Page 20 of Waiting for Love (The Taverstons of Iversley #3)

W hen the carriage rattled into the drive at Chaumbers, Benjamin almost shouted hurrah. Mr. Boring, whether from eagerness or nervousness, had not stopped talking for seven hours. He was a pleasant enough fellow, but if he did not learn to restrain himself…the Taverstons would likely have a bit of fun.

A memory slipped into his brain, and he snickered to himself.

Seven or eight years ago, he’d been Jasper’s guest at 8 Grosvenor Square. The old earl had a guest, too, a particularly garrulous elderly gentleman. The brothers complained amongst themselves, their jokes veering into mockery. No one wanted to sit beside him at supper and the countess grew frustrated with her sons’ ill grace—although, as Jasper pointed out, she didn’t assign herself the seat beside him either. And then, Olivia spoke up. “I’ll sit by him, Mama.”

That pleased the countess. At least Olivia had manners.

Olivia must have been ten or eleven. Too old for the nursery but too young to converse with adults. She had been relegated to the foot of the table where she behaved impeccably, meaning silently, so that she would not be banished. The countess must have seen it as the perfect solution, promoting Olivia toward the head of the table to sit by their guest. It was. But not the solution she’d envisioned.

Olivia talked the man’s ear off. Every topic he tried to introduce, she stole and ran with.

“Kensington Gardens is everywhere blooming.” Benjamin could still hear the man’s bombast.

“Yes, my lord. We were there just last week. Six days ago to be precise. The roses are particularly beautiful. I do so like roses. We have them in our garden here in London, but they never seem as brightly colorful as those at Chaumbers. I suppose it is all the soot in the air. Too many chimneys. Of course, the fires are necessary or how would we eat? We’d have to have cold meat for every meal. No, I don’t suppose even that. Cold meat does have to be cooked, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes. Ha, ha. I suppose it does. One does like meat fresh from the country. The hams at Brownington are the best in England.”

“Oh, hams,” Olivia made a face. “I’m not fond of hams. They always taste of salt. Though I suppose that is better than tasting of pig. When one looks at a pig, one never thinks, ‘I’ll wager that tastes delicious.’ Nor cows though. Who could eat something with those gentle eyes.” She looked at her plate. Beef. “Well, let us not think of eyes. Isn’t it too bad we can’t eat flowers. Now they look delicious. Anything that smells so wonderful should be eaten. Except ladies.”

Crispin had snorted at that, covering his mouth with his napkin. But Olivia wasn’t finished.

“That was a joke, my lord. Cannibalism is a sin, don’t you agree? I learned from my governess that there were cannibals here in England back in the days of the Druids, but that doesn’t seem right to me. I’m not sure I believe half of what she tells me.”

Olivia launched into a series of lessons she had been given that were all just a little bit…off. The old man tried to interrupt more than once, but whatever he said just sent Olivia off on another tangent. It was a miracle the brothers managed to keep straight faces. The countess had looked mortified.

Benjamin wondered if Olivia had been punished for it. He did know that her brothers toasted her later in secret, because he’d been with them, laughing just as heartily.

He had always admired her. Always. But he hadn’t been waiting for her.

He stepped down from the carriage, Hannah cradled in his arms. His feet crunched the gravel as he carried her across the drive, then up the steps and into the house as carefully as if she were made of china. She had spent the first half of the journey bouncing with happiness and impatience and the second half sound asleep.

Peters met them. Seeing Hannah, his voice dropped to a near whisper. “Mr. Carroll, his lordship is in the study. He requests that you bring Mr. Boring to him. Miss Jamison and the child would be welcome in the ladies’ sitting room unless she feels it better to go to the south wing.”

Benjamin handed Hannah to Miss Jamison, who mouthed, “I had better put her to bed.”

The butler led Benjamin and Boring upstairs, which really wasn’t necessary. Benjamin would know the way blindfolded. Peters let them into the study. Jasper got to his feet.

“Welcome.”

Mr. Boring bowed, spurring Benjamin to do so. When had he stopped remembering to perform the courtesy? He hurried to do introductions properly.

“My lord, may I present to you Mr. Nigel Boring?”

“Mr. Boring, thank you for your letter. Mr. Carroll explained your qualifications. And I had a letter from Viscount Haslet also. I’m sure we will work well together. Please, have a seat. I have a few questions, minor things. Then I will let you refresh yourself after your journey.” He glanced toward Benjamin. “Mr. Carroll, you may go to the parlor. Mr. and Mrs. Taverston are there, quite desperate to introduce you to Arthur. There is tea as well.”

Benjamin nodded. He could hardly feel miffed at the dismissal given where he was being sent. He left Boring to his own devices.

As he made his way to the parlor, he realized yet again what a gift his position was. Jasper allowed him free run of Chaumbers. His first duty upon returning was not to give account of his activities in London, but rather to meet the earl’s nephew. Looking at the familiar paintings along the walls, hearing Taverston voices emanating from the parlor growing more distinct as he approached, he felt as though he were returning home. But of course, he was not. His home had been a gritty two-room dwelling in an area one step above the London stews, and his father had barely kept them in that.

He stood in the doorway. This was one of the family’s favorite rooms, and it was easy to see why. Gauzy drapes allowed sun through the window but never let anyone sitting in the wrong seat be blinded by glare. The furniture, in dark mahogany and forest-green damasks, all had a well-used appearance without being shabby. In the spring, the room was warm enough without a fire. A faint scent of the dowager’s Lily-of-the-Valley perfume always hung in the air.

He took in the scene. Reg and Georgiana on the davenport. Georgiana’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Hovington seated in the corner, sipping tea. Alice in the armchair nearby. Olivia, standing, laughing as she peered down at Arthur in her arms. Who was swaddled in so many layers that Benjamin could not see what amused her. But he could hear Arthur complaining in a high-pitched fussy whine.

“Benjamin! Come in!” Reg cried, rising from his seat. “Olivia, bring Arthur over so Benjamin can see him.”

Benjamin couldn’t help laughing. Reginald, the quietest of the brothers, was adept at under-his-breath witticisms, but had never been one to draw attention to himself. It seemed being a new father had changed that.

Benjamin’s amusement faded as Olivia came close.

She wore a faded chemise dress with spit-up on her shoulder. Her hair was half up and half down, as if pins had fallen out. But with that smile, full of joy and love and good humor, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. That smile and those blue eyes. That smile with those full lips, forbidden fruit that he’d tasted.

“Would you like to hold him?” she asked.

“I—I would.”

He held out his arms, and she settled Arthur into them. Unlike most unmarried men, he had no fear of babies. No fear he would drop them or that they would brand him an imposter with immediate wails. He had held Hannah when she was a baby. Not so small as this one, but every bit as helpless. His heart clenched.

The room grew very still. Arthur quieted.

“Oh!” the duchess breathed. “A miracle!”

And then Arthur burst into a full-throated squall.

Benjamin tried a few half-hearted bounces before delivering the boy to his mother. Georgiana stood. “He eats constantly,” she said with something of an apology as she took the baby from the room.

Reg sat down and gestured for him to do so also, but he waited for Olivia to sit first. His manners had not deteriorated to such an extent that he would sit while a lady stood.

“How was London?” Olivia asked, as nonchalant as if he had never behaved with rank impropriety toward her.

“The same. Terrible place in the dead of winter.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone.” There was just a hint of archness to her voice.

She sat beside Reg. Then she pushed back the loose lock of hair and grimaced as if she’d just realized what a mess it was. If it had been an attempt to flirt, she failed miserably. But she didn’t need to flirt to capture his heart.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.” His quiet earnestness struck the wrong chord. He felt an urge to clear his throat.

“Did you see much of Hazard?” Alice asked.

He turned to her gratefully. “Not much, no. Just the one meeting where he recommended Mr. Boring. Or, I suppose, Lord Chesterfield did.”

“Lord Chesterfield?” Reg said, frowning. “I know the name but can’t place it.”

Benjamin shrugged. He hadn’t consulted Debrett’s . He’d thought Chesterfield was just some minor lord who happened to be a good friend of Hazard’s.

Alice said, “Lord Chesterfield is the Earl of Gladnorshire.”

“Welsh?” Reg said. “I’ve never met him.”

“You might know his sons. Although they are quite young. The younger might still be at Eton.”

Reg hmmmed . “Is Chesterfield a friend of your father?”

“Not a friend. Merely an acquaintance.” Her brow knitted. She looked at her hands. “I don’t know anything about him, really. I don’t think he spends much time in London.”

“Maybe he is the mysterious hound owner who invited Hazard for Christmas.” Reg grinned. Alice did not. She looked nervous and didn’t say anything more. Benjamin felt he’d misstepped by bringing up the name. He couldn’t quite forget the tenderness of that “Rupe” or Hazard’s uncharacteristic blush.

He glanced about for a change of topic. “Iversley promised tea.”

“Oh!” Olivia jumped up. “It’s gone cold. I’ll ring for fresh.”

“No. Please don’t bother. I came to meet Arthur, but I shouldn’t linger. I want to be there if Hannah wakes. In case she is confused.” He added, to excuse himself for his return, “I—I couldn’t keep her in London. She was miserable.”

Olivia nodded. “Poor girl. I can empathize.”

*

After Jasper had finished with Boring, and after the man had been shown his guest chamber and tidied himself up, he returned to Benjamin to be introduced to the ladies. How that had become Benjamin’s job, he could not fathom. Nevertheless, he escorted Boring to the parlor. Boring carried a small valise and a large, rolled piece of paper. His face glowed with excitement.

“Ladies,” Benjamin said, “this is Mr. Boring.” He introduced the women. Mr. Boring bowed earnestly to each in turn. “You’ve met Iversley. And this is Mr. Taverston.” He gestured to Reg.

“Now, what do you have for us?” Jasper said, taking a seat on the arm of Vanessa’s chair. “You said you had a plan?”

“Indeed.” A faint sheen of sweat dampened his brow. “May I?”

Jasper made a sweeping motion with his hand. He looked curious and amused. Vanessa, on the other hand, frowned.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, you present formidably,” Mr. Boring said, bobbing his head as though he were agreeing with them, rather than asking them to agree with him. “And more formidably en masse . You must all arrive in London together.”

“That was our intention,” Jasper said. Then he glanced toward his brother. “Though with the possible exception of Mr. Taverston. He has an engagement.”

Mr. Boring frowned. “Of course. But he should not miss Lady Olivia’s ball.”

“I will not,” Reg said. “If necessary, I will reschedule—”

“Reg!” Olivia protested. “You needn’t do that.”

Mr. Boring pressed on as if there had been no interruption. “It is clever to skip the preliminaries and make your entrance after the start of the Season. It will create an impression . But that should not be carried too far.” He glanced about nervously, as though worried he might be giving offense. When no one spoke, he said, “April at the latest. Once you arrive, it would be best to have Lady Olivia presented at Court at the earliest possible date, followed as soon as possible by her coming-out ball. The very same night if we can arrange it.”

“The reasoning being?” the dowager asked.

Mr. Boring’s attention swiveled to her. “My lady, we wish to stun Society in one blow. I don’t presume to tell you…” His face reddened. His gaze dropped. Then he presumed. “There is gossip, naturally. But it is tepid. The ton is easily distracted and while Lord and Lady Iversley are tucked away here, they are somewhat out of mind.”

Jasper gave a choked little laugh, but no one else was amused. Benjamin imagined Jasper was astonished at the thought he could be “out of mind.”

Boring continued, “Lady Olivia should ‘take the stage,’ if you will, before any ugly gossip has time to take hold or factions might form.”

“And I should keep to the background,” Vanessa said.

“Ah, no, my lady, if you please. That would be the worst thing to do. The ton will smell blood. Your success depends upon you’re being—”

“Fearless and unapologetic,” Olivia said.

“Visible and commanding,” Boring said.

“But in different spheres,” said the dowager. She stood as though to stare the man down. “The countess is not my daughter’s sponsor. I am. While I agree that Lady Iversley must not play shrinking violet, neither should she and Lady Olivia appear to be clinging to one another for support. They have different strengths. They must divide and conquer.”

Olivia snickered. “That doesn’t mean what you think it does, Mama.”

Vanessa’s eyes lit with amusement, but she kept her lips pressed tight.

The dowager said, “It means what I say it does.”

Mr. Boring chose that moment to unroll his paper, revealing a chart the size of a battle map. It showed every date from March through June, covered with notes. “This demonstrates every significant Season event planned thus far and a good number of the insignificant ones.” Benjamin was impressed by the way he captured his audience. Then Boring put his finger on a spot. “April the eleventh. This would be the best night for the ball. Assuming Lady Olivia can receive her invitation to Court prior to this.”

The dowager nodded. “Leave that to me. You hire the musicians and have the invitations printed. We’ll need Johnston and Tabbs to cater.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my lady,” Boring fretted, indicating his chart. “They will have been reserved for the twelfth by the Wingsinghams, and they won’t do balls two nights in succession.”

“Nonsense,” scoffed the Duchess. “They simply need to be coaxed. I will speak to Tabbs. And to Lady Jersey about an invitation to Almacks. Lady Olivia will need permission to waltz before attending too many balls.”

The dowager and duchess exchanged determined nods. Boring rolled up his chart, looking smug. Olivia caught back a sigh.

“Are you all right with this, Olivia?” Georgiana asked.

Attention shifted. Olivia squared her shoulders and smiled, but her face was wan. When she spoke, her voice was too bright. “Yes, of course. Tell me what to do and when, and I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Jasper said, rubbing his hands together.

This seemed to be the signal for everyone to start talking at once. Benjamin used the opportunity to murmur, “Excuse me.” And slip out of the room. He couldn’t bear to listen to more.

*

In the morning, Benjamin reviewed in his head the list of things he meant to do, then decided he would first ride out to the cottage. He had Fergus saddle Goose. The weather was questionable, so he did not take Hannah. That enabled him to bypass the folly.

The sight of the old stone building lifted his spirits. He liked things that were solid. That endured. And this home would be his for as long as he endured.

After dismounting and slogging through mud toward the house, he heard a noise from within.

“Hullo!” he called out. There was no answer. He didn’t expect to find trespassers. Not this deep into the Taverstons’ estate. An animal, perhaps? “Hullo!” he called again.

A man filled the doorway. It took Benjamin a moment to recognize the wiry, grizzled Willy Pyle.

“Ah, Mr. Carroll, sir. I didn’t know ya were back. I had a few hours.” He made a vague gesture at the house. “Come to see, have ya?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d like to see how the work is going.” He paused. “I thought you were finishing the boathouse before starting here.” He’d told Willy that work for the earl took precedence.

“That’s done. Timmy’s just finishing the caulking and painting. The earl will have his boats in place before the weather warms.”

“Oh. Very good.” He added a ride to the lake to his list of tasks. That trip to London had put him behind.

“Come in, then.” Willy stepped aside. “Let me show you the trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“T’ain’t nothing much. It’ll fix. Come in.”

Benjamin stomped his boots on the stoop, then entered the hall. To his left was a good size parlor. To his right was a smaller receiving room. Down the hall further was a stairway and beyond that, a kitchen and pantry and workrooms and storage. He took in the improvements. The place had been scrupulously cleaned. The broken windows had all been replaced. Then he noticed another difference.

“Where are the doors?”

“Ah, see, that’s the trouble. I had to take them all out. Nothing hangs square anymore.”

“All the doors? Upstairs, too?”

“Every bloomin’ one.” Willy practically beamed with delight. “But don’t be worrying. I can reframe the doorjambs and make new doors. They won’t be square, but no one notices so long as they open and close.”

“But why…”

“Houses settle, Mr. Carroll. If you look in the cellar, you can see where the foundation is cracked. That can be fixed with some gravel fill and brickwork.”

“That sounds serious. Are we in danger of the whole thing coming down on our heads?”

Willy laughed. “No, sir!” He slapped a hand against the wall. “This fine house has had almost a hundred years to do its settling. It’s not going anywhere anymore.”

Willy knew his business. There wasn’t much Benjamin could say. Or wanted to. He hadn’t come here for conversation. He wanted time alone. Time to soak in this place, this solid, safe home where he would live, work, and bring up Hannah. To remind himself that that was all he needed.

Yet he also wanted solitude to contemplate Olivia and resign himself to the fact that she would be leaving soon to begin her new life. She’d implied she would be miserable in London. He couldn’t let himself dwell on that.

“Do you want to see upstairs?” Willy asked. “I’ve reframed the window casings in the bedchambers. It looks right nice.”

Olivia had everything a debutante could wish for: beauty, lineage, a substantial dowry, and herself. Her delightful, witty, fun-loving self. She was everything any suitor could ever want. How could she possibly be miserable in London in the springtime with the gardens blooming, a social whirl, and a blizzard of eligible men lining up at her door?

“ Hmm? Windows? No, I will wait. I have other things I need to do today, and I should let you get back to work,” he told Willy, pulling back his attention. “How long do you think before finishing can be done? I’m riding out to see Everet and I thought I’d hire him to paint.”

He wanted to head off any suggestion he might hire Willy’s nephew. Word was that Timmy dawdled and didn’t pay attention. Willy ended up redoing whatever the boy had done.

“Aye, Everet can use the work,” Willy said, scratching his hip. “Two weeks. Maybe three. Or he can start earlier down here while I work upstairs.”

“I’ll ask what he wants.” Benjamin took a final glance around. “It’s cold in here. You can have a fire if you like.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Carroll. But I’m used to working in the cold. All het up, I might stretch out on the floor and nap the day away.”

Benjamin would have laughed but he didn’t think Willy was joking. The man worked hard.

“All right, then. Good day.”

“Good day to you, sir.”

Benjamin returned to Goose. The day was not going as planned, but perhaps that was just as well. Roaming the cottage, telling himself it was all for the best—and it was— would not have helped.