She turned to face him and saw that his face was dark with anger. “How old are you, Lady Olivia?”
“I am eighteen years of age, sir.”
“You have much to learn,” he said coldly.
She was more astonished by the lack of stuttering than his manner — when he was angry, he did not hesitate at all. How fascinating! She stared at him wonderingly, while he glared back at her, his nostrils flaring. He was rather splendid in such a mood, and she had a brief glimpse of the duke he might one day be, mostly placid but capable of towering displays of temper when roused. His servants would tiptoe round him, terrified of setting him off.
A voice from behind them broke the silence. “Olivia, dear! Ah, there you are. Are you going to show Lord Embleton some of our fine paintings? I am sure he will be pleased with them, but do let me come with you, for in your enthusiasm I suspect youhave forgotten your mama’s advice on the subject of being alone with a gentleman, have you not?”
Not exactly forgotten, no, for that was the whole point of the exercise, but it had failed anyway. Lord Embleton was far too experienced a man to be caught in that way. Such an eligible gentleman does not reach the advanced age of thirty still unmarried without developing good instincts for ambitious females. Not that Olivia had any thought of compromising him. No, a kiss was all she had wanted, and let what may come of it, but, with an inward sigh, she abandoned her carefully laid plans and allowed Aunt Jane to accompany them into the library.
“Not that Lord Embleton would ever take advantage of your innocence,” Aunt Jane went on in her bright society voice, “but one must always be aware of the possibility of less honourable men. Shall we go in?”
Olivia followed them in, trying not to laugh at the marquess’s thunderous face. He had already been insulted by Olivia trying to be alone with him, and now Aunt Jane was talking about him taking advantage of her! Poor man, he was not having a good evening. But between her own chatter and Aunt Jane’s, they managed to entertain him for quite some time before Papa came looking for them, to see about making up a four for whist. Lord Embleton’s expression brightened at the thought, and within minutes he was settled at a table with Papa, Uncle George and the fashionable lawyer from London, Mr Willerton-Forbes, who had arrived with the murder investigators and now was involved in Papa’s affairs and become almost a permanent fixture.
For some time, Olivia played a little and read a little and even took up her needlework briefly, while trying to listen in to the conversation from their table, but whenever she caught snatches, it was Mr Willerton-Forbes talking about Papa’s finances, which was not interesting in the slightest. Eventually, the Westwick Heights family went home and Aunt Alice went tobed, but Kent took over Uncle George’s seat at the card table, and they played on.
Olivia gave it up and went to bed. By the time she rose, early by her standards, the marquess had already set out for Harraby Hall, and there was nothing for Olivia to do but to reflect on an unsatisfactory evening, and plan the next phase in her campaign. But next time she met the marquess, she would not attempt to kiss him, for such stratagems would only give him a disgust of her. She would merely be herself, and perhaps he would like her or perhaps he would not, but even if nothing came of it, it would still be good practice for her proper come-out next spring.
4: Harraby Hall
Olivia was most unwilling to wait until the spring before seeing the marquess again, but she could not see how an earlier meeting could be contrived. A conference with Lady Esther reassured her that there would be more opportunities later in the autumn.
“He flits about here and there, but when he moves to his own hunting lodge in Leicestershire, there are possibilities. My cousin lives in the area, and there will be no difficulty in obtaining an invitation. Pretty girls with a good dowry are always in demand. How much is your dowry?”
“Five thousand pounds, although Papa says he could manage ten thousand at a pinch, if necessary. He got Josie and Izzy married off at five thousand apiece, and he always said I would do just as well as them,” she said, a little defiantly, for she was aware that five thousand pounds was not a great sum for an earl’s daughter.
“Hmm. Of course, Lady Josephine and Lady Isabel married men of great wealth, who hardly needed their dowries.”
“And I intend to marry a man of great wealth, too,” Olivia said, lifting her chin.
“Indeed, but he will have to love you to distraction, as well,” Lady Esther mused. “A great many men will marry a pretty girl from a good family with a large dowry without feeling more than a modest affection for her, knowing that it will be enough, but without the dowry… it is more difficult. And there is the unfortunate matter of your change in status.”
“You mean my illegitimacy,” Olivia said in a small voice.
“Precisely. Many a man would be put off by such a blemish in the family, even though it was entirely unavoidable. With thirty thousand, he might be persuaded to overlook it, or even twenty thousand… something could be done with that. But five thousand? I am surprised that Lord Rennington has not contrived to put something more aside for you.”
“There was something amiss with the money. Uncle Arthur had the management of it in Grandpapa’s day, and some of it has… gone missing. Mr Willerton-Forbes is looking into it, to see if anything can be recovered.”
Lady Esther raised her eyebrows a fraction. “Is that how it was? In my experience, once money has been taken out of an estate, it vanishes, never to be seen again.”
“But Uncle Arthur left Tess a fortune in his will, so perhaps he hid it all away somewhere.”
“Even if so, it is of no use to you in your predicament. We will just have to make sure Lord Embleton falls desperately in love with you, that is all.”
This was all very dispiriting, and Olivia shed a few disconsolate tears into her pillow each night. Her dreams of being a duchess, so recently given succour by Lady Esther’s enthusiastic support, were fast dissipating. Not only could she not find a way to meet the marquess again for weeks and weeks, but now she needed a larger dowry as well. She had alwaysknown that being illegitimate would be problematic, but for a brief time, Lady Esther had given her hope. Now that hope was all but gone.
But then hope flared again, for Lord Harraby called once more. He returned her newspaper cutting, which he reported had entranced Lady Harraby with this view into her brother’s life.
“I am sorry to say that we have been obliged to increase our subscriptions vastly, to be sure not to miss any further description of Embleton’s prowess,” he said, with a light laugh. “But that is not my only reason for coming today. My dear wife is dreadfully bored with the limited society afforded by her immediate family, and is set on filling the house with guests for the next month, at least. She wondered whether you might care to be of the party, Lady Olivia. If one of your brothers can escort you to Harraby Hall, Lady Harraby will act as chaperon, since your mama is away at present.”
Olivia was almost too excited to speak. “Lady Esther Franklyn — she might be able to—”
“Excellent, excellent! Here is a letter from Lady Harraby,” he said, handing it to the earl, “making the invitation in formal terms, but I wished to call to tell you how welcome you will be. Another young lady… and we can offer you some good sport, Rennington, if you are of a mind to leave home at this present.”
Papa made some non-committal noises, but as soon as Lord Harraby had left, he said, “Now do not get your hopes up, for we must take your Aunt Alice’s advice on the matter, you know. She stands in place of your mama just now. She will know what is best to be done.”
Aunt Alice was not encouraging. “My dear niece, do you truly wish to go away on a pleasure trip, as if nothing had changed? If you want a change of scene, then you might go to Josie or Izzy, or to Lady Tarvin at Harfield, for they understand your situation.”
