“I suppose it was very dismal before,” he said. “These walls were almost black, and the floor under these sheetsisblack — black marble, so that will still be dark.”
“Some rugs will lighten it,” she said, “or you might replace it with a paler marble, or a pattern of some sort.”
He laughed. “You must talk to Mama about it. All this is her doing.”
“Then she has excellent taste.”
More servants now began to stream out of the service stairs to attend to the visitors. Olivia was shown to a bedroom which had not yet been refurbished, for it featured dark wood panels and heavy, old-fashioned furniture. The bed looked comfortable, however, and there was a delightful view over a part of the river and the woods beyond, with the tip of a tower projecting above the trees. A continuous stream of maids arrived with the usual bed linen, hot water and warmed towels, but also plates of cakes and delicate pastries, which Olivia nibbled appreciatively as she washed and changed into a fresh gown.
Another maid arrived, and bobbing a curtsy, said in a charming Scottish brogue, “Lord Kiltarlity’s outside, milady, asking if ye’ve everything ye need.”
Trying not to laugh, for her mouth was full of deliciously crumbly pastry, Olivia went to the door and peeped out. He was lounging against the wall, smiling, eyes twinkling. Oh, those eyes! How could she resist a man who looked at her that way?
Swallowing hastily, she said, “Come in, Osborn. There are a dozen maids in here to protect my virtue, so you need not worry about that, but you must tell me what the tower is that I can see from my window.”
“It is not exactly a tower, but the ground rises in that direction, so it appears above the trees. It is the local gaol.”
“The gaol! Is there a town there, too?”
“No, which is the problem. We are so far from any town that we have to deal with our own lawbreakers here. I have promised Embleton that if Lady Euphemia is troublesome, I shall have her thrown in the dungeon. She is not quite sure whether I am serious. Do you like my cook’s creations? She has such a light hand with pastry.”
Olivia could only agree, and they sat in companionable comfort on the window seat, working their way steadily through an assortment of edibles, and talking of who knows what, when the door burst open and Lady Kiltarlity swept in, her face stormy.
“Here you are, Kiltarlity! What are you about, to be skulking here instead of attending to your guests?”
“Lady Olivia is my guest, too, Mama. May I not attend to her, also?”
“Not in her bedchamber, no. Miss Atherton, may I—?”
Osborn jumped to his feet. “LadyOlivia, if you please!”
Lady Kiltarlity looked him up and down imperiously. “In my house, Kiltarlity, we use correct forms of address.”
“And inmyhouse, we employ courtesy above correctness.”
For a moment, they glared at each other.
Olivia laid a hand on his sleeve. “You are very kind, Lord Kiltarlity, and I appreciate that you still call me‘Lady Olivia’,but I am not entitled to that form of address any longer. Above all things, you must not fall out with your mama on my account.”
He smiled at her, patting her hand. “Then I will not, and I shall bite my tongue whenever she calls you‘Miss Atherton’, for your sake. And she is certainly right in other ways, for I should not be here in your bedroom, no matter how many maids are here, and I should be attending to my other guests. Shall we make our way downstairs? I shall undertake to convey the pastries in safety.”
“There are more in the drawing room,” Lady Kiltarlity said, with the hint of a smile. “Leave the platter here in case our guest… in caseLady Oliviashould feel hungry in the night.”
“How very kind you are!” Olivia cried, jumping up and wrapping an arm around Lady Kiltarlity’s. “Both kind and with a wonderful eye for colour. I was just telling Osborn… Lord Kiltarlity how much I admire the new scheme in the entrance hall.”
“Oh! You like it, do you? Then do come and see the winter drawing room. I am rather proud of my choices there.”
And the two went off arm in arm, leaving Osborn to trail behind them.
20: Fishing
Robert could scarcely believe how wonderful it was to have Olivia at Strathinver. Every night he went to sleep smiling, knowing that she was under the same roof, and when he woke, joy burst over him as he remembered. He could not suppress the well of happiness that bubbled up in him constantly, even though he knew she was there solely to further her acquaintance with Embleton.
As far as that went, he had to concede that her gentle temperament and pleasing manners were beginning to make inroads with the marquess. It would perhaps be too much to say that he was developing an attachment for her, since Embleton was not a man whose wishes and feelings were easy to read. If he were falling in love, he kept the signs well hidden. But still, Robert noticed every time the marquess offered Olivia his arm as they were walking or chose to sit beside her at table or showed her an interesting tidbit from a newspaper or book. The argument at Grayling Hall and Olivia’s tempestuous outburstthat she wished she might never see him again had all been forgotten.
For himself, he found it increasingly difficult to keep her at arm’s length. He wanted her to be happy, certainly, and if her happiness lay with the marquess, he would do his very best to smile and wish them both well. Yet with every day that passed, he became more certain that his own happiness was inextricably linked with her, and he grew more and more dissatisfied with his resolution. Such madness, to concede the battle without a shot being fired! If only he dared to fight for her himself, to tell her how much he loved her and wished to share his life with her.
She was so perfect for him, he knew that now. She had managed to wrap his mother round her thumb, merely by admiring the improvements being undertaken. On entering the winter drawing room, Olivia had exclaimed at the vibrant yellows and greens, and cried out, “Oh, but it is just like spring! It will always be spring in here, even when there is snow on the ground outside. How lovely!”
