Miss Goldsleigh's Secret (7 page)

Chapter Nine

Olivia stopped to check on Warren before she headed downstairs for breakfast. When she poked her head in the room, she found her brother lazing in bed and Lord Dalton’s youngest sister, Helen, reading to him from a massive book of tales of King Arthur.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“Morning, Livvy.” Warren smiled, and Helen paused in her reading.

“I’m keeping him company, Miss Goldsleigh,” the girl told her and gestured unnecessarily with her book.

“I see.” Olivia noted an empty breakfast tray with satisfaction. He couldn’t be too miserable if he was eating. “Don’t monopolize all of Helen’s day. I’m sure she has other things to do today besides keep you entertained.”

“Oh no,” Helen said, her air of solemn dignity charming. “I have nothing to do except maths and French verb conjugations. Believe me, this is much more important.”

Warren shrugged with his good arm. Olivia closed the door to the sounds of knights and ladies and swords in stone.

Olivia smiled and thanked the giant of a butler when he opened the breakfast room door for her. She literally had to tilt her head all the way back to look him in the eye.

“Good morning, Miss Goldsleigh.” The new voice was pleasantly deep.

“Oh, good morning to you, my lord.” She curtsied to Lord Dalton.

“I trust you slept well,” he asked, laying his news sheets to the side of his plate.

Olivia nodded. “I did, thank you very much.” She surveyed the morning repast displayed on the buffet.

“I stopped off at Warren’s room on the way down this morning,” Lord Dalton informed her.

“As did I. Your youngest sister was reading him tales of high adventure.”
Mmm, blueberry muffins.

Lord Dalton chuckled. “Helen is always looking for another pet. Since I refused her latest request of a squirrel, she’s probably decided your brother will do nicely for the time being.”

Olivia paused with a ladle full of egg and hollandaise sauce and turned to look directly at the marquess. “A squirrel?”

“Oh, indeed. Prior to that, she’d read a true account of the exploring Scotsman, Mungo Park, complete with pencil illustrations, and decided that a hippopotamus would enjoy living in our pond.”

“I should think the squirrel would be preferable to a hippopotamus.” Olivia contemplated the image of a squirrel running loose around this fine house with all the priceless
objets d’art
. “Well maybe not. At least the hippopotamus would stay in the yard.”

An attentive servant placed her full plate on the table to Dalton’s right. She nodded her thanks to him for a cup of tea.

“One would hope.” Dalton regained his seat and grinned at her. “Before the hippo, there were impassioned pleas for a wolf, a boa constrictor and, let me make sure I get this right, a Double-eyed Fig Parrot.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows in question.

“From what I understand, they have the appropriate number of eyes at two. They’re from somewhere in Australia,” Dalton told her with a dismissive flick of a thick, masculine wrist.

“I think it’s impressive she’s read so many books on exploring for a girl her age.” Her taste buds did a little dance of joy at the blueberry muffin slathered in butter.

“I certainly don’t discourage her.” Dalton drank from a steaming coffee cup. “But I did take pause when I learned she was saving her pin money for a trip to Borneo.”

Olivia expelled a surprised breath. “Borneo! Well, I dare say, I wouldn’t worry about it. It will take a lot of saving to get to Borneo. Something else will catch her fancy by then.” She could only imagine how expensive a trip to Borneo would cost. She knew precisely how costly a trip to America was, and that had to be an easier voyage to plan than Borneo.

“To God’s ears!” Dalton’s smile was heart-stopping, dazzling. Like a blithesome, blond hero of myth.
Mercy
. “Can you imagine what animals she’d come home with from Borneo?”

“Isn’t that where pygmies are from?”

“No.” Dalton shook his head. “Pygmies are from Africa. But they do have giant orange apes in Borneo.”

“Oh, right, orange-a-somethings? I’ll bet she could fit several of them in a steamer trunk.”

“You appear to have read quite a bit yourself, Miss Goldsleigh.” He still wore the intoxicating smile, and now his eyes watched her with focused interest that made her suddenly quite shy.

“My father was a scholar. He read everything, so there were always plenty of books to enchant and educate.”

Dalton nodded in approval. “Speaking of scholarly pursuits, I took the liberty of informing Helen’s governess she would have another student as soon as Warren is feeling well enough to venture into the schoolroom. I’ll interview a tutor for him soon. Assuming that’s all right with you.”

Olivia was astounded, shocked enough to forget the muffins and jam and eggs on her plate. A gentleman asking for her opinion, nay, her permission. Remarkable. Still, she had no idea how long they would be staying and living off the marquess’s generosity. How much did a tutor cost? Were they paid a salary? Did room and board count in the salary?

“Miss Goldsleigh?”

Olivia jerked out of her own head. “No, thank you very much for asking. I don’t mind, of course. I hate to have him get too settled in and attached, but a schoolroom’s a good place for him.” A thousand times better than chumming up with a gang of housebreaking ruffians.

Dalton captured her gaze and held it, his azure eyes beguiling. “Please think of this as your home for as long as you need to. As you can see, we have more than enough room for you. You mustn’t think that you’re putting me or my family out in any way.”

Olivia considered the man for a long moment from across the expanse of table. He was truly disconcertingly handsome. And from all the evidence she’d seen, he was a good one, too. To say that was refreshing was the understatement of the century. If there was one thing she had learned from her sojourn in Seven Dials, it was that men, almost unilaterally, were not to be trusted. If they weren’t groping at her, or trying to cheat her, then they were asleep or dead. It appeared perhaps Lord Dalton was sent from heaven to restore her faith in the masculine universe. But could she allow him to go to the trouble of taking on Warren’s schooling? Was there such a thing as too much generosity? And was it really free or, like so many other things, was there a secret price to be revealed later?

“Frankly, I have no idea how I’ll ever repay you. However, I do not intend to accept your offer carte blanche. My conscience can’t allow me to take advantage of your hospitality indefinitely.”

Lord Dalton’s eyebrows went up at that, and she held out a hand, palm up in a quieting gesture before he had a chance to interrupt. She continued, “I am also not a fool, and considering my other options, which are horrifying at worst and meager at best, I am thankful you are allowing my brother and I to stay, for a while at least, until I can regroup and formulate a plan.” All of her hopes resided with a solicitor she couldn’t visit.

“Certainly,” he conceded. “So long as you realize you are both welcome. We have the resources to help you, and they are being offered in good faith, so take it for what it is.”

Olivia looked away, breaking their gaze. It was very intimate, the way he captivated her attention, and a small but not unpleasant shudder pass through her, sort of a hint of awareness of him she’d not felt with other men. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t started their budding friendship with a two-handed grope. She hadn’t owned the luxury of girlish fancies in many months, and the direction her thoughts were headed now took a decidedly dreamlike hue. The way the sun came through the windows behind him—would it be too much to ask for a knight in shining armor?

Don’t be absurd, Olivia. There is no such thing as knights in shining armor in this day and age. Smart girls take care of themselves.

And smart girls know when to accept help.

They ate their breakfast in silence for a few minutes. The sound of crunching bacon and the clatter of silver against the china mingled with the rustle of the news sheet to make up the symphony of a companionable breakfast. Finally, Lord Dalton cleared his throat and looked at her pointedly.

“Yes?” she asked, the last bite of eggs poised halfway to her mouth.

“I had a grand time with your brother yesterday—before the accident.” He qualified his statement. “I was thinking it would be nice to get to know you better, too.”

Olivia didn’t know what response was actually required for that statement, so she simply blinked at him.

“Do you ride?” he asked.

“I’m from the country,” she noted modestly. “I ride, not often enough for my tastes, but yes I do enjoy riding.”

Dalton stood from the table. “At the risk of setting tongues wagging, would you like to go for a ride through the park this morning? My man purchased some horses Warren and I had gone to Tattersall’s for in the first place, and they were delivered to the stables this morning. Care to take them through their paces with me?”

“That would be most agreeable. As fate would have it, your aunt demanded I get a riding habit yesterday. Who would have thought it would come in handy so quickly?” She also stood from the table, and they walked out towards the main hall in companionable company.

“If there are any ladies in the entire city of London who know more than mine about necessary fashion, then I don’t know who they are. At least this time, I can be grateful for their way about a modiste.” Dalton chuckled.

“If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll be ready.”

“Shall we say half an hour?”

“That will be perfect.” Olivia traipsed up the stairs, excitement mounting. Shopping may have intimidated her, but riding was something she knew and enjoyed and felt confident doing. And it didn’t cost anything.

Her riding habit was honey-colored velvet and the height of fashion with its military-style embellishments and braiding on the Spencer jacket. She adored this dress and she knew she looked fantastic in it. The long train gave an illusion of height, so she didn’t seem quite so tiny, and the color was outstanding. The warm honey shade next to her hair gave her a lovely glow and lent her an unusual self-assuredness.

While Natalie was adjusting the precious matching hat with the quirky little tassel, Olivia assessed herself in the looking glass. She didn’t appear too young, or too pale or all of the other things she was
too
of. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. She did seem too thin. Her cheeks were still gaunt—she turned her face to the left to see her profile—and her nose seemed a bit too pointy or something.

“There you are, miss.” her maid interrupted her critical analysis. “Pretty as a picture.”

Olivia turned from the mirror and her self-assessment to smile at the young maid. “Thank you.”

Olivia skipped down the stairs, anticipating her ride in the park and an outlet for her nervous energy.

Chapter Ten

Dalton felt inexplicably anxious at the thought of Miss Goldsleigh and Warren leaving. His reaction was a bit annoying, actually. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t have enough people in this house to be concerned about. Sometimes the mantle of responsibility wore him very thin. In fact, his escape fantasies were getting more vivid by the day, waking dreams about hopping a ship and sailing away to the South Pole or sub-Saharan Africa. Hell, even Borneo.

And he felt boring and bored. And predictable. And restless. And he was going nowhere. Not to Istanbul or Outer Mongolia or even to see the Rocky Mountains in America. Not with four sisters and all the rest to take care of. And now he was resistant to letting two more responsibilities go their merry way? He needed his head examined.

Sigh.

And yet.

The girl was intriguing. It seemed this tiny slip of a girl had more to her than met the eye. He had already been impressed with her ability to survive. He wondered how many young men of the ton, when dealt with her challenges, would have survived with as little to work with as she’d had. And she’d kept her brother alive as well. That was a feat worth respecting, whether you were a man or a woman.

She was also quick wit. And intelligent. And beautiful.
Lord, let’s not forget beautiful.
She was a perfect, compact female apparition of…of…of loveliness. That was poorly said, but for lack of better words, that’s exactly what she was: a tiny, beautiful lady with a porcelain doll’s face. Well, tiny wasn’t right, and compact felt more like a box than the appropriate word to describe her. Perhaps he found her so interesting because petite ladies were not his regular type. He was usually drawn to tall, willowy women like his mother and sisters. Like Francesca, his former fiancée. Olivia’s head barely reached his shoulder. All he’d have to do was bend his neck and he could kiss the top of her head.

Not that he was going to do that. He didn’t plan to kiss any part of her. Although…

Twice now he’d carried her in his arms. That second time, when she’d curled into his chest, her slender fingers had slid around his neck and she’d nuzzled into his jacket—well that had been very nice, indeed. There was no way carrying a tall woman in that fashion would have been quite so pleasing.

And her toes.
Remember her toes, the way they had peeped out from under the nightdress.
Toes and a bit of well-turned ankle. It was a damned good thing he was going riding this morning because if he was going to keep getting randy about toes…

Dalton was waiting for her in the grand entrance hall when she descended the stairs. He was finishing up with his secretary giving a few more instructions, when he looked up and saw her, a vision of young loveliness in her riding habit.

It wasn’t her shy smile or prettily coifed hair under the silly little hat that kept his gaze. The riding habit cut in the military fashion fit snugly to her frame, the velvet lovingly molded around her breasts, proving yet again that she was no child despite her stature. In fact, there was a little more up there than he’d originally estimated. Not that he’d spent all that much time calculating how big of a handful there was or wasn’t, but now his hands were damn near flexing to cup her and get actual tactile knowledge.

His man excused himself and left Dalton standing alone in the hall. It was patently obvious he wasn’t going to give the man any more of his attention anyway.

“Miss Goldsleigh.” He held out his arm to her when she stepped from the last riser. “Don’t you look like a ray of sunshine.” It was a statement, not a question. The likeness was astounding, he realized, once his errant gaze slid back to her face.

Olivia dipped in a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.” She took his arm, and they swept out the door.

Dalton had ordered the two new grays saddled, and they were waiting at the curb, the horses dancing about in anticipation. The animals were more high-strung than he remembered. He’d thought he was getting work animals.

First, he had mangled the brother and now he was about to permanently disfigure the china doll by forcing her to ride a wild animal.
What am I thinking?
“Do you think you’ll be able to handle him?”

“My hands are itching to get a hold of the reins. Where is the block?” She turned in a circle, looking for the step that would help her up to the sidesaddle.

Dalton chuckled at her eagerness.
Let’s hope she has as good a seat as she thinks she does.
“No need.” He slid his hands around her tiny waist, and before she could protest he lifted her effortlessly up to the sidesaddle. Warmed at the pleasure of having her in his grasp again, Dalton’s hands lingered at her waist for an extra heartbeat before finding her boot and tucking it into the stirrup.

The horse shuffled about, but Dalton was gratified to see Olivia had a firm but gentle hand on the stallion, and it settled at her coaxing. They headed down the street to the park, the sky clear and the sun shining. The usual haze that set about London wasn’t as prevalent as usual, and the air felt clean. Olivia took in a deep breath and raised her face to the sunshine.

“What a magnificent day, wouldn’t you agree, Lord Dalton?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I know it’s not really the thing in the
ton
to discuss the hardships Warren and I have endured, but at the risk of sounding like the country bumpkin I am, it would have been nice to have had this kind of weather when I was spending the night in the park instead of merely riding in it.”

Dalton was amazed at her frankness. “I’m sure the evenings were rather chilly.”

Olivia wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to dwell on that nastiness. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about you, Lord Dalton.”

“Me? What’s there to know? I inherited my title years ago when I was fifteen.”

“So long ago,” she teased. “And you’re what now, forty? Forty-five?”

At seven and twenty, the marquess knew he didn’t look the age she’d chosen to tease him with, but sometimes he felt it. “I think my sisters would tell you I’m plenty crotchety at considerably younger than forty.”

“Is that you in a nutshell?” She gave him a genuine smile, and he was dazzled. This getting-to-know-you outing was turning out to be quite a bit more stimulating than he’d imagined it would be when it occurred to him earlier. “You are a marquess and nothing more? Somehow, I doubt that.”

Dalton raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you do? Well, I am surely more than my title. What do you want to know? That I like puppies and children?”

Olivia shot him a sideways glance at the flippant response. They rode next to each other, not so close as to incite curiosity from the other early riders in the park, but near enough to speak in low tones. Also close enough that Dalton could smell her, a feminine combination of scented oils and lotions. Everything about this woman assailed all of his senses then raced directly to his pants.
Wouldn’t you think I’d be immune to womanly flirtations?

He blinked to clear his head and purposefully leaned away from her. The movement served two purposes, both centered on self-preservation. It had become necessary to make some adjustments in his trousers, and her scent was not improving problem number one.

She tilted her head to the side and assessed him. He felt her eyes on him and turned to watch her in return. To his credit, he was stalwart under her scrutiny. Nevertheless, he knew she was sizing him up. Her glance felt like a caress roaming from his hair and shoulders down past his waistcoat and lingered at his thigh and knee. Mercifully, his jacket hid his body’s reaction to how her brazen regard affected him.

“So do I pass the test?” he asked. “Or would you like me to get off the horse and turn in a circle for you?”

“I’m sorry.” She jerked her eyes away her face ablaze with a heated blush. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he assured her. “Intrigued, but not embarrassed. It’s not every day I’m leered at by a lovely young woman.”

She let out an alarmed little huff. “I was not leering. I was…assessing. No wait, that didn’t come out right.”

He chuckled. “Is appraising the word you’re looking for?”

“In my defense, I was thinking you are more than your
tonnish
image would suggest,” Olivia explained, and then continued with some chagrin, “however nice the image.”

“Either way, thank you for the compliment.” He took off his hat and bowed to her from his saddle. “You asked me who I am. Well that’s a rather complicated question, I suppose. It so happens that I do like puppies and children, among other things. I suppose I’m a typical gentleman of the
ton
. I like horses and horse racing, as your brother will tell you. I belong to a gentlemen’s club. I enjoy reading. I do not enjoy shopping, regardless of how often my sisters make me go, and I’m sure there are other things, but all in all I suppose it’s rather dull to a young lady.”

“Don’t be so sure. Many of those things interest a country girl, too.” She glanced around her at the scenery. They had entered the park through the Grosvenor Gate and ridden across the grass towards Rotten Row. There were a few other riders taking the morning air, but generally the park was empty. Spring was in full swing, and greenery smelled fresh and new, the flowers bright, the colors vibrant.

“All right then, it’s your turn,” he said, interrupting her reverie.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve told you about me. So now it’s your turn.”

“Talk about uninteresting,” she deferred, but as soon as she saw he wasn’t going to be deterred, she sighed and continued. “As you’ve learned, I enjoy riding. I enjoyed visiting with the people in my village. Many of them were elderly—most of the young people have moved away here to London. I love the country, the smells, and the soft grass under my feet. One of my favorite things in the whole world was to lie in the grass in the garden and look up at the stars.” She darted a glance over to him and then looked quickly away. “I’m sure the London
ton
would find my simple pleasures to be anything but stimulating.”

“On the contrary.” He smiled at her. “That last sounds like something I would love to experience.”

Olivia gave him a tentative smile, and her blush deepened. Her smiles were few and far between. Still, she was so magnificent when her face blossomed that way, he decided then and there to evoke more of them.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet of the morning and the beauty of the day.

“When did your parents die?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being too intrusive.

If the question bothered her, she didn’t show it. “My mother died when I was a little girl. About five months ago, my father and stepmother caught the influenza that took so many in our village. After my father and stepmother died, well, things were so busy then. Many in the village were sick from the same influenza. There were so many funerals to plan that I never really had a chance to take the time and mourn them. I think I was mostly numb. After about a month, my cousin, Reginald, came.” Henry doubted she even realized she made a face when she said the man’s name. “He was my father’s heir, his younger brother’s son, since Father had no sons of his own. Warren was from my stepmother’s first marriage. Reginald started his reign of terror then.”