Page 18 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)
Why was he so concerned to keep Grayling away from Olivia?
Or Embleton, for that matter. When he had set out on this mission, the intent had been to guard Embleton from Olivia, yet now, in some mysterious way, that had been turned around, and he seemed to want to guard her from them.
It was true that he was oddly protective of her.
The similarity to Izzy aroused all his almost-forgotten affection…
no, it was stronger than that… his passion for Izzy, but there was something vulnerable about Olivia that made him want to shield her from rogues like Grayling.
Izzy had never been so unguarded in her dealings with the world.
There was a lady who knew exactly how to get what she wanted, for had she not played them all, like fish on a line? There was none of that in Olivia.
He smiled as he thought of her sweet face gazing up at him trustingly, with that adorable dimple beside enticing red lips. That dimple, and the lips it emphasised, were beginning to haunt him, rather.
His interest in the hunt diminished rapidly once the leaden grey skies began to disgorge a miserable, drenching drizzle, and after a couple of hours, he was glad to return to Chilford, a hot bath, dry clothes and a rain-proof carriage to convey him to Briar House.
There he was disgusted to find Grayling already ensconced in the prime seat beside Olivia.
Robert was not so ill-mannered as to display the slightest displeasure, however, so he made his greetings to the Bucknells and then dutifully sat beside the oldest matron to make himself agreeable.
As he was thus engaged, his eye was caught by a head of striking blonde curls, similar to Grayling’s own hair colour. Was it…? Yes, it must be.
Adroitly extricating himself from the matron, he ambled across to the blonde curls. “Miss Grayling, is it not? We met in town once or twice in the spring, I believe, although I daresay you do not remember me. The Earl of Kiltarlity.”
“Oh yes!” she said, her voice wispy and high. “You danced with me at the Carrbridges’ ball.”
“And a great pleasure it was,” he said at once, having no memory of the occasion at all. Had he even been at the Carrbridges’ ball? “I have been so little in town these last few years that every dance is a treasured moment. Did you enjoy the season — your first, I think?”
That was a guess, for she looked no more than eighteen, but she smiled and simpered at him. “Yes, it was, and I enjoyed it tremendously although Julian — my brother, you know, Lord Grayling—”
“I know Grayling,” Robert murmured.
“Of course. Well, he was a bit cross because we did not get all the invitations he had hoped for, so it was not as successful as he had hoped. But I had a lovely time, and now he is taking me to meet all his friends, which is great fun. You were at the meet this morning, I remember, yet here you are. Was the hunt not to your liking, or did your horse hurt itself, like Julian’s? ”
“My horse performed well, but the hunt was as hunts always are, exhilarating and tedious in equal measure. The chase is fun, but there is also a great deal of milling about and turning aside and plain waiting around, and in the rain that is not terribly amusing. I thought that a hot bath followed by agreeable company would suit me better and I am discovering that I was quite right.”
A more sophisticated or subtle girl would have responded to this very mild compliment with a witticism about hot baths, or by a sly reference to the matron he had talked to first, but Miss Grayling was neither sophisticated or subtle.
Fluttering her eyelashes, she said with what was no doubt intended to be demureness, “I trust you find my company agreeable, Lord Kiltarlity?”
“How could I not?” he said, with practised smoothness. Then, because he suspected she would like a more open compliment, he added, “The company of a pretty young lady is always agreeable.”
“Oh, do you think me pretty? People tell me so but that is just flattery, is it not?”
She looked at him expectantly. Should he play along?
She was boringly naive and he had no wish to become entangled with her, but if Grayling was going to monopolise Olivia, why should he not amuse himself with Miss Grayling?
And she was exceptionally pretty. If Olivia had not been in the room, Miss Grayling would have been the best looking woman there by a great margin.
He leaned towards her and said in a low voice, “But I never flatter, Miss Grayling. I always speak the absolute truth.”
Her eyes widened at his closeness, and she rested a hand on his arm in a fashion he found uncomfortably proprietorial. “Then I believe you,” she said in her wispy voice. “I must accept it, if you say it is the truth. Do you make a long stay in Leicestershire, sir?”
“I am not sure,” he said, with perfect truth, and then mischievously added, “It depends how long other people choose to stay.”
He had Olivia in mind, but he knew that she would interpret it as referring to her, and was not surprised when she simpered, and then began to enquire about Strathinver with an avidity which turned his stomach.
No, he could not get up a flirtation with this chit of a girl, who made her intentions so obvious.
He was a single man of marriageable age, and the title and its concomitant fortune made him excessively eligible, so he never blamed a woman for putting herself in his way.
But such obvious stratagems as Miss Grayling employed left a sour taste in the mouth.
Olivia was the same age, but infinitely more interesting to him, and with far less artifice.
A shadow loomed over them. “Much as I hate to break up this charming tête-à-tête, it is time for us to take our leave, sister.”
“Oh! Of course. How delightful to meet you again, Lord Kiltarlity. I am sure we shall meet very often.”
“I shall look forward to it,” he said, politely, and hoped she would not enquire just how keen his anticipation would be, and thereby oblige him to lie to her.
Grayling’s seat beside Olivia had already been taken, so Robert took a glass of something from a footman and wandered across the room to join a small cluster of men talking about politics, who fell on him as a great expert, being a peer with a seat in the House of Lords.
It was one of the many duties that had befallen him since his father’s demise, and although he had indeed attended the House now and then, and had even attempted to understand one or two of the subjects under debate, he had not yet fully grasped the currents of opinion that swirled around Westminster.
So he made noncommittal noises, and listened and attempted to learn.
He kept his eye on Olivia, nevertheless, but she was now surrounded by several young men, more refugees from the inclement weather, and after a while he abandoned all hope of talking to her, and made his way to the hall.
Here he found Grayling and his sister still lingering.
Their carriage was outside the door, but Grayling was engaged in a low-voiced discussion with Mr and Miss Bucknell.
Seeing him, they broke apart with suspicious haste, the Graylings left and Robert’s carriage was sent for.
“What a pity you must leave so soon,” Miss Bucknell said with a little smile on her face. “We are inundated this morning, so I dare say you have hardly had a chance to talk to anyone of interest.”
“You have many interesting visitors,” Robert said smoothly. “I have been well entertained, I assure you.”
“But perhaps none of particular interest,” she said with a knowing smile.
“But perhaps… we have had a couple of dinner guests unexpectedly unable to attend this evening. Would you care to…? I do not think we have room for Lady Kiltarlity and the Miss Osborns, but we can certainly find a place for you, if you would care to join us.”
A whole evening with Olivia! And it seemed that the Bucknells knew of his interest, and would help him to forward it. His mother might not be pleased, but it was too good an opportunity to miss.
He accepted with alacrity, and spent the entire drive home trying to dream up a suitable explanation for his mother. And at the back of his mind the thought still lingered, that he was chasing the will-o’-the-wisp of his love for Izzy, and not Olivia herself.