Lady Farquhar's Butterfly (6 page)

Yet she could
not deny she welcomed his touch when he gripped her arms tightly,
his expression full of sympathetic understanding as she added, ‘He
was a cruel man and I was not sorry when fever took him.’ She
nestled her head against his chest when he drew her against him.
She would stay there forever, if he’d let her.

When he raised
her head with a gentle finger beneath her chin, they were facing
the great house in the distance.

‘I wish I
could offer you all this.’ His sweeping gesture took in the
sun-kissed landscape, the handsome grey stone house with its
battlements harking back to a much earlier age, its later additions
making it a home rather than a fortress. ‘But it is better to be
frank. I only hold it in trust for my ward. When Julian is of age I
shall return to my own estate.’ He added, softly, ‘I’m afraid my
own home is a good deal more humble. Nevertheless, it is not the
bricks and mortar that gladdens the heart but rather what dwells
within.’

Resting his
chin lightly on the top of Olivia’s head as he held her to him he
did not see the spasm of realization that shocked her to her very
foundations. Did not register the strain in her voice as she ground
out, ‘I hope you do not resent the efforts you will expend on the
boy’s behalf, only to be turned out when he turns twenty one. I
must tell you’ – it was hard to say the words, looking upon all
this that was once her husband’s and that she might have held,
herself, in trust for her son had Lucien not changed his will – ‘I
come with nothing, Mr Atherton.’

‘What a fine
match,’ he said, swinging her back into the circle of his arm, his
easy smile banishing his former sobriety. ‘I was hoping I could not
be accused of fortune-hunting. However, I was trying only to weasel
from you your feelings, not what you had to offer. Promise you’ll
stay?’ He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose.

Her feelings.
She wanted to wither in his arms with longing before she expired
from shame; she wanted to scream at the injustice. Instead, she
tried to swallow past the bitterness as she spoke the truth. ‘My
feelings? That you are the kindest man I’ve ever met.’

And the lie
she was forced to utter. ‘Of course I’ll stay.’

With an effort
she curved her lips into a smile as she gazed upon his strong
features, his warm open expression. She wanted to commit them to
memory.

For how could
she see him again when the child she presented to the world as
Lucien’s heir denied the man she loved his rightful
inheritance?”

*

‘Is it to be
the vermilion silk or the Pomona green?’ With a decisive snip,
another dead-headed rose dropped into Amelia’s basket.

Had Olivia
known Amelia was on her knees behind the rose arbour she would have
chosen another route back to the house.

Max’s sister
had not gone out of her way to be friendly. Olivia suspected she
considered her a brazen fortune-hunter and, indeed, she could
understand Amelia’s concern at her charming, good-natured younger
brother making no secret of his susceptibility to Olivia’s
charms.

As Olivia
hesitated over her answer, Amelia smiled suddenly. ‘Try them both
and we’ll choose, if you like.’ Rising stiffly, she added, ‘I’ll
come to your room directly after luncheon. I don’t know if Max told
you we’re expecting guests for tea.’ Taking Olivia’s arm she began
to walk with her to the house. ‘Miss Hepworth and her mother are
visiting us from Bath.’ She glanced at the sky. ‘I hope we shan’t
have more snow. It’s two hours when the roads are good and Miss
Hepworth is an indifferent traveller.’

Olivia managed
a sweet, responsive smile. Amelia was warning her off; telling her
Max had another contender for his affections. Not that it mattered,
she tried to convince herself, as Amelia led her away. She had no
claim to Max’s affections and never would have. But this new
knowledge had come to her so recently and with such startling
clarity that the pain was almost too acute to bear. She wished only
she could find her way to her room and cry out her anguish in
peace.

Stopping to
rearrange a dead rose that was in danger of falling from her cane
basket, Amelia said blithely, ‘Miss Hepworth is a sweet girl.’
There was the tiniest pause. ‘With a nature that has not been
spoiled by her fortune. I believe Max will see the wisdom of such a
match.’ The smile she slanted at Olivia was guileless.

But then,
women such as this, Olivia thought bitterly as she concentrated on
the toes of her boots as they walked towards the house, were always
bursting with the stuff when they appeared at their most innocent.
The man who had all but told her he loved her had been on the verge
of committing himself to another when she had entered his life.

Another who
was far richer and undoubtedly more worthy.

‘I believe Max
told you a little about how he came to have wardship over his
cousin’s son.’

Olivia was not
surprised at the conversational tone. Max’s sister was reinforcing
her opposition using the subtlest of means.

Without
waiting for a reply, Amelia went on, ‘Max and his cousin, Lucien,
were the sons of twin brothers. Or perhaps he’s already told you
the sad story?’

Still, Olivia
did not answer. Of course she knew, but hearing it from Amelia
highlighted the fact that she was acting a charade, being given
information as a stranger would. Information calculated to
highlight her point: despite her guilt, indignation flowered as
Amelia expanded her theme.

‘It’s not just
on Max’s personal account that it was a tragedy Lucien’s father was
the twin born ten minutes earlier’ – Amelia made no secret of her
bitterness, now – ‘since he was destined to become the gamester of
the family.’

Olivia’s
throat grew dry. She understood the direction Amelia’s veiled
warning was taking, couched as it was in predictable homily: the
desperate struggle of a once-great family to survive its past.

With unfocused
gaze she stared ahead as they continued towards the house. She
could not look Amelia in the eye just as she knew she could never
look Max in the eye again.

Acid burned
her throat. He might forgive her the one deception: but not the
other.

If she could
keep her tears at bay just two more minutes, she thought,
increasing her pace. Lord, she’d become well practised at holding
them back when Lucien had been alive.

Max was the
innocent, in every way. He would never know how he had been cheated
and she could never tell him. Not when it risked the future of her
child.

‘Like father,
like son, Lucien followed his own father’s dissolute ways just as
Max, even-tempered and charming, favoured our father.’ Stopping at
the base of shallow stone steps that led to the portico she fixed
Olivia with her clear, level gaze.

‘Now, of
course, Julian will inherit Lucien’s estates. With Max’s guidance
we hope he might resist the temptations which were the ruin of his
father and grandfather. His father’s weakness was gambling, his
grandfather’s was useless causes.’ She gave a bitter laugh, adding,
‘Thank God the estate was entailed so neither Lucien nor his
grandfather could gamble
that
away. Our grandfather sold
everything of value he could lay his hands on to raise funds for
the failed Jacobite uprising of 1745. Now Max struggles to maintain
Elmwood’ – With a sweep of her arm she indicated the house and
beautifully manicured gardens, the fields falling away on all sides
– ‘while he leases out his own much more humble estate. He needs to
make a good match.’

She nodded at
Olivia, her smile warm again. ‘I will be up later to help you
select your gown. You would look just as well in either colour.
Certainly Max will think so. Your unexpected arrival has been a
lovely diversion and I hope we shall be friends. Now, please excuse
me, I must speak to Cook.’

She didn’t
even wait to see how her words registered with Olivia, slipping the
basket over her other arm before running lightly up the stairs and
through the doors which opened on cue.

Struggling to
recover her composure Olivia turned back to the garden. She swept
her eyes across the beautifully kept lawns, her vision blurring as
she thought of that night a little over two years ago when Lucien
had been away hunting and of the terrible storm during which her
baby had been delivered.

Dear God, why
had she not considered the implications of her actions before she
came here? Before she met Max?

‘Ma’am?’ The
housemaid’s voice issued down to her. Olivia turned to see that she
continued to hold the door open, her expression enquiring.

She dropped
her eyes, mumbling, ‘I must have lost my handkerchief during my
walk.’

Retracing her
footsteps she returned to the bench by the rose arbour. Some
minutes later Charlotte appeared at the foot of the hill, taking a
seat beneath a poplar tree while the boys played nearby with Max’s
King Charles Spaniel, Pansy.

Julian was
trying to knot its ears upon its head but it kept rolling over
before scampering in circles around the children.

Olivia stared.
It was hard to breathe as she watched his innocent play. He was
such a delightful child: dark, like Lucien, but eventempered,
sunny-natured.

How she longed
to have him back, to be his mother once more, and how it tore at
her heart to know he would not thank her for wrenching him from his
happy home. She could see he thrived.

She blew her
nose loudly, remembering the way the boys had laughed and shrieked
with delight as Max had played with them yesterday.

She did not
see Max until he was nearly upon her.

‘Olivia?’ He
seated himself beside her.

She kept her
head averted though she did not remove her hand when he took it and
rested it on the seat between them. She needed to enjoy his touch a
little longer.

There was a
pause before he said, ‘Amelia told you about our guest this
afternoon.’ It was a statement, not a question.

She nodded.
Rather than try to exonerate himself he said, ‘I was looking
forward to her visit … until you came along. You have rather
complicated matters.’ He gave a rueful laugh, adding hastily, ‘I
mean only to the extent that it would have been more fortuitous if
I’d met you before Amelia made preparations for Miss Hepworth’s
house visit. She returns in a few days for the ball.’

‘Amelia
intimated you’ve already fixed your interest with the young lady.’
Olivia stared dully ahead, her hand limp in his, her heart like a
stone in her chest. ‘That she comes with a fortune to match her
pretty face.’

It did not
seem out of place discussing the matter in such bald terms. She and
Max had come a long way in a very short time yet she knew Max’s
defence made no difference. She had no choice but to leave.

He spoke
carefully. ‘It is true I paid her particular attention during the
week we were in Bath together. Miss Hepworth’s mother is ambitious
for a match between us and Miss Hepworth, herself, appears not to
be averse.’ Though Max’s voice was matter-of-fact his expression
was worried as he looked at her. He added, ‘I have never spent any
time … alone … with Miss Hepworth.’

Olivia felt
the heat rise in her cheeks as she brought her head around to face
him. ‘Do you think I am a fortune-hunter?’

His laugh
seemed to drain the tension from him. To her surprise he hugged her
against his side. ‘If that were the case you would have chosen your
target more carefully.’

‘Elmwood is a
very beautiful property.’

‘My pride and
joy, though, as I have told you, a property I only hold in trust.’
He brought his face close to hers. ‘But I bear no resentment at
having one day to return to my own lands.’ His grip on her hands
tightened. ‘I have thought a great deal lately about finding a wife
whose sentiments were in harmony with my own. One who loves Elmwood
but who is not so attached she would not be equally content with my
smaller, humbler domain.’ He chewed his lip. ‘Or a small, humble
farmer whose ambition is simply to breed the best wool in the
county.’ Olivia couldn’t let him go on. Not in this direction when
her own desires followed his but her guilt tore her asunder. She
longed for a quiet life. She yearned for a kind, uncomplicated
husband who would love her without making excessive demands, and
love her son.

Gently, she
withdrew her hand. ‘Amelia tells me your cousin gambled away much
of the family fortune and that you need to make a good match to
maintain Elmwood, much less your own estate.’

The words
tasted like ashes yet she had to draw from Max his feelings on the
subject.

Reclaiming her
hand, he stroked her palm with his thumb. ‘I know nothing about you
or your past, Olivia.’ He looked suddenly boyish, almost shy. ‘I
just find you utterly enchanting. If you are about to tell me you
learned since nuncheon that you’re about to come into a large
fortune, there’s no denying I’d be delighted, for you do realize
that I wish to court you.’ He brought her hand up to his lips. ‘The
fact that you bring nothing signifies nothing.’

Olivia tugged
her hand away. Rising, she looked down at Max.

‘Please,
don’t—’

‘Adrian’s a
bear and I’m a rabbit—’

Careering up
the lawn with his cousins in hot pursuit, Julian threw himself at
Max’s feet.

Max held
Olivia’s look, then laughing, rose and scooped her son up into the
air just as Adrian arrived, roaring at his cousin’s heels.

‘We will talk
about this later, Olivia.’ Max reached down to give her shoulder a
quick squeeze. The tenderness in his expression made her heart
somersault. Lowering his head to her ear while his nephew squirmed
under his arm, he said, softly, ‘If you have nothing, Olivia, it
stands to reason you need someone to look after you. Might I dare
hope you could come to care for me? That you would, at least,
permit me to pay you my addresses?’