Mary Blayney (49 page)

“Once again, my lady, you impress me with your common sense. Not a compliment I give to many women.”

“Thank you.” She hoped her dutiful response covered up her longing to hear something a trifle more personal. She could tell him how much she loved the color of his eyes, the way his arms felt wrapped around her.

But if she could not show her affection that way, she would do what she did for all the other men she loved. She would feed him.

35

N
OW YOU MUST EAT.”
Olivia popped up from her chair and lifted the basket onto the table. It took only a minute to set the food before him, on a cream cloth cover, chattering the whole time. “I invented this silverware. It is specifically designed for travel or a picnic. Ideally one would not serve food that requires a knife on a picnic.”

He picked up the spoon/fork and put it down again.

“I devised this holder for it, which will also function as a serviette.”

She knew she was babbling again. He seemed to have that effect on her. Pressing her lips together she gathered the storage items and the basket, carried them to the door and stayed there to look out the window, so he could eat in peace.

The gatehouse was a charming place, more like a dollhouse than a man-sized establishment. When Papa had decided not to staff it after Mr. Hackett retired she had asked him if she could live here with Tildy and Annie. He had not even deigned to answer her.

It would have been perfect. There were only two bedrooms, but she and Annie had shared a room for years without telling anyone. Tildy was the most wonderful governess and mother in the world, even if she had finished off her days with too much to drink.

When Olivia turned back to Michael he was starting on the strawberries. He had eaten all the soup but only one of the two buns. That was all right. They were rather large.

Walking back to the table she sat opposite him, her elbow on the table cradling her chin as she watched him dip the berry into the cream and take a bite.

He chewed and swallowed, well aware of her eyes on him. When he had eaten one more she could not stay quiet any longer.

“Are they not delicious? There is nothing in the world that tastes better than strawberries and cream.”

“They are delectable,” he said, nodding, “but I can think of two or more things that would taste even better.”

“Two or more! That is impossible.” She could see he was teasing her, but that she did not understand the joke made it all the more annoying. “I insist that you tell me what they are.” What could taste better than strawberries in cream, unless it was strawberries in champagne? It occurred to her in the next second that he was not talking about food, but she was distracted from that line of thought by Big Sam’s voice.

“All is well upstairs.”

She blushed but Mr. Garrett looked up at Big Sam with a blasé expression she wished she could copy.

“Samuelson, would you care to share some strawberries with me? I know for a fact that Lady Olivia would like to take a bit of this roll to my horse, and I would have a few words with you.”

“You want to talk to me, sir?” Big Sam asked. Michael knew the request would surprise Big Sam, but he had not realized he would look at Olivia as if something was profoundly wrong.

“Yes.” Olivia patted his arm, nodding energetically.

Standing, Michael walked to the window next to the front door. “It is a short walk and we can watch her from here. You can see Troy in the paddock so they will be in sight at all times.”

“If it is that simple, I guess it will be all right, sir. But I’d feel even better if we could stand outside and watch. We could feast on the strawberries when we know she is safe.”

Michael was impressed again by the big man’s dedication to his duty, something a seasoned soldier would never admit out loud.

Olivia happily broke off a good chunk of the bun, wrapped it and with a wave to both of them ran, or was it skipped, down to the stable. Troy came to her without invitation. Even without the proffered treat it would have been a touching reunion.

“Horse likes her,” Sam said.

“A mutual admiration.” When Sam looked confused Michael tried again. “And she likes Troy.”

“Aye, hard not to like a horse as beautiful as that.”

Michael knew better than to think Sam was joking, and wondered if the man saw colors normally.

Michael took Samuelson back inside, seated him and set a plate with two strawberries in front of him. After he ate them, in two giant bites, Michael made his proposition with slow and careful wording, so that the man would see he was being promoted and not replaced.

“You know which room is Lollie’s and can give special attention to that side of the castle. You know where I live and can come for me should anything seem wrong.”

Samuelson was quiet a long time. Then he nodded. “Sir, thank you, sir. No one has ever thought to offer me such a post. I must ask Miss Lollie and Lord David and the majordomo, and I am sure that the duke will have an opinion.” It looked like he had thought of two or three other people who he needed permission from but could not recall their names at the moment.

“Ask whomever you must, Samuelson,” Michael said, relieved that he had already discussed this at length with Pennistan. “I assure you they will all be pleased with the idea.”

“I am not so sure, sir.” He looked away. “You see, I have not told the truth about Miss Lollie’s kidnapping.” When he looked back Michael could see that the giant actually had tears in his eyes.

Michael felt a sinking sensation that had nothing to do with the wonderful meal he had just eaten.

“You see, when I was at the vicar’s that day, the day Miss Lollie was taken, a man came up to me and asked if I would stay behind for a few moments so that his master could have some time with her ladyship. That he wanted only a moment to give her a poem and a bunch of flowers and declare his admiration.”

Well done, you bastards, Michael thought. Find the weakest point and make it work for you. It was what he had done in France.

“Mr. Garrett, I was so pleased for her. I would be happy to guard her forever, but I am old and will surely die before she does. I thought if she found a husband she would be safe even if I was dead.”

Samuelson loved Olivia, Michael realized, in a way most men did not begin to understand.

“Had that ever happened before, Samuelson?”

“No, sir.” He hesitated, shifting in the chair. “Once a long time ago I found her in the garden kissing the vicar’s nephew. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes.” He knew that story. Amazing how much of this woman’s life was like a public record.

“That’s the only time. I did not go to London with her for her Season. She did tell me that there was no one who was much fun except for Viscount Bendasbrook, but she would never consider a match with him.”

Big Sam must have learned his storytelling from Olivia-the-chatty. These were more details than he needed, though now he was curious as to why the viscount was not appealing. Was he not interested in food?

“Finish telling me what happened that day when you let Lollie meet with her new beau.”

“He was not her beau.” Samuelson spoke as though it was a detail Michael might not be aware of. “It was a lie. I knew it was a lie the moment I saw the carriage racketing up the road. I ran, I ran as fast as I could but I was crying and could not keep pace with them.” He stood up. “You may not want me for such a post if I cannot tell an honest man from a liar.”

Michael kept his seat. “Samuelson, you must listen to me.”

Sam sat back down and Michael looked him in the eye. “There are not many who can tell a lie from the truth when they want to believe something so much.”

“Is that so, sir? I thought that one of my weaknesses. I always believe what people tell me.” He looked out the window. “I
used
to believe what people tell me. Now I am afraid everyone is lying.”

Most of the time they are.

“You will learn who you can believe and who you will always doubt. If you decide to accept this new position you can come to me whenever you are not sure. Even if it is ten times a night.”

Big Sam nodded.

“I have one other question, Samuelson.”

Big Sam nodded again and tilted forward as if he thought he might miss a word.

“Did you give the men some baskets?”

“No, no sir. I never saw those men before that day.”

God help him, he would have to ask Olivia exactly what she was wearing when she was taken so they could determine if all her garments were accounted for.

“Samuelson,” Michael stood and waited for Big Sam to do the same. “We all make mistakes, from the Prince Regent to the scullery maid.”

“Yes, I know.”

The answer was perfunctory. Michael could see that he was not free of guilt. “Go to Lord David and tell him. See what he suggests.”

“Do you think that he would take me to the boxing ring, if I asked?”

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“A good thrashing will make me feel so much better.”

“If that is so, I will meet you in the ring. With Lord David’s permission.”

Big Sam looked inordinately pleased at the prospect of being beaten to a pulp. With a bow, he left the gatehouse, stopping for a moment to speak to Olivia.

Michael could tell the moment the man confessed to Olivia the way he had been deceived. Her sympathetic expression changed to disbelief, shock. She put her hand on Samuelson’s arm and spoke to him with such earnestness that Michael did not have to hear what she was saying.

Samuelson gave her a profound bow and Olivia accepted it with a pat on his head. Michael watched her watch the big man as he hurried up to the castle, a frown very much in place as she returned to the parlor.

“Did you tell Big Sam that you would meet him in the boxing ring?”

“Yes.”

“What were you thinking?” Her frown turned to annoyance.

“I am thinking that I wish it were as easy as that to rid myself of guilt for the wrongs I have committed. I am thinking that the least I can do for the man is ease the awful responsibility he feels for your kidnapping. He will not be hurt above a bruise or two, and he will take on his new position with more confidence and a clear conscience.”

“But I do not want either one of you to be hurt. It’s barbaric!”

“Perhaps it seems so to you, but Lord David knew exactly what he was doing when he had that boxing ring built.”

She folded her arms and turned to stare out the window. Obviously she was not fully appeased.

“How is Troy?” he asked, even though he knew full well that his horse was as happy as a footman with an unexpected day off.

“Troy is settling in quite nicely.” She whirled around, apparently delighted to share good news for a change. “The stable lads are so impressed with her and agree that her coloring is all that keeps her from being perfect. I told them what you said. That her coloring will be all the rage soon.”

As much as he loved that smile, Michael knew he was going to make it disappear.

“Olivia, there is something I need to talk to you about.” At that very moment it occurred to him that he should have asked Mrs. Blackford to have this discussion with her. Too late.

Michael offered her a seat on the settee and sat next to her, not too close.

“I need you to tell me what you were wearing the day you were taken. Every single item.”

“Why?” she said, stiffening.

“Some of your clothes were delivered to your brother the day you were kidnapped, and the morning after we returned here some more were dropped here at the gatehouse. It occurred to me that there may be other clothes that could be used to compromise you.”

He was afraid of tears, but what he saw was anger. Not at him, he hoped.

“Those stupid Galatians. Those pigs.”

Not him, he thought with relief.

“Those grape apes. I cannot think of words bad enough for them.”

“I can. Bumbling, bootlicking, backstabbing brutes.”

“Buzzards.”

“Bullies.”

“Bloodsucking fiends.”

“That’s two words but quite vituperative,” he judged, pleased that she was smiling again. “Betrayer.”

“Bandits.”

“Bad bakers.”

“All right.” Olivia held up her hand. “I cannot think of anything worse than that.” She relaxed a little. “Thank you, Michael, for making me laugh.” It came to her that his question was a gift, though probably not from God.

36

W
HAT WAS
I
WEARING?”
Olivia mused in a thoughtful pose. Was there a better way to seduce a man than undressing yourself, if only mentally, in front of him?

“Let me start from the outside.” She stood up, closed her eyes and mimicked undressing. “My bonnet, and my cloak and my blue half-boots.” She opened her eyes. He did not seem particularly moved but she had yet to start on the interesting parts. She sighed. “I loved those boots.”

“They can be replaced.”

“I suppose so, but they were so well worn and had taken on the shape of my foot so nicely.”

He nodded.

She put her hand on her chest, quite deliberately. She loved the cut of this gown. It made her breasts look as though they were much more discreet in size. “I was wearing an old blue gown. I thought I might be collecting greens from Mr. Drummond’s garden.”

She raised her arms and smoothed her hair and tried not to smile when Michael looked away and back again immediately. She shifted her gaze to the window so he could look at whatever part of her interested him the most, and felt a tingling in her breast. “I had a blue ribbon to tie my hair back. But who would keep that?”

“Uh-huh,” was all he said.

She lowered her arms and gave him her complete attention again.

His eyes were hot, with a tinge of suspicion in them. Perfect.

Olivia hoped she was doing this right. She raised her skirt above her ankle and matched it with a look of total innocence.

“Two petticoats, white with white lace at the hem. After that, my stockings.” She patted the top of her thigh. “My garters; they match my coloring quite nicely. These were plain, with a bit of lace in case anyone of interest should see them.”

Now she gave him what she hoped was a provocative look but spoiled it by wrinkling her nose. Oh, this was stupid. She could no more seduce a man than she could shoe a horse.

With a sound of disgust she finished with as practical a voice as she could manage. “My stays are all that’s left. And my shift, but you know that. It was what I was wearing when I escaped.”

Michael rose and came very close to her. “I think I like this last look the best.”

“What are you talking about?” She had to strain her neck to look up when he was this close. It was as though she was surrounded by him. The aura of power that she felt when he was barely a hand’s width away from her was provocative and thrilling and she wanted more.

He cupped her raised chin and let his hand drift down so that it was just above the edge of her dress.

“How many years have you used that guileless look? I bet it works almost all the time.”

“But not today.” It
was
working. He was going to kiss her. Soon, she hoped.

“No one is that innocent after the age of four, Olivia.”

He dropped his hand and took a step back.

Olivia edged closer so her breasts were barely touching his chest, though there were at least five layers of clothes between them. Still she could feel her body warm to his.

She would have to stand on her tiptoes if she wanted to initiate a kiss, and she was still not sure she could reach more than his chin. She sat down on the settee and, thanks be, he sat, too. Before he could rethink the commitment she moved as close to him as she could.

“Innocence is a vastly overrated virtue. I do think I am ready to experience something of the world.”

His mouth was on hers before she had finished speaking. Oh, it was wonderful to be given exactly what she wanted. To feel him everywhere, no matter that it was only his lips on hers. She matched his passion and wondered what more there could be than this. It was so intimate—mouth, tongue, arousing every part of her.

When they pulled apart, for breath, for sanity, she could not help but laugh. “That was wonderful. It was so much fun. More than fun.”

She started to sit on his lap to kiss him again, but he stood up abruptly.

“That is enough, Lady Olivia.”

“Even I know that is not true. It is only the beginning.”

“It is enough for you and me. I will not be the one who debauches you. I will not.”

It rather sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Then can I be the one who seduces you?”

He shook his head, glowering.

“You cannot think of words to describe how much you want me,” she teased, ignoring his dark expression.

“I want you. That is the truth, Olivia.”

“Really?”

“Truly.”

“Honestly?”

“Lustfully.”

She laughed again. “I am yours.”

“Not now. Not ever.” He raised a hand to shield his eyes, his thumb resting on his cheek. “It is one of your more misguided impulses, Olivia.”

“It is not. I have been thinking about it all day, for weeks, possibly since we slept in the same bed that first night. Definitely
not
an impulse, and I will not take no for an answer.” She looked down and blushed at his arousal. He did want her. No matter how he would deny it. “I am going up to your bedroom. I will stay there all the rest of the day if I must. Dream of me there and come to me.”

She stood on the couch, pulled his hand from his brow and kissed him. It was different this time, like unleashing a dragon, desperate with wanting and denial. She relaxed and played the temptress, knowing she had won and willing to let him suffer for a little longer as if it would make it more satisfying later.

When she ended the kiss he looked defeated. She turned away from that look. It made her feel guilty. She jumped off the settee and ran up the stairs.

His bed was neatly made. Was it a habit he had learned in the army or had one of the maids come to do it for him? With a twinge of jealousy she hoped that was all the maid had taken care of.

She heard nothing from downstairs for a few long minutes and could almost feel him fight the temptation. Finally, she heard the sound of the door opening and then being closed.

He had left! She jumped up from the bed and looked out the window. She could open it but someone might see her. She wanted to make love with him but had no need to let the whole world know.

He didn’t believe her, she thought, stretching out on the bed. He would discover how true to her word she was. Pulling a spare blanket over her, Olivia determined to stay as long as it took. And fell asleep on that thought.

M
ICHAEL WAS SURE
that God would damn him to hell if he went any further than that kiss. God had made man and must understand, must know that Michael needed that one kiss as a memento, one that he could relive as often as he dared.

He headed toward Pennsford, determined to put some distance between him and Temptation, trying to focus his attention on something other than how provocative innocence could be.

Never, not once in his life, had he wanted a virgin, wanted to be the one to teach and touch for the first time. What was it about this woman with still so much girl in her that made the pull unbearable?

He did not have the answer, and that was rare in itself. As he strode past the vicarage, Reverend Drummond himself opened the front door.

“Mr. Garrett! Could you stop a moment and lend me a hand? I was about to send up to the castle for Big Sam.”

Relieved to have a distraction, Michael found himself helping the vicar make room for a new bookcase. The walls were lined with them except for the window wall, which looked out on the glory of sky to the west. The room was filled with as much light as the dank spring day would allow. Altogether a welcoming space, despite stacks of books all over. Not only on the desk and a table and in the bookcases, but also on the floor and on chairs.

First, Michael shoved the desk into the center of the room, closer to the window as directed. The odd placement did allow enough room for the waist-high, glass-fronted bookcase to be placed against the wall.

Mr. Drummond asked him to hang an engraving, or was it an etching, of some confrontation in a classical style.

“It’s Hogarth’s version of the trial of Saint Paul.” The elderly man explained. “I used to have his ‘Rake’s Progress’ hung there until Mrs. Blackford said that too many would think it inspiration rather than admonition.”

“No doubt a wise decision,” Michael said.

“Pour us some sherry, young man. Mrs. Blackford has gone to the castle to speak with the mason regarding some work needed on the chimney.”

Michael tried to make sense of the non sequitur and deduced that Mrs. Blackford would not approve of sherry at this time of day. He poured it, set the glasses on the desk and moved books and papers off one of the chairs.

Michael recognized several editions of
The Edinburgh Review
and wondered what William Hazlitt had to say that would interest the vicar. Or Edmund Burke. He saw two novels and was even more confused.

“You have an interesting collection of reading materials,” Michael ventured.

“Mr. Garrett, you would be amazed where I find inspiration.
Pride and Prejudice.
The title itself begs for a sermon.”

The books sat on a corner of a Rowlandson cartoon. The drawing was of a gin shop. Not man at his best.

“I have lived a very sheltered life. Rowlandson’s more salacious cartoons have made me a far better man of God.”

“No doubt,” Michael agreed, intrigued by Mr. Drummond’s unique view of life.

The vicar seemed inclined to talk and Michael needed the distraction. There was one niggling question to which he wanted an answer. “Tell me, Reverend Drummond, what is the origin of the phrase ‘stupid Galatians?’ The bible translates it as ‘senseless.’”

“Yes, my boy, it does. But if you read the Greek carefully you will see that the word actually translates as stupid. So much more powerful and so like St. Paul. Not a man to mince words, our St. Paul.”

Wasn’t personal translation some sort of heresy, Michael wondered.

“I have discussed it with the duke and written to the archbishop, but no one in Canterbury seems to think it a valid point. So the translation ‘stupid Galatians’ is used only in my private life.”

Amazing. In his own quiet way this man was amazing. Willing to test the limits of hierarchy for what he believed in. Meryon deserved some credit too, for allowing such free thinking in a living he controlled.

“Come, come, young man, that is not why you came here today. I can only assume that you have come to see me about Lady Olivia.”

But he had not come to see him about anything. It was the vicar who had called to him.

“She is a wonder.”

“That she is, Reverend.”

“Her brothers, except the duke, have a reputation for living life on a grand scale, of making the world bow to their wishes. I do not know why no one sees the same in Olivia.”

It was the God’s truth, Michael thought, as he nodded.

“She will not allow the rough patches of life to interfere with what she wants from it. I think she could face the grim reaper himself, if such a thing existed, and refuse, just simply refuse to accept that it was her time.”

She had come close, Michael thought.

“When I see the results of that stubbornness in the various aspects of her life, I think it must be called a virtue.” Mr. Drummond rubbed his chin, as he paused to allow his listener to catch up with him.

Aha.
Michael smiled a little. He might be a congregation of one but he knew a sermon when he heard one.

“I have often thought that Olivia would have been better named Martha. For like Martha in the New Testament, Olivia is one who must always be doing for the Lord. She uses her skill in the kitchen to take care of people, no matter their station or age. And it works because in all of her recipes there is a measure of love.”

The vicar leaned forward. “She needs you by her side.”

God only knew where that came from. They both drank from their glasses.

“She needs you to complete her. You need her to complete you. You have denied your call to God long enough.”

Michael stood up. “That is not what I came here to talk to you about.” And he remembered, again, that he had not planned to come here at all. “I am no more suited to be a man of God than I am an appropriate husband for Olivia.”