Page 42 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)
“No, no!” he said again, more loudly. “Sorry! S-Stupid of me. Forgive me. Marry me. Please.”
What else could she do? It was what she had wanted for years, and here it was, her life’s ambition achieved at last. So she lifted her head and, quite unable to speak, nodded her acceptance.
He smiled, taking her by the shoulders to hold her at arm’s length. “B-better?” he said.
And she nodded again, although oddly she could not stop crying. Tears of happiness, she supposed, for what else could they be? She could not be sad… could she?
***
R obert returned to the house, and sat quietly in his study, his arms resting on the empty desk.
And then he waited. He was not quite sure what it was that he was waiting for, but he knew there would be something.
Another quarrel, perhaps, between Olivia and Embleton, which would restore him to equanimity and that tiny sliver of hope that had never quite left him.
Or would it be something worse, something to bring him to total despair?
He had not long to wait, for before the clock on the mantel struck the next hour, he heard voices outside and then, after a brisk knock, Embleton came in. He looked… Robert could not quite interpret his expression. Bemused, perhaps. Well, Olivia could have that effect on a man.
Embleton gave a little cough, but said nothing. Now he looked awkward, almost guilty. Robert’s insides clenched. It was bad news, he knew it!
Another cough, then Embleton said, “L-lady Ol— Ol— Ol—”
“Olivia,” Robert said, his nerves too shredded to wait.
With a quick nod, Embleton went on, “Betrothed. Going to Lochm-m-maben now.”
And without another word, he turned and left the room.
Robert poured himself a large brandy, but then he set the glass carefully down on his desk and sat in his chair, head in hands.
His desolation was too great even for brandy.
Betrothed! That was the end of it, then.
She would marry Embleton and be a marchioness and in time a duchess, and Robert would have to try to live without her for the rest of his life. Somehow.
He was vaguely aware of disturbances going on, of carriages on the drive, voices in the entrance hall below, and feet tapping up and down the stairs and going past his door. He did not care. If the house was on fire, presumably someone would inform him, but nothing else was worth moving for.
After a while, a tentative knock on the door was followed by the apologetic figure of the butler.
“Beg pardon, my lord, but the Duchess of Lochmaben and the Marchioness of Galloway are here.”
“Are they?” Robert said dully, not much interested. “Why?”
Winthrop gave a deprecating cough. “Lord Embleton, Lord Rennington and the Lady Olivia Atherton are removing to Lochmaben Castle, my lord. They are about to depart.” Then, after a long pause. “Shall I tell them you are engaged at present, my lord? Or indisposed?”
Robert stared at him blankly.
Giving up, the butler bowed. “I am sure Lady Kiltarlity will say all that is proper on your behalf, my lord.”
And then he was gone, and before long all the voices moved outside, and after a little while, the Lochmaben carriages crunched away down the drive, the doors closed and all was quiet again.
For a long time, no one intruded upon Robert’s misery. Occasionally he heard footsteps on the passageway outside his door, or in the entrance hall below, but no one disturbed him for some time. But then the door opened and a face peeped round. His sister Lucy.
“I came to see if you wanted anything.”
Mutely, he shook his head.
Undeterred, she came in and closed the door, then placed a sheet of drawing paper on the desk in front of him.
“I am not sure whether it will help or not, but I took a likeness of Olivia just a day or two ago. I thought you might like to have it. To remember her by.”
Picking it up, he smiled a little. “Thank you! It is very good — very like her.”
“I think it is one of my better efforts, yes. Rob…” She hesitated. “We are all sorry about it. Even Mama liked her, and you know how hard to please she is! Well, she was so against Izzy, but Olivia is quite different. In ways, I mean, not in looks. They are like twins in appearance.”
“Do you think so?” Robert said, frowning as he gazed at the portrait.
“Well, yes, superficially they are alike, but once one comes to know Olivia, one sees a multitude of small differences. The chin, for instance, or the eyes. Izzy’s eyes are closer together, I am sure.
” And there was that dimple , he thought with a wrench of pain.
“Perhaps. Rob… you will get over this. I know how much it hurts to lose someone you love, but trust me, it will fade.”
“How long does it take? To forget, I mean.”
“Forget! Oh, one never forgets. One simply grows accustomed. The pain becomes duller, something one simply lives with every day, but one never quite gets over it. Do you remember when I fell off my pony when I was nine? I broke my arm — the left one, fortunately, and it healed perfectly well, but I am still aware of it, when someone grabs hold of me too forcefully in the dance, or when I roll over in bed awkwardly, or just lean on it too hard. Then it hurts and reminds me. A failed love is like that. But you must know that, after Izzy.”
“No,” he said slowly. “It was never like this, not with Izzy. I was angry, more than anything else. Jealous of Farramont, of course. But I realised very quickly that she would never have suited me. But Olivia…” He took a ragged breath.
“She was perfect, Lucy. Perfect for me, I mean. She would hate me making the comparison, but she had all the good parts of Izzy without the constant high drama. Izzy would have been the most wearing wife, I imagine. Look at the dance she led Farramont this summer. The poor fellow had to follow her all over the north.”
“And had to kidnap her in the end to stop her running away,” Lucy said giggling. “I am not quite sure what Lord Farramont sees in her, to be honest, although she is very beautiful, and lively in company, but then so is Olivia.”
“Exactly!” Robert cried. “Oh, Lucy, what am I going to do?”
“You are going to hide away here and keep away from the brandy,” she said firmly, moving the glass out of reach. “You never know, she might yet realise what a mistake she has made, giving you up for a blockhead like Embleton.”
“He is not a blockhead,” Robert said, feeling an obligation to be fair, despite it all. “In fact, he is reputed to be very clever — writes Latin poetry and such like.”
“Wrong. He is a blockhead. Olivia has been delicately putting herself into his path for weeks now, far more subtly than Lizzie or I could ever manage, and he has taken virtually no notice of her, until now. I am not sure what brought about the change, but it seems very sudden to me, so either of them might have second thoughts. So do not despair, brother dear, for Mama, Lizzie and I will go to Lochmaben to see how the betrothal is progressing, and perhaps drop a little hint in Olivia’s ear that you are very sad just now.
She is a gentle-hearted creature, and maybe that will bring her back to you, who knows? ”
But Robert could not find any cause for optimism, for Olivia now had everything she had ever wanted. What could possibly tempt her back to Robert’s side?
Nothing.