Page 29 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)
R obert had left the dining room at the same time as Embleton, rather torn, for Olivia was left behind, still eating.
But after his previous conversation with her, he felt the necessity to keep away from her for a while.
Let her take his casual proposal as flirtation, if she will, and perhaps a little distance would give him time to settle his own feelings and decide how to proceed.
It was all very well to want her to be happy, and to allow her to pursue her hopes of Embleton, but he was not sure how that was to be accomplished.
Perhaps he should simply abandon the two of them to whatever fate befell them, and retreat to Strathinver.
Following Embleton brought him to the library, where an elderly scholar was introducing the more intellectual of the guests to the rare tomes stored there.
Robert sighed, and prepared to be bored.
Taking a glass of wine from a footman, he retreated to a corner dark enough to permit an unobserved snooze.
It was not to be, however. Within minutes, he was joined in his corner by Miss Grayling, face alight with mischief and clearly hoping to be entertained.
“Is this not amusing?” she said, sitting down in a swirl of muslin skirts beside him, a little closer than he liked, and speaking in a low voice.
“Old Williamson is such a dry old stick, so I have a little wager with Julian that no one will last the full hour with him. Julian says they are too polite to simply walk out, but I beg to differ. What do you think?”
“I think… actually, I was about to say that there is nothing at all amusing about a talk on rare books, but a wager would make it bearable, I believe. I agree with your brother that most of these gentlemen are too polite to walk out, but I would be willing to bet on the possibility of at least one in the audience snoring.”
She giggled, hand over mouth. “Oh, yes! That is very likely. What will you wager on it?”
“What did your brother offer?”
“A new gown.”
“Ah. I cannot buy you a gown, or any personal item. I am not sure it is proper to accept a wager from a young lady at all.”
“How stuffy you are! There is one thing you could give me that no one need know about.”
“And what is that?”
“A kiss!”
“Miss Grayling, I do not think—”
“Ssh. Dr Williamson is coming this way.”
The scholar led his little troop of guests, among them Embleton, to a lectern nearby where an ancient volume had been opened in readiness. There he intoned at great length on the contents, most of which appeared to be in Greek.
Robert dutifully fell silent, but his mind was not on Greek writings, but on Miss Grayling and their wager, pondering whether he was now committed to the kiss or not.
He had not had a chance to agree to it, but equally he had not repudiated the idea, either.
Under other circumstances, he would not have minded at all, for she was pretty and warm and appealing, and a little flirtation, even a kiss or two, would be very pleasant.
But not now. Not when his lovely Olivia was also in the house.
It was the oddest thing, that she had wormed her way so successfully into his mind…
his heart … that he could not contemplate even the mildest flirtation with anyone else.
Even if she found him nothing but an irritant and her ambitions still ran to a dukedom, he could not look at another woman without seeing it as a betrayal of Olivia.
Dear, sweet Olivia! Had she run out of syllabub yet? Perhaps he should go and find out…
“Listen!” Miss Grayling hissed in his ear. “Do you hear it?”
The scholar and his audience had moved away again, to the far end of the library, but not every guest had followed. Emanating from a large, comfortable chair near the fire, was Robert’s doom — the unmistakable sounds of a gentleman, soothed by a substantial intake of wine, snoring gently.
“There, you see?” she cried triumphantly, and without a second’s hesitation, leaned forward and planted her lips on his.
To say that Robert was unprepared would not do the moment justice.
He had been kissed before, naturally, for no lively man could survive to the age of thirty without a little dabbling in the petticoat line.
He had enjoyed a number of very pleasurable kisses over the years, and not regretted any of them.
But he had instigated them himself, indeed in many cases he had had to work very hard to bring them about, and thus the reward was all the sweeter.
This kiss was bestowed on him without the slightest effort, and at a moment when his thoughts were entirely with his lovely Olivia.
After a moment of surprise, therefore, which held him immobile, he gently disengaged himself.
She was surprised, but not embarrassed. “What is the matter?”
“I did not agree to this, and it is most improper, Miss Grayling.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You are stuffy!” Rising to her feet, she said loudly enough to be heard throughout the room, “Really, Lord Kiltarlity, I am surprised at you. Do you kiss all your female acquaintances?”
Leaving him open-mouthed in astonishment, and reducing the surprised Dr Williamson to silence, she flounced from the room. The sleeping gentleman grunted awake and looked around curiously before settling down and closing his eyes again.
Robert was too angry to consider his actions carefully. He raced after Miss Grayling, catching her up not far down the corridor.
“What was that all about?” he said curtly.
“You insulted me,” she said calmly. “There is a price to be paid for that, Lord Kiltarlity.”
He sighed. “You are a wicked girl, Miss Grayling, but I am not to be caught by stratagems such as this. Where is your brother, do you know? He was not in the library.”
“Are you going to tell tales of me?”
“I am going to return you to Lord Grayling’s care, for clearly you are not fit to be left alone. Why do you not have a chaperon with you, by the way?”
For the first time, she looked uncertain. “She had to leave. My former governess stayed on as a companion and friend, but…” She looked up at him with troubled eyes, seeming very young suddenly. “We could not afford her. Julian is all to pieces, and needs to marry money, and very soon. That is why—”
“That is why what? Who does he have in his sights?”
She licked her lips, hesitating.
But Robert knew. “Lady Olivia. I am right, am I not? She is his target.” No wonder he had been so ready to accept Robert’s request for him to watch over her!
“She has thirty thousand pounds,” she said apologetically.
He muttered an oath, and tore off in the direction of the dining room, but Olivia was gone. Only the servants were there, busy tidying and clearing.
“May I help you, my lord?” the butler said.
“No… I do not think— Unless you know where Lord Grayling may be found?”
“I couldn’t say, my lord. The library, perhaps?”
That was no help, for he was certainly not there. Where would he have taken her? Somewhere private, no doubt, to woo her with sweet words and kisses. The very thought of it brought him to boiling point.
He swept out of the dining room, almost knocking over Miss Grayling, who was lurking outside the door.
“What are you doing?” he cried, his rage overcoming all gentlemanly politeness.
“I beg your pardon, but I wanted to tell you… they might be in the secret room,” she said. “Julian said something about it last night… an opportunity, he said.”
“Opportunity! I will knock his opportunity down his throat when I catch up with him. Where is this secret room?”
“This way.”
She led him a circuitous route through the house and up a winding stair, then into a large chamber Robert had not seen before. At the far end, a large, moth-eaten tapestry covered a section of wall.
“The door is behind the tapestry,” she said. “Shall I…? Or do you prefer to…?”
Robert had no time to respond, for the tapestry rippled and two figures emerged from behind it — Lord Grayling and Lady Euphemia Howland.
That was unexpected! Robert recalled now that the two had sat whispering together in the dining room, and had left together, leaving Olivia behind.
What a fool he was! Chasing all over the house after a will-o’-the-wisp, when Olivia was in no danger at all from Grayling.
Clearly he had set his sights on bigger prey.
What sort of dowry would the daughter of a duke command?
More than Olivia’s thirty thousand, he would be prepared to wager.
“Julian!” Miss Grayling called out. “There you are, but I thought—?”
“Change of plan,” he said smoothly.
“But—?” Her gaze jumped to Lady Euphemia and then to Robert, before returning, frowning, to her brother.
Grayling had not slackened his pace as he approached them, Lady Euphemia smirking as she gripped one arm. As they swept past, Miss Grayling attached herself to Grayling’s other arm and was towed away and out of the room, leaving Robert alone.
Curious, he crossed to the tapestry, lifted it and pushed open the door concealed behind it.
The room was filled with light from windows on three sides.
Alongside the door, a fire in a vast fireplace burned low, clearly lit some time ago and no longer defeating the chill air of a little-used room.
On a side table stood a row of decanters and glasses, together with baskets of pastries, cakes and other sweetmeats.
Two glasses and a plate with crumbs on a table near the furthest window suggested that the occupants had passed a pleasant hour in there since leaving the dining room.
Robert replenished the fire, then poured himself a glass of wine, and retreated to the corner beyond the fireplace, where some residual warmth from the fire lingered, and pondered the curious situation.
He was light-headed with relief — Olivia was in no danger from Grayling!
Whatever the precarious state of his finances, he was not in pursuit of her thirty thousand pounds and Embleton had no need of it.