Still, if he could explain it all to Embleton, he would apologise to Olivia and she could be comfortable again. But there was no sign of him at Grayling Hall, nor was he at Briar House that evening.
At least Robert was able to spend most of the evening at Olivia’s side, trying not to flirt too outrageously, since she disliked it, but teasing her gently and finding a score of little ways to make her smile. She had such a lovely smile! Surely every man must be softened by it, and want her to be happy. How dared Embleton make her cry!
However pleasant the hours with Olivia were, there was the dull hour to be endured after dining when the gentle influence of the ladies was withdrawn, and the men settled down with the port to talk about horses, politics, women of the less savoury variety and more horses. None of these topics was of much interest to Robert just now, so he prepared to be bored, but tonight there was a pleasant piece of news.
Jeremiah Bucknell tinged his glass to get everyone’s attention. “Gentlemen, this is not officially known yet, and I believe it will not be for a few days yet, but I can reveal in the strictest confidence that my sister will shortly be contracting a most prestigious alliance. Is it not so, Rennington?”
The earl went slightly pink, but nodded his head. “It is true. I have not yet made the offer in form… there are people to be informed first… well, my former wife, in particular. I should not like her to read about it in the newspapers. However, Miss Bucknell and I have… reached an understanding. I havealready written to the Duke of Camberley to inform him of my intentions.”
“Whatever for?” Bucknell said sharply. “Charlie is of age, she don’t need anyone’s permission.”
“It is a courtesy to the head of the family,” Lord Rennington said mildly. “I should certainly like to know if a nephew or niece were on the brink of matrimony.”
“Yes, but— Well, no matter.” He gave a dry laugh. “’Tis done now.”
“Never thought we should get rid of her,” one of the other Bucknells said.
“Yes, yes, she is thirty-two, but that is a perfect age for his lordship,” Jeremiah said testily. “No reason why she should not marry, none at all.”
“No, no, of course not,” the other said hastily. “Never meant— Apologies, Jerry. A good match, a very good match.”
There was a murmur of agreement round the table, and Miss Bucknell’s health was drunk with enthusiasm, and then the earl’s and then Miss Bucknell’s again, after which the conversation reverted to horseflesh, and Robert began to watch the clock, wondering how soon he could go back to Olivia.
She was at the instrument when he reached the drawing room, playing and singing with such sweetness that he was almost overcome. Mesmerised, he lingered by the door, watching and listening and admiring. Had Izzy played so well? He thought she had, but then she did everything well. She had certainly played some complicated pieces, and held her audience rapt, but Olivia had such a delightful innocence in all she did that she quite took his breath away. Izzy had never been so innocent, even in her first appearances in town. There was always a sophistication to her, a knowingness that had enchanted his younger self, but now left him unmoved. Whereas Olivia…
But that was a singularly fruitless line of thought. He must resist the temptation to follow it.
As soon as Olivia relinquished her place at the pianoforte, he crossed the room and drew her to a sofa a little away from the others. He had not meant to mention it, but seeing her father enter the room not far behind him and immediately claim a place beside Miss Bucknell, he said cautiously, “They seem to get on well.”
“Oh, yes! I am so pleased for him. He has been looking for a new wife for some months now, ever since Mama told him she would not marry him again and went away. He must marry to have legitimate sons, you see, and Aunt Jane invited several of her friends to visit to see if one of them would suit.”
“But they did not?”
“No! A dreadful collection, not at all the sort of person Papa would like. But Miss Bucknell… he truly likes her, and she seems to like him, too.”
“And do you like her? She might be your stepmother, after all.”
“I like her very well. She is easy to talk to, as a mother… or a stepmother should be. But that does not matter, as long as she makes Papa happy. He has been so sad since Mama went away. I should love him to find someone new to love, and who will love him.”
“I wonder why she has never married,” he said thoughtfully. “She is thirty-two, after all, and a confirmed spinster, one would have thought, yet if she is so agreeable—”
“Osborn, it is not kind to think that way — she has never married, so there must be something wrong with her, is that it? Perhaps she simply never met anyone she wanted to marry before.”
“I am sure you are right,” he said soothingly, and deftly changed the subject.
When the card tables came out, a very little manoeuvring put him and Olivia on the same table as the Earl of Rennington and Miss Bucknell, giving him ample opportunity to discover that she was a sensible woman, well informed and articulate, who also played an astute hand of cards. She was, then, exactly what she appeared to be, a pleasant and agreeable woman, and nothing more sinister than that.
He returned to Chilford Lodge, to find Marsden and his friends very much in their cups, and free with ribald comments on the nature of the society which drew him away from their company night after night. After allowing them ten minutes to expend their wit against him, he made good his escape to his room where Maurice, his valet for long enough to read his master’s moods instantly, wisely attended him in silence.
There was something about the night that brought his conscience out to sit on his shoulder and plague him with unhelpful thoughts. All the disasters of today rose up in his mind to crowd out any possibility of sleep. His impulsive proposal to Olivia. His chase to rescue her from Grayling. The discovery that Grayling was with Lady Euphemia. Olivia’s search for the two of them, culminating in that unpleasant quarrel with Embleton.
And all of it was Robert’s fault. If he had not set himself to distract Olivia from Embleton, and involved Grayling in his ploys, none of this would have happened. How stupid he was! This was just like that spring of five years ago, when the four of them had set themselves to win Izzy at any cost. Such tricks they had played! No, not Farramont. He had always played a straightforward, honest game, and he was the one who had won her in the end.
There must be no more of such machinations. Olivia was not Izzy, and she deserved better treatment. Izzy had revelled in the attention, but Olivia did not even like flirting. She was verydifferent from her sister, and she deserved to be admired and loved for herself, and to make her own free choice.
Tomorrow, he would go to Embleton and explain what had happened, and then take himself back to Strathinver and try to be a good landlord to his tenants. Perhaps that would be distraction enough that he would forget about a certain heart-shaped face and a mischievous smile with a dimple beside it. Oh, that dimple! Could he ever forget it? But he must, he must.
***
