Page 13 of Waiting for Love (The Taverstons of Iversley #3)

S uch a brave woman, Benjamin thought, as Vanessa prepared to face the masses in her new role as the Countess of Iversley. Half the celebrants, more than half, would be less interested in the festivities than in setting eyes upon the scandalous commoner who had snared herself a lord.

Naturally, the Taverstons showed their mettle. They rose and closed ranks. The dowager, who could easily have used mourning to excuse herself, hovered at Vanessa’s elbow. Georgiana, who must be dragging after the long day, walked arm-in-arm with Reg, even though her appearance in public, in her obvious condition, smacked of impropriety all by itself. And Olivia and Alice, unmarried gentlewomen who should have shied away from any scandal lest they harm their own prospects, followed close upon Vanessa’s heels. Benjamin started to wonder if even Crispin’s unexpected presence was a sign of solidarity.

Miss Jamison slipped away with Hannah, but Benjamin was expected to attend the wassailing. He entered the reception hall several steps behind the united Taverstons.

Painted wooden screens were grouped near the back wall. These were generally set in a line near the hearth in order to trap warmth and make the vast hall feel more intimate. But with the anticipated size of the gathering, they would be in the way if left in their usual spot. Benjamin went to the screens and stood discreetly in the shadows.

Everything was in place. A fire crackled in the hearth. The buffet table offered cakes, roasted nuts, medlars, and oranges. There were three bowls of pungent rum punch, one at each end of the table and one in the middle. Footmen and housemaids passed cups into the crowd as quickly as they could fill them, while guests swarmed into the room. The villagers were dressed in their warmest and finest, red-faced from the cold, and boisterous with holiday cheer.

By now, Benjamin knew the inhabitants of Iversley, having interacted with many of them frequently, others less so. He would have to make a point to speak with the Danforths before the night’s end. But he had no desire to circulate. He noted, with a flicker of unease, that there were several young misses the right age for courting. It brought to mind Jasper’s suggestion he look for a wife and Reg’s admonishment to find a mother for Hannah. He hoped none of the girls were thinking along the same lines.

Not yet, at any rate. Reg was probably right. But not yet.

He forced himself not to let his eyes seek Olivia. Holding her in his arms had nearly been his undoing. She moved with the grace of a swan. If they’d been alone…a stolen kiss…The devil! Of course not! He would never insult Olivia like that.

Giles, the tavernkeeper, clapped his hands and began singing. It was more of a shout. The carol was a horrible jumble of offkey voices and mixed-up verses. The singing trailed off, then cheering began. Jasper raised a mug and called, “Merry Christmas!” Which set off a chorus of Merry Christmases and a few cries of “to the lord and lady!”

It was all quite jolly. Gradually, the rest of the Taverstons separated from Jasper and Vanessa to move through the crowd. A word here. A question there. They were all so very gracious. The villagers would be hard-pressed to find fault, though there would no doubt be backbiting gossip behind closed doors. They were only human, after all.

Still, country gossip was one thing. The viciousness of the haute ton was another. He didn’t envy Jasper and Vanessa. Or maybe he did. Because Jasper could get away with breaking the rules. At least, that was what everyone was counting upon.

Benjamin leaned against the wall, shut his eyes, and let the noise wash over him.

Jasper made no bones about wanting to relax the stringent separation between lord of the manor and employee. He wanted his old drinking friend back. But there was a very definite boundary. The Taverston brothers had made this plain. Jasper did drag him away from Olivia the other night. Benjamin had been offered rooms in the south wing, but now they were to be taken away. And Crispin could not have reprimanded him any more clearly for the too ardent waltz than by snatching away his sister’s hand and depositing Alice in her stead.

Evidently, Benjamin had done a poor job of hiding his attraction. And even so. Even so , Jasper seemed determined to keep him. Jasper defined the boundaries and trusted him to respect them.

A body thudded against the wall and a shoulder brushed his. Benjamin’s eyes snapped open.

Crispin. Crispin unguarded, with dark hollows beneath his eyes and a weary slump to his shoulders. He held a cinnamon cake and regarded it so intently Benjamin wondered what was wrong with it.

“Captain?”

Crispin gave him a sour look. “Eat this, will you?” He tried handing him the cake. “Or I will.”

“That is not much of a threat.”

“The threat?” Crispin twisted a smile at him. “Regret. A terrible thing, regret.”

For a long, knee-weakened moment, Benjamin couldn’t reply. What was Crispin saying?

Then the man let out a sigh and let his head fall back to thwunk the plaster.

“Give it here,” Benjamin said. Crispin was not a man who sighed. But he was a man with bizarre table habits and a history of unexplainable recurring illness. This was about the cake. Not some metaphorical warning. He popped the thing into his own mouth and chewed.

“ Hmmph ,” Crispin said. “Good.” He brushed his hands together to rid them of crumbs. Then stiffened his spine. “Tell me about Hannah.” He spoke in a conversational tone. “She is a charming little thing. How did you come to rescue her? Jasper says her parents both died?”

He swallowed. “Of fevers. One after the other.”

“And you were not at the fort? The Company Fort? Jasper said you were somewhere in the interior.”

He nodded.

“Why?”

The deuce. When had conversation for Crispin come to mean interrogation? “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Crispin shifted to focus his gaze on Benjamin and pronounced his words very clearly, “what were you doing in the interior? With these ‘business partners’ who died of fevers?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Give me the short version.”

The hell. “We were looking for gold.”

Crispin stared. Then he looked away with a quick shake of his head.

“Look,” Benjamin said, “I know it was idiotic.”

The Company had sent out several expeditions based on tales of “yellow metal” to be found in the interior. Gold or copper. Either would have made men fortunes. None had ever been found. This was common knowledge. British investors had not been pleased.

“What made you think you would find it?”

He didn’t think. He’d been bored, desperate, frustrated with his life, and he’d allowed his better sense to be overcome by fantasies of wealth. Wealth and what it could buy. Not a gentleman’s status, of course, but the trappings of it. It was humiliating.

“It is none of your business, is it?”

Crispin started. Then he rubbed his eyes and said, “No. I don’t suppose it is.” He peeled himself from the wall. “We all have our weaknesses. Don’t mention the cake. I won’t mention the gold. Fair enough?”

Benjamin snorted. “Fair enough.”

Crispin walked away. Benjamin watched, then swept his gaze about the room, just once, but didn’t see Olivia. With a quiet groan, he stepped away from the wall. He would go exchange pleasantries with the Danforths. And then find his bed.

*

Olivia waited for Crispin and Benjamin to lose themselves in the gathering before slipping out from behind the screen. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. Well, maybe just a little. The men often said more to each other when they didn’t think she was nearby. She’d hoped Crispin might confide more of his plans. Of course he didn’t.

However, now she knew why games of digging for gold hairpins upset Benjamin. Hannah’s parents had died on a treasure hunt. A hunt he was embarrassed to have joined.

Unfortunately, just as Mama had threatened, there was a downside to listening to conversations she was not meant to hear. She couldn’t tell Benjamin she no longer needed his explanation. He would continue avoiding her so as not to spill the secret he was doing a poor job of keeping.

He couldn’t have avoided their waltz though, without outright snubbing her. And there had been something in his eyes, hadn’t there? When they danced and he’d pulled her tight?

Olivia sniffed. She was doing it again. As if she were fourteen and smitten, she was imagining things that were simply not there. It was a waltz. Partners were supposed to look into one another’s eyes. And Benjamin’s arm had probably brushed Jasper’s too, and Crispin’s, while they were crowded at the table, playing cards. Benjamin was not interested in her. He never had been. She’d been so certain he loved her because she had counted up clues and misinterpreted every little gesture. Just as she was doing now.

She felt a warm flush rise, remembering his horror when she’d accosted him all those years ago. He’d tried to be kind. He reminded her that she was a Taverston and a very young one. Starry-eyed and determined, she said he could wait for her. She wouldn’t always be young.

His face had darkened. “No, but you will always be a Taverston.”

She’d wept. All the stupid, stupid things she’d said, even accusing him of pretending to love her. She began listing things he’d said or done that she’d imagined signified something. Until he pushed a handkerchief into her hand and said, with finality, “This is inappropriate.” He left her there in the billiard room. Heartbroken and mortified.

She certainly would not do anything like that again. When she made her debut, she would be cool and aloof to her suitors. They would have to profess their love to her . There must be some gentleman of the ton whom she could learn to love. Truly love. Like Reg and Georgiana. Or Jasper and Vanessa. Not like the silly infatuation she’d once felt, but didn’t any longer.

Still, she peered through the reception hall until she saw Benjamin. He was speaking with the Danforths. While she watched, Mrs. Byrd approached them. Mrs. Byrd the dressmaker. She had her niece in tow. Jilly. Jilly was learning to be a dressmaker also. She wore very nice clothes but tended to overdo the ribbons. She was pretty, with her wheat-colored hair, sunny smile, and the type of figure she’d once heard Crispin refer to as “pleasingly plump.” She was lively, too. Olivia liked her.

Benjamin bowed courteously in greeting. Olivia watched the interaction. Watched Jilly smile and press his arm. Watched Benjamin smile back. Oh, that smile.

An ache spread through her chest. Her imagination was her worst enemy. But the ache she felt was definitely real.