She stood in the doorway, thinking this would be a fine time to create a list titled Things I Do Not Expect To See in My Drawing Room, but she was not sure she could come up with anything that topped what she did see in her drawing room, which was Sebastian Grey, standing atop a table, reading (with great emotion) from Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron.
If that weren’t enough-and it really ought to have been enough, since what was Sebastian Grey doing at Rudland House, anyway?-Harry and the prince were sitting side by side on the sofa, and neither appeared to have suffered bodily harm at the hands of the other.
That was when Olivia noticed the three housemaids, perched on a settee in the corner, gazing at Sebastian with utter rapture.
One of them might even have had tears in her eyes.
And there was Huntley, standing off to the side, openmouthed, clearly overcome with emotion.
“‘Grandmother! Grandmother!’” Sebastian was saying, his voice higher pitched than usual. “‘Don’t go. I beg of you. Please, please don’t leave me here all by myself.’”
One of the housemaids began to quietly weep.
“Priscilla stood in front of the great house for several minutes, a small, lonely figure watching her grandmother’s hired carriage speed down the lane and disappear from view. She had been left on the doorstep at Fitzgerald Place, deposited like an unwanted bundle.”
Another housemaid began to sniffle. All three were holding hands.
“And no one”-Sebastian’s voice dropped to a breathy, dramatic register-“knew she was there. Her grandmother had not even knocked upon the door to alert her cousins of her arrival.”
Huntley was shaking his head, his eyes wide with shock and sorrow. It was the most emotion Olivia had ever seen the butler display.
Sebastian closed his eyes and placed one hand on his heart. “She was but eight years old.”
He closed the book.
Silence. Utter silence. Olivia looked about the room, realizing no one knew she was there.
And then-
“Bravo!” Huntley was the first to cheer, clapping his hands with great fervor. The maids joined in next, sniffling through their applause. Even Harry and the prince clapped, although Harry’s face held more amusement than anything else.
Sebastian opened his eyes, and he was the first to see her. “Lady Olivia,” he said with a smile. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Since Priscilla begged her grandmother not to leave.”
“She was a heartless woman,” Huntley said.
“She did what needed to be done,” the prince argued.
“With all due respect, Your Highness-”
Olivia’s mouth dropped open. Her butler was arguing with royalty?
“-if she had tried a little harder-”
“-she would not have been able to feed the child,” the prince interrupted. “Any fool could see that.”
“It was heartbreaking,” one of the maids said.
“I cried,” said another.
The third nodded, apparently unable to speak.
“You are a wonderful speaker,” the first one continued.
Sebastian gave the three of them a melting smile. “Thank you for listening,” he murmured.
They sighed.
Olivia rubbed her eyes, still trying to make sense of the scene. She turned to Harry with a searching look. Surely he had an explanation.
“It’s really quite a bit better with Sebastian reading it,” he told her.
“It really couldn’t have been worse,” she murmured.
“This should be made into Russian,” the prince said. “It would be very much a success.”
“I thought you said your literature had a deeper tradition,” Olivia said.
“This is very deep,” he replied. “As a trench.”
“Shall I begin the next chapter?” Sebastian asked.
“Yes!” came the resounding response.
“Oh, please,” begged one of the maids.
Olivia still stood unmoving, only her eyes darting back and forth. As splendid as Sebastian’s performance was, she was not sure she could sit through an entire chapter of it without laughing. Which would not endear her to…well…anyone. She certainly didn’t want to fall into Huntley’s disfavor. Everyone knew he ran the house.
Maybe this meant she could slip away. She still hadn’t had breakfast. And she hadn’t finished with the newspaper, either. If Sebastian was entertaining all of the guests (and the household staff, too, but Olivia was willing to overlook this), then she could escape to the breakfast room and read.
Or maybe go shopping. She did need a new hat.
She was pondering her options when Vladimir suddenly spoke. In Russian, of course.
“He says you should have been on the stage,” Alexei said to Sebastian.
Sebastian gave a pleased smile and bowed in Vladimir’s direction. “Spasibo,” he said, thanking him.
“You speak Russian?” the prince said, turning sharply in Sebastian’s direction.
“Only the very basics,” Sebastian quickly replied. “I can say thank you in fourteen languages. Alas, please in but twelve.”
“Really?” Olivia asked, far more interested in this than the Miss Butterworth recitation. “Which languages?”
“I also find it useful to know ‘I need a drink,’” Sebastian said to the prince.
“Da,” he said approvingly. “In Russian, it is Ya nuzhdayus v napitkyeh.”
“Spasibo,” Sebastian replied.
“No, really,” Olivia said, even though no one was paying her any attention. “I want to know which languages.”