Page 39 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)

R obert could scarcely believe how wonderful it was to have Olivia at Strathinver.

Every night he went to sleep smiling, knowing that she was under the same roof, and when he woke, joy burst over him as he remembered.

He could not suppress the well of happiness that bubbled up in him constantly, even though he knew she was there solely to further her acquaintance with Embleton.

As far as that went, he had to concede that her gentle temperament and pleasing manners were beginning to make inroads with the marquess.

It would perhaps be too much to say that he was developing an attachment for her, since Embleton was not a man whose wishes and feelings were easy to read.

If he were falling in love, he kept the signs well hidden.

But still, Robert noticed every time the marquess offered Olivia his arm as they were walking or chose to sit beside her at table or showed her an interesting tidbit from a newspaper or book.

The argument at Grayling Hall and Olivia’s tempestuous outburst that she wished she might never see him again had all been forgotten.

For himself, he found it increasingly difficult to keep her at arm’s length.

He wanted her to be happy, certainly, and if her happiness lay with the marquess, he would do his very best to smile and wish them both well.

Yet with every day that passed, he became more certain that his own happiness was inextricably linked with her, and he grew more and more dissatisfied with his resolution.

Such madness, to concede the battle without a shot being fired!

If only he dared to fight for her himself, to tell her how much he loved her and wished to share his life with her.

She was so perfect for him, he knew that now.

She had managed to wrap his mother round her thumb, merely by admiring the improvements being undertaken.

On entering the winter drawing room, Olivia had exclaimed at the vibrant yellows and greens, and cried out, “Oh, but it is just like spring! It will always be spring in here, even when there is snow on the ground outside. How lovely!”

And Mama had melted in a moment, and said yes, that was exactly the intention, and how clever of her to surmise it, and would she come and look at the music room and see what she thought of the plans for that?

And somehow, the two had spent the rest of the day examining samples of wall coverings and paint, deep in discussion.

Robert had retreated to his book room, a dark, untidy but irredeemably masculine hiding place.

It was depressing, because the desk was piled high with letters and bills and terse little notes from one or other of his stewards, full of words like ‘urgent’ or ‘immediate’ underlined three times.

But, mindful of Olivia’s advice that he should consider the happiness of the people over whose lives he now had dominion, he began to open the unopened letters and quickly read the others, assigning them to suitable piles, pondering how happiness might be assigned to difficulties with a waterlogged field or low water at a mill somewhere in the West Country.

Why did he own a mill in Cornwall anyway?

He was still puzzling over it when his mother and Olivia arrived, in full improvement mode, to discuss strategies for his book room. He sighed, and put his head in his hands.

There was a gurgle of merriment near his left ear. “A brandy, my lord? You look as if you might need it.”

He looked up into Olivia’s laughing face. “Make it a large one.”

Obediently she crossed to the side table where the decanters stood, read the labels and then poured his brandy. Still holding the decanter, she looked at him thoughtfully and then doubled the quantity in the glass.

“There! That should sustain you. But really, ma’am,” she said, turning to Lady Kiltarlity, “I do not think this room can be improved upon. I imagine it is much as the late Lord Kiltarlity left it, and as such, perhaps it should remain so, in his memory.”

“It is true, it was very much his domain, and I suppose it may be left, for now. Kiltarlity will not wish to change it, I am sure. Very well, the dining room next.”

So saying, she swept out, and with a mischievous smile, Olivia followed.

Robert sipped his brandy, then laughed. What a woman she was, his Olivia!

Such a clever little thing, managing to preserve this one room from his mother’s determination to refurbish the house from top to bottom.

Even his father’s bedroom, now his, had been repainted, although the furniture was the same.

But this room, the only one that was truly his, would remain untouched, thanks to Olivia.

***

S trathinver was perfect, Olivia decided.

Indoors, she drifted from room to room with a permanent smile on her face.

Only a few of the rooms had been refurbished, but when Lady Kiltarlity’s plans were fully implemented, the house would be one of the finest in the Kingdom.

Outside, there were formal gardens for strolling about, the planting somewhat neglected although that merely added to the charm.

However, the greater park was, by the designer’s art, seemingly untamed, yet with a multitude of paths wandering over hills and along valleys, winding through woods and along the gently flowing river, broad but shallow, its clear brown water burbling merrily over a stony bed. It was all enchanting.

The men were drawn to the river for a different reason.

Lord Embleton was delighted with the fishing to be had there, calling it the best sport he had ever had.

Olivia’s father was very happy to spend hours there each day, too, and since the rest of the party liked to be nearby, it became a habit for the servants to erect a small pavilion on the bank near the fishermen, supplied with a brazier and a mountain of thick woollen blankets, where the ladies, well wrapped against the autumnal chill, could sit to read or chat, and enjoy a light repast.

Olivia found that the two Osborn sisters, with whom she was quickly on terms of intimacy, were not at all the embittered spinsters that Lady Harraby had asserted.

They were watchful of Lord Embleton, and lost no opportunity to talk to him, but they did not put themselves forward, and joked that there was little point with Olivia around.

Osborn was not always there, for he had a multitude of duties to attend to, but sometimes he would arrive and pull a chair near to Olivia, and recount some difficulty he had encountered with the tenant farmers or one of his many holdings and investments scattered all over the Kingdom.

Surprisingly often she would find herself saying, “Have you thought that you might…?”, and he would listen intently, his anxious face gradually lightening.

Then he would smile and say, “What a clever little thing you are, Livvy! That sounds precisely the thing to do.” And sometimes, to her delight, he would linger in the pavilion, his shapely legs stretched out and a glass of wine in his hand, keeping her in a ripple of amusement with his lighthearted repartee.

If she could not talk to Lord Embleton, his whole focus on the river, then Osborn was a most acceptable substitute.

Effie came on these outings too, but she was not a comfortable companion.

Having spent the first few days in a fever of impatience to know how Lady Harraby and the new babe were going on, as soon as word was received of a sturdy son and heir, her impatience switched to the lack of company.

Even when she joined the fishing expeditions, she remained restless.

While Lady Kiltarlity, her daughters and Olivia sat decorously in the pavilion, she paced restlessly about on the river bank, getting in the way of the fishermen, annoying the gamekeeper charged with assisting them by a succession of pointless questions, and quarrelling with her brother as much as she could.

He ignored her most of the time, but every once in a while, he would explode into a tirade of stutter-free invective.

Then she would retreat to the pavilion with a little smile on her face.

“You do it deliberately,” Olivia said to her one day. “You intentionally provoke him.”

“Of course!” she said, with a quick laugh. “If I annoy him sufficiently, he will send me away from this God-forsaken place.”

“But Strathinver is wonderful!” Olivia protested. “Why would you ever want to leave it?”

Osborn smiled at this praise for his home, but Effie pulled a face. “Oh, it is well enough, I suppose, but one grows bored with the same few faces every day.”

“And you have no one to flirt with,” Olivia said.

“True, since Lord Kiltarlity is most disobliging in that way, for he will only flirt with you.”

Osborn gave a bark of laughter. “Certainly, for your brother is a fierce defender of his sister, and I have no wish to meet him at dawn. He is both a crack shot and a fine fencer, too. I value my life too highly to take the risk, Lady Euphemia.”

“Pft! Men are such cowards. Oh, if only I could escape from here!”

“There are some fine rides around Strathinver,” Osborn said. “You could escape at least for an hour or two, if you wish.”

“Do you have any decent horseflesh in your stables? I like a mount with some spirit.”

“I would expect no less of you,” Osborn said gallantly. “Would you like to inspect the possibilities now? It is a little late in the day to set out today, but I would be happy to accompany you tomorrow. Olivia, would you care to join us?”

“I suspect I would not be able to keep up with Effie,” she said, smiling.

“Besides, I must write some letters tomorrow. I have neglected my pen abominably since I arrived here, and must remedy the situation soon. Poor Mama will want to know how Papa is coping, and then there is Aunt Alice, Aunt Jane, Josie… so many letters.”

“Not Izzy?” Osborn said.