Page 28 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)
His eye was drawn inexorably back to Olivia and Embleton.
She had laid down her spoon, and was talking rapidly, her hands gesturing in the air the whole time, her face lit up with enthusiasm, and Embleton…
was he smiling? He was! It made Robert want to smile, too, just watching her, yet there was an unaccustomed ache in his heart.
She should be directing all that liveliness on him, not on a man as serious as Embleton, a man who had no intention of marrying.
He had even told his younger brother so.
Poor Livvy! She was wasting her time… yet the marquess was engrossed in what she was saying.
Perhaps… perhaps she was not wasting her time, after all.
What was it she had said to him? Something like, ‘Who do you most want to be happy?’ They had been talking about estate business, and she had made him see everything differently. It had given him the confidence to stop being paralysed with fear and actually make decisions, as he was expected to do.
But surely the same principle applied to his pursuit of Livvy, too.
He wanted her himself, he could admit that now, for would she not make him the happiest man alive?
But could he make her happy? Was it right to interfere between herself and Embleton, if he was what she truly wanted?
That was the foolishness that had caught him in its web with Izzy.
Four of them had pursued her, four besotted men swept up in the competition, each determined to be the one to win her.
Yet now, looking back on it, he could see that Izzy would not have suited him at all.
Olivia, on the other hand, had all Izzy’s good qualities — the beautiful face, the liveliness in company, the wit and love of excitement, yet without Izzy’s instability.
Livvy was adorable, and would fit so perfectly into his arms, he was certain.
But it was wrong, quite wrong to prevent her from making her own choice.
She would make a wonderful duchess, and if Embleton was the man she wanted and he could be brought to value her as any rational man would, why then he should have her, and Robert would rejoice to see her happy.
He wanted her to be happy, more than anything in the world.
Now, why did that prospect hurt so much?
***
O livia was thrilled. Finally, some progress with Lord Embleton.
Purely by chance, for she had done nothing to bring it about, they had sat together in the dining room and she had talked and he had listened, and seemed…
interested. Was it mere politeness? Hard to say, but they had talked about families, and that had seemed to engender a greater degree of intimacy between them.
The guests began to drift away from the table, including the marquess.
There was to be a discussion of rare books in the library, followed by an hour in the music room for the ladies to try out the various instruments.
Olivia still had one or two delicacies to sample so she lingered in the dining room.
Mr Franklyn, watching her in amusement, helpfully fetched her this or that sweet treat.
“You are not drawn by the pleasures of the library, sir?” she said mischievously.
“Ha! I like a library as well as the next man, especially with a blazing fire, a glass of something and no one expecting me to talk to them… or with Bertram pouring Latin into Bea’s ears.
That was entertainment, to see my lively daughter sitting still for a full hour, and speaking the ancient language as if she had been doing so all her life.
My Bea, an intellectual — who would ever have suspected?
” He sighed. “At least she will not be far away when she returns from her wedding tour, so I shall be able to haunt her library instead of my own. But rare books? No, that does not appeal. Nor to you either, by the look of it.”
“Not when there is syllabub to be eaten,” Olivia said, making him laugh.
Lady Esther returned at that moment, an unaccustomed expression of anxiety on her usually serene countenance.
“Olivia, dear, have you seen Lady Euphemia at all? She went away with Lord Grayling, and although I was not far behind, I have lost track of them and… well, she is a lively girl and he has a certain reputation…”
Olivia laid down her spoon. “I have not seen either of them since they left this room. Have they not gone to the library?”
“I tried there, but no, there is no sign of them. What are we to do? I am supposed to be her chaperon.”
“With three of us, we can search a wing each,” Mr Franklyn said, rising to his feet. “Olivia, will you take the great hall wing? My dear, you search this wing, and I will take the gallery wing.”
“They might have gone into the garden,” Olivia said.
“Unlikely,” Mr Franklyn said, pointing to the window, where raindrops chased each other from pane to pane. “Let us meet back here in… shall we say half an hour? One of us will have tracked them down by then. If not, we must notify Lord Embleton that his sister is missing.”
Olivia set off at once, but her search was soon accomplished.
At the further end of the great hall sat the kitchen wing, and that seemed an unlikely destination.
The great hall itself took up the bulk of the remainder, with only a couple of bedchambers to be examined.
But she knew in her heart where they had gone — to the secret room, for what Effie described as ‘fun’ , whatever she meant by that, but Lord Grayling had ‘a certain reputation’ , according to Lady Esther, and that sounded ominous.
A duke’s daughter might be better able than most to weather the storms of society’s disapprobation, and Olivia had heard of some who had risen unperturbed from the most scandalous rumours, but it was still not a sensible risk to take.
Olivia herself had had the principles of maidenly behaviour drummed into her from such a young age that she went hot and cold at the very thought that Effie’s reputation might be shredded at any moment.
Her fear lent wings to her feet, and she flew on from the great hall wing into the central wing, no doubt following Lady Esther from room to room, but unwilling to give up the search so soon.
Catching sight of the butler, she cried out, “The secret room — where is it?”
He smiled in a superior way. “I regret, madam, that I am not at liberty to inform the guests of its location. You must apply to his lordship for—”
“If I knew where he was, I would not need to ask you,” she muttered, and ran on, her steps taking her into the gallery wing.
Here she encountered Lord Embleton emerging from the library, a book in his hand. The discussion on rare books had come to a close, it seemed.
Lord Embleton! Who better to look for his sister, and he at least had the authority to compel the butler to reveal the location of the secret room.
The opportunity was too good to miss.
“Lord Embleton!” He looked up at her in surprise. “Pray forgive me, but Lady Euphemia is lost and we are concerned for her.”
His expression softened into a small smile. “Effie c-c-can l-look after herself, Lady Ol-ol-olivia.”
“No, no, you do not understand! She has gone to the secret room with Lord Grayling, and I do not think she wants to admire the view from the window. You must come and help me rescue her before it is too late.”
His brows snapped together. “The secret room?”
“Yes! The servants know where it is, but you must be quick. Please, you must come.”
She became aware of a group emerging from the library behind the marquess, their conversation dying away as they overheard her discussion with the marquess.
The marquess must have been aware of them too, for although he drew himself to his full height and his face looked thunderous, he said only, “Lady Olivia, I make due allowance for your youthful enthusiasm, but I do not believe my sister to be in any difficulty.”
“Lord Embleton,” she murmured, taking his arm to draw him a little aside, out of earshot of the other guests, “indeed I believe Effie may be in trouble if we do not find her soon. The secret room is—”
He shook her off. “No. This will not do, Lady Olivia,” he said, his tone clipped. “Might I suggest you make your way to the music room for the opening of the instruments?”
This will not do? What did he think she was about? Presumably he saw her concern merely as a stratagem to entice him into a compromising situation. As if she would ever do anything so low!
Taken aback, she cried, “How horrid you are! I wish I had never tried to be your friend. But this is not helping Effie. Go back to your book, for clearly you care nothing for your sister’s reputation. I shall go myself.”
So saying she ran off, almost blinded by the hot tears that flowed unchecked.