Page 10 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)

He noted for the first time how frail she looked.

Propped up against the pillows, her grey hair not quite concealed under a voluminous cap, she looked small and vulnerable.

His indomitable mother, who had ruled the household with her strong will and managed even his determined father when she needed to, had an unexpected wobble in her voice.

She might tell him firmly that ‘it will not do’, but he saw fear in her eyes.

She had lost three sons, a daughter and her husband in a very short time. No wonder she feared for him, too.

“Mama,” he said in his most soothing tone, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand in his.

“You must not worry so. That time with Izzy… it was a kind of madness that afflicted all of us, not just me. It was five years ago, and I have no intention of repeating it, not for any woman. I am different now, older and, one must only hope, just a trifle wiser. When I saw Izzy a few weeks ago, I realised just what a disaster it would have been for me to marry her. She would not have suited me at all. Let Farramont put up with her tantrums and wildness, for he seems to relish it.”

“Ha! Yes, he is welcome to her, but this child may be just as bad, for all her meek ways.”

“She may be, but I like what I have seen of her so far, and I should not object to knowing her better.”

“A bastard! Really, Kiltarlity, you can do better than that.”

“Until three months ago she was legitimate and eminently suitable, and it is not her fault that her status has changed. When she marries, her husband will give her legitimacy and this interlude will not matter tuppence.”

“If you think that, you know nothing about society.”

“Oh, there are always a few high sticklers, but who cares about them? A husband gives his wife the respectability of his name. Besides, most people judge by a woman’s behaviour and actions, not by legal niceties, and no one could fault Olivia on that score.”

His mother only grunted.

“She said something very wise to me this evening,” he said, smiling at the memory.

“She said I should consider the happiness of everyone when I make my decisions for the estate, and that seems like good advice to me. I already have some ideas of how to proceed. But when I come to marry, whoever it may be, it is my own happiness which will be my primary concern. I cannot marry, or not marry, simply to please you, Mama. You and Papa gave me such a clear example of a happy marriage that you can hardly blame me for wanting the same for myself.”

His mother gave a wry little smile. “Pft! Such flattery! Oh, go along with you, and leave an old lady to sleep.”

Laughing, he went, closing the door softly behind him.

In his room, Maurice helped to ready him for bed, but when he had gone, Robert sat at the small table drawn up near the fire for warmth, and drew paper and pencil from his writing box.

Then across the top of the paper, he wrote Olivia’s words, for they were still ringing in his head and he wanted to remember them.

‘If you have contented tenants and stewards, they will work better, and that means that the land will be more productive.’ Such sensible words!

He began to write, tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence, a list of actions to be taken that would ensure the contentment of his people…

his flock! The parson was in the right of it after all.

What Robert needed to do was to tend his flock, not extravagantly or foolishly, but carefully.

It could be done! Finally, he began to feel that he was in control of his inheritance.

***

F or three days, Robert spent as much time as he could with Olivia.

There were shooting parties with the men each morning, and on one occasion, when the London newspapers arrived in a great batch, there was a peers’ discussion of Parliamentary business in Harraby’s study, but otherwise he felt free to seek her out.

She was pleasingly receptive to his company, her rather starchy chaperon was complacent and even his mother only grumbled now and then, having learnt that she would have thirty thousand pounds in her dowry.

His sisters disliked Olivia, but they had disliked Izzy, too, and for the same reason — jealousy, for the Atherton girls were ten times prettier than Lizzie and Lucy, and more accomplished, too, not to mention livelier in company.

Izzy had had men swarming round her when she came out, and Olivia would, too, that was beyond question, illegitimate or not.

It was hard for his sisters, who had never experienced that kind of success.

Now the two of them were drifting steadily towards settled spinsterhood, forced to watch a girl like Olivia emerge with all the qualities they lacked.

For Robert, Olivia was fascinating. She was so like Izzy, and yet also her own self.

She was never impatient with him, for one thing.

He talked to her about his list of improvements, asking what she thought, and she considered each point carefully and then gave her opinion.

Izzy would never have done that! She would have got bored after five minutes and looked for some more interesting diversion.

Olivia was quite different in that respect, but sometimes an expression or a gesture would be so like Izzy, that it was almost as if the years had rolled back.

Each night when he went to bed he wondered if this interest he felt in Olivia was for her own sake, or whether it was just an echo of his passion for Izzy, so intense that it still haunted him.

Once, he even called her Izzy by mistake, and although he caught himself at once and made her a grovelling apology, she was cool with him for the rest of the evening. When the card tables came out, she contrived to sit at another table from him.

On the third evening, when he entered the saloon and found her sitting quietly near the fire, he came straight to her side, as usual. “This settled spell is likely to last for a few days more. Would you like to ride tomorrow? Harraby has a horse in the stable which is trained to a side-saddle.”

“Thank you, that would have been lovely, for I have scarcely left the house these last few days, but we are to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Leave?” he said, stupefied. “But you have only just arrived! You cannot leave yet.”

“But we must. We never intended to stay long, and we only came because— Well, no matter. We must go, and that is all there is to it.”

“You only came because… what? What were you about to say?”

She had gone rather pink, but she answered him composedly. “Because we understood that Lord Embleton was here. I met him at Corland recently, and it seemed a good opportunity to further the acquaintance.”

Robert felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. “Oh, so you fancy being a marchioness, do you?”

“A duchess, in fact, but there are very few of them to be had.” She chuckled.

“A girl must aim high, you know. Of course, it is quite hopeless, I am perfectly aware of it, but I met him, I liked him, so why not? Oh, do not look so horrified. It is a game, that is all. One sees a man of high rank who is amiable and so forth, so one puts oneself in his way to see if anything should come of it.”

He was stupefied. Was she truly as calculating as that? “Must it be a duke? Would no lesser rank do? A baron, say, or a viscount?” He wanted to say ‘or an earl’ but it might sound too much like a declaration, and he was a long way from that point.

“It must be a duke,” she said, with a quick laugh. Normally, he liked her melodic laugh, but tonight it grated on his ears. “Why should I not set my sights so high?”

“Because—” He stopped. There was no reason at all. She was truly lovely, well mannered, brought up in the nobility and with a good dowry. She would make an excellent duchess, and Embleton would be lucky to get her. Any man would be lucky to get her.

“I mean him no harm,” she said softly, laying one gloved hand on Robert’s arm. “I would never try to trick him into it, but he must marry someone, and so must I. All I wanted was to get to know him better, but I have missed him this time.”

He gave an embarrassed laugh. “That was my sisters’ fault. They saw an unmarried future duke, and it went to their heads rather.” He sighed. “Poor Lizzie and Lucy! They are so desperate for husbands that they will try anything.”

“How is it they have never married?”

He sighed again. “Lizzie… she brought it on herself, for she fell in love with a most unsuitable man, a naval man and not of good family. They tried to elope.”

Olivia gasped, for eloping was the worst crime an unmarried female could commit, according to Mama, except for one other which she would not explain, but merely pursed her lips and said that there was a reason for a girl to be chaperoned.

But to think that Lady Elizabeth Osborn had eloped! With a sailor!

“Of course, he is a captain now, and probably has prize money and so forth,” Robert said musingly, “but it is a bit late to wonder what might have been. As for Lucy, she had a few offers but she dithered and wavered and could not settle on one, and naturally, there is only so long a man can wait before he goes off and marries someone else.”

“Then such a man cannot have loved her,” she said stoutly. “True love would wait forever.”

That was the confidence of her eighteen years speaking, not yet jaded by the experiences of life.

From the perspective of his thirty years, Robert had known many men who had not waited, true love or not.

Some had held on for years before deciding that if the ideal woman was not to be had, then one might as well settle for a lesser variety.

A man had an obligation to his family, his inheritance and to his own happiness to provide himself with a wife, after all.

But he had no wish to be distracted from the main point. “So what will you do now? Go chasing after Lord Embleton, I suppose?”

“Chasing?” she said, with a little grimace. “That sounds so… forceful, as if I had a right to him, and saw him trying to escape. I should like to know him better, that is all. He usually goes to his hunting box in November, and if so, Lady Esther knows one of his neighbours, so we shall go, too.”

“To do some hunting of your own,” he said sourly.

“No, no. For good company, that is all, and to meet old friends.”

He said no more on the subject, for he could not trust himself to stay calm. She made it sound so reasonable, yet it was so calculating and cold. At all costs Embleton must be protected from her!

When he returned to his room that night, he wrote two letters.

‘To the Right Honourable the Viscount Farramont, Stonywell, Nottinghamshire. Monty, my old friend, I am engaged in a silly little game with Izzy’s sister Olivia, and I would be obliged if you would let me know of her movements and destination whenever she leaves Corland Castle.

Do not let her know of it, for I should like to surprise her.

My regards to Izzy and congratulations on the impending addition to the family. Yours, Kiltarlity.’

“To Godfrey Marsden Esq, Chilford Lodge, Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire. Marsden, my old friend, are you settled in for the winter now? If you want company, I should be very happy to shoot a few of your birds, since my mother is determined to render Strathinver uninhabitable for several months at least, and who wants to be in town at this season? Do put me out of my misery, and if you are minded for female company, I can bring my mother and sisters, too. Yours, Kiltarlity.’

Then, smiling, he retired to bed, there to beguile a surprising degree of wakefulness with thoughts of shining eyes, a delicate heart-shaped face and an enchanting dimple beside very kissable lips.