Page 4 of An Alliance with the Earl (Marrying for Love #5)
CHAPTER FOUR
O livia tucked herself comfortably into the window seat in her bedchamber, exhaling a contented sigh. The day had been a whirlwind of activity—between the house tour, the boat ride, and the lawn games, she’d barely had a moment to catch her breath, let alone capture the scenes that had so captivated her attention.
Her fingers itched to sketch the scenes from the day—the play of sunlight on the lake, the elegant fountain from the moonflower garden, and the lively croquet matches.
She reached for her small sketchbook from her reticule, running her fingers over its familiar cover. As soon as she opened it, her pencil found its way into her hand, and her mind began to revisit the day’s most vivid impressions. How she wished she could have taken the time to draw while she’d been next to each of the scenes, but everything had moved so rapidly.
She started with the lake, sketching out the soft line of the shore and the faint silhouettes of boats gliding over the water. She added the graceful sweep of the willows at the water’s edge. The wind had danced across the lake, casting ripples that reflected the sun’s gleam like shards of glass.
Olivia added a few boats gliding across the surface, each with two passengers seated in varying degrees of elegance or casualness. She added a few shadows under the boat, creating a contrast between the water and wood, leaving some of the space lighter to highlight the way the light rippled across the water.
Her mind wandered as she compared her time on the lake, imagining her own unremarkable journey with Lord Brightwell with the amiable but overly enthusiastic Miss Cox who had been paired with Lord Cheshire. Miss Cox’s laughter had been heard throughout the lake. Clearly Lord Cheshire took amusement in entertaining others. Her pulse raced at how kind and unassuming he had been throughout the whole of the morning.
She focused her attention on the sketch in front of her, instead of letting her mind wander. She drew two more boats bobbing under the weight of their guests, with their delicate parasols casting colorful shadows.
When she was satisfied with her drawing, she turned the page, her pencil moving over the textured paper almost of its own accord. She drew the fountain from the moonflower garden, drawing as best she could from memory. She soaked into the feeling of that moment—the hushed beauty of that secluded place, with the soft sounds of water spilling over the basin’s edge.
Her pencil traced the slender stems of the moonflowers and the arching trees that had bordered the garden, trying to replicate the enchanting effect of the white blooms nestled in their green haven. She could almost hear the quiet murmur of admiration that had swept through the group as they beheld Lord and Lady Lansdowne’s favorite garden.
These were places she’d have to take time to sketch in person before the house party was over. She wanted more of the details to be in her book.
Her mind drifted to Lord Cheshire, who’d been so patient with her during the archery, despite her abysmal performance. He had been everything she’d needed in a partner at that moment. Her archery skills were nothing short of a comedy.
Lord Cheshire had been a good sport, providing her pointers and even a bit of gentle coaching, all to no avail. He’d not used the moment to surround her in his arms, like some may have. It made perfect sense, since she knew of his true motivation when it came to pursuing matrimony. She couldn’t deny it—his easygoing nature, his genuine smile—it all had set her at ease in a way that was rare at these social gatherings.
It felt strange, even exhilarating, to have someone here who knew her secret purpose for attending. Yet, there was no pressure, no expectation.
As she thought of Lord Cheshire and his kindnesses, she attempted a quick sketch of the archery field. She was quick to add her own figure, arrow hopelessly missing the target, and her lips twitched with amusement as she remembered her failed shots. She wasn’t at all troubled by her poor performance; in fact, she found it amusing.
At least Lord Cheshire had been a good sport about her woeful skills. He’d even given her tips with surprising patience, his gaze steady and encouraging as she’d attempted to follow his advice. But even with his pointers, the results had remained as comically poor as ever.
And yet … it wasn’t just the archery lesson that lingered in her thoughts. More than once, she found herself recalling the things Lord Cheshire had told her at breakfast and throughout the morning. Somehow, knowing he shared her disinterest in the matchmaking aspect of the house party made her feel at ease around him.
It was as if they were co-conspirators, each here for different reasons than the others suspected. For the first time, she felt she had a friend—someone who knew her secret and accepted it without judgment.
A gentle knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Mrs. Morris, her ever-attentive chaperone, entered, her expression as benignly attentive as always in a small smile.
“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Mrs. Morris said, settling herself into a nearby chair. “How did you find the day’s activities?”
“They were enjoyable, if not very fast-paced with hardly any breathing room in between.”
“I trust the company is proving agreeable? I hope you made a good impression on your partners today.” Mrs. Morris eyed her closely.
Olivia smiled and closed her sketchbook. “Indeed, Mrs. Morris. I’ve been quite sociable, I assure you. I made every effort to engage with each partner as much as possible.”
Mrs. Morris nodded approvingly, her hands folded primly in front of her. “That is precisely what I wish to hear, dear. But if I may, you must try just a little harder. And please, no more feigned headaches.” Her voice was mild, yet the words held a touch of reproof.
Olivia opened her mouth to protest but then thought better of it, knowing she would never convince Mrs. Morris. “Very well,” she said instead, nodding in acquiescence. “I shan’t do it again. But, if I am genuinely fatigued or do suffer from a headache, would it not be better to retire early, rather than risk being poor company the following day?”
Mrs. Morris considered this carefully before responding with a small nod. “True enough, as long as you are not, as you say, feigning such things.” Mrs. Morris glanced around the room, her gaze taking in the sketchbook on Olivia’s lap. “But I will ask that you do not hide away entirely, Olivia. You know your brother’s wishes.”
“Yes, I know,” Olivia replied with a sigh. “He’s given very strict instructions, and I am attempting to abide by them.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that any hint of exasperation would do little to assuage her chaperone.
Satisfied, Mrs. Morris softened, her tone taking on a gentler note. “And? Has anyone, thus far, struck you as promising? It is only the second day, but sometimes a first impression is telling.”
Olivia felt a faint warmth creep up her cheeks. She wasn’t accustomed to thinking of these gentlemen with such seriousness; in her mind, most of the guests blended into one indistinct mass.
And yet, Lord Cheshire’s face flashed unbidden in her mind. His manner was easy, his gaze was steady, and his wit was unparalleled. But she dismissed the notion quickly, reminding herself that he was the one guest she could trust to understand her disinterest in matrimony.
How silly of her to allow herself to dwell on anything more.
Mrs. Morris was watching her too closely for her liking, and Olivia could feel the heat in her cheeks as if she were burning from the inside.
She cleared her throat, hoping to clear her thoughts of Lord Cheshire in the process. “It’s really too soon to tell,” Olivia replied, with a carefully crafted smile. “There are several gentlemen of good character here, of course, but rest assured that I am still doing my best to get to know everyone here.”
Mrs. Morris’s brow creased with mild disapproval. “Too soon? My dear girl, time is of the essence at these gatherings. It is far better to focus on a particular gentleman as early as possible. That way, you can spend as much of the house party as you can afford deepening your acquaintance.”
Olivia suppressed a smile, amused by her chaperone’s practicality. If only Mrs. Morris knew that she hoped to avoid deepening any acquaintance at all. But instead, she nodded with feigned seriousness. “Sound advice indeed, Mrs. Morris. I shall consider everything you’ve said on the subject.” She’d consider it, and then she would promptly dismiss it.
“See that you do,” Mrs. Morris replied, her gaze intent. “It’s all very well to socialize generally, but you must make the most of this opportunity, Olivia. I should like to see you surveying the guests more discerningly at dinner this evening. With any luck, you may find someone who captures your interest in earnest.”
Olivia bit back a sigh and nodded dutifully. “I shall do my best, Mrs. Morris,” she said, inclining her head respectfully.
“Good girl,” Mrs. Morris said approvingly. “Remember, my dear, superficial conversations are all well and good for the beginning of a house party, but the end can come swiftly. You may find yourself with the same vague acquaintance at the conclusion as at the start, if you aren’t careful.”
Which is precisely my aim, Olivia thought to herself, though she kept her expression mild and agreeable. “Of course, Mrs. Morris. I quite understand.”
“And if,” Mrs. Morris continued, “any gentleman was to pique your interest, I trust you will not hesitate to give him more of your time?”
Olivia managed a serene nod. “Naturally. I am here to make a genuine effort, and I shall endeavor to do so.”
“Very good.” Mrs. Morris rose, smoothing down her skirts with satisfaction. “I must say, I am quite proud of you, Olivia, for approaching this endeavor with such dedication. I know your brother will be pleased to hear of your efforts.”
The warmth of Mrs. Morris’s pride softened Olivia’s heart, and she couldn’t bring herself to voice the mischievous retort on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she gave her chaperone a grateful smile and promised, once again, to do her best.
Once Mrs. Morris left, Olivia returned to her sketchbook, but her thoughts continued to wander back to the conversation. It was one thing to placate her chaperone with assurances and dutifully keep up appearances for her brother’s sake.
Her thoughts strayed to Lord Cheshire yet again. What would he think of the conversation that she’d just had with her chaperone? She couldn’t imagine that he would berate her for such a deception. She wasn’t trying to be disagreeable. But her brother had offered her the promise of something that she wanted, by giving her a strict stipulation in something that she didn’t. She was doing her best to manage those conflicting purposes in her life.
Would Lord Cheshire see the game in it? The ironic humor? Just knowing that Lord Cheshire also felt a burden in being here—in keeping up an appearance—while having no intention of following through gave her comfort. Each moment she spent here seemed to heighten the slight thrill of knowing she had one ally in this sea of eager young ladies and hopeful suitors—an ally who, like herself, was here under no great wish to marry.