She barely noticed his polite bow, or his back as he walked away from her, for her eyes were fixed on the marquess. He scanned the room, saw her, smiled and after the briefest of conversations with Miss Bucknell he moved directly across the room to the sofa where she still sat.
“L-lady Olivia.” He made her an elegant bow. “I m-must thank you again f-for making room f-for Effie. I c-c-cannot tell you—”
She stopped him with a wave of her hand. “Pray say nothing of it. Lady Euphemia is my own age, and nothing could please me more than to enjoy her company. Both my own sisters have married and moved away, so I shall borrow yours for a little while. She is already proving to be an entertaining companion.”
He grimaced. “Really? I do not f-f-find her entertaining, p-p-persuading Arnold to bring her here. I have s-s-sent him home in d-d-disgrace, foolish boy. Effie is a m-m-minx.”
Olivia laughed. “I do not know about that! If it is so, then you must allow that she is an amusing minx.” She patted the seat beside her in invitation, and when he sat, she whispered conspiratorially, “I believe she has only come here to flirt. She is exercising her charms on Lord Grayling at this very moment.”
He smiled at her. “Effie is s-safe enough with G-Grayling. He likes to f-f-flirt too.”
The butler cleared his throat. “Dinner is served, madam.”
Olivia and the marquess rose in unison and then — glory of glories! — he offered her his arm with a little bow. “M-may I have the p-p-pleasure of your c-company, Lady Olivia?”
This was more like it! An hour, or maybe two, in his company, and he seemed amenable to liking her despite herfaux pasat Corland. She also had a little glimpse of the respect that would be accorded her if she should ever marry the marquess. Even in the Bucknell household, where most of the company was related in some way to the Duke of Camberley, the future Duke of Bridgeworth was a person of great importance. On his arm Olivia proceeded at the front of the procession to the dining room, and found herself almost at the head of the table.
Osborn managed to inveigle himself into the seat on her other side, but she could not object to that. When the marquesswas occupied with Miss Bucknell to his left, Olivia would have the frivolous Earl of Kiltarlity to talk to. This did not work so well as she had hoped, for every time she tried to talk to the marquess, the earl would tap her elbow. “A pork cutlet, Lady Olivia?” he would say blandly. Or, “Try the woodcocks, do. They are delicious.”
“Thank you, but Lord Embleton will supply me, should I need anything,” she hissed at him.
“But he only has access to the mutton and sweetbreads. I can reach so much more. Can I tempt you to a little of the ham?”
By the time she turned back to the marquess, he was talking to Miss Bucknell. It was maddening.
When the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, Lady Esther led her to a quiet sofa and whispered, “It is going very well, is it not?”
“Is it?” Olivia said crossly. “Lord Kiltarlity seems determined to interfere.”
“Oh, indeed! Such a good sign. He is jealous, you see, so he tries to distract you from the marquess, but you are managing them both beautifully. If one does not come up to scratch, you will be sure to secure the other.”
“But I do not wantthe other.I like the marquess, and he seems to like me, whereas the earl is merely irritating, like a bluebottle, constantly buzzing about to no purpose.”
Lady Esther gave a tinkling laugh. “You may see it that way, but I assure you his purpose is very plain to see. Do not push him away until you are absolutely sure of the marquess. You seem to get on well with Lord Kiltarlity. Am I wrong about that?”
“Oh… well, he is vastly amusing, I suppose, when he is not trying to distract me away from Lord Embleton.”
“There, you see?” she said triumphantly. “Two exceptionally eligiblepartisalready forming an attachment to you. I congratulate you, my dear. You will be married before your firstseason, I wager. And we may congratulate ourselves on another success, too, do you not think?”
“Another success? What can you mean?”
“Why your father, of course, and Charlie Bucknell.”
“Miss Bucknell? And Papa? No!”
“Had you not noticed? I assure you, they are becoming closer by the hour. He is so relaxed in her company, it is wonderful to see, after all his tribulations of the last few months. He looks so happy! You mark my words, it will be a match.”
***
Robert watched as the ladies withdrew with mixed feelings. It was a relief that Olivia was removed from Embleton’s company for a while, but she was also removed from his own company, and he could not be happy about that. There was a rightness to her sitting at his side, even though she had been cross with him tonight. Yet he knew that he could easily cajole her back to her usual sweet temper, if only Embleton were not there to distract her.
Once the ladies had all left and the door was closed, the gentlemen reformed around Mr Bucknell, and Embleton was drawn away to be the star attraction. Robert stayed where he was, not being minded for the usual male conversation. It would be all horses and sport, the last hunt gone over in exhaustive detail and the prospects for the next analysed to a tedious degree. Robert enjoyed the hunt as much as any man, but tonight his thoughts were elsewhere, with a certain heart-shaped face surrounded by curls — laboriously obtained curls, he now knew. The thought made him smile.
“Do I intrude upon your meditations? Happy ones, to judge by your expression.”
The oily voice of Grayling.
“No intrusion,” Robert said, and meant it, for Grayling had brought the port with him. Taking the chair so recently occupied by Olivia, his well-honed masculine form and golden hair banished the image of feminine beauty and dark curls that had filled Robert’s mind. With the slightest of sighs, he accepted a glass of port and waited for Grayling to say what he had come to say. That he had a point to make was certain, for he would not have wandered down to this end of the table at random.
