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Book: Fencing for Ladies (The Archer Family Regency Romances #5) by Amy Corwin
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Authors: Amy Corwin
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and jumped in, terrified of being left behind. And then the others had begun baying and escaped from the groom to make a mad dash for the carriage. Once they jumped inside, she couldn’t bring herself to force them out or see the look of disappointment in their brown eyes. It would have felt too much like betrayal to leave them after that.
Margaret took Lord Saunders by the arm and drew him into the hallway. When they’d gone, Olivia stooped to rub all the dogs, trying to be serious and chide them for upsetting her betrothed. But when Caesar and Titus rolled over onto her feet, waving their paws in the air, she couldn’t help laughing. The others soon pushed forward in their efforts to dominate her attention, and she felt a little of her grief and worry fade.
She should have felt badly about upsetting her betrothed, but somehow, when she saw the gentle remonstrance in his gaze, she only wanted to take the dogs and escape to the small grassy area behind the townhouse. Some of her grief returned, however, when she remembered poor Mr. Grantham.
What had happened to him? He’d been such a quiet, gentle man, and a cherished friend. Why had he gone to the academy? Her brow wrinkled. How had he entered without a key? Had he been meeting someone? Had he met Mr. Underwood?
The thought made her queasy, and she pressed a hand against her stomach. She didn’t want to believe Mr. Underwood had been involved, and yet his conversation with her brother and his presence near the academy haunted her.
So many questions. And worse, Mr. Grantham’s death seemed so senseless. How could anyone be angry enough with him to hit him with the first object that came to hand? He had been so inoffensive that it was impossible to imagine the circumstances that must have led to his death. The picture of the stained marble cherub resting on Mr. Grantham’s shoulder, obscuring his head, and the stickiness of his blood on the floor beneath her boots would not leave her. It spoke of brutal, senseless rage.
Uncontrollable anger.
Mr. Underwood had been angry. He’d seemed desperate when she overheard his conversation with her brother. Even more damning, he’d been near the academy soon after Mr. Grantham had died.
Should she report it?
No . If anyone reported it, it should be Edward. He alone knew precisely what Mr. Underwood had said to him.
Once the motive was clear, she would feel more comfortable telling the authorities that he had been in the vicinity of the townhouse that afternoon.
Undecided, she did nothing, and even the dogs couldn’t brighten the rest of her day. She moved through her social duties in low spirits, writing letters, and accepting callers. As the afternoon wore on, she began to realize that the delicate questions of the ladies who visited could not mask the excited curiosity in their eyes. While they were quick to offer their sympathy, they all asked the same questions about the academy and Mr. Grantham’s state when Olivia discovered him.
How dreadful, they simpered behind gloved hands, their eyes bright with excitement .
Olivia was almost relieved when the beagles escaped from their quarters twice more while ladies were visiting. Excited by the prospect of strangers in the house, the dogs bayed and dashed up the stairs and along the gallery with the footman running after them in close attendance.
Olivia calmly sipped her tea to cover her laughter.
“What is the meaning of this outrage?” Mrs. Roberts shrieked, jerking to her feet as Brutus sniffed at her overly ruffled hem. She stood quivering as the other dogs encircled her, sniffing and pawing at her dress. “I came here to lend a sympathetic ear and support, despite the evils of your situation, and I must say, I expected better of you, Lady Olivia.”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Roberts, and I fully appreciate your kindness. Perhaps you could overlook the dogs as simply evidence of my evil situation.” Olivia picked up the teapot. “Would you care for some more
Margaret took Lord Saunders by the arm and drew him into the hallway. When they’d gone, Olivia stooped to rub all the dogs, trying to be serious and chide them for upsetting her betrothed. But when Caesar and Titus rolled over onto her feet, waving their paws in the air, she couldn’t help laughing. The others soon pushed forward in their efforts to dominate her attention, and she felt a little of her grief and worry fade.
She should have felt badly about upsetting her betrothed, but somehow, when she saw the gentle remonstrance in his gaze, she only wanted to take the dogs and escape to the small grassy area behind the townhouse. Some of her grief returned, however, when she remembered poor Mr. Grantham.
What had happened to him? He’d been such a quiet, gentle man, and a cherished friend. Why had he gone to the academy? Her brow wrinkled. How had he entered without a key? Had he been meeting someone? Had he met Mr. Underwood?
The thought made her queasy, and she pressed a hand against her stomach. She didn’t want to believe Mr. Underwood had been involved, and yet his conversation with her brother and his presence near the academy haunted her.
So many questions. And worse, Mr. Grantham’s death seemed so senseless. How could anyone be angry enough with him to hit him with the first object that came to hand? He had been so inoffensive that it was impossible to imagine the circumstances that must have led to his death. The picture of the stained marble cherub resting on Mr. Grantham’s shoulder, obscuring his head, and the stickiness of his blood on the floor beneath her boots would not leave her. It spoke of brutal, senseless rage.
Uncontrollable anger.
Mr. Underwood had been angry. He’d seemed desperate when she overheard his conversation with her brother. Even more damning, he’d been near the academy soon after Mr. Grantham had died.
Should she report it?
No . If anyone reported it, it should be Edward. He alone knew precisely what Mr. Underwood had said to him.
Once the motive was clear, she would feel more comfortable telling the authorities that he had been in the vicinity of the townhouse that afternoon.
Undecided, she did nothing, and even the dogs couldn’t brighten the rest of her day. She moved through her social duties in low spirits, writing letters, and accepting callers. As the afternoon wore on, she began to realize that the delicate questions of the ladies who visited could not mask the excited curiosity in their eyes. While they were quick to offer their sympathy, they all asked the same questions about the academy and Mr. Grantham’s state when Olivia discovered him.
How dreadful, they simpered behind gloved hands, their eyes bright with excitement .
Olivia was almost relieved when the beagles escaped from their quarters twice more while ladies were visiting. Excited by the prospect of strangers in the house, the dogs bayed and dashed up the stairs and along the gallery with the footman running after them in close attendance.
Olivia calmly sipped her tea to cover her laughter.
“What is the meaning of this outrage?” Mrs. Roberts shrieked, jerking to her feet as Brutus sniffed at her overly ruffled hem. She stood quivering as the other dogs encircled her, sniffing and pawing at her dress. “I came here to lend a sympathetic ear and support, despite the evils of your situation, and I must say, I expected better of you, Lady Olivia.”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Roberts, and I fully appreciate your kindness. Perhaps you could overlook the dogs as simply evidence of my evil situation.” Olivia picked up the teapot. “Would you care for some more
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