“No,” he said faintly. “No, that is not how it is at all. It isyouI love, Livvy, far more than I ever loved Izzy…”
He stopped, realising his mistake at once, for her face darkened with rage.“Izzy, Izzy, Izzy!You are obsessed with her.”
His own anger was rising, for he was offering her his heart, his name, the very soul of his being, and she just tossed it all aside as if it were nothing. “I think it is you who are obsessed, Livvy. Why do you compare yourself with her? Why think of yourself as a mere shadow of your sister? You are yourself, and it is you I love, not Izzy. You arebetterthan her in a thousand ways.”
“Now I know you are lying to me!” she cried, tears falling although she appeared not to notice. “I am not… will never be better than her, because she is the Incomparable and I am just a ghost, remember? A ghost who looks like her but falls short in every way. Oh, leave me alone, Osborn! I do not want your platitudes. Go away!”
The small corner of his mind that was still rational reminded him that she was a guest at Strathinver, so there would be other opportunities when she was less overwrought to press his suit. He would prepare better for the next time, and choose his words more carefully. What a fool he was to allow himself to be swept away by his own emotions! After controlling himself while sheput herself in Embleton’s way, he should at least have given her time to recover from her disagreement with him.
And now he had made her cry! She had turned her back on him, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed. Never had he wanted to hold her more! He raised his arms to reach for her without any conscious thought. But he must not. That was one thing he could do for her, to obey her last words to him and leave her to her grief. Quietly he crept away, but inside his heart ached with a pain so physical he wondered how on earth he was to get through the rest of the day. Could he appear as his usual insouciant self? He must, for Olivia’s sake.
Hardly aware of his whereabouts, he was shocked to be hailed by a male voice. Surely it could not be—? But it was indeed Embleton.
“Kiltarlity! W-w-where is she? L-Lady Olivia?”
“I thought you had gone to Lochmaben,” Robert said, realising as he spoke how stupid that sounded.
“Later. Must ap-p-pologise.”
“Oh.” An apology! Then Olivia’s hopes had not foundered irretrievably. Robert’s spirits, already low, sank even further. But perhaps he could put Embleton off? Say he had not seen Olivia… but no. She deserved her chance of happiness, however bitter that might be for him. “She… she is down that path. Or she was. That is where I saw her.”
Eagerly, Embleton raced off, and Robert was left to wonder whether it was too early in the day for brandy. A lot of brandy.
***
Olivia paced and wept, and wept and paced, back and forth across the small clearing, her feet crunching on the fallen leaves strewn everywhere. Why did Robert Osborn torment her so? Why did he pretend to love her, when Izzy was stilluppermost in his thoughts? He had loved her passionately five years ago, and he still loved her now — loved her so well that he would take even Olivia, the pale imitation, to have some trace of Izzy in his life.
Maddening man! And yet, so kind, so charming, so amusing. He never failed to lift her spirits, whereas Lord Embleton— But no, that was not a thought she wanted to pursue. The marquess was a serious man, not a fribble like Robert. And the stutter, too, was a hindrance to the lighthearted banter of which Robert was such a master. It was wrong of her to compare them, for the quiet marquess could not fail to be the loser.
And now there was no point in thinking about either of them, for she had quarrelled with Robert and Lord Embleton had shouted at heragain.This time it truly was not her fault… was it? She could not be blamed if Effie had taken her casual words and used them to run away. But he was angry with her all the same.
It was all so difficult, and there was no one to talk to about it. Papa was still sunk in gloom about his own romantic affairs, and there was no one else. No Mama, in particular — how she longed for Mama to hold her tight and tell her briskly that everything would come right in the end, and not to worry about it. It would even be good to unburden herself to Aunt Jane or Aunt Alice, for although they never quite made her feel better in the way that Mama would, at least they would not shout at her and tell her she was a meddlesome creature.
Oh, if only Robert had not tried to propose to her! If only he had simply held her, as he had that day in the secret room, when she had wept all over him and he had hugged her until she felt better and then fed her wine and cakes. Robert always made her feel better, she thought wistfully. Even in this year of all horrible years, with Granny so ill and that terrible business with Uncle Arthur — murdered in his bed with an axe! Suchan unspeakable thing to happen! Then the whole business with being illegitimate, too. And the poor lady who disappeared, Mrs Edgerton’s friend, had been murdered and then Bertram had been shot! Such a dreadful succession of events that would have rendered her quite prostrate with horror, except that Robert had managed to lift her spirits. And now she had fallen out with him, and she was not sure that the breach could ever be mended. That thought filled her with longing for the happier times when he had simply flirted with her and—
A sound. Footsteps nearby, scuffing through the leaves.
Before Olivia had time to prepare herself for an intrusion, the Marquess of Embleton burst into the clearing. His face lightened when he saw her, then immediately darkened again.
“No, no, no!” he murmured, closing the distance between them in a few steps. “No t-tears! M-My fault. So s-s-sorry!”
Quite unable to speak, Olivia waved a hand about, trying to convey… she hardly knew what. Her mind was too overwhelmed to formulate a coherent response.
“M-must not cry!” he said, sounding rather frantic. “No tears. Never meant… please… marry me.”
And then, somewhat clumsily, he put his arms around her and patted her back, but that just made her cry even more.
“No, no!” he said again, more loudly. “Sorry! S-Stupid of me. Forgive me. Marry me. Please.”
What else could she do? It was what she had wanted for years, and here it was, her life’s ambition achieved at last. So she lifted her head and, quite unable to speak, nodded her acceptance.
He smiled, taking her by the shoulders to hold her at arm’s length. “B-better?” he said.
And she nodded again, although oddly she could not stop crying. Tears of happiness, she supposed, for what else could they be? She could not be sad… could she?
***
Robert returned to the house, and sat quietly in his study, his arms resting on the empty desk. And then he waited. He was not quite sure what it was that he was waiting for, but he knew there would be something. Another quarrel, perhaps, between Olivia and Embleton, which would restore him to equanimity and that tiny sliver of hope that had never quite left him.
