Mary Blayney (37 page)

16

W
HAT WAS HE LOOKING AT?
Olivia wondered as she kept on drying her feet. Why was he making her feel so warm when her toes were so cold? “You are not supposed to be watching me dry my feet.”

“What etiquette book says that?”

“It
feels
risqué.”

He laughed. The throaty sound made her want to laugh too, but she bit her lip instead. She handed him the blanket as she stood up on the rock. It made her almost as tall as he was. “Where is Troy?”

“Right where you left her, my lady. Troy knows to do what she is told.”

“Oh, now you are comparing me to a horse.”

“The finest horse in the world.”

“As well as the ugliest.” Olivia leaned close to whisper it so Troy wouldn’t hear. As she did, Olivia noticed that Garrett’s face was shadowed with whiskers, his eyes had the tiniest creases at the corner. He must be awfully tired.

She knew she could act like a spoiled child. It was sometimes the only way to win out against her brothers. But Mr. Garrett had saved her life. He did not deny it. Her thanks had been to rail at him without ceasing and insult his eyes and anything else she could think of.

Turning her head a little, so that she could see into his eyes, she began an apology. His eyes really were quite lovely, the color of the iridescent pheasant feathers that she used to garnish her favorite poultry dish. Right now they were more gold than brown. “Mr. Garrett, I am so very sorry if I have not been the ideal companion.”

The next words died in her throat at the expression in his eyes. Wild and wonderful at the same time. Before she could respond with more than a smile, he turned and whistled for Troy. Garrett stepped onto the rock, scooped her up and dumped her back into the saddle.

“We will move on, Lady Olivia, or the light will be gone before we reach safety.”

“I just wanted to apologize.”

He still stood on the rock, so their eyes were even. “That’s what you are saying with your lips, Lady Olivia. Your eyes? Well, your eyes are asking for something else entirely.”

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Garrett?”

“No, my lady,
you
are flirting with
me.
” He hoped that was not pleased surprise he heard in her voice.

“I am not flirting!” She straightened and moved her gaze from his lips to his eyes.

“If you are not, why were you looking at my mouth as though you would like to do more than see if I have all my teeth?”

Good, there was the indignation he preferred. Her hand twitched and he leaned back lest she act on her inclination to slap him.

“You, Mr. Garrett, are the one who is making something of a natural curiosity.”

He laughed. He could not help it. Would she ever say what he expected?

“Very natural,” he agreed, and wished he had disagreed. She leaned closer, her eyes holding his with mesmerizing intensity.

“No.” The word was out of his mouth before she could move nearer. “You have been kidnapped, stripped of your clothes, drugged. All you should be worrying about is finding home again.”

“When I was kidnapped I thought I was going to die. I could die in the next minute. How awful to leave this life without ever knowing a man’s kiss.” Her eyes turned her wistful words into a seduction. “One kiss would only take a moment, the barest of moments.”

As she spoke she moved so that her mouth was just a little from his. She must have been counting on pure male instinct to close the distance and make him press his lips to hers.
Stop! Stop!
His rational mind screamed and still her sweet pink mouth drew him inexorably closer.

Their kiss was the lightest touch, hardly a kiss at all. He had that much self-control. Still, he tasted the sweet and sharp of her, the untouched passion, the soft supple lips that were such a perfect reflection of the body he had held once already.

Begging God for self-control, he resisted the urge for more and drew away.

“Mr. Garrett, that was not a kiss.” It wasn’t criticism so much as disappointment. “The reverend’s nephew did better than that.”

“You told me you’d never been kissed before.”

“I said I had never been kissed by a man. He was sixteen years old.”

“That is quite enough, my lady.” Michael jumped down from the rock, annoyed that he had been tricked into playing her game. “How old are you? You act like a child but behave like a tease. It is not at all becoming.”

Michael took the lead and urged Troy into a walk, surprised when she did not answer him. He let the silence linger.

They had gone a good distance before he heard any sound from her. First a deep quivering sigh followed by a sniff. Damnation, he’d hurt her feelings. He reached into his pocket and handed her his handkerchief without looking up.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He would not weaken.

“I said thank you.” Her voice had an edge to it.

“You are welcome for the handkerchief.”

Another long silence.

“I am twenty.”

“You are not.”

“It’s because I am so short that everyone thinks I am younger. And my brothers. They are always treating me like a child, and sometimes it’s easier to act like one.”

“Because you are then able to have what you want.” Another silence. When it persisted he added, “I told you last night. I have sisters, too.”

Her “Humph” was not a very ladylike sound. “Can we not go faster? I am anxious to reach home. All I want to do is drink some of my best tisane for a sore throat, go to sleep. My feet are—” She stopped abruptly.

“Cold.” He finished the sentence for her. “I am sure if you think awhile you can find a way to blame me for that.” He pulled his gloves off and walked back to Troy. Tugging one foot out from under his greatcoat, he covered her toes with his fur-lined glove.

She tried to pull the foot out of his hand. “What are you doing?”

It wasn’t insult he heard but panic. That damn excuse for a kiss had distracted him. She was not his latest flirt, but a woman who had been through hell.

He steadied Troy with a hand to her neck and wished a woman was as easy to comfort. “I apologize, Lady Olivia. I was putting my gloves on your ice cold feet. They may be ill-fitting but they are fur-lined and should help warm them.”

“All right.” The fear left her voice. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“No, my lady, you were mad at me.” He looked at her for the first time since he had swung her onto the horse. Her tear-streaked face made her look even more vulnerable. He had not thought that was possible. He wanted to cuddle her close and comfort her. Like a wounded puppy, he insisted to his more libidinous self.

He walked around and put the other glove on her left foot. It felt like a chunk of ice. He doubted his gloves would do much good, but they were better than nothing. With Troy’s lead in hand, Michael forged on.

“Do you know where we are, Mr. Garrett?” Her voice was stronger and without any annoyance. “I thought I knew this road. I recognized where we were before, but this does not look familiar at all. I suppose I am not feeling myself just now.”

“I think that’s because three of four trees were brought down by the wind.” Michael knew an apology when he heard one. He smiled to himself. “We are not on the road now, but on a deer track running roughly parallel to it.” He looked back at her and she nodded, the worry fading from her face as she noted the downed trees and began to recognize the landscape.

“We should reach Pennsford and the vicarage soon.”

“Exactly.” He examined the sky. “It will grow colder quickly. Add the rain brewing and it will make night travel a misery.”

By setting a vigorous pace they reached the vicar’s home just as the light faded. Still, they were both cold.

Michael worried anew about Olivia’s health. She was shivering again. Despite her healthy weight and annoying determination, he knew lungs were fragile. He’d seen more than one well-built man succumb to an inflammation and to his eyes Olivia did not look well.

He helped her from the horse and swept her into his arms. Without complaint, Olivia snuggled as close to him as she could. He was relieved when a woman, dressed in black, answered his knock without delay. He was not sure if she was a maid or the housekeeper, too old for one, too young for the other.

The woman’s puzzlement lasted only an instant. “Lollie! What happened?” She did not wait for an answer. “Bring her in immediately. I will light the fire in one of the bedrooms. Was she at the river again?”

“Yes,” both he and Olivia chorused. Olivia started to explain but began to cough. The sound struck fear in his heart.

“I beg you, madam, can we save explanations for later?”

The woman nodded and called a younger maid. Her rapid instructions were given to the wide-eyed girl who ran up the stairs even as the housekeeper added her last direction. “Do find a warming pan for the bed.”

An old man and an even older woman tottered into the hall, both with shawls wrapped around their shoulders. The man still held a newspaper. Reverend Drummond and his sister, Michael assumed.

The housekeeper began to climb the stairs and as Michael followed, the older two trailed behind him making worrisome noises. Miss Drummond asked a string of questions, not all of them pertinent. “What is it, Mrs. Blackford? Who is it? Should we call the surgeon? Who is this gentleman? Where did that greatcoat come from? Why do you smell like smoke? Did the windstorm cause a fire? What happened to Big Sam?”

“Hush, sister,” the old man scolded. “Let Mrs. Blackford do her work. We will have the answers soon enough. For now we should thank this Good Samaritan for rescuing our lost sheep.”

It was a mixed metaphor but Michael appreciated an end to the questions and the fact that the vicar had cast him in such a generous light.

The vicar’s sister did as she was asked, but only after one last question: “Where are her shoes and stockings?”

17

M
RS
. B
LACKFORD OPENED
a door and turned around sharply, taking in Olivia’s bare feet and legs. With a suspicious glance his way, she stepped back to allow Michael into the room. The fire was alive. The maid had the covers turned back and was hurrying from the room muttering, “Warming pan and some chicken broth.”

When the old woman made to crowd into the room, the vicar stopped her. “Let us wait out here a moment. Mrs. Blackford will have her settled quickly.”

Michael had Olivia on her feet but still held her, as she was swaying. Behind him the door snapped shut, and with a rustle of skirts Mrs. Blackford came to them.

“Close your eyes,” the housekeeper commanded him.

Michael did as told, neither one of them commenting on what he had already seen.

He’d spied a voluminous nightgown on the bed and within a minute of removing his greatcoat Olivia was wearing it, the nightgown covering her fully, dragging on the floor the way his greatcoat had dragged on the ground. The oatmeal color did nothing for her wan complexion. The bruises on her throat stood out in contrast.

“Lollie, climb into bed. Or do you want the man to lift you in?”

“No, Annie, I can manage.” She slid between the sheets and sighed. “Please, please, where is Big Sam? I am so worried about him.”

“He was upset. When he realized that you had been taken he ran to the castle and told the duke.”

“Did he tell anyone else?”

“I told him not to. I’m so sorry, Lollie, but I had to slap him. It was an emergency and the only thing I could think of to make him calm down so he would listen.”

Olivia nodded and Michael wondered who this poor soul was.

“He understood that it was important that no one but the duke know that you were gone, probably kidnapped. I have not told anyone else. Not even the vicar or Miss Drummond.”

“But where is he?”

“Out searching for you. I’m not sure what that means to him but he would not wait and do nothing.”

Some kind of companion, Michael surmised. Less than bright, but a lifelong friend of some kind.

“Was he out in that storm, last night? Oh, I hope he found shelter.”

“I am sure that he did, dearest.” The housekeeper took Michael’s greatcoat and handed it to him.

Olivia nodded, not fully convinced. Her nod dissolved into a shiver.

“Some broth and a warming pan are coming as quickly as that girl can make it happen.”

“It’s all right, Annie. Truly. We both know speed is a word unknown in this house.”

Mrs. Blackford laughed and patted Olivia’s hair.

These two were friends, despite the disparity in their stations and age. The housekeeper was at least ten years older than Lady Olivia. Big Sam, Mrs. Blackford, the aging vicar, Reverend Drummond, and his addled sister—Lady Olivia collected misfits. He could fit right in.

Before any more questions could be asked or answered, the door was opened without a knock and the maid, Reverend Drummond and his sister pushed into the room, making the small space as crowded as a field tent on a rainy night. Michael backed up against the wall, folded his arms and watched.

It took awhile to warm the bed and to allow Olivia to sip her broth, but before long all were waiting to hear the story.

Olivia told them an interesting version of what they had agreed on. “I was walking down from the castle on my way to see you today.” She nodded at the vicar. “I was thinking I would do my own inspection on the way and see what damage the storm had done. I decided to stop by the river to see if there were any mushrooms. I have been thinking of making a soup of varying kinds of mushrooms and am still trying to decide what proportion of each would be best.”

“It sounds intriguing, Lollie,” Mrs. Blackford patted her hand. “So you were thinking about the ingredients and became distracted as you walked along?”

“Yes.” Olivia’s sigh was all apology. “I heard someone and looked up to see Mr. Garrett and his horse moving along the path. I took a step without watching where I was going, slipped on a wet rock and fell into the river. I think I could have saved myself but Mr. Garrett insisted on rescuing me.”

All four looked at him.

“I could hardly sit my horse and watch while Lady Olivia struggled.”

“He held up his greatcoat for privacy while I took my clothes off. Removing my clothes was my idea and not his,” she hastened to add. “I was already shivering.”

“Where are your clothes?” the reverend asked, scanning the room as though they should be there somewhere.

“Left by the river. I think we both just forgot them in our hurry to find someplace warm.”

Michael was satisfied with the improvisation. He thought it likely that her clothes had been taken to be used in some part of the plot she had foiled. Busy mulling over that idea, he did not at first notice the silence.

“The vicar asked why you were on that road. What were you looking for, Mr. Garrett?” The housekeeper seemed more than curious. She had already cast him as part of the plot.

“I was looking for the road to Manchester.” Honesty made that answer simple.

They looked skeptical. The housekeeper was fingering her keys, the vicar had his fingers steepled, a searching look in his eye, and Miss Drummond was patting her mouth with her fingers as though trying to keep words inside. The “rescuer of lost sheep” had suddenly become the devil.

The vicar’s sister could not keep quiet any longer. “Mrs. Blackford, you commented on a new face in town.”

Mrs. Blackford nodded. “Yes, your horse is unmistakable. You spent the last while at The Fox and Hare, did you not?”

“I did.”

They waited for more. Very well, he would tell them the truth.

“I had a letter of introduction to the Duke of Meryon and was considering seeking employment. It did not take me long to decide that my temperament is better suited to city life.” The truth made him feel uneasy. More vulnerable. He hoped it did not show.

“Aha.” Mr. Drummond slapped his knee. “You see that work in Manchester was not meant to be. You understand that, do you not? The good Lord found a way to turn you back to Pennsford.”

“So it would appear, sir.” He could hardly disagree since he’d had the same thought himself.

Miss Drummond moved closer to Olivia, stopped short and cried out, “Oh no! What happened to your hair, Olivia?”

Olivia’s hair! They had forgotten to prepare for that detail. He kept his face bland and realized that honesty was not always found in words.

Tears welled up in Olivia’s eyes and she buried her face in her hands.

He would have been annoyed if he thought she was trying to hide from answering. No, her tears were real.

“It was caught on a branch,” he said. “I had to cut it to free her from it.” How many lies was that now?

The women nodded without question. The vicar eyed Michael with less conviction. “You stupid Galatian, why did you not simply cut the branch?”

“I did not think of it. My only concern was to get her from the water before she drowned.” The priest had just called him a Galatian. The verse from Acts came fully to mind. It was translated as “foolish” not “stupid.” Foolish he would readily agree too. He had been foolish in more ways than one.

“It is actually very charming, Lollie.” This from Mrs. Blackford. “Those lovely loose curls draw attention to your pretty face.”

Olivia wiped her eyes on the bed linen. Though she did not appear convinced, it was clear that she wanted to believe it.

“I do think you are right, Mrs. Blackford. I never noticed how green her eyes were before.” The vicar stood up and came closer to Olivia and smiled. “Just lovely. Now you remind me even more of your mother.”

That was it. Olivia smiled back at him and then wrinkled her face as if embarrassed that she was so pleased by the comparison.

Miss Drummond nodded. “A blessing in disguise.”

“Can Lady Olivia stay with you while I go to her brother and have him send a carriage for her?”

“Of course she will stay. Perhaps she should stay overnight so that she is not exposed to the elements again.” Annie Blackford smoothed the covers over her charge.

“That sounds a wise idea,” the vicar agreed.

Miss Drummond clapped her hands. “Company. We will be having company.”

They nodded, even Olivia. No one bothered to clarify that it was far from company to have an unwell neighbor use a bed.

“I know you must be very tired.” Mrs. Blackford moved toward the door purposefully. “We will leave you to rest and bring you some dinner later.”

“Before he leaves, could I please speak to Mr. Garrett?” Olivia asked

Reverend Drummond nodded. “Mrs. Blackford will be your chaperone.”

With the vicar and his sister gone, Annie hurried back to Olivia’s bedside. Olivia watched her, mortified by her loving concern. Annie Blackford, her dearest friend, deserved the truth.

“It is a very credible story, Lollie, and well told. But you were gone for two days and the storm only happened last night. The vicar and Miss Hope are easily satisfied, but others will have questions.”

“Yes.” Olivia sighed with relief. “To you, Annie, I will tell the truth.”

“Why not just announce it to the world, Lady Olivia?” Michael Garrett came closer as he spoke. “I beg your pardon for the insult, Mrs. Blackford, but if one person knows, how long before two or three do, and after that the entire town?”

“I assure you, sir, that I have been trusted with secrets far more damaging than whatever it is Olivia may tell me.”

Olivia nodded, wondering if that admission was wise. “I will tell her, Mr. Garrett.”

When Garrett did nothing but shake his head in resignation, she began.

She did her best to sound practical but Annie’s dismay was obvious, and when Olivia reached the part about her escape and rescue by Mr. Garrett, Annie actually went to him and took his hand.

“Thank you so much, sir. How would she have survived without you? The storm was not so bad here, but most who have come to town today have tales to tell. I do not know what I would have done if something had happened to Lollie. We have been like sisters all our lives.”

“Annie’s mother was our governess. Matilda Elderton.” There was so much more to it than that but Mr. Garrett did not need to know any of it. “Trust me in this, sir, she will be my sole confidante.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He bent over Annie’s hand and Olivia could have kissed him for that generous gesture. Kissed him better than he had kissed her, that was for sure. She finished her story with a yawn.

“I am tired, Annie, but will you stay with me?” She yawned again, a real yawn this time. She
was
tired. Amazingly so.

Mr. Garrett took his leave with a gentlemanly bow. The room felt much emptier when he left. Annie stood up with her knitting.

“Annie, sit down.”

“I’m not leaving, Lollie. I was only going to move closer to the fire.”

Olivia shook off her fatigue and sat upright in bed. “There is one more thing I need to tell you.”

Annie sat back down slowly.

“As I was falling asleep after the dose of laudanum…” She shuddered at the memory of the sickly sweet stuff. Brandy would have worked just as well. “They—the kidnappers, that is—seemed so elated that their plan was going to work.” Olivia leaned close to Annie and whispered, even though the door was closed, Mr. Garrett had left and the vicar and Miss Hope could not hear well at all. “One said to the other, ‘Her brother will give us the land on a silver platter.’”

Annie’s expression was part shock and part dismay. “The land? Your land?”

“Mine? No, not at all. I think they were using me as a threat to Jess. I think they were sent from London by money-lenders to hold me in order to coerce him into paying up. With
his
land.”

“Oh no.” Annie was obviously appalled but she thought about it for a minute and nodded. “Yes, I see it could easily be that. Your brother plays deep.”

Olivia watched Annie’s expression soften when she mentioned Jess, and harden as quickly at the mention of his gambling.

“I know it hurts for me to tell you that, Annie, dear; you are so much a part of the family. But I fear it is the truth.”

“Did you tell Mr. Garrett? Will you tell your brother?”

“Why should I tell Mr. Garrett? He is not staying. He is going to have someone come for me and be off to Manchester to make his fortune. He is just passing through.”

“You will tell the duke.”

Olivia heard the command, and it pained her to ignore it. “I know you hate secrets, but I cannot tell him. You know why as well as I do. He will withdraw and be angry and come up with some way to punish Jess that will drive them even further apart.”

“You must tell someone.” Annie had given up all pretense of knitting.

“I’ve told you, and I am going to write to Jess and tell him he must come home immediately.” Her yawn was part moan and she could not fight the fatigue any longer.

She was asleep before Annie could answer, off into a dreamworld that was surprisingly free of evil. In it she was debating with a cabbage and a cauliflower. If she were to wheedle one more kiss from Mr. Garrett before he left, would that mean she truly was a tease?