Mesmerized by Candace Camp Page B

little at the thought.
    “Lady St. Leger?” It was Olivia’s turn to look at her companion curiously. “What do you mean?”
    “Oh! Well…” Belinda hesitated, then finished, “I mean, just that she’s used to being the lady of the house. You know, the most important female. And you’re the daughter of a duke, so of course you outrank her.”
    Olivia, looking at the young woman’s guileless countenance, had the definite suspicion that Belinda’s explanation had not been her original thought. However, she could scarcely press her about it, so she merely smiled.
    Belinda stopped at an open door. “Here is your room, my lady.”
    “Oh, please—I do so dislike titles. I usually go by Miss Moreland,” Olivia protested uncomfortably.
    The girl’s eyes widened, “Oh, but I could not call you that! Mama would be furious with me if I were so rude.”
    “Well, then, perhaps just Olivia?” Olivia suggested.
    Belinda goggled even more. “Truly?”
    “Yes, of course. To tell you the truth, I do not feel much like the daughter of a duke.”
    Belinda’s smile flashed across her face. “You are not high in the instep at all. I knew I would like you. I just felt it!”
    Olivia chuckled. “The feeling is mutual.” It would be, in truth, hard not to like the girl’s fresh and candid manner.
    If possible, Belinda grew even sunnier, and she gave Olivia’s hand a quick squeeze. “This is your room. I hope everything is satisfactory. If not, Mama would be happy to change you around.”
    “Oh, no. It is a lovely room.” It was indeed a pretty place, spacious and elegant, with a set of windows on either side of the bed looking out on the rear garden.
    Belinda left soon afterward, closing the door behind her, and Olivia sank down with relief onto a chaise longue. It was more tiring to play a part than she would have imagined, she realized. Nor could she completely stifle a twinge of guilt over the fact that Stephen’s mother and sister assumed her to be a woman for whom Stephen had feelings. Well, she had done her best to set Belinda straight about that, she reminded herself. She could not make them believe differently.
    There was a knock at the door, and Joan bustled into the room, followed by Tom with her trunk. Joan set about unpacking the trunk and putting away Olivia’s clothes, while Tom and Olivia held a low-voicedconference. He was, he assured her, settled into the servants quarters, and he had great hopes of soon being in the know of all the gossip. He had already heard that neither Madame Valenskaya nor her daughter had brought a maid nor Mr. Babington a valet, which caused St. Leger’s servants to hold them in disdain.
    “I’m not sure that the lack of a maid is something we can hold against them,” Olivia commented.
    “Aye, well, the maids as are ’avin’ to do double duty hold it against ’em.”
    “Oh. I see.”
    “Yeah. Two of the upstairs girls were arguin’ somethin’ fierce over which one of ’em had to go help the Valenskayas dress for dinner.” He sighed. “Makes my job harder, too. I was ’opin’ to get some gossip from their maid.”
    “Well, perhaps it’s an opportunity. What if you were to volunteer to act as Mr. Babington’s valet?”
    Tom looked none too pleased at the idea at first, but as he thought about it, his expression brightened. “Aye, that’s a cunning thought, miss. He might let somethin’ slip to me, and it’ll set me up right with the lot downstairs, too.”
    Tom went off with renewed eagerness, and Olivia turned back to help Joan unpack. Joan, however, looked clearly affronted by Olivia’s offer. “It’s resting you should be, my lady. Dinner is at eight, so we shall have to do your hair and dress in another houror so. You lie down while I get the wrinkles out of your dress.”
    Olivia gave in, too tired not to, and she awoke thirty minutes later feeling much refreshed. She arose and washed up just in time for Joan’s entrance with her dinner gown,