Page 58 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)

“It is not of the least consequence, Lord Kiltarlity,” she said, smiling at him.

“Everyone must bow to the demands of true love without demur. My brother had some ambitions there, but he stepped aside smartly when he saw that you were high in the lady’s esteem.

She is the sweetest girl and will make an admirable countess, I am sure. ”

Robert hardly knew how he answered, for he was watching Olivia being claimed by her next partner, and when he turned around, his own partner had gone. He was in such a muddle that he could not even remember her name.

He decided it would be safer for everyone if he sat out the next two and awaited the supper dance.

Accordingly, he propped himself against a pillar and watched the commencement of the next dance.

But it was not safer for his own sanity, he discovered, for he now had nothing to do but watch Olivia with her new partner, smiling and even laughing with him, and the pain tore at his insides.

How could she be so carefree? Did she feel nothing for Robert, if she could enjoy herself so wholeheartedly with another?

Useless to tell himself that this was exactly what he had wanted for her — a season free of any prior understanding so that she might choose the man who suited her best. He could not bear it, and how was he to wait until the last ball of the season before speaking?

He would be fit only for Bedlam by then. No, it was impossible.

“Kiltarlity?”

“Mmm?” For a moment he could not place the man at his elbow. “Um…”

“Strong,” he said helpfully. “Alfred Strong. Sir Hubert’s brother.”

“Ah, of course. Forgive me… Um… did we…?”

“Invite me? No, but your servants very kindly permitted me over the threshold.” He smiled genially.

“I am sure the lack of an invitation was an oversight,” Robert said.

He chuckled. “I do not usually attend such events, but tonight I was supposed to dine with Winnie and Walter, and I was delayed, so I am come to apologise. Ah, here they are now.”

“Uncle Alfred!” cried Winnie, excitedly. “Well? Is it done?”

“It is.”

She squealed with delight. “Then, may I be the first to congratulate you — Sir Alfred.”

Walter shook his hand, Winnie hugged him and Robert was moved to offer his own felicitations. “Bart? Or knight?”

“His Majesty has seen fit to bestow a knighthood on my unworthy self, to mark my retirement from the Treasury,” Sir Alfred said. “A baronetage is of no consequence to me, since I shall never now have a son to inherit.”

“Oh, never say never,” Robert said. “There is still time for you to marry a pretty young thing. Shall I introduce you to one or two who might like to be Lady Alfred Strong?”

Sir Alfred went slightly pink, but it was Winnie who answered. “I think he may already have a lady in his eye, Lord Kiltarlity. Is it not so, Uncle Alfred?”

“Well, the secret is out, I see,” he said, in some embarrassment. “It is true that the Lady Alice Nicholson has given me to understand that my addresses would not be unwelcome.”

“Aunt Alice!” Walter said in tones of astonishment. “I never thought she would marry again, but now that I think of it, I have noticed that you have been spending a lot of time in her company.”

“I have always admired her,” he said, “but I could not aspire so high when I was merely a lowly Treasury official. But now I am comfortably situated and… well, since Mr Nicholson’s demise, I have been able to offer her some assistance.

Not that she needs a great deal of help, for she copes with her blindness admirably, but having someone to read the newspapers to her and discuss the reports with is useful.

And perhaps I was some comfort to her in the darkest days after her husband’s death.

We have become… close, and I have hopes that we will be married before the summer is out. ”

“You will have to live at Corland Castle,” Winnie said. “You will not mind that, I dare say.”

“No, not at all. Alice cannot leave her home, so necessarily I must make my home with her. I have already spoken to Rennington, and he has no objection. Who would have thought I would marry at my time of life, eh? One never knows what is in store for one.”

“How lovely for both of you!”

They drifted away to find the other members of the family, but Robert stayed beside his pillar, watching the dance and pondering the strength of character that enabled a man to admire a woman for years…

for decades, without giving a sign, and then step into the breach only when she was widowed.

Could he have done as much if Olivia had married Embleton?

He was not sure he could. And yet… if she had been happy, that would have made him happy too.

She was happy now, he could see. Her smiles, the jaunty way she danced, her animation when she talked to her partner all told him of her pleasure in the occasion.

And there was that familiar twist of pain inside him…

perhaps she would turn him down in the end?

The uncertainty gnawed him constantly. He had to know!

As the dance drew to a close, he saw her eyes scanning the room, looking for him. She saw him, and her face lit up in its widest smile yet. Oh, that smile! It was sunshine and wine and the promise of a warm summer day, all rolled into one. A man could die happy with such a delight near him.

The music ended, she curtsied to her partner and steered him towards Robert’s pillar, where he bowed as he left her.

“My supper dance at last,” she said with such obvious pleasure that he was heartened again. Perhaps she would accept him after all? “Shall we take our places?”

“Not yet. I have promised something special for Lizzie and Lucy.”

“How exciting!” she said, taking hold of his arm and snuggling close to him. “Here they are now.”

His sisters arrived, still puffing slightly from the dance. “Who are these mysterious partners you have promised us, brother?” Lizzie said. “Has he told you, Olivia?”

“No, not a thing.”

“He is being very secretive,” Lucy said. “They are extremely eligible, he says, and very keen to meet us, but he will say nothing about— oh! Oh, Lizzie, look!”

Winthrop was leading two men into the ballroom. “Mr Whitwell and Captain Lingard,” he intoned, and then gestured towards the pillar where Robert stood.

“Archie!” Lucy whispered, while Lizzie stared at the captain open mouthed.

The two men approached, they bowed in unison, their eyes fixed on the two sisters.

“Lady Elizabeth, may I have the honour of this dance?” the captain said. Too stunned to speak, she placed her hand on his proffered arm and he led her away.

Whitwell could not even manage so many words, merely holding out his hand to Lucy, who accepted it with a smile of pure delight.

“Who are they?” Olivia whispered into Robert’s ear, as they watched the four join the set now forming.

“Mark Lingard is the man Lizzie tried to elope with several years ago, and Archie Whitwell is Lucy’s lost love.”

“But you found him… you found both of them,” she said. “How wonderful you are.”

“Oh… well… I cannot take all the credit, Livvy. It was you, if you remember, who told me to ensure that everyone was happy, and I thought that ought to apply to my sisters as much as anyone else. I found the two men, discovered they were both still single, and both suffering just as Lizzie and Lucy were. So I arranged for them to arrive in time for the supper dance. I think… I hope I did the right thing.”

“Oh yes, for look how happy they are… all four of them. Are we going to dance, too? We can still join the bottom of the set, if you wish.”

“Would you care to take a stroll on the terrace?”

“Oh!” She leaned away from him to look up into his face. “It is not yet the last ball of the season, Lord Kiltarlity.”

“I know, I know, but I cannot wait a moment longer. Do you mind?”

She chuckled. “Not at all. It is so hot and stuffy in here, anyway, too hot for dancing. I had rather be on the terrace with you. Much rather.”

And she smiled up at him in a way which warmed him through and through. It was going to be all right! Surely it would be all right?

Robert had forgotten how small the terrace was, for half the guests seemed to have spilt out from the ballroom to stroll about there, the ladies fanning themselves vigorously. He and Olivia could not take three steps without being greeted by someone, and there was no hope of talking privately.

“Well,” he said ruefully, “this is not how I imagined it.”

She looked up at him with laughter brimming in her eyes. “No, indeed, for I see no peacocks on the lawn, nor is there a fountain playing.”

“And there is no moon and no stars tonight, with so many clouds about.” He paused, as a passing couple made some complimentary remark on the success of the ball. “Thank you, thank you! Most kind.”

“And it is just a trifle crowded out here,” she murmured, as they inched past a loud group of young men to reach the low balustrade that separated the terrace from the narrow garden beyond. “But I distinctly smell roses nearby, so that is all right.”

He laughed. “I am sorry, Livvy. I cannot speak to you as I would wish with so many people here.”

“They are all watching us, too,” she said, then lowered her voice to a whisper, “so we cannot even steal a kiss.”

“What are we to do?” he whispered back.

“We could kiss anyway, and cause a scandal,” she said.

“Certainly not!”

“Oh. Then we could presume that you have already made your speech and I have made mine.”

“I should not like to presume anything,” he said softly, “and I certainly want there to be kissing involved.”

“Then you will just have to come and see me tomorrow, and we will imagine the peacocks and so forth.”

He sighed. “I suppose so. At least then we can be sure to be private.”

“True.”

As they stood, gazing out into the darkness, ignoring the conversations going on all round them, she slipped one hand out of its glove and, hidden in the folds of her gown, her hand touched his and held it fast.

And he smiled, reassured. It was definitely going to be all right.

For a long time, they stood hand in hand. The music inside died away into a burst of clapping, and then a miracle happened. With the time for supper arrived, the crowds on the terrace drifted indoors until, when Robert dared to look, he and Olivia were the only ones remaining.

“Still no peacocks, sadly,” he said.

“I do not need peacocks or fountains or moonlight,” she said. “All I need is you, Robert Osborn.”

He was too overcome to speak.

With a little chuckle, she went on, “I am very grateful to you, you know, for giving me this season free of entanglements, and I have enjoyed myself. It was not perfect, for with such recent bereavements there was much I could not do. I should still be in black gloves for Granny and poor Eustace, by rights, and I am still illegitimate, so Almack’s was out of the question, nor could I be presented at court.

Despite all that, I have had a great deal of amusement, and do you know what made it especially enjoyable?

” He shook his head mutely. “Knowing you were there, that there would always be the supper dance and that eventually there would be a proposal and we could be… entangled. As we ought to be.” She paused, reaching up to touch his face gently. “You may propose to me now.”

“I had a charming speech prepared,” he said hoarsely, wrapping his arms around her waist, “but I am so befuddled I cannot remember a word of it, not when you are here, so close, so enchanting, so real . I cannot believe I ever thought of you as a ghost.”

“I do not need a speech, Robert. Four words will do it.” When he still could not speak, she chuckled and said, “Repeat after me… will.”

“Will.”

“You.”

He gave a little laugh. “You. Marry me.”

“There, you see? Not difficult, was it?”

He smiled down at her. “What about you? A speech… or just one word?”

“And what word would that be?” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Do not tease me! I cannot bear it, Livvy. You have no idea how much it hurts to be so much in love.”

“Oh, but I do,” she whispered. “I love you to distraction, my poor befuddled earl. Yes … that is the word you are waiting for, is it not? Yes, I will marry you, and live at Strathinver, if that is what you want.”

“I have a house in Kent, too.”

“Do you?”

“And one in Hertfordshire, and an estate in Cornwall, and—”

“Great heavens, what do you need with so many?”

“There is bound to be one that you like above all others, so we shall go on an extended honeymoon and visit them all and you may choose. And if you dislike them all, I shall build you another. You must have whatever makes you happy, my love.”

“You make me happy,” she said. “Just you. I care nothing for where we live, except that I would like to spend the winter at Strathinver, and enjoy proper snow.”

“Then you shall, and next spring, when you are the Countess of Kiltarlity, my mother will present you at court and your illegitimacy will not matter tuppence.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “That would be lovely. There is something that would make me very happy right now,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“My darling must have whatever she wishes.”

“Supper,” she said, then, seeing the horrified look on his face, added quickly, “But first, a kiss, perhaps?”

“You are a minx,” he murmured, before complying with her request with great enthusiasm.

THE END

This concludes the story of the Earl of Rennington and his family.

The next series, Black Sheep , follows the fortunes of the Duke of Brinshire, his new heir and extended family, as the mysterious Mr Goodenough sends seemingly random strangers to the duke’s door. You can read a sneak preview of book 1, The Duke’s Architect , after the acknowledgements.