Lady Harraby was hovering, shaking with laughter. “Ma’am, may I present to you the Earl of Kiltarlity from Strathinver, in Scotland. Lord Kiltarlity, this is Lady Esther Franklyn of Highwood Place in the North Riding, and your fair ghost is—”
“A daughter of the Earl of Rennington and younger sister of Izzy, now Lady Farramont of Stonywell, although I have forgot your name, my lovely ghost,” Lord Kiltarlity said.
“Olivia. I am Olivia Atherton,” she said, laughing at him, as he rose from his knees and sat beside her, his eyes brimming with amusement.
“Lady Esther,” Lady Harraby said, “shall we leave them to talk, while I introduce you to Lady Kiltarlity and the Miss Osborns?”
Reluctantly, with another glare at Lord Kiltarlity, Lady Esther allowed herself to be drawn away to the grey-haired woman and the embittered spinsters.
“Osborn,”Olivia said in satisfaction. “You are Izzy’s suitor, Robert Osborn.”
“I am, or rather Iwas, but now I have this wretched title to contend with. I never wanted it, you know, and certainly never deserved it, but my loyal, honourable, courageous brothers all fell in the King’s service, and I ended up as an earl, for my sins.”
“I am the opposite,” Olivia said. “I havelostmy title, for no longer am I Lady Olivia.”
“Then let us both revert to our former happy state,” he said, with a smile which lit up his face. “You shall be Lady Olivia to me, and you may call me Robert, as Izzy did. You are extraordinarily like her, you know.”
“Except for the dimple. I know.”
“And the better figure,” he whispered. “Themuchbetter figure. Are you like her in ways, too? Do you explode and throw things and yell at people?”
She giggled. “No, sir, I do not.”
“Thank God! One Izzy in the world is enough, I think. Ah, there is dinner ready for us. Will you sit beside me and tell me all about yourself?”
She lowered her eyes demurely. Lord Embleton may not have been present but here was someone new and exciting to talk to. “I should like that, Lord Kiltarlity.”
“Robert, if you please.”
“I cannot possibly call you by your Christian name.”
“Then Osborn. All my friends call me Osborn, even now, and we are going to be friends, are we not?”
“I hope so… Osborn.”
As he led her into the dining room, Olivia felt a little bubble of warmth inside. A friend! Yes, she would like to be friends with this curious man. She would like that very much.
5: The Charming Earl
Olivia soon discovered there were two sides to her dining companion. Robert Osborn was a charming, lighthearted man, who flirted with her very gently, teased her a little as if she were a sister, listened with seeming interest to everything she said and even laughed sometimes as if she were truly amusing. But occasionally, the Earl of Kiltarlity broke through and some remembrance of his present situation rendered him morose.
“It is so difficult,” he said in one of these phases. “How am I supposed to know what to do? My mother says I need to raise more sheep, because that is what is profitable these days. I have three stewards, and one tells me to develop a four crop rotation system, one tells me to stick to traditional ways and the third tells me it is imperative I invest in coal. My banker is telling me to increase rents and the attorney says the tenants won’t hear of it. And all the while, the parson keeps lecturing me on shepherds looking after their flock, so we are back at sheep again. I tell you, my head is spinning. It is not easy, being an earl.”
“Is it so very difficult? Papa seems to manage very well, but then he does tend to leave everything to the steward and the gamekeeper. So long as there are enough birds to shoot, he is not much concerned about the rest of it.”
Osborn laughed. “Perhaps I should do that! It sounds very restful. The trouble is that my father was such a decisive man, and everyone expects me to be the same.”
“You are not your father. Your ways are bound to be different.”
“Exactly! I just cannot decide what my ways should be. I cannot decide on anything.”
Olivia shook her head. “You are in such a muddle, Osborn! Think of it this way — who do you most want to be happy? Your mother? The stewards? The banker? The attorney? The parson?”
He chuckled. “Ah, an interesting perspective! Well, my mother, in some ways, because she hounds me so. That is why we have instigated the improvements at Strathinver, because she kept on about it. My father never let her do what she wanted there, you see. He said it was fine as it was, unchanged since his childhood, so now she is belatedly bringing the old place into the nineteenth century. But for the estate… I cannot say. Not the banker or attorney, and certainly not the parson, although to do him justice, his sermons enable me to get an extra hour’s sleep on the Sabbath. But I cannot see why I should make the stewards happy, either. I pay them to do a job, and so long as they do it, I do not much care whether they are happy with the results or not.”
“But are they happy with the conditions of the job? Are they comfortably housed? Are they paid enough to have a family, and given little offerings from the estate — game and fish, that sort of thing? Are you a demanding master, or one they respect and admire?”
“Oh. Are they happy aspeople, you mean? I had never thought of that.”
