Page 5 of Waiting for Love (The Taverstons of Iversley #3)

B enjamin kicked himself for overreacting. Olivia didn’t need him to explain the duties of a steward. Good God! Or to shove a wall between them by mentioning Jasper’s trust , as if she might tempt him to betray it—when the temptation was only in his awakened imagination. He was a fool to have found a race so affecting. To find Olivia so affecting.

“We can let the horses graze by the lake,” she said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she turned to lead Oatmeal toward the coppice.

He should never have indulged in a playful race, but finding himself seated upon such a fine specimen of horseflesh had fired his desire for a good strong run. Olivia was right about his horsemanship. He had been “practicing,” if one could call riding for one’s life practice. Stealing company horses back from the Blackfoot natives was a fool’s errand. Assignments like that were why he had not signed on for another term. He was willing to die for his king, but not for the governor of the Hudson’s Bay Company.

Still, Benjamin knew he was a better-than-decent rider. For a moment, he’d actually believed he would win, until she lengthened the lead he’d thought he was narrowing. He could not have caught her. He could only chase after her. Awed.

Olivia on horseback—throwing caution to the wind. She was magnificent.

He trudged behind, scuffing through the brittle leaves littering the footpath.

The devil. Things had been going well. Of all the Taverstons, Reg was the best intermediary. As an earl’s third son, Reg was marching down the social ladder himself. He could have lived comfortably and respectably as a rector, but chose instead the life of classicist, studying ancient Greek philosophy. A marginally acceptable eccentricity for a gentleman, if he were a hobbyist fading into genteel poverty, but Reg was being paid for his work. Which put him, in the ridiculous eyes of the ton, on the outside of polite society. By all rights, Reg’s branch of the Taverston family should shuffle off into oblivion. Instead, hilariously, Reg had married a duke’s daughter who came with twenty thousand pounds. Her respectability salvaged Reg’s. As long as they didn’t have too many children and dilute that dowry, they could all remain prominent, if untitled, members of the ton for another generation or two.

Perhaps three. While sorting through Taverston financial affairs, Benjamin had come across Crispin’s will. He left everything to Reg. And while his officer’s pay would end with his death, his cottage in Binnings was another valuable Taverston asset.

Even so, Reg would understand the fine line Benjamin must walk. A steward was not a servant. He could use the front entrance and be invited to sit in the earl’s presence. But he was an employee, not a friend. A friend might be forgiven an indiscreet word; an employee would not.

They emerged from the coppice, and the expansive, sun-speckled lake lay before them. Benjamin could just make out the opposite tree-lined shore. His heart tightened, remembering lazy days he’d spent here with the blessed-by-the-gods Taverston brothers—until the divide between them grew starkly evident, because of their sister.

Of course, Benjamin had not fled across the ocean merely to escape Olivia. The Hudson’s Bay Company offered a man of moderate intelligence and good education a steady job with a livable wage. More importantly, Canada promised a chance to leave behind the rigid hierarchy of class. Unfortunately, these promises had proved to be myths, and the New World presented the same temptations as the old one.

The deuce . Jasper should not have hired him without references. He shouldn’t have implicitly trusted Benjamin to exercise sound judgment. Not when impatience, greed, and shockingly poor judgment had led to his difficulties in Canada. Jasper had never asked .

“We can leave them there.” Olivia interrupted his thoughts, gesturing to the scrub grass stretching from the shore up a small hill. “They won’t stray far.”

“All right,” he said, keeping a close rein on his tongue.

He had not told Jasper the whole story. He should have, but he needed this position. Now, he would do nothing to betray the man’s blind trust. So he trailed Olivia up the hill, training his eyes upon the backside of her horse rather than the gentle sway of her hips, and prayed Reg joined them quickly.

After setting their mounts to graze, Benjamin walked with her back down to the boathouse. She pointed out two boards at water level. “Those have softened.”

He nudged them with his boot. Rotting. “You are efficient.” He made an effort to smile. “Did Iversley mention the boathouse to you, also?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been living at Chaumbers for the past two years while my brothers have been flitting about London. I told Jasper.”

“Ah.” If he didn’t stop underestimating her, she would probably clock him.

He knelt in the dirt and prodded the boards more thoroughly. Then he took out his pocketknife and pressed it into the soft spots, carving out flakes of wood. Tapping his knife into other boards yielded nothing.

He sighed. “Well, the quickest course would be for me to yank out these boards and replace them. I am, in fact, quite competent handling a hammer and nails.”

“Will you then?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll ask Willy Pyle to have a look.”

“Willy?” She sniffed. “He’ll say we need a new boathouse.”

Benjamin chuckled. “Yes. Yes, he will.” Willy Pyle was the preferred carpenter in the village. He did very good work, but he never did anything by half measures. “I’ll let him tear this one down and build a new one.” He glanced up. Her eyes were not the intense shade of blue that her brothers’ were. Hers were ice blue. And they were puzzled. He didn’t want to repeat the mistake of patronizing her, but he felt the need to explain himself. So as he rose to his feet, he said, “If I were to mend this, the Taverstons would have a perfectly functional boathouse, but that would be all. Whereas if I call in Willy, he will have a weeks’ long project that promises to pay him in actual coin. Maybe his daft nephew too. That coin will likely make its way to a farmer or two, and the butcher and tavernkeep in Iversley Village. Perhaps into some of the other shops as well.”

“Oh.”

“The people in Iversley are interdependent, as in any small village. But coin inevitably flows upward.”

“Rents and tithes. So Jasper needs to send some of that coin back down.”

“I don’t mean to say that it is required of him.”

“Oh, but of course it is! Noblesse oblige and all that.” To Benjamin’s surprise, Olivia beamed at him. “Mr. Carroll, you have just spared me at least two miserable months in London.”

“What?”

“Mama intends to drag me off to the best shops as soon as Reg and Georgiana’s baby is born. Late January or early February. I’ve been wearing mourning for a year, and before that, I didn’t leave Chaumbers for another year because Father was so ill. Mama needed me. So now I must have more than the usual new wardrobe for my coming-out. Mama is determined to engage the ton’s favorite modiste before anyone else does…” She stopped rambling abruptly and scowled. “Don’t look at me that way. It isn’t my idea.”

He realized he had been giving her a “look.” To his mind, first in line at the modiste’s shop was a frivolous concern. He blanked out his frown.

“But there is a perfectly wonderful dressmaker here in Iversley Village!” Olivia continued, excited again. “Mrs. Byrd. She made our mourning clothes. There is no reason she couldn’t make my coming-out wardrobe, and every reason she should!”

“Well, yes, but…” The last thing he needed was to be blamed for Olivia’s revolt. “The London fashions,” he said weakly. “She won’t know the latest—”

“Georgiana does. And Vanessa.” Olivia pealed with laughter. “Or I can go straight to the source and ask Hazard.” She clapped her hands with delight. “No one wants to go to London just when the first new Taverston baby arrives. It’s only that they all feel so guilty for neglecting me.”

“Neglecting you?” Young Olivia had never acted like a spoiled child. He could not see her as a pouting society miss demanding attention.

“Yes, it’s ridiculous. I’ve tried to tell them I don’t need to race off to London for clothes , but they all think I am playing the martyr or something. It’s no use to say I don’t need all this fuss. Mama says it’s no fuss at all, and Jasper says it’s his duty and his pleasure to spoil me.” She huffed with irritation. Then her smile burst forth once again, spraying him with sunshine. “But if I insist upon hiring Mrs. Byrd, with all the aforesaid arguments, I might not have to go to London until March, or even April!”

He stared. Olivia was a beautiful young lady. She would be nineteen now or near so. She couldn’t possibly be saying she didn’t want to go to London.

“Aren’t you eager? For the balls and such?” For all the earls and dukes and baronets who would be laying flowers at her feet?

Her smile dimmed. “Well, yes, of course I am.”

“You don’t sound eager.” Strange. He thought every gentlewoman lived for her coming-out.

“What alternative do I have?”

What alternative did she have?

Olivia gave a small, humorless laugh. “I suppose there is always Jeremy or Jeffrey.”

That was in no way amusing. The Willowsett twins were mooncalves.

It didn’t have to be the London Marriage Mart. Jasper could always hold a house party. Invite his eligible friends. But somehow that sounded even worse. Displaying her for the taking without even the comfort of…of a herd of other marriageable ladies contending for the attention of wife-seeking males. Good Lord. How awful.

He managed to say, “I’m sure, once you are in the midst of a Season, you will enjoy it.” In fact, he wasn’t at all sure of that.

Her eyes flashed at him. “Yes, of course. Everyone says so.”

She turned from him and walked away, leaving him to kick the rotting boards one more time before following her back up the hill. Fortunately, Reg appeared at the edge of the coppice just as they reached their grazing horses.

“Hullo!” Reg called. “Who won?”

“Who do you think?” Olivia called back.

Reg laughed. “Sorry, Mr. Carroll. But don’t feel bad. Crispin is the only one who can beat Olivia anymore.”

“Only on Mercury!” Any trace of bitterness was gone from her voice. Was she play-acting, or had she not been as upset as he’d thought?

Reg dismounted and brought his horse to theirs. After watching the animals nibbling the grasses for a few moments, Reg lifted his head, glanced out at the lake, then said, “I take it Olivia showed you the boathouse.”

Benjamin nodded.

“What do you think?” Reg asked.

“A few boards gone bad at the waterline. But I think it better to be cautious. There could be more structural damage than is readily evident.”

Olivia put in, “He’s going to ask Willy about tearing it down and building a new one.”

“That seems the wisest course,” Reg said, eyeing Benjamin with something that seemed not quite skepticism, more a reservation of judgment.

“And I’m going to have Mrs. Byrd create my new wardrobe,” Olivia said.

Reg’s head swung around. “Pardon?”

“To support the village.”

Reg cast a glance from one to the other. “And whose idea was this?”

“Mine.” Olivia said. Now her lip did jut out in a pout. “You can’t deny it’s a good one.”

“Except I know that you are settling for a substandard dressmaker instead of a fashionable modiste, just so that Mother can spend a few extra weeks with her grandchild. Olivia, you needn’t sacrifice your debut. You want your coming-out to be special.”

Olivia’s face fell. She must have been counting on Reg’s support. With Crispin gone, he would be her most likely bulwark.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Benjamin said, “ Ask her what she wants.”

Startled, Reg said, “Ask what?”

“Don’t tell Lady Olivia what she wants. Ask her.”

“All right.” His tone quieted. “What is it then, Olivia? What do you want?”

“I want to spend the winter here. At Chaumbers. It could be…” Her voice shook. “Oh, bosh! It probably will be my last winter here. The last winter when I’ll belong here.”

“You’ll always belong—”

“That isn’t true. You know it’s not. I’ll be mistress of some other estate. Wherever my husband drags me off to.”

That, Benjamin thought, was overdoing it. No one would drag her off. But Reg’s expression softened.

“We aren’t chasing you away.”

“I know. But it feels like it sometimes.”

“Oh, Livvy.” To Benjamin’s surprise, Reg walked over and wrapped his arms around his sister. Reg had always seemed the least demonstrative of the brothers. “If you want Mrs. Byrd, you shall have her.”

“Mama will be upset,” she said, her voice muffled against Reg’s chest.

“She’ll come round.” He gave Olivia’s shoulders a little shake. “It doesn’t matter who the ton anoints as this year’s most sought-after modiste. Jasper would say Taverstons don’t follow fashions, they set them.” He cleared his throat and spoke over his shoulder. “Mr. Carroll, let us put off visiting Everet until tomorrow.”

“Fine by me.” He stroked Goose’s nose. Then mounted. This was a family affair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go have a word with Willy Pyle.”