Page 4 of Waiting for Love (The Taverstons of Iversley #3)

O livia was cross. She woke with a headache whenever she drank a little champagne, and last night, she drank more than a little.

There was only one thing for it.

“Tansy? My riding habit. The dark blue.”

Her maid glanced with dismay toward the bed. On it lay a gray frock—enlivened with a few white stripes—that had clearly just been pressed. Olivia had told Tansy she would be wearing it today.

“I’ll change into that after my ride,” she said apologetically. She didn’t want to be one of those imperious mistresses who could not make up her mind and kept her maids scurrying. “I need to blow cobwebs from my head.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She rushed off to the dressing room to fetch Olivia’s riding clothes. Newly promoted from chambermaid to lady’s maid, Tansy really was a dear. Mama had taken Anna, her own maid, down to the dower house, which made it impossible to borrow her any longer. Olivia had chosen to have Anna train Tansy instead of hiring someone hoity-toity, which would have been Mama’s preference. The poor girl had a lazy eye and some of the other servants made fun of her. They wouldn’t dare tease her now!

Tansy was handy with a needle and thread, and strangely enough, had a good sense for fashion. Olivia had never needed much fuss, but accepted the fact that she soon would. In a few months, she would throw off mourning and leave Chaumbers for London. To attract a husband, she would have to change clothes a hundred times a day, start perfuming herself with rosewater or lavender, both of which made her sneeze, and wear her hair up in ridiculous ringlets. And everyone imagined she was dying to go!

Fleetingly, she wondered if Benjamin found all the feminine enticements alluring. But what could it possibly matter? Look at the previous steward’s wife. Mrs. Bradwell had been a plain woman who dressed starkly. Moreover, the poor woman seemed overawed whenever her path crossed that of one of the Taverstons. Given that she and Mr. Bradwell had lived in a small apartment in the south wing at Chaumbers, that should not have been an infrequent occurrence, but Mrs. Bradwell preferred to use the servants’ stairs and back entrance. They rarely ever saw her.

Olivia shook away the image. Mrs. Bradwell died several years ago and Bradwell went into a decline. They’d had no children. She felt a twinge, picturing such a lonely future for Benjamin, should he marry someone like that.

But then, there was Hannah. The thought cheered her. Benjamin would not be alone.

Tansy returned, arms laden. She dressed Olivia with the quick efficiency she must have perfected while undertaking the many onerous duties of a chambermaid. Then she twisted Olivia’s hair into a tidy chignon that would tuck easily under her bonnet.

“Very good,” Olivia announced after a quick glance in the mirror. “If anyone asks, I’ve gone down to the stables.”

She descended the wide, swooping main staircase and hurried to the entryway, avoiding the breakfast parlor in case any of the guests had risen early, though that was doubtful. Being London men, they would not keep country hours. They were mostly older gentlemen, her father’s friends rather than Jasper’s. Inviting them had been a courtesy and a political expediency, since Jasper, new to the House of Lords, was courting favor. That one younger man, the Marquess of Ebersom—Alice had reminded her of the name—was an up-and-coming Tory. So, Olivia surmised, he was a potential ally of Jasper’s own generation, but not a close friend.

Her brother had not invited any of the young blades in his set, perhaps to keep them from circling about her before her formal coming-out. She had made the leap from schoolgirl to highly eligible young lady seemingly overnight. No doubt he would introduce her to appropriate suitors come spring. Courtship and marriage would proceed apace. With her connections and dowry, she hardly even needed to be there. Jasper could just choose one for her. She wished he would. It would spare her the Marriage Mart in London.

She nodded to the porter who opened the front door for her.

“Going riding,” she informed him, although it wasn’t necessary. He would have guessed by her clothes.

The morning was brisk and the sky gray. The grass was coated with chilly dew. Her riding boots were well-oiled so her feet would stay dry, but her walking boots would have been more comfortable. And prettier. Vanessa had discovered a small bootmaker’s enterprise in the little town where she had been hiding from Jasper after their falling out. Wounded veterans made special decorative Hessians for ladies that were beautiful as well as practical. One good thing about going to London was that Olivia could help set a fashion for them and aid Vanessa with her cause.

Despite the chill, Olivia enjoyed the walk down to the stables. Her head already felt better.

There was more bustle near the stable than she had anticipated. The doors were wide open. Perhaps some of the guests intended to leave early after all. But when she stepped inside, she saw that wasn’t the case. The grooms had Reg’s favorite mare saddled, as well as Goose, a silly spirited gelding that everyone loved. And standing there in the dust and straw, conferring, were Reg and Benjamin. Oh, bosh. Benjamin was going to think she was chasing him.

She waved a greeting. They waved back, but as she drew nearer, she thought they both seemed a bit grim.

“Good morning.” She squinted at Reg. His eyelids were heavy and pink. “You look tired. Did Georgiana have a bad night?”

“Not Georgiana.” He grimaced. “I had to play host to Lord Billings and Lord Jeffers. We played cards almost until dawn.”

“Couldn’t Hazard relieve you?” Of course, with Jasper and Crispin gone, the host’s duties would fall upon Reg, but Hazard had been Jasper’s best man. And he was practically a Taverston.

“He fell asleep on the davenport.”

Olivia laughed and saw that Benjamin was smiling as well.

Benjamin said, “I told Mr. Taverston that we could postpone this until later.”

“This?” Olivia asked.

“A survey of the property. To refresh Mr. Carroll’s memory,” Reg said. “But there is no need to put it off. A good ride will wake me.” He paused. “You’re up early.”

She wouldn’t mention the embarrassing headache. “I want to spend every minute on horseback that I can. Crispin warned me there is no place to ride in London.”

“There are places,” Reg said. “But Crispin is correct that they won’t likely suit you. You’ll have to ride sedately, and you won’t be able to go out alone.” He laughed at her groan. Then he said, “Join us, won’t you?”

Benjamin’s smile hitched, but that was no reason for her to reject Reg’s company. She didn’t see enough of her brothers.

“If you don’t mind waiting until Oatmeal is saddled.”

She’d named the mare for her ugly mottled gray and tan hide. But the horse’s strong legs and perfect gait more than compensated for her appearance.

Olivia called to the nearest groom, who was mucking out one of the stalls. “Fergus, would you ready Oatmeal for me?”

“Of course, my lady.” He leaned his rake against the wall and went to fetch the horse.

Olivia turned her focus to Benjamin. The more they interacted, the easier it would become. “What would you like to see first?”

He shot a questioning look at Reg, who gave him no help. Then he said, “I hadn’t planned so far in advance. Where were you thinking of riding?”

She feigned a shrug. “I hadn’t planned so far in advance.”

Benjamin responded with a grin. The success of her jest gave her heart a small squeeze. He looked more like himself when he grinned.

Reg said, “Then let’s ride out past the lake to Everet’s plot. The old man has been setting badger traps. Jasper told him to stop, but he complains the badgers get into his barley.”

“Is he trapping things he shouldn’t?” Benjamin asked.

“No, but Jasper suspects he is selling the animals to sportsmen for badger drawing. He sold several in the past, and Jasper thinks he is still doing so despite being warned.”

Olivia winced. Another thing she was not meant to know about. Some men, not only low-class men but supposed gentlemen, enjoyed wagering on bloodsport. They set up arenas for cock fights, dog fights, or badger drawings where dogs were set upon badgers to the detriment of both.

“I am to ascertain if the traps are still there?” Benjamin asked, setting his jaw.

“First, I’m merely supposed to introduce you to Everet. Give the man a week to get rid of them without confronting him. Then go back and check the grounds. If they are still there…”

Benjamin nodded. Olivia let out a slow breath. What was he supposed to do if Everet did not comply? She’d have to say something, either to Benjamin or to Everet. If he was selling badgers, it was likely to help his daughter and his large brood of grandchildren. The man was crotchety, but not mean.

Fergus brought Oatmeal around, and Reg cupped his hands with his fingers interlaced to give her a footstep into the saddle. Then he and Benjamin mounted their own horses, and they all set off.

It was turning into a beautiful morning. She loved Chaumbers in the autumn. The summer heat was gone but winter did not yet threaten. The grasses were browning, going dormant. Wildflowers along the paths had gone to seed, promising a riot of color in the spring. She loved springtime too. And summer. For that matter, she even loved the winter. Chaumbers was so pretty covered in snow.

She hoped whomever she ended up marrying had a country home and intended to spend a good deal of time there. She would be miserable trapped in London. The city was all soot, and rain, and crowds. Of course, she might also be miserable in any country home that was not Chaumbers. There was something unfair about a system that nurtured girls in one environment, made it the center of their world, and then tossed them out of it. Jasper preferred London. He would no doubt spend most of his time there. But he was the earl, and Chaumbers would be his.

For a while, they rode three abreast, trading comments on the scenery. Then the path narrowed, and she and Reg led the way with Benjamin behind. But Reg kept calling to Benjamin over his shoulder, so Olivia slowed to let Benjamin ride beside Reg instead. She thought that with their two dark heads and square shoulders, they appeared more like brothers than Reg and Jasper or Crispin. Of course their faces would dispel that impression at once. While Reg had a toned-down version of Jasper’s Adonis-like features, Benjamin’s face was more…rugged—chisel chinned, with heavy eyebrows and skin that was a bit sun darkened even in October.

They were discussing some of the tenants. Difficulties of various sorts. A dog in the Davis’ henhouse. A dispute over Tilden’s borrowed stud bull. An order of hay that hadn’t been delivered to the Crofts. Nothing as disturbing as Everet and the badgers, just things that had been brought to Jasper’s attention. Reg was passing along direction. And Benjamin was taking direction. It made Olivia feel strange. Like hearing them call each other “mister.”

From the pitch of their voices, they did not find it strange. They sounded comfortable. It was the way Reg was speaking, she thought. Not with Crispin’s joking familiarity or Jasper’s fondness. But not with overbearing lordliness either. He seemed to strike just the right tone.

She supposed she might try to copy Reg, though she wasn’t sure she could carry it off. Reg had not professed his undying love, then wept a torrent when Benjamin did not react with appropriate delight. Her face grew heated, and she was glad she was behind where they would not see. She’d been such a sapskull!

The path broadened into a soggy patch where a stream couldn’t make up its mind as to its course.

Reg slowed, cueing Benjamin to do so also. Olivia dropped a little farther behind so she wouldn’t be spattered by clods of mud kicked up by their mounts. They all picked their way until they reached firmer ground. Reg gestured to the meadow before them. “Why don’t you two have a race to the lake. Let Oatmeal and Goose stretch their legs. I’ll catch up.”

Reg had never been much for racing, but of course he knew his sister and must have supposed she was itching to gallop. She turned to Benjamin. They had raced in the past. He rode well for someone who did not ride often. And he loved horses. She knew that about him, just as she had always understood he would never be in a position to own one.

“Well?”

He grinned at her. “Do you want a head start?”

Her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious!”

“No?”

Reg laughed. “I’ll give the signal. Are you ready?”

Olivia whirled Oatmeal about. When Reg shouted “Go!” they went.

*

Olivia pulled ahead at the last and, two lengths ahead of Benjamin, crossed the invisible line between two larches that had always marked the end point of Taverston meadow races. Laughing with glee, she slowed as he drew up alongside. He was windblown and red-faced, and she suspected she was the same.

“A head start? Ha!”

“Olivia! You could outride a Blackfoot!”

She blinked and regarded him questioningly. What did that mean? Oh! And he’d called her by her given name. As he used to. A moment later, they were both looking anywhere but at each other. Her heart rate slowed by measures as the horses calmed. Her embarrassment faded and since the flush left his face, she assumed Benjamin’s did too.

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he murmured. “That was inappropriate.”

She knew better than to suggest that he could call her Olivia. To ease the tension, she tried the taunt her brothers had begun throwing at one another when one performed unexpectedly well at some challenge or other.

“You’ve been practicing.”

He answered ruefully, “I suppose I have.”

He dismounted, patted Goose’s withers, then came to her side and offered his hand. She nodded and moved her leg from the pommel so he could more easily lift her down. He was quick. His hands didn’t linger on her waist, and he took a step back as soon as he released her. His haste drew attention to itself. Even a stableboy would have waited a moment to be sure her feet were firmly planted.

Before the silence between them grew too uncomfortable, he gestured to the nearby stand of trees. “I suppose we might walk over to the lake.” The lake was just beyond the trees. “Iversley mentioned the boathouse could be in need of refurbishing.”

“Is that your job now? Pulling rotting planks from the boathouse?” The question was rude, but she was feeling peevish.

Benjamin smiled grimly. “I’m not expected to wield the hammer and nails.” He was evidently trying to jest. “But I’ll hire the carpenter if I think something needs to be done.”

“If? But Jasper said it needed fixing.”

“He said to use my discretion.” He pulled a hand through his hair. “Lady Olivia, my job, if done well, is not to simply carry out Iversley’s orders but to anticipate what needs to be done. I am to lift the burdens of the care of Chaumbers from Iversley’s shoulders so he can concentrate on weightier matters.”

She sniffed. She understood what being a steward meant.

Oh, but this was hard. She still thought of their steward as old Bradwell. Not Benjamin. Who had once skipped rope with her for half a morning when she was feeling blue because Jasper had told her she couldn’t accompany them swimming that afternoon. Underneath this new seriousness, was he still that Benjamin? The one who had bothered to look beyond her Taverstonian bravado—and understood that sometimes her brothers’ teasing did hurt?

“If you’re supposed to anticipate , why has Reg been telling you what to do all day?”

“He has been familiarizing me with ongoing issues with the tenants.” A gentle exasperation sparked his voice. “He could leave me to figure it all out for myself, some lords would, but that would be a terribly inefficient way to go about it.”

Funneling information through Reg was hardly the most efficient course. “So Jasper , who has hardly spent any time at Chaumbers this past year, told Reg , who has spent even less, what to tell you to do.”

He paused, giving her a sympathetic look before staring hard at his folded hands. “They all care a great deal for…for Chaumbers, even if they could not always be here.”

“Yes, of course, they do.” He misunderstood. She missed her brothers, certainly, but she was not whining about their absence or neglect. She was annoyed by their assumption of her uselessness. “That isn’t the problem. It’s that they still see me as a darling featherbrain to be cossetted or ignored as it suits them. And you’ll follow their lead, I suppose.”

His gaze flicked up, wide eyed and startled, then away.

“My lady, Iversley has placed his trust in me.”

That sounded plaintive. She noted his lowered eyes, his reddening ears. Oh, good Lord! Benjamin still saw her as a child. A fatuous fourteen-year-old admirer. Which she was not ! She almost told him so. But that would not be pretending “it” had never happened. Instead, she lifted her chin.

“I care a great deal for Chaumbers too. I am a Taverston, after all, Mr. Carroll, and I also appreciate efficiency. So I suggest we go look at the boathouse rather than waste time standing around here.”