Free True Story (The Deverells, Book One) by Jayne Fresina

William with humility
and became a good wife, she thought, it might break this string of
bad fortune. So, as William Monday's companion, she managed the
small, damp parsonage, visited his parishioners, darned his bed
socks and made his tea. That marriage also allowed her to stay
close enough to her father that she could still help him with his
work as needed. It was a comfortable solution.
    But only for a little less than five
years.
    Now both her papa and William were
gone and it was time to take a step into the unknown. If she stayed
in Chiswick there appeared to be only one choice and she could not
bear it.
    "As soon as Lucinda and I
are settled," Christopher had said to her, "you can have a room in
my house. We'll find somewhere to put you, and Lucinda will need
assistance with our children as they come along. You will be of
great help to her. Old Aunt Livy our children shall call you. They'll keep you so
busy that you'll never miss not having any of your own."
    My house. Ha! Christopher lived in the house that her
father had left to them both equally, but despite William's advice
Olivia had not asked her stepbrother to buy her out. It felt too
awkward and unnecessary. She knew that if Christopher ever sold the
house, then she would get her half of the profits. There was no
hurry yet, was there? She really did not think he would cheat her
out of her share, whatever William had said.
    But when it came to the idea of living
there as unofficial nanny to her stepbrother's anticipated
offspring...that was a prospect too dire to be considered. Instead,
she had grasped at the first alternative to come her
way.
    Working for the notorious True
Deverell would provide her with enough funds that relying on
relatives— or finding another husband— for a roof over her head
would not be necessary. No, she would not become another Great Aunt
Jane, taken in by family out of pity but never really welcomed, and
always causing her hosts to roll their eyes behind her
back.
    Deverell's generosity would be her way
out of all that, and he could certainly spare a few coins. He was
the richest self-made man in England, so rumor had it. She'd read
that he once won a hundred thousand pounds in a single, twenty
four-hour game of hazard.
    One hundred thousand
pounds.
    The possession of so much money must
lead a person into all manner of mischief, so it was a jolly good
thing it would never be hers to worry about. Olivia certainly
didn't need any more temptation.
    She'd heard a rumor that her employer
was American, although she had detected no accent of any
kind.
    At last, after all these years of
speculation, she knew what he looked like.
    A wolf. A steely-eyed wild beast. With
manners and scruples to match.
    Olivia wrapped her shawl tighter
around her body and gave dear William's picture a hasty nod and a
smile. With his reassuring presence looking over her from the
mantle she felt better already. Even the stifling curls of fog
against her window did not bother her unduly now. So what if she
could not go walking outside? Adventurous walks over rocky terrain
were not very ladylike in any case. As William would remind her,
such rambles—whenever she'd indulged in one without due caution—
made her hair become unruly and brought too much livid color to her
cheeks, as well as a disturbing spark to her eyes, something
perilously close to suggesting an utter lapse of decorum was at
hand.
    "It is no surprise your boots are in
disrepair, my dear," he would say.
    Dear William was quite right, of
course. She must make certain the rest of her did not end up in the
same state as her boots. Thanks to him, she was no longer the Girl
Who Ate The Last Cake. She was composed, efficient, held her temper
— under some very trying circumstances of late—and had impeccable
manners.
    Most importantly, she had finally
learned to keep her thoughts and feelings on the inside, safely
hidden.
    True Deverell's wicked ways would not
lure them out of her.

Chapter