Mary Blayney (53 page)

The man had an imagination much bigger than his size.

“Tell me this, Garrett, will you be there when I call on the duke in the morning?”

“Yes, I can promise you I will.”

“Good. I’m off to bed. It’s a relief that Lord David agreed to allow for the meeting in the morning instead of rousting the duke tonight. Meryon is likely to be in better spirits after a night’s rest, and I need sleep more than I need four inches of height. At least the rain has let up. Helluva lousy day to be riding but it would not wait. I will see you in the morning.”

Michael nodded and watched Lord William walk down the road to the village without the slightest sign of fatigue. It was his energy one noticed now, not his height and not his red scarf. Michael could not imagine the man sleeping. He left it at that. His mind was not up to imagining anything more.

40

T
HE NEXT MORNING,
well before noon, found all interested parties gathered in the duke’s study. Lord David had briefed the duke, with Michael present to answer questions. While Michael was not actually invited to stay for the interview with the viscount, the duke did not tell him to leave, either, so Michael took a seat at the far end of the room. God help him, he hoped he was about to hear the last act of this play.

Olivia came in, waved to her brothers and came to his end of the room to kiss him good morning. Michael stood and she stopped, giving him a totally inappropriate curtsy. After all, as far as the staff and villagers were concerned, he was a servant. He shook his head and bowed back to her, took her hand and kissed the palm. She widened her eyes and mouthed “Later.”

He could hardly wait.

The duke was at his desk, reading a paper, ignoring the rest of them. Neither one of her brothers reacted to Olivia’s behavior, and Michael had the feeling that the matter had been settled without consulting him at all.

When the viscount was announced, the duke stood, Olivia brought her hand up to cover her smile and David sat back in his chair.

Lord William came into the room with all the energy he had displayed last night, if not more. He bowed to the duke, turned and hurried to Olivia, bowing to her as he took her hand. “How are you, my lady? I cannot decide if it is more joy or pleasure to see you looking so well.”

“Thank you, my lord. How kind of you to come to call.”

The viscount shook his head. “I hope you think so when you have heard this sorry tale.”

He walked to the other side of the duke’s desk. He put his hands behind his back and with a determined effort made himself stand still. “I will not waste your time or belittle your intelligence, Your Grace. It is my grandfather who orchestrated and planned the heinous kidnapping of your sister.”

He turned back to Olivia whose expression was shock and dismay. She took a step back when he bowed again.

“I understand your revulsion, my lady. I want to assure you that I knew nothing of this until the day after you were taken, when my grandfather told me what had transpired.”

“But why?” Olivia asked.

“First, I want to assure you that until that moment I had no idea Grandfather was so desperate for me to marry you.”

“Lord William.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “We had some wonderful times in London but that is hardly the basis for a marriage.” She hesitated a moment. “My lord, forgive me, but is your grandfather blind?”

“Blind? No,” he repeated, apparently not understanding her at all.

“Lord William, I do not wish to hurt your feelings or to say something that will embarrass you, but how tall does your grandfather think you are? If we were to marry, our children would be so short that we would be called leprechauns or something even less kind. I could never marry you. I am so sorry.”

“I understand, my lady, and I hasten to tell you that he is so blind that his interest in our connection had nothing to do with your obvious beauty and charm.”

“What
did
he want?”

“He wanted your land, Olivia.” It was the duke who answered her question. “The acres that Mother left you. The ones rich with coal, to be exploited along with the men who mine it.”

“Oh,” she said, and Michael could see her mind working out the details. “It was not Jess’s land they wanted after all.”

“Those acres in the Americas? What good are they to anyone?”

“I thought that…” She stopped and bit her lip. “It does not matter now.”

“I want to assure you,” the viscount went on, never mind that the duke might want to fit in a word or two, “that the evil villains have been caught and will be sent to the Caribbean to a sugar plantation that my father owns there. You will never see them again.”

“They’ve been caught!” Her pleasure made them all smile.

“Yes,” David said.

That seemed to be enough for Olivia. Good, Michael thought, relaxing in the chair. He had no idea how she would react to the boxing ring spectacle. She would either compare it to a Roman circus or want to come watch. Better not to give her the choice.

“I will marry you, my lady,” the viscount began, “whether your reputation is at stake or not. Just think, we could build a dollhouse just for our family, and whenever someone came to visit they would be as uncomfortable at our table as we are at theirs.”

“We are not midgets, Lord William.” Olivia seemed to find no humor in his suggestion. “But thank you. I must decline, for my heart is otherwise promised.” She must have learned how to handle him while in London, because she barely drew a breath before she smiled and spoke again. “Why do we not have some tea? Do you recall those cinnamon buns you enjoyed so much? I have some freshly made.”

“Capital!” The viscount clapped his hands together, apparently fully recovered from her rejection of his suit. He took his leave and followed her from the room.

As soon as the two of them had left, Lord David turned and walked through the door into his office, leaving Michael on his own with the duke.

Michael eyed him shrewdly. “When I confronted you, you mentioned the land and never once said anything about a forced marriage.”

“Details you did not need to know before you agreed to become part of the family.”

Michael almost stopped him. He had not actually proposed to Olivia yet. He held his tongue. There had been enough talk of boxing rings already today.

“The viscount’s grandfather came to call not three months ago, proposing a match between the two of them.”

“I thought that kind of arranged marriage was no longer common.”

“No, not common, but for someone of the old duke’s age, children still exist to do their parents’ bidding. Especially girls. The viscount told me that he disinherited one of his daughters when she used the word
no
to one of his musical requests.”

“I cannot imagine Olivia surviving in that world.”

The duke nodded. “I knew of the viscount’s attempts at courtship while Olivia was in London. She had made her feelings known even more bluntly than she did today.”

“Is that possible?”

“It is,” the duke said but did not elaborate. “I sent the viscount’s grandfather away with as kind a refusal as I could word. I never even told Olivia about the offer.” He sat down as though he was carrying more weight than was wise.

“No one would think that the old duke would be so desperate that he would resort to ruining her reputation.” Michael was sure the duke must realize that.

“I will admit that I think he is also desperate to have his grandson married. Olivia was the ideal partner, whether she was interested or not.” The duke rubbed his hand over his face and Michael wondered when he last had a decent night’s sleep.

“Your Grace,” he began.

The duke stopped him. “Not yet, Garrett. Give me a chance to rid us of one suitor before I deal with the next.”

“Not that, Your Grace.”

The duke nodded.

“You have a plan for retribution?”

“Dueling is no longer legal, Michael.” The duke smiled a little. “But I have a card or two I can play. Parliament. That’s where he will find out that no one threatens a Pennistan and does not suffer for it.”

From anyone else Michael would have thought this a pathetic gesture, but the hard edge to Meryon’s voice and the look in his eye convinced Michael that there would be hell to pay in a way the old duke would never forget.

There was a knock at the door and within a minute the room was once again filled with people. Lord David, Winthrop the majordomo, Lester and Patsy. The three men were as expressionless as Greek statues. Patsy more than made up for it, crying into her apron and mumbling, “How could I have known?” and other endless protestations of innocence.

“Be quiet, Patsy,” Lester said with an authority he must have learned from the duke while standing at his door.

She sniffled and lowered her apron.

“Please, Your Grace,” she began.

“Let Lord David do the talking,” Lester ordered once again.

David nodded to Winthrop, who stepped up to the desk where the duke sat. “Your Grace, it has just come to my attention that Patsy was the one who was assisting the men who made such a misery of Lady Olivia’s life.”

“I was not assisting them. I thought I was helping a courtship.”

“Nonsense,” Winthrop said, echoing the reaction of the rest of the listeners. “How is it assisting a courtship to supply the baskets and deliver Lady Olivia’s clothes, all for money?”

Patsy gave up all pretense of tears. “We all know that Miss Lollie had no hopes for marriage. That all she can think about is the kitchen. I thought this was a very romantic way for her to be compelled to marry and to think about something but how to make the best dishes.”

“You thought?” Lord David said. “Exactly who gave you authority to make such a choice for her and her family?”

“I am a woman, and I know what a woman feels better than anyone else in this room.”

“Patsy,” Lester said, with such disappointment that Michael thought he must really care for her. “You did it for the money. At least tell the truth now that you are caught.”

“And that is all your fault, Lester. You would not marry until we had enough money. You have been saying that ever since we started meeting in the old castle.”

In the basket room.
Michael looked at Pennistan, who nodded, apparently having the same thought.

“It’s been two years. We would never have enough money if I waited for you to earn it.” She straightened and tried not to look guilty. “So I did it.”

Lester stepped forward. “Your Grace, I cannot apologize enough. We hand in our notice.”

Patsy looked shocked. The duke nodded.

“In order to lessen gossip I have accepted positions for us at the Gateway Inn. I will be managing the tavern and Patsy will work as a maid as she did here.”

Patsy looked furious at his declaration.

“We will also forgo the usual one-year pay that is given to employees, or Patsy may well feel that this change is a reward for such disloyal behavior.”

The duke inclined his head.

“The one boon I would ask, Your Grace, is that I not be denied the occasional chance to visit when Lady Olivia is baking cinnamon buns.”

“I will think on it, Lester.” The duke’s expression was unreadable.

Patsy could not hold her tongue. “You like Lady Olivia even more than her cinnamon buns.”

Lester took her arm and marched her to the door. “At the moment, Patsy, I like everyone more than I like you.” Once he had pushed Patsy out the door, he turned, bowing to the duke and to Lord David. “Until today, it was a pleasure working for you, sir.” He left with an impressive dignity.

No one spoke for a moment. For his part, Michael was sorry that Pennford was losing Lester.

“Make no mistake, brother,” Lord David said, “this was about jealousy more than anything else.

“Since Olivia is about to be married, I do not believe we will have to worry anymore about defending her honor. That will be Mr. Garrett’s responsibility.”

41

O
LIVIA WAS CUDDLED
up next to Michael on the settee in his parlor, having just given a very interesting demonstration of how quickly she learned.

“I love you, love you, love you.”

“I hope so, my dear. I would not like to think that you would behave like this with any man.”

“Oh stop acting as though this is no more than a casual coupling.” She looked into his eyes and insisted he be honest. “Can you not feel the connection deepen each time we are together?”

“Yes, darling girl, and it is absolutely terrifying.” Amazing how those lovely green eyes could pull the truth right out of him.

“You said that once before. Why are you terrified?”

“Olivia.” He took a moment to adjust her décolletage so he was not quite so distracted. “If I am the right man for you then Big Sam should have married the princess. I have no future, no place to live but this gatehouse, no kitchen for you to cook in.”

“Can you not have faith that it will work out?”

“Oh, I have faith in many things, Olivia, but I have always been taught that virtue is rewarded and you are the first sweet taste of virtue I have ever known. And even that I have corrupted.”

She jumped up from the settee. “Never, ever call our lovemaking corruption. It is not. I know exactly who to talk to about this.” Olivia took his hand, pulled him off the settee and out the door.

She waved and called out to people as they headed to the village. Michael pretended she was in charge and tried to figure out who would have all the answers. When they went up the vicarage walk he thought it would be Mrs. Blackford. But no, it was not ten minutes before they were settled in the vicar’s office talking to Reverend Drummond himself. Michael had to clear off a second chair, though Olivia had insisted she was more than willing to sit in his lap.

“It is a pocket miracle,” the vicar said without a second’s hesitation.

“Exactly,” Olivia agreed. “That was one of the most memorable sermons you ever gave, sir.”

Mr. Drummond nodded his thanks to her.

“Money is a factor, but not the most important one.” Surely that was what a pocket miracle was, Michael thought.

“You are too literal, young man,” the reverend said with some apology, even though that was God’s honest truth. Olivia looked at the vicar who nodded as though she was one of his prize pupils.

“Michael,” Olivia said, “a pocket miracle is something that can be easily explained in the normal course of events. However, you know, in your heart, that it is a gift from God.”

Michael smiled at her and she grinned back.

“I cannot tell you how many times Revered Drummond said that we should not hesitate to ask for a miracle. That is exactly what I did. And you found me.”

How could he not go willingly? Michael took Olivia’s hand and squeezed it. “To be perfectly accurate, I would say that
you
are
my
pocket miracle.”

She wrinkled her face in that silly expression of pleased embarrassment that was the first thing he had loved about her.

“I give you both my blessing,” Reverend Drummond went on, “but you already knew I would. The one you will have to convince is the duke. Do you want me to plead your case? Or come with you when you talk to him?”

“No, thank you, Reverend. I will speak with him.”

“I was going to say yes.” Olivia looked at Michael with some affront.

Clearly love was one thing, perfect understanding another.

“Reverend, it is what the duke wants for Olivia. He has spoken to her about it. But I will observe all the conventions and ask permission as any gentleman would.”

Michael turned to his almost-fiancée. “Olivia, if you are going to have a say on everything I do, I hope you understand that I have a say in what kind of buns you make for Sunday breakfast.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes, prepared for combat. The vicar forestalled it.

“What he is saying, my lady, is that the enormity of this aspect of commitment has this moment struck him for the first time, and it is something that you will have to discuss in more detail.”

She relaxed a little and Michael breathed thanks for the man’s understanding.

“Personally, I find it an admirable commitment that may well be the biggest challenge your marriage faces. I would advise that you have these discussions after you have been together in the most intimate way. It is a time when you are least guarded and most honest.”

Michael watched Olivia blush and did his best to nod with appropriate solemnity. The vicar had been married. The man knew what he was talking about.

“I want the two of you to have complete faith that you will be happily married before summer. You will have a place to live, Mr. Garrett, you will have an income and the duke will give you his blessing.” He stood up.

“That would take more than a pocket miracle, Reverend Drummond.” Michael was almost annoyed at the casual way the priest was dismissing their worries.

“Yes, it will, but I am certain that when the time is right, this living will be passed on to you.”

“This living? That is impossible, sir.” Michael added the last word with a bow, well aware of the rudeness that had been startled out of him.

“That is why it is called complete faith. Pocket miracles come to those who have even the slightest hope in God. In your case it is not as difficult as it seems, but yes, more than a pocket miracle.”

Olivia nodded, though her expression was serious. She actually believed him.

Michael did not. This was a man who went out at night to look for lost sheep.

“Your father is a bishop, my boy.”

Michael looked at Olivia who shook her head, denying she had told the vicar. “The duke has spoken to you about this?”

“I went to him when I realized who you were. He already knew.” He said it as though it was stating the obvious.

“Garrett is a common enough name. How did you connect me with the bishop?”

“It came to me in a dream,” Drummond said with all the certainty of an Old Testament prophet. “That sort of awareness often does these days. I do believe it is one of the true joys of aging for me.”

“I see.” Michael was not sure he did.

“We must take it on faith, Michael. At once the easiest and most difficult thing to do. Will you?” The promise in Olivia’s eyes was amazing.

“I will.” It felt like as much of a commitment as a marriage vow. Michael could not remember the last time he had taken anything on faith. Then he realized he had begun that list when he accepted that Olivia loved him.

Reverend Drummond came to Olivia and took her hand in both of his. “You have been blessed in this life and have shared it with the world around you, Lady Olivia. Mr. Garrett will be your greatest support, as you will be his. Your greatest joy and, I will be as honest as a widower can, your greatest exasperation. Believe me, it is worth the effort.”

“Thank you, sir.” Her voice was clogged with tears.

He nodded and patted her hand one last time. He took Michael’s hand in both of his. It was awkward, felt strange. Michael had expected no more than a handshake.

“Olivia is a treasure. She is your treasure now. Guard her with all the good in you. Love her with all the power your heart holds and, Mr. Garrett, listen to her.”

He spoke the last with a smile of such understanding that Michael had to smile back. Either that or cry himself.

Michael and Olivia walked arm-in-arm up the road from Pennsford to the castle. It was, at last, a perfect spring day. Who cared if it was already summer?

The walk took much longer than usual, as there were any number of spots where it was necessary to stop and admire the flowers or the green-tipped trees and share a kiss.

They approached the gatehouse as the sun bathed the castle in a golden light exactly as it had the evening he had first arrived at Pennford.

“This may be the coldest, wettest spring we have ever had, but it feels like the most glorious spring of my life.”

“I think it must be as Saint Paul says, that love makes all things new.”

“See, you are already sounding like a man of God,” she said on a laugh.

“If that’s so I will declare this day one of rest.”

“Oh yes, and we can spend all of it in bed.” She raised his hand and kissed it.

“Very enticing, but I think you would be missed in the kitchen.” He pulled her off the lane with a gentle tug and kissed her in case she thought his words a rejection. He pushed her curls off her face and framed it with his hands.

Olivia pulled him back onto the lane. “If we stop dawdling there will be enough time before Cook wonders where I am.”

“If you wish,” he said, pretending that giving her pleasure was a noble gesture on his part. “It would be pure joy if nothing disturbed us from now until the banns are announced. We could use some peace.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than one of the grooms hurried over to them.

“You must come immediately, Mr. Garrett. The most extraordinary thing has happened! Troy has learned to count!” Apparently it was so extraordinary the groom did not even notice that the night guard was holding hands with the duke’s sister.

Olivia laughed and pulled on his hand. “Hurry, Michael.” When he shook his head she let go of his hand and went ahead of him. She was back before she had gone far. “Michael, if Troy can count, do you think she can learn her letters?”

“Do not even suggest it, Olivia. The next few years would be a circus. And Pennsford is quite lively enough as it is.”

“Not only are you beginning to sound like a man of God, you are beginning to act like one.” She paused only a moment. “Stodgy.”

“Sensible.”

“Solemn.”

“Sane.”

“Somber.”

“Sagacious.”

“Oh that is excellent. You win this time, wise one.”

She blew him a kiss and hurried ahead.

Michael watched her dance along, her pink gown billowing behind her as though it could hardly keep up.

As much as he might tease Olivia, it was clear that his life was going to be anything but quiet. She would see to that, if the people of the castle ever considered making his life easier. He thanked God for it as he followed the heart and soul of his world into the stable to see exactly what Troy could count.