A Lord for Olivia (14 page)

As these thoughts buzzed through her head, time passed, and her uneasiness grew. She knew young men had needs
they met in ways best not to think about. The thought of Jason and Edmund out whoring together did not calm her. Quite the contrary. She decided to go down to her office and get some work done, but all she did was pace the room, turning frequently to look out the window with a view of the lane. The three-quarter moon was setting, but she would soon be able to see their carriage lights when they came home. At last, past four o'clock, she saw the lights. Relief mixed with exasperation as she blew out her candles to keep Jason from knowing she had been watching for him. He already felt sufficiently tied to her apron strings without that!

She hastened out her office and up the stairs. Just as she reached the top, she heard John Baird, the sleepy footman who had waited up, greet his master with a cry. “Sir! What has become of you. Here, let me help, Lord Edmund.”

Heart racing, Olivia peeped around the corner. Supported by the two men, Jason staggered up the steps. She could not see his face, but his clothes were in disarray. Foxed? Injured?

She debated making herself known, to see for herself, when she heard him say, “Shhhh, don't make any noise. Don't wake Livvy. Have a fit, she would.”

“She'll find out soon enough, sir,” Baird said in a scolding voice. He had been with them long enough to assume that familiarity.

“True enough.” Edmund chuckled. “Can't hide that eye from her for long.”

“But by tomorrow I'll have worked out what to tell her. Don't want her to know what that man said. Bad enough she'll know he knocked me senseless, without knowing why. You don't think Swalen will talk about her again, do you?”

“I think he has a well-developed sense of self-preservation.”

Olivia drew back, deep into the alcove that held an ancestral suit of armor.
Swalen! He insulted me in front of my brother. That beast!
She did not want Jason to be aware of her. He did not want her to know, so she must pretend she didn't.

The three men made their way past her to Jason's room.
Once they had entered it, she couldn't resist drawing nearer, hoping to hear more. But all she heard was Turnby's sleepy voice quickly growing hysterical at the sight of his master. After a few minutes of confusion, he said, “You need someone to look after that cut on your hand, my lord. I'll ring for Morton, shall I?”

Edmund responded, “Nonsense. I can manage. No need waking up any more of the house. I'll leave you to Turnby and Baird, Jason.”

“Right. And thanks again, Edmund. He'd have gotten away with his blasted insults if you hadn't joined in. But I did pop one over his guard, didn't I?”

“That you did. Bloodied his nose smartly.”

Olivia retreated to her alcove as she heard Edmund leaving, knowing she couldn't make it to her room in time to avoid being seen. So Edmund had fought Swalen, too. Was he badly cut? Did he need for her to bandage his hand? She fought the urge to go to him. In vain, as it happened. Instead of crossing the hall to his own room, Edmund walked toward her hiding place.

“You can come out of there now, Olivia.”

 

W
hen she left her sanctuary, Olivia could not make out Edmund's expression in the dark hallway. A guilty conscience made her stammer out, “I didn't intend to spy. I had been working in my office when—”

“I thought I saw your light there, just as we turned into the carriageway. I confess I am surprised you did not make yourself known, especially when you realized Jason had been hurt.”

“I heard him say he did not want me to know. I thought he would decide I had been waiting up for him, and take umbrage.”

Even in the darkness she could see the flash of teeth as Edmund laughed quietly. “Yes, taking umbrage is something Jason is rather good at. Shall we continue this conversation elsewhere, before he takes umbrage at our talking about him behind his back?”

She let him take her by the elbow and lead her up the stairs to the long gallery. He guided her to the south end, and they sat facing one another on the banquette beneath the tall window, their only light that of the stars and the setting moon.

“What happened, Edmund? Can you tell me?”

“After the party several of the men decided to meet at the Black Lion for cards. I played with someone else; Jason sat with the Swalen brothers. The next thing I knew, Jason had jumped the table and landed the older one, Jerome, or—”

“George.”

“Yes, George. Planted him a facer, shouting something about insulting his sister. When I reached him, Jason asked me to be his second.”

Olivia drew in an alarmed breath.

“No, don't worry. No duel is forthcoming.”

“How did you prevent it?”

“I first asked the cause, but Jason refused, saying it would only spread the insult to a wider audience. Swalen declined to apologize, so I negotiated with his brother that the matter would be settled with fisticuffs. They went outside, and with lanterns to light their way, had at one another. I am sorry to say Jason got the worst of it. In fact, he was knocked quite unconscious, at which point I . . .” Edmund paused, looking down at his right hand.

“I suggested Swalen make his apology or we would continue, as I'd no mind to let an insult to you go unanswered. A few minutes more and he agreed to regret his words.”

“Oh, Edmund.” Olivia gently took his hand in hers. Her eyes had adjusted to the light, and she could see that blood oozed from his knuckles. “It must hurt. I shall bandage it. I am so very grateful to you.” And she kissed his palm.

“I am well recompensed, then.”

She lifted misty eyes to see his tender expression. He lifted his other hand and cupped her jaw, bending almost to kiss her, then pulling away.

“Sorry. You look so lovely in the moonlight. But you'd think me an opportunist to steal the kiss I want so much.”

“You won't have to steal it.” She leaned forward, held her face up, and let her eyes drift closed as he pressed his mouth to hers. It was a tender, gentle kiss that sent sweet yearning sensations all through her, and he ended it before she wished.

For several moments they just sat there and looked at one another in the dim light.
What am I,
she wondered,
to want his kisses so much, when I felt earlier in the evening that I might still love Franklin?
She bit her lower lip and looked away. Edmund sighed and started to rise.

She stopped him by asking how badly Jason had been hurt.

“He's going to have a very black eye and swollen jaw, but he took no permanent harm, unless it be to his pride.”

“He has such a hot temper. I wonder what it was all about?”

“As to that, he would say only that he had provocation enough.”

Olivia shuddered, remembering the things George Swalen had said to her at dinner. “That I can believe.”

“I take it the Swalens have some sort of quarrel with your family? For I could not help but notice how little you enjoyed your dinner conversation with him.”

“I am surprised you noticed, considering how well you and Mary Benson got on.”

He laughed. “That is the second time you have alluded to her. Dare I hope you are jealous?”

She tipped her chin up. “Certainly not.”

“Pity.”

Another long, pregnant pause ensued, which Olivia half feared, half hoped would end in another kiss. But Edmund roused himself and stood. “You did not answer my question about the Swalens.”

“I never saw either of them before tonight, nor heard tell of them.”

He held out his hand to her. “Come, Olivia. It will be dawn soon. You need some rest.”

“And you need that hand taken care of.”

“I can manage it.”

“I insist.”

He flashed that smile again, the one that made her feel a bit weak in the knees. “Much as I would relish your ministrations, your presence in my room at this hour might cause talk.”

“We'll go to the kitchen. I've no doubt Cook will have begun breakfast by now, anyway.”

Having obtained the necessary basin of water, unguent, and bandages, they repaired to Olivia's office. As she washed and bandaged his hand, she pondered Jason's behavior.

“He has always been hot to hand. I do wish he would learn to control his temper.”

“A young man cannot hear his sister insulted and do nothing, Olivia.”

She frowned. “No, I suppose not. Do you think I worry too much about him?”

“No. I think you do not worry enough.”

This brought her head up sharply. “Now you have surprised me.”

“He is no hand with his fists, though pluck to the backbone. Does he fence? Shoot well?”

“He rarely misses his bird.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“No, he is an indifferent shot with the pistol. And his fencing can but be rudimentary, for he has had little training.”

“As I supposed. Perhaps you thought to protect him by neglecting these matters.”

She sighed. “My father took no interest in the so-called manly arts. And I thought them dangerous.”

“I understand your desire to protect him. But it is much more dangerous, particularly for one of Jason's temperament, if he does not know how to defend himself, Livvy.”

Olivia said nothing. The use of her nickname on his lips distracted her momentarily. She ought to scold him, to return to formality with him. And knew she wouldn't. She finished her task, rinsed her hands, and moved away from him, going to the French doors to look out at the scene beginning to lighten with the faint hint of dawn.

“Shall I take him in hand, Livvy?”

He had come to stand beside her, looking down at her with that warmth that she found so delightfully unsettling.

“I can teach him some science, though of course I've not had the benefit of the tutelage of Gentleman Jackson. Still, when in cantonment in Portugal, we filled many hours sparing and fencing. I am accounted a very good man with a sword and pistol, too.”

When she did not answer, he looked away. “Of course,
Corbright is known to be accomplished in fencing and shooting. Perhaps he will take the boy in hand.”

Olivia shook her head. “I do not wish to be beholden to him.” He turned his head back, and she saw the quick dawning of hope. “Not . . . not yet. I do not know . . . I am very confused right now.”

“Ah.” He looked away again, and his mouth took on a grim line. “Nor do you wish to be beholden to me. I understand entirely, though I assure you I do not think teaching Jason to defend himself would give me the right to expect anything from you.”

She looked up at him now, looked into a face that had hardened, grown wary. “I do not think you would, Edmund. I trust you. Yes, I would like you to take him in hand. Perhaps . . . perhaps you could even suggest that we go to London instead of our usual trip to Scotland for the shooting season. He could go to Manton's, and perhaps this so-called Gentleman Jackson could give him a few pointers. If the suggestion came from you . . .”

He smiled, warmth returning to his eyes. “Much better than from his sister!”

“Much! And I confess I would prefer London to Scotland for a change. For him to shoot and hunt, Aunt Lavinia and I must go, you see. He won't leave me. We go there for the grouse, then return here for the holidays, then off to Melton Mowbray for foxhunting. A tiring, boring trip for my aunt and I, but we must go, else he would fret even more than he already does. And it is always so difficult to manage things here when I am away. London will be more convenient.”

How they both suffer from this strange bind they are in,
Edmund thought. “Perhaps I can look after things here for a few weeks, if you think me up to it.”

“I think you up to most anything you put your mind to, Edmund. That is the very thing! I shall make a list of what needs to be done. You've already gained the respect of my workers; they'll follow your direction quite as well as mine. Perhaps better.” She smiled ruefully, a smile that turned suddenly into a massive yawn.

“I hope you can stay abed this morning,” he said, looking worried.

“Alas, I cannot. Uncle would be very disappointed if I missed services. I can nap this afternoon, though.” She turned back to the scene before them. “I love being up at dawn, though I rarely see it at the end of the night, rather than the beginning of the day.” She looked out at the river, now echoing the pink streaks in the dawn sky. “It's beautiful.”

“A beautiful sight indeed,” he agreed. But he was not looking at the scenery.

 

Corbright startled her by appearing just after breakfast the next morning. He asked to speak to her privately, and immediately launched into a tirade. “I shall call George Swalen out,” he declared. “Any insult to you will not be tolerated.”

“I wish no duels fought! The matter was dealt with at the time.”

“Hmmmph. Fisticuffs. Not a gentleman's way of dealing with such a matter.”

“Better a broken nose than a death. Edmund flattened the man. That is enough.”

“And that is another thing. It is not for Edmund to protect you,” he shouted.

“It is not for you to protect me, either. It is none of your affair.”

“And it
is
Edmund's, I suppose?” Corbright spoke through clenched teeth, a vein throbbing in his temple.

Olivia shuddered. “A tavern brawl is all it was, and best forgotten. How did you know about it?”

“Servants seem to know everything,” Corbright said, waving his hand vaguely. “Olivia, I beg you to marry me right away. I will protect you, and Jason can go about his life.”

Olivia snapped, “I cannot accept. I would prefer that you not come here if you cannot refrain from pressing me this way.” She turned her back on him. “Please go.”

There was a long silence behind her. At last she heard
him sigh. “Very well, Olivia. I will go. But whether you will have me or not, no man is going to insult you with impunity.”

She whirled on him. “A duel will make me a byword in the community and cause a lifetime of scandal. I forbid it.”

“There are other ways, and I will find them. For now, I bid you good-bye before we quarrel further.” He took her by the shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, striding away without acknowledging her protest.

Whether because of his annoying possessiveness, or because of the memory of Edmund's tender kiss last night, Olivia couldn't have said—all she knew was an intense relief that he was gone, and satisfaction that it would be Edmund, not Corbright, who would teach Jason to defend himself.

After Sunday services Uncle Milton accompanied them home and joined them for luncheon, where he inspected his injured nephew and hollow-eyed niece closely. He glared sternly at Jason. “Once we are alone, I expect you to be more forthcoming with me about exactly what was said. If it was some minor taunt, you have by your actions exposed Olivia to scandal for little reason.”

“I will gladly tell you, sir, in private.” Jason held his head high. Olivia found it painful to look at him, with his purpling eye and swollen jaw, but she knew as she looked into his eyes that the comment had been as bad as what Swalen had murmured in her ear at dinner. She wondered, if Edmund knew the full truth, whether he would still think it had not been a killing matter.

 

“There goes Corbright. Looks as if he just came from Beaumont.” Jason peered down at the tall, elegantly dressed rider on the road that rose toward Flintridge.

“You did better on that shot.” Edmund strolled to the edge of the bluff and looked down. “Calling on your sister, I suppose.” Corbright had called several times since the Hervilles' party. He looked at Jason, wondering what the boy thought of the man's attentions to his sister.

Jason smiled. “Yes, looks like it's on again. I did better, you say? Does that mean I actually hit the target this time?”