?”
    Lady Kate patted her like a child. “Oh, no. Bea isn’t my companion. She is my dearest friend. I am looking for someone who can help me organize my somewhat chaotic house.” Taking one last look at Gervaise, who by now had made it gingerly to his feet, she took hold of Olivia and turned her to the door. “Indeed, I think we should go right now. There is a prodigious amount for you to do. Fetching, carrying, fawning…”
    “Lady Kate, it distresses me to say this,” Gervaise protested, his hand out. “But you don’t know who she truly is.”
    Ah, Olivia thought, feeling her heart shrivel in her chest. Here it comes .
    But Lady Kate was evidently in an eyebrow-raising mood. “Darling Gervaise, surely you know by now that while I enjoy gossip, I believe very little of it.”
    “But you should know—”
    The duchess glared him back a step. “No. I don’t think I should. And, I think I don’t want to know from you, most especially if it distresses you. It would sully that beautiful Botticelli mouth of yours. No, I insist you leave it all to me.”
    Reaching over, she relieved Olivia of her bandbox and pushed her toward the door. “Now, Olivia, let’s be on our way. My carriage is here, and we have little time. I have accepted some of the wounded into my house, and they need care.”
    Olivia should have protested. She should save her new friend the embarrassment of having to dismiss her when the truth came out, since that could be the only outcome. One look at the frustration that darkened Gervaise’s eyes made her decision for her. She couldn’t risk the truth yet, even to protect Lady Kate. Even to save her own soul.
    “Thank you, Lady Kate,” she said, dropping a quick curtsy, her bag still clutched close. “I am grateful.”
    Kate’s smile was incandescent. “I’m not sure you will be once you get wind of my household. But you’ve committed yourself, dearest Olivia. No turning back now.”
    And with that, she pulled open the door to let in a blast of wind and rain. A footman waited outside with an open umbrella. Lady Kate sailed past him and ushered Olivia into the open door of her carriage, a sleek blue Berlin with ducal lozenges, which was drawn by what were undoubtedly two of the last horses in Brussels. The great shotgun Olivia saw lying across the footman’s lap might have had something to do with that.
    Olivia was just about to lean back against the soft cream leather squabs when something outside her window caught her attention. A second man waited outside the pension door, huddled under an umbrella against the rain. What about him made her look? she wondered.
    Then the pension door opened, and Gervaise walked out, umbrella up, to meet the man on the steps. Both turned to watch the carriage pass, and Olivia saw the second man’s face.
    Middle-aged, lean, neat as a pin, with hair Macassarred back into a slick cap. Recognition flared in his eyes, and he