Page 31 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)

O livia passed the rest of the day without straying far from Osborn’s side.

If he drifted away from her, she found that she rapidly sank into a melancholy over her falling out with Lord Embleton, but his cheerful company always raised her spirits again.

He seemed to have an inexhaustible reservoir of light banter that never failed to amuse her, and she could not be sad when he made her laugh so much.

They caught the end of the musical performances, although the instruments were in such poor condition that she was glad she had missed most of the hour. Lady Esther and Mr Franklyn found her there.

“So, you have been with Lord Kiltarlity, have you?” Lady Esther said, smiling on them both.

“We soon came across Lady Euphemia, so that was all right, but you were gone so long we began to wonder if we had lost you, instead. This is such an odd, rambling sort of house, there is no knowing where an unwary wanderer might end up. But I had no need to worry after all, for you are quite safe with Lord Kiltarlity.”

It being still too wet to venture into the gardens, the card tables were brought out, and Olivia settled down to whist with the Franklyns and Osborn for an hour before the carriages began to be brought round and the visit was over.

She saw nothing of Lord Embleton, and he did not dine at Briar House that evening, so perhaps she had made him so cross that he could not bear to be in the same room as her.

But Osborn was there, with his jokes and his smile and a warmth in his eyes that stirred her heart just a little.

Of course he was a wicked flirt, and he only saw her as another Izzy, but it did her so much good to be admired by him.

Without him she would have hidden in her room and wept all night, but in his company she could hold her head high and pretend that she had not quarrelled violently with the marquess.

Effie was unusually subdued that evening.

“Are you tired?” she said, when she and Olivia made their way upstairs at the end of the evening.

“I confess, I am exhausted after the excitements of the day, but my mind is too active to sleep. I shall send for some hot milk, I think. Should you care for some? It is most efficacious after a busy day, I find.”

Olivia agreed to it, for hot milk always reminded her of her childhood, sitting in bed in the night nursery with Tess, sipping milk and nibbling a biscuit while Mama or Josie or the governess read a story to them.

Such a comfort, hot milk! So when it arrived and Effie had stirred some sugar into it, she drank it swiftly, and was soon fast asleep.

***

R obert had hoped to see Embleton again that day so that he might explain that all Olivia’s fears had been well-founded, and Lady Euphemia had indeed been hidden away in the secret room with Grayling, and who knew what might have happened while they were alone?

Embleton’s anger had not been justified, not in the slightest, and Robert could not bear Olivia to be upset by such unwarranted criticism.

How maddening the man was! So seemingly sober and gentlemanlike, yet so swift to think the very worst of such a sweet innocent.

Still, if he could explain it all to Embleton, he would apologise to Olivia and she could be comfortable again. But there was no sign of him at Grayling Hall, nor was he at Briar House that evening.

At least Robert was able to spend most of the evening at Olivia’s side, trying not to flirt too outrageously, since she disliked it, but teasing her gently and finding a score of little ways to make her smile.

She had such a lovely smile! Surely every man must be softened by it, and want her to be happy. How dared Embleton make her cry!

However pleasant the hours with Olivia were, there was the dull hour to be endured after dining when the gentle influence of the ladies was withdrawn, and the men settled down with the port to talk about horses, politics, women of the less savoury variety and more horses.

None of these topics was of much interest to Robert just now, so he prepared to be bored, but tonight there was a pleasant piece of news.

Jeremiah Bucknell tinged his glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Gentlemen, this is not officially known yet, and I believe it will not be for a few days yet, but I can reveal in the strictest confidence that my sister will shortly be contracting a most prestigious alliance. Is it not so, Rennington?”

The earl went slightly pink, but nodded his head.

“It is true. I have not yet made the offer in form… there are people to be informed first… well, my former wife, in particular. I should not like her to read about it in the newspapers. However, Miss Bucknell and I have… reached an understanding. I have already written to the Duke of Camberley to inform him of my intentions.”

“Whatever for?” Bucknell said sharply. “Charlie is of age, she don’t need anyone’s permission.”

“It is a courtesy to the head of the family,” Lord Rennington said mildly. “I should certainly like to know if a nephew or niece were on the brink of matrimony.”

“Yes, but— Well, no matter.” He gave a dry laugh. “’Tis done now.”

“Never thought we should get rid of her,” one of the other Bucknells said.

“Yes, yes, she is thirty-two, but that is a perfect age for his lordship,” Jeremiah said testily. “No reason why she should not marry, none at all.”

“No, no, of course not,” the other said hastily. “Never meant— Apologies, Jerry. A good match, a very good match.”

There was a murmur of agreement round the table, and Miss Bucknell’s health was drunk with enthusiasm, and then the earl’s and then Miss Bucknell’s again, after which the conversation reverted to horseflesh, and Robert began to watch the clock, wondering how soon he could go back to Olivia.

She was at the instrument when he reached the drawing room, playing and singing with such sweetness that he was almost overcome.

Mesmerised, he lingered by the door, watching and listening and admiring.

Had Izzy played so well? He thought she had, but then she did everything well.

She had certainly played some complicated pieces, and held her audience rapt, but Olivia had such a delightful innocence in all she did that she quite took his breath away.

Izzy had never been so innocent, even in her first appearances in town.

There was always a sophistication to her, a knowingness that had enchanted his younger self, but now left him unmoved. Whereas Olivia…

But that was a singularly fruitless line of thought. He must resist the temptation to follow it.

As soon as Olivia relinquished her place at the pianoforte, he crossed the room and drew her to a sofa a little away from the others.

He had not meant to mention it, but seeing her father enter the room not far behind him and immediately claim a place beside Miss Bucknell, he said cautiously, “They seem to get on well.”

“Oh, yes! I am so pleased for him. He has been looking for a new wife for some months now, ever since Mama told him she would not marry him again and went away. He must marry to have legitimate sons, you see, and Aunt Jane invited several of her friends to visit to see if one of them would suit.”

“But they did not?”

“No! A dreadful collection, not at all the sort of person Papa would like. But Miss Bucknell… he truly likes her, and she seems to like him, too.”

“And do you like her? She might be your stepmother, after all.”

“I like her very well. She is easy to talk to, as a mother… or a stepmother should be. But that does not matter, as long as she makes Papa happy. He has been so sad since Mama went away. I should love him to find someone new to love, and who will love him.”

“I wonder why she has never married,” he said thoughtfully. “She is thirty-two, after all, and a confirmed spinster, one would have thought, yet if she is so agreeable—”

“Osborn, it is not kind to think that way — she has never married, so there must be something wrong with her, is that it? Perhaps she simply never met anyone she wanted to marry before.”

“I am sure you are right,” he said soothingly, and deftly changed the subject.

When the card tables came out, a very little manoeuvring put him and Olivia on the same table as the Earl of Rennington and Miss Bucknell, giving him ample opportunity to discover that she was a sensible woman, well informed and articulate, who also played an astute hand of cards.

She was, then, exactly what she appeared to be, a pleasant and agreeable woman, and nothing more sinister than that.

He returned to Chilford Lodge, to find Marsden and his friends very much in their cups, and free with ribald comments on the nature of the society which drew him away from their company night after night.

After allowing them ten minutes to expend their wit against him, he made good his escape to his room where Maurice, his valet for long enough to read his master’s moods instantly, wisely attended him in silence.

There was something about the night that brought his conscience out to sit on his shoulder and plague him with unhelpful thoughts.

All the disasters of today rose up in his mind to crowd out any possibility of sleep.

His impulsive proposal to Olivia. His chase to rescue her from Grayling.

The discovery that Grayling was with Lady Euphemia.

Olivia’s search for the two of them, culminating in that unpleasant quarrel with Embleton.