Mary Balogh (11 page)

“Yes,” he said. “I have not seen Clarence for many years. Or Miss Burnett, either.”

“Emma has never been far from home,” she said. “And Clarence has not for quite some time.”

She was breathless from climbing the hill and talking
at the same time. He paused and drew her arm more closely against his side. It would be so easy, she thought, to relax into this new state of amity, to believe that their natural and mutual concern for their daughter was a totally binding force, to imagine that the truce they had agreed to was a permanent peace. It was a feeling she must hold firm against. She did not want to have to go home in a month’s time to fight all the old battles again.

But it was easy to remember just why she had been so happy with him, why she had loved him so much.

“I think perhaps we have done the right thing, don’t you?” he said. “None of our guests threw up their hands in amazement that we would allow the betrothal of so young a daughter. And the rector seemed to feel that it was the most natural thing in the world for Sophia to be getting married. They look good together. They look as if they belong together.”

“Yes.” Olivia looked to the top of the hill, where their daughter and Lord Francis stood close together in animated conversation, their fingers laced. “They have known each other all their lives. That must help. It is not as if they have just recently met and have had romance blind them to each other’s faults. They talk to each other a great deal. They seem to be friends, Marcus.”

“Do you remember this hill?” he asked.

They had walked there the day before their wedding, when they had been able to escape from the frenzied activities going on at the house. They had climbed right to the top, as they were doing now, and let the wind blow in their faces and wished that the following day were over already so that they could be married and alone together.

“I don’t care about the houseful of guests and the feasting and all the rest of it,” he had said. “I just want you, Livy.”

“And I you,” she had said, turning into his arms. “Tomorrow, Marc. It seems an eternity away.”

“Tomorrow,” he had whispered against her lips. “And then no more separations. Night or day. Never or ever, Livy, until death do us part.”

“I love you,” she had told him, and he had kissed her long and deeply while they were buffeted by the wind.

“I wonder if they feel as we did then,” he said, and she knew that he was thinking of the same memory. “I wonder if they feel their wedding to be a mere nuisance standing between them and eternal bliss.”

“But it was a wonderful day after all, was it not?” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “They will discover that, too.”

Before they could remember that they should not reminisce together, they were at the top of the hill, and the breeze greeted them—and their daughter. She had released Lord Francis’s hand and pushed her way between them, taking the arm of each.

“Is this not wonderful?” she said, her cheeks glowing from the wind and happiness. “Miles and miles of countryside to see, the lovely sunshine, the cool breeze, and the three of us together again. Is it not wonderful beyond belief?”

“Yes, wonderful, Sophia,” Olivia said, and found herself fighting tears for some reason.

“You are truly happy, Sophia?” her father asked. “You have not rushed into anything merely because you are eighteen and it seems the thing to do to marry?”

“I am truly happy, Papa,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I am betrothed to the most wonderful man in the world and the most wonderful parents in the world are here to help me celebrate. This is going to be the happiest month of my life so far. And then all the years ahead with Francis. We want you to spend Christmas with us—you and
Francis’s parents, too, of course. And the New Year. Don’t we, Francis?”

Lord Francis had been laughing and joking with some of the other young people. He turned at the sound of his name. “Don’t we what?” he asked with a smile.

“Want Mama and Papa and your mother and father to spend Christmas with us,” she said. “And New Year. It is what we were talking about a few minutes ago when we were coming up the hill, is it not?”

“The very topic,” he said, smiling deep into her eyes. “And we were both agreed that by Christmas we will probably be able to take our eyes off each other for long enough to entertain relatives. We will be disappointed if all four of our parents cannot be there.”

“Mama?” Sophia asked eagerly.

“We will have to see,” she said. “That is a long time in the future.”

“Papa?”

“I shall be there, Sophia,” he said quietly.

“Doubtless there will be numerous other occasions, too,” Lord Francis said. “Won’t there, Soph?” Somehow he had possessed himself of the hand that had been linked through her mother’s. “Perhaps for the christening of our first child in a year’s time or less.”

Olivia heard her daughter suck in her breath as Lord Francis smiled at her again and raised her hand to his lips. Good heavens, had they talked about such a thing already?

“It looks as if the food has been taken from the baskets,” Mr. Hathaway said loudly enough for all to hear. “And I feel as if I could devour it all myself.”

“You would not be so unsporting,” Rachel Biddeford said.

“Oh, yes, he would,” Sir Ridley said. “I think those of us who hope to eat a bite had better race for it.”

“Well, Soph,” Lord Francis said, “you must lift your
skirt above the ankles and grasp my hand. I don’t intend to be the last to the chicken slices.”

And they were gone, all of the young people, laughing and shrieking and rushing down the hill.

The earl looked at his wife and smiled. “What was that we have been saying about their having grown up?” he said. “Were we like that at their age, Olivia?”

“Christmas,” she said soberly. “It is not really that far in the future, Marcus. Will Sophia be very disappointed, do you think, to have to entertain us separately? Surely she cannot expect everything to change just because she is marrying Lord Francis.”

“We will have to wait and see,” he said. “All we have agreed to is this month, Olivia. And we have done the right thing. She is very happy to have the three of us together again. Let us just live this month through, shall we, and worry about the rest when it is over?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “I have not looked forward to Sophia’s growing up. If I had known that it would lead to this sort of complication, I think I would have looked forward to it even less.”

“Shall we go down?” he said. “Are you hungry?”

“I suppose so,” she said, shrugging.

“I have had some of the trees cut back from the river bank down there,” he said, pointing down the north side of the hill. “Those very old ones. Unfortunately, they kept shedding ancient branches and sometimes whole trunks into the water and caused flooding. It seemed sad at the time, but actually the cutting back has made for a pleasant walk or ride. Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” she said. “Have you made many changes, Marcus? I remember that you used to accuse your father of being quite unprogressive.”

“The ravings of a younger man who had not yet learned to appreciate tradition,” he said. “It is a good thing, perhaps, that most men are older when they eventually
inherit. I have far more sympathy with my father than I used to have. Take my arm, Olivia. This section is steeper than it looks. Yes, I have made changes, of course, but nothing to destroy the character of the place.”

“What others have you made?” she asked.

A
WHOLE HOUR
passed and several of the guests, having finished their picnic tea, had already ridden back to the house before the earl and his wife came strolling around the bottom of the hill and began the climb to the remains of the feast.

“Oh, dear,” the countess said as if suddenly recalled to the present, “we have been neglecting our guests dreadfully, Marcus.”

“They do not look neglected,” he said. “In fact, I would say they look remarkably well fed. Is that Hathaway stretched out fast asleep? And several people are actually beaming down upon us—most notably Sophia. And Rose. Are you hungry yet, Olivia? I could eat a bear.”

“And I forgot to have bear patties packed in the hamper,” she said without stopping to think. His comment and her reply had been common ones during the years when they were living together.

“Cucumber and cheese and chicken will have to do instead, then,” he said. The old reply again.

Olivia felt a heavy ball of panic lodged deep in her stomach. Their plan must not be allowed to work too well. The plan was for public appearances for Sophia’s sake, not for private exchanges.

S
OPHIA AND
L
ORD
Francis rode off together, Cynthia and Sir Ridley Bowden a little behind them.

“What did you mean,” Sophia said accusingly when they were on horseback and on their way, “talking about our first child like that in front of Mama and Papa. I could have died of mortification.”

“Or of burst blood vessels in your head,” he said. “To say you turned scarlet, Soph, would be to understate the case. I was merely following your lead, that’s all. You are the one who started talking about Christmas and New Year and all that sort of sentimentality.”

“Inviting them for Christmas and a christening are two entirely different matters,” she said. “I scarce knew where to look. In one year’s time or less indeed. What a disgusting idea. I would rather …”

He held up a staying hand. “We are not going to have to go through all this toad and frog and snake business, are we?” he said. “Have done, Soph. The thought of infants and nurseries actually is enough to make me run all the way to Brazil without stopping or even noticing the ocean, so you need have no fear. Especially if you were to be the mother.”

“And that is just like you, too,” she said indignantly, “to give me such a very ungentlemanly setdown. I would rather be childless to my dying day than have you father my children. So there.”

“They were an hour alone,” he said, “out of sight of the whole company. And looking quite pleased with themselves and the world at the end of it, too. Very promising I would have to say, Soph. Another few days like this and we will be able to put an end to this charade before the wedding guests start to arrive.”

“Do you think so?” she said. “They did look almost like an ordinary married couple, did they not, Francis? But how are we to know that they will stay together after we have put an end to all this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “You will have
to ask them, I suppose, Soph. You are their daughter, after all.”

“Oh,” she said, “how can I go up to them and ask if they are going to remain together?”

“Ask them one at a time,” he said.

“I suppose so.” She frowned. And then she smiled radiantly at him. “The Christmas idea might work, though, Francis, even if this does not,” she said. “There is no time quite like Christmas for love and families and peace and warmth and everything else that is wonderful. If we can get them to come to us for Christmas, they surely will remain together afterward. Don’t you think?”

“Christenings sometimes have the same effect, too,” he said dryly. “Soph, I am coming more and more to the belief that you are either the wickedest schemer it has ever been my privilege to know or that you are a case for Bedlam. I rather lean toward the latter.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, mortified. “It will just have to happen this month, then, won’t it?”

“And sooner rather than later would be good for my peace of mind, too,” he said. “Promise me one thing.”

“What?” she asked, looking at him.

“That after this you will consider yourself fully revenged for all those nasty things I did to you as a boy,” he said. “That we will shake hands and go happily on our separate ways.”

“But you agreed quite freely to this,” she said. “I never agreed to all those horrid tricks. Don’t tell me that you are having second thoughts, Francis, and wish we had never started all this. You are, aren’t you?”

“Who? Me?” he said. “Having second thoughts? Why ever would I do that, Soph, when I am having so much fun? And when I am in imminent danger of being dragged off to the altar just so that we can have your parents for Christmas? It has never once occurred to me
to have second thoughts or to give in to an attack of acute anxiety.”

Sophia looked doubtful. “Well, then,” she said, “why are you talking about shaking hands and going our separate ways? If we do that, Mama will go home before she and Papa have realized that they cannot live without each other and I shall never marry because I will be finally convinced that no good can come of marriage. Do you want to be responsible for those two disasters?”

Lord Francis sighed. “When you get back to Bedlam, Soph,” he said, “ask them to reserve a room for me, will you? There’s a good girl. I am going to be needing it soon.”

Sophia clucked her tongue and spurred her horse to a canter. Lord Francis shook his head and went after her.

T
HEY REALLY DID NOT NEED THE DISTRACTION OF
the ball less than a week after the announcement of the betrothal, the duchess said. There was so much to do without all the preparations for that. She seemed oblivious to the fact that the earl had organized the ball several weeks before and that his servants were quietly and efficiently carrying out all the work that was to be done. She seemed equally oblivious to the fact that various competent persons had taken over the preparations for the wedding and that everything was progressing smoothly.

As His Grace commented to the earl and countess one afternoon when Her Grace had finally been persuaded to rest in her room for an hour on the understanding that the world would not collapse about her if she did so, her mind must not be disabused. She was entirely happy being in a panic about nothing.

Besides, the duchess had assured everyone, herself included, the ball was entirely necessary as an official celebration of the betrothal.

The countess and Sophia, accompanied by Lord Francis, were to go to London for a few days the following week in order to be fitted for wedding clothes and bride clothes. Olivia had mixed feelings about the approaching journey. So many years had passed since she had
been to town. And yet, she had always loved it there. Her come-out Season had been magical.