The Fifth Kiss (31 page)

Perry's chin set firmly, and his hands clenched into two tight fists. “I … I'm sorry, sir, but I
won't
! I'm not a dreadful boy! I didn't throw anything … and I w-won't apologize. It's
she
who's dreadful!”

Lady Gallard gasped, Leonora dropped down in her chair in despair and Strickland flushed red in chagrin. “Young man, your conduct is
inexcusable
! But I will give you one last chance. Will you do as I
say
, or shall I be forced to … take measures?”

Perry met his father's eye bravely, although his lips quivered slightly and his knees began to tremble. “No, sir, I
won't
,” he said, his back stiffly erect.

“Very
well
! You may go to your room and wait there until I come to you.”

Strickland watched as the boy marched firmly from the room, his shoulders back and his head proudly high. All at once, his anger seemed to melt away. The boy had always seemed to him too shy and spineless; this was the
first time
Perry had ever stood up to his father! Perhaps the boy had more pluck and character than he'd supposed. There was no question in Strickland's mind that the child had behaved abominably, but he couldn't prevent a bit of fatherly pride in the child from creeping into his chest.

After the boy's departure, Lady Gallard rose from her chair. “I … I think I'd like to take a bit of air while the sun is still warm,” she said tactfully. “Would you care to stroll in the gardens with me, Mama?”

Mrs. Oglesby, after a fearful glance in Strickland's direction, nodded and followed her elder daughter from the room. Eugenia, about to give voice to her reactions to the scene just played, felt a restraining hand on her arm. “We should take a bit of air, too, Eugenia,” Hattie said meaningfully, getting stiffly to her feet. Eugenia, after a glance at Leonora, blinked, nodded, and followed Hattie out of the room.

Leonora, who had been sitting with her eyes downcast and her hands clutched nervously in her lap, looked up at Strickland penitently. “I … I'm so ashamed. I am not adept with children. I never know how to speak to them, or—”

“It was not your fault. I should never have subjected you to—” he began.

“
Please
, don't …! It was as much
my
suggestion as yours to come here.” She lowered her eyes, and the tears slid down her cheeks. “It won't work, will it, Miles?”

He was silent for a long moment. “No, Leonora. I'm very sorry …” But in truth he felt relieved.

When at last he climbed up to the third floor, about an hour later, he found that all was silence. He knocked first at Perry's door, but no answer came. He opened it and found it empty. Angrily, he shouted for Tilda, but the governess was as surprised as he that Perry was not in his room. They both turned immediately to Amy's room. The birthday girl was discovered to be standing on a chair before her dressing-table mirror, preening before it in admiration of the several strings of colored beads which she'd hung about her neck. There was no sign, other than a dirt-streaked face, that she'd shed a tear. Her eyes were clear and content and her manner calm.

But Strickland was too preoccupied to puzzle over the child's abrupt change of mood. “Where's your brother?” he asked brusquely.

“He'th gone to Wondon,” Amy said, gazing raptly at her reflection.

“
London
? What are you
talking
about?”

“He thaid he hath to find Aunt Wivie and bwing her back.”

Strickland and Tilda exchanged alarmed glances. “And did he say how he intended to
get
there?” Strickland asked.

“He'th going to
walk
until he cometh upon a hay-wagon—wike Dick Wittington.”

“Oh, good God! Tilda, run down and tell Higgins to saddle Pegasus! Tell him I'll be down in five minutes. And as for you, Amy, my girl, get down from that chair before you break your neck. You are not to leave this room, is that clear?”

“Yeth, Papa,” she said, climbing down with placid obedience.

“Just remain right here until my return. I shall have a few words to say to
you
later.”

There was no sign of Perry along the driveway. Even when Strickland had galloped out through the main gate and had peered down the road toward Devizes, all the way to the horizon, he didn't see a sign of him. It was not until he'd ridden over the hill that he discerned a small figure trudging gamely eastward, and he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. When he'd almost come up to him, he brought the horse to a stop, slipped down and, leading the horse by the reins, walked quickly along the road until he'd caught up with him. Perry looked up, saw his father, put his chin up and, wordlessly, kept on walking.

“I hear you're planning to go to London,” Strickland remarked, falling into step beside his son.

“Yes, I am.”

“It's a longish way off, you know.”

“I know.”

“It will soon be dark, too.”

Perry cast his father a mulish glance. “I don't
care
. I'm not going home! You'll only make me 'pologize to that … that lady you brought home. And I won't! Not
ever
!”

“But suppose no wagon goes by. Dick Wittington had a bit of luck on that score, you know.”

“Then I'll
walk
!”

“But you'll have to sleep under hedges—”

“I don't care.”

“And eat nothing but berries—”

“I
like
berries.”

“And it might take you weeks and
weeks.
”

Perry's step faltered. “W-would it?”

“I'm afraid so. However, if you agree to come home with me, I would be willing to ride to London in my carriage and fetch Aunt Livie
for
you. With four horses, I could be there in less than a day.”

“Would you do that?” the boy asked in surprise.

“Yes, I would.”

Perry stopped and considered. “Would you give your word to go
tomorrow
?”

“Yes, if you wish me to do so.”

“All right then. I'll come home with you. But only if you don't make me 'pologize.”

Strickland rubbed his chin. “As to that, Perry, I think you should reconsider.”

“No, I won't reconsider!” the boy said stubbornly, resuming his walk eastward. “I didn't do anything but spin the top. It slid off the table by
accident
. And she called me ‘dreadful' for it.”

“I don't think she meant to say that, you know. And a true gentleman is never rude to a lady, even if she says things that are quite provoking.”

Perry paused again and looked up at his father suspiciously. “But
you've
been rude to ladies. I've heard you shout at Aunt Livie—”

“Have you? Well, I was very wrong to do so … and I'm certain that I must have apologized later.”

“Oh.” He bit his lip in thought. “Very well. I'll 'pologize.”

“Good boy! Shall we ride back, or would you rather walk?”

“Let's ride, please. I didn't want to say so, but my feet feel as if they've done enough walking for today.”

Suppressing a smile, Strickland tossed the boy into the saddle and climbed up on the horse behind him. Turning the animal around, they began a slow amble along the road toward home. “Will you
really
go to fetch Aunt Livie tomorrow?” the boy asked uncertainly.

“I've given my word. But I can't promise that she'll agree to come back with me, you know. She may not wish to come.”

Perry turned, his head around to scrutinize his father's face. “Why not? Doesn't she love us any more?”

“She loves
you
, Perry, very much. And Amy, too. I think, however, that she doesn't much care for
me.
”

“Oh, I don't think you can be right about
that
, Papa,” Perry said reassuringly. “It was
she
, you know, who told me you are not a monster.”

“
Did
she, indeed?” his father said drily. “That was very kind of her. Did you believe that I
was
?”

Perry leaned forward to pat the horse's mane. “Once I did. When I was smaller. You seemed so huge, you see … almost like the giant on top of the beanstalk. And you were angry all the time …”

“I see. Then I'm very glad your Aunt Olivia told you I am not a monster.”

“So am I. I would have been afraid to really talk to you if she hadn't.”

Strickland tightened his hold on the boy, feeling an amazing surge of fatherly affection. “What do you mean,
really
talk?” he asked curiously.

“I mean what Aunt Livie calls ‘serious talk.' About thoughts and feelings and things of that sort.”

“Are we having a serious talk now?”

“Oh, yes. Do you like it?”

Strickland felt a constriction in his throat. “Yes,” he said huskily. “I like it more than anything.”

Perry nodded. “So do I.” Contentedly, he leaned back and snuggled into the curve of his father's arm as, slowly and peacefully, the horse plodded homeward.

chapter twenty-one

It was after dark when the carriage drew up at the house in Brook Street, and Strickland alighted feeling as nervous and suspenseful as a schoolboy. But he didn't ask to see Olivia. He asked for Charles.

He was shown into his brother-in-law's untidy study, and Charles, in delight at seeing him, jumped up from his desk and, stumbling over a pile of books, rushed over to seize his hand. “What brings you back to London, Miles?” he asked, slapping Strickland heartily on the back. “Though whatever it is, I'm glad it's brought you here.”

“You may not be so glad when I tell you why I've come,” Strickland warned.

“Oh?” Charles studied him curiously. “Well, sit down, old fellow, and tell me what it is.”

Strickland removed the books and debris from the room's easy chair, while Charles leaned against his desk and pulled out his pipe. “Do you remember the day when you told me your concerns about Olivia's future?” Strickland asked.

“Yes, I do. It was the day I confided to you my intention to marry Elspeth. Why do you ask?”

“You see, Charles, I have been thinking about Olivia's future myself.”

Charles' eyebrows rose, but he lowered his eyes and pretended to be absorbed in filling the bowl of his pipe. “Have you?” he asked mildly.

“Yes. And I've been wondering … what you would say about
me
as a … a suitor for her.”

Charles flicked him a quick look. “I would say, of course, that it was entirely up to Olivia. She's a girl of very independent mind, as you no doubt are aware.”

“Of course I realize the final decision must be hers. But do you think I should ask her in the first place? Don't you think I'm too old for her? Too dissipated … too cynical … too deucedly
unworthy
?”

Charles grinned. “Such unwonted
humility
, Miles! I hadn't thought you capable of it. Can you have fallen so deeply in love as all
that
?”

“Completely over my head, if you want the truth. I'm almost out of my mind over it.” He looked up at his brother-in-law with a sheepish smile. “Well … what do you think?”

Charles tossed his pipe on the desk and got to his feet. “I think, old man, that you should ask her at
once
! I've been
expecting
… but never mind that. Come along, and I'll take you to her.” Throwing an affectionate arm about Strickland's shoulder, he propelled him eagerly out of the room and down the hall.

Olivia was sitting in the library with Morley Crawford, who had come unexpectedly that evening to pay a call. Dissatisfied with the progress of his courtship, he'd hoped to come to a better understanding with the girl he intended to marry. They had chatted in a desultory manner for some time, but at last Morley had boldly taken a seat beside her on the sofa. Moving as close to her as possible, he'd reached for her hand. “What lovely hands you have,” he'd murmured softly.

Olivia had almost laughed aloud. She had a quick recollection of the evening, many months ago, when she'd heard him say those very words. It had been a ruse … the first step toward an embrace. She also remembered how her outspokenness and teasing had embarrassed him the last time, so she kindly stifled her tendency to giggle. “Thank you, sir,” she said and, recalling his instructions of that long-ago night, fluttered her lashes at him.

He found the gesture irresistible. “Oh, Olivia,” he breathed and gathered her into a passionate embrace.

Olivia did not resist. She had not let him kiss her properly the last time. Perhaps this time he would be more successful. If she were really going to agree to wed him, she supposed she ought to learn to enjoy his embraces. She relaxed against him and closed her eyes, trying to surrender herself to the “mood” he'd once told her was so important. But her feelings remained unstirred, and after a while she decided that this would not do. She could
not
marry him. Perhaps, if Strickland had never kissed her—if she had not experienced the exhilaration that could occur when one's emotions were involved in the kissing—she could have convinced herself that
this
embrace was quite satisfactory. But under the circumstances, she couldn't fool herself.

She pushed at his chest, and he lifted his head. His eyes were misty with passion, and his breath came in quick gasps. “Olivia, my own
dearest
—”

“Please, Morley,” she said, covering his mouth with her fingers. “I must talk to you. You must not go on with this—”

He kissed her fingers tenderly and withdrew her hand. “Don't talk yet, my love. Only let me …” With eager enthusiasm, he pulled her close and kissed her again.

It was at that moment that Charles burst in with Strickland in tow. “Livie, my dear,” he chortled, “look at who has—good
God
!”