Free Lady Olivia's Undoing by Anne Gallagher Page B

would take Andrew with her to the post. John would
have Manning most of the day anyway.
    She walked to the bell, pulled it, and then
sorted through the invitations, piling them in neat little
bundles.
    John opened the door. “Yes, Your Grace.”
    “Oh, Jo—Quiggins, I should like the carriage,
and Andrew to accompany me to the postal office.” She waved at the
stacks of invitations on the table. “Do we have a box of some sort
to carry them?”
    “Of course, Your Grace.” He nodded and left
the room.
    Olivia went upstairs. She changed her pelisse
and then found her wool cape and threw that over her arm. It would
be cold in the carriage. She picked up her fur coat as well and
returned downstairs.
    Andrew met her in the hall carrying a large
wooden box. The invitations were tucked inside in neat little
rows.
    “Are we ready, Andrew?” Olivia asked.
    “Yes, Your Grace.”
    “Set that box inside the carriage on the rear
facing seat. And yourself. I shall join you directly.” She looked
down the hall. John was nowhere in sight. Odd. He always saw her
off. She wrapped her cape around her shoulders and tied the
strings.
    Outside, Olivia took the footman’s hand and
climbed into the carriage. She arranged her skirts and the fur coat
over her legs. She nodded to the footman to close the carriage door
and they were off within seconds.
    Olivia looked at Andrew. “So Andrew, where
are your people from?”
    “I do not have any, Your Grace. I am an
orphan.”
    “Where did you grow up?”
    “Outside Marylebone. St. Pancras
Workhouse.”
    “And did they treat you fairly?” St. Pancras
was one of many charities Olivia supported.
    “Yes. I was given fair schooling. They taught
me a trade. I served as footman to Viscount Throckmorton. But then
he left for the Continent and I applied here.”
    Olivia nodded. “How do you like it at
Caymore?”
    “Very much, Your Grace. You are a fair and
generous employer.”
    Olivia smiled and glanced out the window.
There, walking along Albermarle Street was that young man again,
the one who reminded her of Fitzhugh. Could Fitzhugh be trying to
speak to her from the grave? What could he wish to tell her? She
put the thought out of her mind and turned to Andrew. “First the
post office, and then the florist shop.”
    “Of course, Your Grace.”
    Olivia looked at him. “Did Quiggins tell you
to do that?”
    “Your Grace?”
    “Say, of course, your grace, when I speak
more to myself than to you.”
    Andrew blushed. “Yes, Your Grace.”
    “Quiggins is a very good butler.”
    After they sorted the pennies at the post
office, they drove to the florist where Olivia placed her orders
for fruit and nut baskets to be delivered for Christmas, and then
placed the flower order for the Boxing Day Ball. She was satisfied
her morning was not ill-spent.
    The counter clerk sighed. “Your Grace, will
there be anything else?”
    “I wonder if I should put up a Christmas
tree.” She looked at Andrew. “I think not. It will only be in the
way.”
    “Of course, Your Grace,” Andrew said.
    Olivia looked at him. “However, the girls are
staying and they might like a tree considering they’re not going to
be in Cornwall.”
    “That is true, Your Grace.” Andrew
nodded.
    “Very well, then, let us speak with Quiggins
about…” John wouldn’t be here for Christmas. Tears erupted from
nowhere.
    “Your Grace? Are you well?” Andrew asked.
    Olivia took a deep breath. “Yes, very well,
thank you.” She glanced at the clerk. “You may send the bill to
Caymore House.” She left with Andrew trailing in her wake.
    In the carriage, Olivia sniffed and looked at
her list to keep her mind off John. Speak with Robert about the
little house . Yes, she must do that. She looked at Andrew.
“Open the door and tell Hendricks to take us to St. Martin Street,
to Cantin’s.”
    Since news of the baby, Olivia understood she
would have to move out of Caymore House. However, Caymore had been
her home for nearly