Stephanie James (20 page)

“Then you’d be hanged for murder,” said Mr. Southerland. “Tsk, tsk, my friend. Where are your senses? Gone away with your thoughts of whichever woman you’re thinking of, I suspect. Tell me, Philip, who have you found to replace the lovely Lady Charlotte Chambers? I dare say you must have replaced her long ago. Only a greater woman would have allowed you to let the beautiful Charlotte go to the likes of the Earl Norland.”

Philip gritted his teeth. The duke leaned in to whisper in Philip’s ear. “Let it go, Philip. He cannot know the truth of that matter.”

The secret of Philip’s failed proposal had remained safely kept among Philip, his father, their servant Rivers — and Charlotte, of course. So, while Philip would have loved the feel of his fist hitting Mr. Southerland’s nose for his last flippant comment, he would have had a difficult and embarrassing time of explaining exactly why he had become so enraged. And so, he merely inhaled deeply and said, “You would not know her.”

Mr. Southerland laughed. “Oh! So there is a new woman. One of intensely captivating beauty, I imagine.”

“Of course,” said Philip, scanning the morning sky for more birds. “Eyes like the night sky, skin like satin, and hair like ribbons of silk.”

Mr. Southerland laughed again, this time more animatedly. “Oh, do stop it, Ravenshaw,” he said, lowering his rifle from the sky. “Lord Masters’ poetry is enough for me. I do not need you to start that nonsense as well.”

Philip along with his father and Mr. Winter laughed. “Ah, but I cannot stop it,” said Philip, “for Cupid’s own arrow has struck my heart for certain this time. I dare say I shall never find her equal.”

“Where did you meet her, Philip?” asked Mr. Winter. “Was it in the village, or back in London?”

Philip did not answer the question and indeed he did not have to, for at that precise moment, the dogs had disturbed a cluster of birds and they were now taking to the sky with haste. Each of the men fired away, hoping to hit their targets. All around them, the birds fell one by one to the ground, and the dogs bounded towards their fallen corpses through the tall grass. Philip himself had managed to hit three in a row, and would have hit more had he not been burden by the task of reloading his rifle. Finally his concentration and aim had returned.

He had just finished reloading and was about to look skyward to search for more birds when a distant figure caught his eye. It was Lord Masters walking towards the group with his rifle thrown over his shoulder and a simpering look on his face. And what was that in his hand? Flowers?

It was a rose. A single white rose from one of the many bushes Philip had ordered for his garden, and Master’s was sniffing it like a fool with an equally stupid smile on his face.

“I would ask if you had yet to steal her heart, Masters,” began Mr. Southerland, “but it is quite clear that she has apparently stolen yours.” Mr. Southerland laughed heartily, as did Mr. Winter.

“I would not go so far as to say that exactly,” said Lord Masters, still smiling. “And if I may be so bold, Mr. Winter, I would say that Miss Olivia is perhaps the most perfectly pleasant young lady I have ever met.”

Mr. Winter smiled with paternal pride. “You may indeed be so bold, my lord.”

Philip’s face twisted into a look of confusion.

Olivia, pleasant? Olivia … Miss Olivia Winter? The woman who had acidly scolded Philip more times than he could count? The woman who had told him numerous times that he was the most disgracefully arrogant man she had ever met in her entire life?
That
Olivia was charming?

One would assume that Olivia was indeed in possession of an aspect of her personality that was charming and nice, but Philip had never seen it. And to know that Masters had just walked through Philip’s own gardens with the kind and pleasant Olivia Winter, well … that was a little more than Philip could tolerate.

He lifted his gun skyward again as another wave of birds took flight. He fired four shots, but missed every time.

• • •

“Miss Olivia!” exclaimed the duchess. “Please do come and join us.”

With great reluctance, Olivia entered the drawing room and sat as delicately as possible on an unoccupied chaise. She had been on her way to the library when the duchess — obviously having spotted her as she passed by the open doorway — called out her name.

Olivia did not want to join the other ladies. In fact, she had been avoiding being alone with any of them ever since she had arrived at Tyndall Hall, but she had finally been captured without hope of escape. How could she ignore a duchess?

To add to her misfortune, the room was populated by more women than just the duchess. The two younger girls were present, as well as a woman whom Olivia had never before seen. Upon entering the room and seating herself, the woman was introduced to Olivia as Lady Albright, a neighbor of Philip’s, who had recently arrived from the north with her husband, the Viscount Albright.

“How are you this morning, Miss Olivia?” asked Lady Lillian once introductions had been made.

Olivia, having quickly noticed the ladies had their hands neatly placed one on top of the other in their laps, arranged her hands to match the ladies’. “I am well, Lady Lillian,” said Olivia. “Thank you.”

Lady Lillian smiled.

“And how do you find your accommodations?” asked the duchess. “Comfortable, I do hope.”

“Oh, they are very comfortable, to be sure, your grace,” Olivia replied.

The duchess smiled. “Wonderful,” she said. “Philip will be pleased to know that his guests are comfortable.”

Philip would be pleased by such news? Well … in that case …

“Actually, my quarters were rather drafty last night, come to think of it,” said Olivia, amending her earlier statement. “Yes, in fact I recall a moment last night during which I was awoken by the cold.”

“Oh, dear,” said the duchess concernedly. “That is most unfortunate. Perhaps you would like to be moved to another room, my dear?”

Olivia had not expected this. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, your grace,” she said, flustered.

“Nonsense,” the duchess replied. “You will be moved at once.”

The duchess then summoned a maid and dispensed the order that Olivia’s things be moved from her current room to another, warmer one.

“Thank you, your grace,” said Olivia, slightly embarrassed that she had caused such a fuss.

“Not at all, dear. Do let me know if you experience any amount of discomfort with your new situation.”

“I will indeed, your grace,” said Olivia, bowing her head slightly.

A maid entered the room with a tray of tea, which was next poured into cups and dispensed accordingly. Then conversation began.

“Did Viscount Albright not wish to hunt, Lady Albright?” asked the duchess.

“Quite the opposite, your grace,” said Lady Albright. “He so wished to come and join the others, but business with our lands in the north have kept him from the hunt. But he sent me along as it is becoming quite cold near the border.”

“How unfortunate,” said the duchess. “Perhaps next time he will be able to attend.”

“Yes, he hopes so as well,” said Lady Albright.

“Lady Lillian,” said the duchess. “Why don’t you tell Lady Albright about the book you were describing to me? Perhaps she would enjoy it as well.”

Lady Lillian’s face lit up. “I would love to, your grace. That is if Lady Albright would wish to hear about it.”

“Of course, my dear,” said Lady Albright. “I do love to read.”

“Well, then,” Lady Lillian began, “It is a romantic tale, but I think it is most intriguing. It all begins in a faraway land, positively filled with mystery and intrigue …”

Olivia listened here and there, but mainly she kept quiet and stared at the carpet. She knew nothing of the sort of books Lady Lillian read, or of London fashion, or of gossip, or of planning events. The women were not mean or unpleasant, that much again was true, but Olivia still did not feel a part of their crowd. She was not noble; she was common. She had been to London only once in her life; the women present resided there for most of the year, and as a consequence, they had access to the latest books and
The London Times
, which made them far more knowledgeable about the world in general than she was.

She had nothing to add to their conversation, and so, Olivia quietly sipped her tea as she looked around the room, patiently waiting for the moment she would be allowed to leave and go about her own business undisturbed.

“I have noticed the gentleman have taken quite a liking to you, Miss Olivia.”

At first Olivia had only heard her name. She looked up quickly to see all the women staring at her. Then, once she realized exactly what had been said, she was frankly a little shocked that a lady of stature had dared to utter such a statement. Apparently Olivia was not the only person present who shared this opinion, either.

“Amelia,” hissed the duchess, taking a break from her pleasant demeanor to scold her daughter. Her teacup clattered loudly with its saucer, a result of having moved it away from her mouth quickly while sipping, shocked by Amelia’s words. “That was entirely improper.”

“Oh, come now, Mama,” said Lady Amelia, seemingly unaffected by her mother’s tone. “We are but a small group of women, and each of us is familiar with one another. There is no reason why we cannot speak plainly.”

“There most certainly is,” said the duchess. “Lady Albright and Miss Olivia have only just been introduced to us this week. They are most certainly appalled by your statement.”

“I am perfectly unoffended, to be sure, your grace,” said Lady Albright. “Besides, this seems a very interesting subject to discuss.” She smiled broadly, her curiosity far too intrigued to conceal her eagerness to hear such gossip. Lady Amelia smiled at her mother victoriously. The duchess returned her daughter’s look with one of extreme disapproval but said nothing before taking another dainty sip of her tea.

“I do not believe they are all interested in me,” said Olivia.

“Oh, but they are,” declared Amelia. “I have never seen Lord Masters so flustered around a woman. He likes you for certain. And Mr. Southerland!” She paused to laugh. “He often shows off, but never have I seen him so boisterous. You make him nervous.”

“Oh my,” said Lady Albright. She had been hanging on Amelia’s every word. She looked at Olivia. “How will you choose, my dear?”

“Philip doesn’t seem entirely too pleased by the whole charade,” said Lady Lillian before taking in a bit more of her tea.

Lady Amelia smiled knowingly. “No, he does not, Lilly,” she said. “Well spotted.”

“What do you mean, Lady Lillian?” asked the duchess.

“Oh,” Lillian said, noticeably unprepared to explain her meaning. She shifted her weight on the sofa. “I only meant that I have never seen him look so … angry, I suppose is the word to describe it. Doubtless he is embarrassed by his male guests’ attempts at Miss Olivia and thus upset with them.”

“Oh, he is upset with them for certain,” said Lady Amelia, “but for an entirely different reason.”

Olivia did not understand. Her face twisted in confusion and she looked at Lady Amelia as though examining her face might help her to understand.

“Hush, Amelia,” said the duchess, who had immediately caught on to her daughter’s hidden meaning. “You cannot know that for sure.”

Lady Albright was looking back and forth between the two women, her mouth opened slightly. “Know what?” she asked impatiently. “Lady Lillian, what are they talking about?” But Lady Lillian had taken a sip of her tea, obviously reluctant to say anything now that the duchess was upset. “Know what?” Lady Albright continued.

Olivia did not understand the source of the tension that now filled the room. She and Lady Albright were much in the same party, as she too was lost in translation.

“We shall see, Mama,” said Lady Amelia. She began prodding the lemon in her tea. Then the room fell silent once more but the tension remained as thick as fog.

What other reason could Lord Philip possibly have for being upset with his male guests? Lady Lillian’s assumption seemed the most logical. As stodgy as Lord Philip was about propriety, a trait he had obviously acquired from his equally proper mother, it was undeniably embarrassing to have them pursuing her. But what did Lady Amelia mean? Was she trying to imply that Lord Philip had developed some sort of attachment to her, one that might inspire him to behave as a brother? Richard did begin to act a bit protective whenever men showed interest in her. Perhaps that was it, but Olivia doubted it.

In fact the only possibility of which she was absolutely certain was that nothing, apart from a guilty conscious for something he had done, could compel Lord Philip to think about her at all.

• • •

“Good God, Philip, control yourself!” the duke ordered.

Philip lowered his gun. It had been pointed straight at Mr. Southerland.

“What are you playing at, Ravenshaw?” asked Mr. Southerland angrily. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you want the girl for yourself.”

Philip began to charge at Mr. Southerland once more, but the duke held him back. “Calm down, boy! What is the matter with you? I’ve never before seen you behave in such a manner.”

Philip straightened up. He brushed the front of his jacket off and buttoned a loosened button as he tried to think of an excuse for the spectacle he had just made of himself. The truth of the matter, however, was that he had no excuse. He had never behaved in such a manner, just as his father had said. He had never felt inspired to, but Southerland’s joking had not just pushed him over the edge of reason, it had hurled him.

“Just you wait until I get to spend some time with Miss Winter, Masters,” Mr. Southerland had said. “I’ll have her in love with me by the end of the week.”

These comments alone had been enough to make Philip want to shoot Mr. Southerland, but his next comment had prompted Philip to actually try it.

“With any luck, she will return to London with me,” Mr. Southerland had said. “Tell me, Masters, is Nigel a good, strong name for our first child?”

At the utterance of this comment, Philip had swung his gun away from the sky and aimed straight for Mr. Southerland. And now here he stood in the tall grass, disgraced by his actions with all the men staring at him, waiting for an explanation.