A Lord for Olivia (15 page)

Edmund laughed. “Tipped the edge. Here, I've reloaded for you. Have another go. This pistol throws to the left, remember.”

As he watched Jason aim and fire the pistol, Edmund pondered his situation. After their kiss the night of the Hervilles' party, Edmund knew his heart was in serious danger from Olivia Ormhill. He could have seduced her that night. She had been vulnerable, and she was attracted to him. He had promised her he would not do so, however. He wouldn't want her with anything less than her full consent, which meant mind and heart as well as body. Would she ever want him that way? Or was her heart still Corbright's? The thought sent pain lancing through him.

 

“Come into my study, please. Betty, have tea sent in, if you will,” Milton Ormhill instructed his maid before closing the door to his study. “Now, what brings you here today, my lord? Not spiritual guidance, I suppose?”

Corbright flashed a quick smile at his host. He seated himself and regarded the man as if not quite knowing how to begin. “Recent events relating to Olivia underscore my purpose in coming here today. I wish to purchase Jason's land.”

Ormhill almost dropped the pipe he had begun to fill. “You what?”

“You see, sir, Jason has no interest in it. He wishes to travel. You cannot deny that Olivia's management of the land occupies her far more than is good for her. It would be in both their interests if he sold and placed the money in the funds. His income would be secure, he could do as he pleases, and Olivia's cares and burdens would be sufficiently reduced that she might well consider marriage.”

Corbright leaned forward, looking earnestly at his astonished host. “I hope she will marry me, sir, but whether me or someone else, she must marry. It is not right, not safe even, for a woman to be on her own. Eventually she will be, you know, if matters go on as they have.”

Ormhill templed his hands, forcing himself to consider this request calmly. “Jason is younger than she; he'll always look out for her.”

“Unkind, though, to tie the boy down so, wouldn't you say? And this recent quarrel with George Swalen—well, don't think it will be the last. A hot young blood like Jason, cooped up as he is—”

Ormhill interrupted him. “We all feel the same on this subject. And I agree Olivia should marry. I must say I am impressed that you express yourself as wishing her to do so, even if it is not to you.”

“Naturally, I hope and believe it will be me. But I truly care for her. I want her free to find someone she can love and trust, and live a woman's life as God intended.”

At this the vicar rose and went to his window, which looked out upon the main street of the tiny village of Flintridge. “I am not entirely sure what God intended for women. The Bible praises female industry, you know. Are you familiar with the verses in Proverbs praising the woman who purchases a field and plants a vineyard?”

“But the woman referred to in that passage is a married woman, under the protection and guidance of a husband, is she not? I would not deprive Olivia of her interests in husbandry, nor her dominion over her own estate, even if her father's will did not prohibit it. He did not know me well, if he thought I would.”

“He didn't aim that will at you. It had been planned for a long time, since our sister . . .” Ormhill's voice broke and he covered his eyes briefly.

“I bitterly regret not understanding that three years ago. What do you say, sir? Will you not consider my offer? As I told Jason, I will be most generous as to price.”

“Jason has agreed to this?”

“He wished to think it over. He thought you'd never allow it, but I know you to be a man of reason.”

“Still, to sell Ormhill land . . .”

“I know it would be hard. Perhaps . . . perhaps a lease,” Corbright offered, brow furrowed. “Yes. Perhaps a lease. Five years, with an option to purchase if Jason still has no
interest in it. Once his estate is out of her hands, I think Olivia will marry. He can then see the world and yet return to his land if and when the wanderlust is satisfied.”

Milton Ormhill beamed upon the man regarding him so imploringly. “You surprise me, Lord Corbright. I think perhaps I have underestimated you. I will discuss the matter with Jason, but the offer of a lease seems to me to be an excellent idea.”

 

“F
or goodness' sake! It looks as if all the county is here.” Lavinia leaned forward to look out the window at Corbright Manor, which the late summer twilight revealed to be surrounded by carriages.

“So it does.” Olivia shrugged. “So much for an intimate dinner!”

Lavinia smiled archly at her niece. “Did you wish for one, dear?”

Olivia shook her head briefly. “Certainly not. But I expected one, merely a return of our hospitality to him and his uncle last week.” Corbright's uncle had practically lived at their house since the Hervilles' party two weeks before, courting her aunt even more assiduously than Corbright courted her. “Such a fete as this surely took some planning. Isn't that Lord Dalway getting out of that carriage? He is not the type to accept a spur-of-the-moment invitation.”

“I'm sure I don't know, but I suppose Corbright might have planned this without inviting us, then added us to the list as the two of you seemed to be getting along so well. Or perhaps the surprise he mentioned in his invitation has something to do with it?”

“I don't like surprises,” Livvy fretted. She certainly hoped tonight's surprise didn't involve her.

Jason tugged at his cravat. “Are you quite sure this is tied right, Livvy? I don't want to appear the gudgeon, and Turnby does not approve of elaborate cravats, so he was no help.”

“It is the loveliest waterfall I have ever seen,” Livvy assured him.

He looked at her suspiciously. “Have you ever seen a waterfall?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Ah. That's all right, then.”

Olivia smiled at her brother. In some ways he seemed a different person than he had been before Edmund came to them in late July. He had developed a more muscular physique, and a more mature outlook on life, but he still seemed impossibly boyish sometimes, and this was just such a moment.

 

Edmund went to the dinner party with Uncle Milton, as five would crowd Jason's carriage. He had been a bit surprised to be invited to Corbright's party. On the way, Mr. Ormhill sought additional information about his childhood experiences with Lord Corbright.

“I have told you the worst of several incidents. I believe at the time Franklin was much impressed by our family's title and history. For a cit's son to have been taken up by the scion of a noble family must have been heady stuff. I thought he would do anything to ingratiate himself with the aristocracy. Perhaps his behavior toward me echoed my brother's attitude, for Carl hated me cordially, but I can't help feeling it also reflects a vicious disposition.”

“Certainly his father yearned to be accepted into the
ton
. I confess I have always wondered why Franklin chose Olivia, rather than a member of a more tonnish family. Ah, there it is. A grand spectacle, is it not?”

Edmund leaned forward to see past Mr. Ormhill. Ahead stood a majestic home with massive Ionic columns on a broad portico, gilded by the late evening sun and ablaze with lights. “Quite something. It looks new.”

“It is. A lovely Elizabethan manor, Corbright Hall, was torn down to make way for it.”

Edmund settled back against the squabs again. “So that is where the Corbright title comes from—the manor.
Apparently Franklin's father thought using his family name might unnecessarily remind the
ton
of his plebeian origins.”

“Apparently he also thought the Tudor home insufficiently grand for his new title, for he had already begun its transformation when he died.” Ormhill's scornful tone made Edmund laugh.

As they approached Corbright's palatial home, Edmund pondered his relationship with the woman he now knew he loved. Olivia seemed to have accepted him, laughing and joking with him or talking over the latest agricultural journal quite as if he were her peer in knowledge as well as interest. There had been no more romantic interludes, though. She guarded her heart carefully. Did it still belong to Corbright?
She certainly can't fear that Franklin wants her just for her possessions,
he thought sadly as he looked at the ostentatious display of wealth that was Corbright Hall.

 

“You are right; he must have had this planned for some time,” Lavinia whispered into her niece's ear as she noted the guests, many of whom were not local at all, but had arrived from the four corners of England. They stood in the magnificent entryway waiting their turn to be announced and exchanging nods and greetings with acquaintances.

“Yes. Gracious, there is Cynthia. Fancy Lord Bower coming all this way for a dinner.” She smiled a greeting, and the lush blonde tugged her husband toward them.

“Olivia! Are you Corbright's surprise, then? For I am indeed surprised to see you here. Is there to be an interesting announcement tonight?”

“Not concerning me, I assure you. We are here as neighbors and friends, nothing more.”

“Hmmmm. Well, it is wonderful to see you. You have kept well away from town, and have been missed. Is it not so, my love?”

Lord Bower bowed his assent to this observation. He had been one of Olivia's suitors during her season. A taciturn man, he had chiefly signified his interest by standing near her whenever possible. When she became engaged to Corbright, he had courted Cynthia the same way. Olivia could
not but wonder in what manner he had conveyed his proposal. She did not wonder at Cynthia's acceptance, though. Beautiful though she was, Cynthia's chances at a good match had been severely limited by a small dowry. Lord Bower's wealth and title must have spoken quite eloquently for him.

“I understand you are become a great political hostess,” she said to Cynthia.

“Oh, yes. Bower is going to be a part of the ministry next year, I shouldn't doubt, and I take a great deal of credit, don't I, my love?”

Lord Bower nodded. “Charm,” he allowed.

Olivia supposed that Bower had the ability to converse more fluently about politics than he had to make idle chitchat, else he would not be a rising star among the Tories.

A stir in the group of people around them directed their attention to the open front door, where a footman was bowing Edmund and her uncle into the entryway.

“Who is that gorgeous man?” Cynthia whispered in her ear.

As if answering her, Lord Bower muttered, “Edmund Debham!”

“Lord Edmund is our houseguest,” Jason volunteered. “A friend of mine.”

“Heslington,” Bower said.

Cynthia cocked her head at her husband. “Ah, yes. Lord Edmund's brother. Bad blood there, I understand. Should add a certain interest to the evening.”

“Lord Heslington is here, then?” Olivia felt a stirring of unease.

“As you see.” Cynthia nodded toward a tall man a few feet ahead of them.

When their party was announced, Corbright's perfunctory politeness to the others gave way to effusive praise of Olivia's beauty, and expressions of joy at her arrival. He drew her aside, in fact, for a tête à tête in defiance of all the rules of hospitality.

“Livvy, dearest, I can't tell you . . . I am almost overcome. To see you here in my home! I wish all my other
guests at Jericho. But alas, this evening was planned long ago, and will be a great triumph, which your presence only makes the more delightful for me. In fact, I wish that you would consent to make it a double triumph. What do you say, shall we announce our engagement? Many already expect it.”

Olivia drew away, irritated. “Impossible.”

“Oh, it's possible,” he said confidently. “But you still require more time. Well, you shall have it, my love. You have waited three long years for me; I can't deny you a generous and ardent courtship in return. But the outcome shall be the same. I won't let you slip away again.” His look of burning intensity brought a flush to Olivia's cheeks.

She lowered her eyes and responded lightly, “You must let me slip away and give you back to your guests.” She led him across the room. “I see that Heslington is here.”

“Indeed. It should be interesting to see what he makes of his brother's new career.”

 

That Corbright and Olivia went apart for a private conversation at such a time seemed unpleasantly significant to Edmund. His opinion was shared by others. Jane Herville asked him if he thought there would be an engagement announced that evening. Mary Benson allowed that surely the surprise mentioned by Corbright in his invitation could be nothing else.

A chill went through Edmund as he remembered the wording of the invitation:
Please join me for dinner. Afterward there will be a surprise which will be of great interest to all who live in Norvale.
Could the surprise be the announcement of their engagement? Though she had received Corbright's visits politely, she had not seemed to Edmund to behave like a woman in love. Nor did she seem the type to keep such a secret from her family. However, he had not been present the night Corbright and his uncle dined with the Ormhills. He had decided it was a good time to accept Mr. Benson's invitation to dine with them. Had something happened between Olivia and Corbright that night?

He steeled himself for the possibility. If Olivia accepted
Corbright, he firmly told himself he would think no more about the matter. He had learned in the army to control his emotions, to submerge them in his work, and he would do so now.

He noticed his brother standing with a small knot of people by the fireplace. They were all looking at him, and at something his brother said, several laughed. He frowned. Heslington must be dealt with soon. He had no intention of taking any sort of insult lying down, not from such an unnatural brother.

No time like the present.
He approached the group just as Olivia and Corbright did.

“Olivia, you remember Lord Heslington.” Corbright proceeded to introduce her to those she did not know in the group. Edmund stood back a little, waiting and watching.

“I understand you are my brother's employer now, Miss Ormhill.” Heslington glanced briefly at Edmund. “I'd not waste too much time and energy on him, for he always was an ungrateful lad. I purchased his colors, kitted him up for the army at great expense, and made it possible for him to succeed resoundingly at the only career open to one so disinclined to learning, and here he is, having sold out and thrown it all away.”

“Lord Edmund is not an employee, my lord, but a valued friend of my brother,” Olivia responded hotly.

“What? I heard he spent his days loading hay wains. 'Twas the height of his ambition when a boy, was it not, Edmund?”

Edmund bowed. “Today my aspirations are a bit higher. Miss Ormhill has kindly agreed to school me in the art and science of running a large estate, something my father had intended for me to learn.”

Heslington stiffened at this, but said nothing.

Corbright chuckled. “That may be a bit harder than that of the loading of hay wains. I remember well how your old tutor used to complain of your scholarship. Tell me,
did
you ever learn to read and write?”

“Well enough to read and write dispatches to and from
Wellington,” Edmund said calmly. “Latin and Greek I confess I never quite saw the need for.”

“One does not need them to go into battle, that is true enough. Which is why I thought you so ideally suited for a soldier, brother.” Heslington rocked back on his heels, looking very self-satisfied.

“Yes, your kindness toward me has been duly noted. I will be glad to spread the word of it around, if you wish.
All
of it.”

Heslington flushed. “Did I not say he was ungrateful, Miss Ormhill? I hope you will spare me a few tips, by the by. I hear that you have developed a type of
sang froid
suited to dry land.”

Olivia thought it a very good idea to change the subject before the brothers came to blows, so she allowed Heslington to turn aside with her. “I cannot take credit for developing a new strain of alfalfa, my lord, but I have found that it actually prefers poor soil and dry conditions. I have improved my upper pastures amazingly by planting it.” They began to discuss the merits of various crops for grazing cattle.

Edmund understood her intentions, but regretted that Heslington had had the last word. He looked at Corbright, who smiled, eyes half-lowered, like a cat who had just finished a dish of cream.

Dinner passed without incident, and afterward Corbright insisted the men join the ladies immediately, promising champagne after his surprise had been announced. They all trooped into a large, empty salon lavishly decorated in the Greek style, with Ionic columns and faux marble friezes on the walls. Gods and goddesses enacted various legends, and satyrs and nymphs sported on an ornate, gold-trimmed ceiling. If the ladies had studied the scene depicted there they might have blushed. But all eyes were on the two objects in the middle of the room. What appeared to be a large painting and a long table were both draped in white muslin.

When all had entered the room and were ranged around these two objects, Corbright moved to the painting. A
footman took up position by the table, ready to remove the drapery.