“Do you think Louella will be happy living at Ashton Acres?” Eliza’s question broke into Olivia’s thoughts.
“Oh, yes. Mostly because she simply dotes on the marquess.” Although the wedding had been an arranged one, Louella had admitted that she thought she might come to love her husband. Lord Stanton had exhibited similar inclinations. Anyone with half a brain could see it whenever his eyes landed on her.
Olivia was happy for her sister.
She was.
Which somewhat diminished the prospect of marrying Mr. Smith.
Even though she already knew the answer, she could not help asking, “If you were in my place, what would you do, Eliza?”
Eliza raised the cup and took a sip before answering. “Nothing is ever simple, is it? I am lucky to live at the vicarage with Thomas; I am not so ungrateful as to resent my position in life. But I am dependent upon him completely. And sometimes, I think that perhaps my brother would look for an agreeable lady to marry if he were not responsible for me.”
Olivia had wondered about this. Eliza’s brother was only a few years older than she, and although a horrible gossip, as a vicar, garnered respect within the community and pulled in a steady income. These attributes alone could easily attract a wife.
“Have you never wished to marry?” Although she and Eliza had been friends for over two years, they hadn’t ever discussed matters that involved affairs of the heart. Olivia had wanted to inquire but the opportunity never arose.
Not that Eliza seemed as though she was hiding anything about herself, more as though she’d erased her past; as though she’d given up on any dreams she’d ever had for the future.
“I received an offer when I was eighteen. Matthew Wilson. Oh, Olivia, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Matthew was everything I’d ever dreamed of in a husband. His parents owned a nearby inn where he worked. The two of us would assist his family initially and one day, it would be passed on to Matthew.”
Eliza bit her lip and stared out the window. Obviously, this story ended badly. If not, Eliza wouldn’t be living with her brother now.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
People consisted of so much more than their appearance or their position in life. The quiet ones seemed to hide the most. Like very deep waters, the surface rarely moved despite turmoil far beneath.
“I’m more ashamed than anything else. I try not to think about the reckless fool I was.” The older woman sighed. “I was working in the tavern and a very fine gentleman came passing through. Lord Henry Fairchild, second son of a baron. It goes without saying that he always appeared impeccable, in his tailored clothing and dressed by his valet. A more well-read person I doubt I’ve ever come across. Oh, but he was handsome, and I believed also quite wealthy. He told me all about his estate outside of London, and I pictured myself living there with him. You can only imagine how foolish I was to bask in his attention. Eventually, Matthew realized what was happening and broke our engagement.”
Oh, dear! “And this other gentleman?”
“Was only trifling with me. I went to Henry after Matthew broke things off and he…” Eliza swallowed hard. “He was horrified. He as much as admitted to me that I could only ever be a dalliance.
“So, you see, Olivia, if I had it to do all over again, I imagine I’d be happy to be Matthew’s wife. I’d not look any higher. If I hadn’t imagined myself too good for him, I’d have a home of my own and likely several children.”
“You think I should accept Luke Smith?”
Eliza shrugged. “A bird in the hand is worth more than two in the bush.”
Olivia had always hated that saying. But she nodded slowly and set baby Harvey’s milk aside. Glancing down at the child in her arms, she decided she’d take Eliza’s words to heart. A gentle reminder of the realities of her life. Best to make a difference where she could. And she was certain she could make a difference in this small home.
This poor child was so very precious and vulnerable. And all alone in this world.
“Mavis Smith lived a short life,” Eliza reminded her. “But I do believe it was a happy one. Luke Smith isn’t a drunkard, and I never once heard he raised a hand to her.”
Yes, Mrs. Smith may have lived a happy life, but it certainly had not been an easy one. And it had been short. She’d not even reached the age Olivia was now, although she’d appeared much older.
Olivia winced at the thought.
“He’ll need an answer soon.”
Olivia exhaled loudly. “I know.” But she didn’t really.
If she waited, would life ever have anything more to offer her?
“Good evening, Miss Redfield.” Luke Smith’s voice broke into the comfortable silence of the cottage as he removed his coat and hung his cap on the wall. Rust-colored hair stood on end, and his face seemed almost covered in dirt. A rather large man, his presence immediately filled the room. Olivia squirmed at his tentative smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Smith,” she answered him softly before holding one finger to her lips. “The baby is still sleeping.”
Eliza had stayed until shortly after noon, when the boys went down for their nap, leaving Olivia to prepare an evening meal for the family and await either Mrs. Markham to return or the children’s father to come home.
She’d rather hoped Mrs. Markham would arrive first.
When she reached for her bonnet, he lifted a hand. “I was hoping to speak with you for a moment.” And then he added, “alone.”
A chill sidled down Olivia’s spine. She could not do this today. She wasn’t ready. All afternoon, Eliza’s story about her Matthew and her Lord Fairchild had warred with Olivia’s own dreams.
“Perhaps another time, Mr. Smith?” She donned her floppy, rather ill-fitting bonnet and then hurried to collect the empty basket, all the while refusing to meet his eyes. “I’ve an, er, appointment with my mother this evening.” She had nearly made her escape, her back to him and the door halfway open when he stopped her with an alarming statement.
“I spoke with your father today.”
Olivia did not turn around. Was his decision to go to her father an arrogant one or was it considerate? Her father had been a sore spot with her for quite some time now.
“What did he say?” She almost wished he wouldn’t answer. Would her father even care that a man found her “marriageable’? Of course, Luke Smith was not a landed gentleman. But he provided for his family and—
“He gave me his blessing.”
Olivia cringed. Her father had not thought to consult with her, his daughter, before expressing such an opinion. She turned around and finally met Mr. Smith’s steady gaze. He really was quite handsome. “Did he offer you any sort of dowry? Mention a contract?” Would her father even care that much?
Luke Smith shook his head. “He seemed distracted. Wanted to know my opinion on the progress at the mine. But he said he will not stand in your way if…”
Of course, the mine would be foremost in her father’s thoughts. He’d not think half a second as to the well-being of his eldest daughter.
She backed out the door, pushing it open all the way. “There is stew on the stove. Mrs. Markham should be arriving shortly. Will you tell her the baby is eating better today?”
And then she pivoted and took off at a run, as though the hounds of hell themselves were chasing her.
What am I going to do?
Chapter 4
A Lift
Work at the mine was progressing steadily. The engineers, along with Mr. Compton, continued to express unwavering confidence in the utmost safety of the structures being put in place. Rather than reassure Gabriel, this bothered him. The opinion didn’t quite meet up with his own calculations.
The gold vein running precariously beneath thousands of tons of earth could lure even the most stoic of men into acting hastily.
Deep in thought, he didn’t see the young girl running like a banshee down the road until she was nearly upo
n him.
“Ho there!” he shouted before she barreled into his horse. Obviously, her mind was on other matters as well.
Startled, she came to a halt and then, breathing heavily, dropped the basket she’d been carrying and clutched at her side. “My apologies, My Lord.”
Violet eyes. Pulsating energy.
Miss Redfield! Not a young girl. A woman.
He’d have recognized her for her curves if she hadn’t been garbed in a drab dress and apron and if she hadn’t been wearing the most hideous of bonnets.
“Why, if it isn’t Lazy-eyed Livvy.” A welcomed sight, for certain.
Unfortunately, he’d chosen the wrong words to greet her with. At the narrowing of her eyes and further reddening of her face, he chuckled. “Come now, Miss Redfield. I’m only teasing.”
Her basket went flying over his head. She’d missed hitting his noggin by just a few inches.
After glancing behind him to see how far down the road it had landed, he turned around with raised brows. “What the devil?”
“If I hadn’t concern for your horse, it would have hit you. You arrogant, addlepated, confounding…” Her anger seemed so hot that she stumbled in search of more insults to heap upon the first three.
Perhaps he’d gone too far. “I’m sorry, Miss Redfield. Truly, I mean no insult.”
“Really? By calling a person lazy eyes? Where in the world is it acceptable to make fun of how a person looks? Calling me… that name! It is not any sort of compliment; I’ll have you know.” She marched passed him, scooped up her basket, and then turned back. Her expression had changed from ferocity to abject disappointment. “I had really hoped you would have grown up. Matured, just as Lord Stanton did. I had hoped your bullying a decade ago manifested out of angst and immaturity rather than lack of character. But you’ve proven me wrong.”
Gabriel reeled from her insults, catalogued then to be addressed at his despicable youthful self and asked the most pressing question in his mind at that moment. “Why were you running?”
She blinked hard several times. Tears? No? But no answer either.
“Did somebody hurt you?” he persisted.
“Aside from you?”
“I—“ Oh, hell. “I promise never to call you… that name again.” He didn’t like to think he’d hurt her… “Please, Miss Redfield. Forgive me? I—”
“I’m only teasing.” She cut him off using his own words from a moment ago. “Besides, the reason I was running is no concern of yours.”
“Of course, it’s none of my concern. That’s why I’m the perfect person for you to talk to about it.” He turned his head to see the sun already half set. “Climb on, and I’ll give you a lift home. You oughtn’t to be walking alone by yourself anyhow.”
She simply stared at his outstretched, gloved hand without moving. “Escorting me. It seems this is becoming a habit for you.”
Gabriel reached down lower. “It is at that. Now step on my foot and climb on. Unless you wish me to come down there and throw you bodily across the back of my horse, that is.”
“You certainly are used to getting your way, aren’t you?” She scowled. Nonetheless, she’d taken his hand and, with a tug, managed to get her foot atop his boot and swing herself up and practically in his lap. All without losing hold of her missile basket.
“At least you weren’t relieving yourself this time.” He could not help himself. She seemed capable of bringing out the worst in him this evening. He adjusted himself so that he could hold her more securely, which wasn’t difficult, her being nearly the size of a child, and in doing so, a flash of some unfamiliar emotion caught him unaware. It was similar to the feeling he’d had while dancing with her in the gazebo. Before he could analyze it, though, she turned and punched him half-heartedly in the gut. He ought to have expected it.
“I had no choice, you buffoon. And didn’t you promise to never speak of it again?”
“I promised to never speak of it to anyone else,” he clarified. “I did not promise that I would not use it to torment you in the future.”
She grunted and then wiggled her bum. Good lord this woman was nothing but soft curves. But something she said bothered him.
“Why did you have no choice?”
Silence but for the sound of his horse’s hooves stomping on the ground. What prevented a young lady from gaining access to the ladies’ retiring room in the middle of a ball? Either a gentleman had been bothering her or—and then the truth hit—damn him, but he could be an ignorant ass at times.
“Was somebody rude to you?” Did people mock her because of her eye?
Did it make any difference?
She let out a long breath. “Not directly.” He’d not expected her to answer. “And didn’t we establish that my problems were none of your concern?”
Her rejoinder had him correcting his earlier assessment of her. She was not all soft woman but at least fifty percent sharp tongue.
“Did we not also establish that was precisely why you ought to unburden them upon me? My total lack of concern for your life and well-being?”
As a gentleman, he would care about any young lady’s well-being.
“It would only give you more fodder for your own entertainment.”
“I take it you didn’t appreciate the nickname I gave you.”
“Of course, I didn’t appreciate it!” she exploded. Oh, Lord, getting a rise from her was just too easy. “So, help me, Gabriel Fellowes, if you are teasing me again!”
He’d definitely drawn her ire this time. She’d even gone so far as to address him by his given name. Something even his mother never deigned to do. Rather than being irritated, he could hardly contain his laughter.
When she swung around to look at him in astonishment, he gripped both the reins and her waist tighter. Teasing her wasn’t worth getting them both thrown.
“Hush.” Perhaps he’d gone too far. If not for Stanton’s warning, he’d have quieted her with a kiss. Outraged and disgusted with him, she’ managed to present the most kissable lips…
“Don’t you hush me! I swear, I’ve had it with men today. First Luke Junior hid his brother’s only toy all afternoon, then Mr. Smith takes it into his head to speak with my father. And then my father has the gall! And now—you—this!”
He squeezed her even tighter. “If you want my honest opinion, I love your eyes. Both of them.” His voice came out a rasping whisper as he spoke the words beside her bonnet-covered ear.
This quieted her easily enough. Stunned her more likely. But the moment the words left his mouth, he realized the truth in them. In all the time he’d left, he’d not forgotten the color. Nor the energy behind them.
When she finally responded, her own voice carried a more conciliatory tone. “You don’t have to lie. But if you’d like to apologize, I’ll contemplate accepting it.”
“I did not lie. And for the record, I never lie about anything that matters.”
“But you admit that you do lie?” She turned to stare at him accusingly. Those indigo eyes of hers crackled with vitality.
“As I said, not when it matters. You have the most annoying habit, Miss Redfield, of twisting the words that come out of my mouth.”
“Well, you shouldn’t lie about my eyes.”
“Your eyes matter. And therefore, I was not lying.”
Again, he succeeded in silencing her for all of twenty seconds, finally giving him the opening he’d waited for.
“And I’m sorry about before. For the nickname. I only did it because you were so adorable.” Again, the memory clarified itself in his mind at his words. Damn, but he’d acted like a twelve-year-old with a crush. Instead of treating her with extra kindness, he’d made fun of her. “Which is no excuse. Your adorableness, that is.”
Her silence had lengthened into longer than a full minute by now.
“Some have not forgotten it,” she mumbled. She seemed as though she’d like to tuck her head against his chest, but then, instead, lifted her chin and
watched the road before them. “But I accept your apology.”
If he ever came across anyone giving her grief, he’d like to pummel them something fierce. Ah, the irony, though. She suffered their insults because of him.
“Now, tell me what Mr. Smith did to anger you? Is this Luke Smith, the newly widowed fellow who works at the mine? What did he say to send you running?” Gabriel knew little of the man himself, except that he was one of his best workers and seemed good-natured enough.
Nonetheless, he’d throttle the lout if he’d hurt his little Lazy-eyed—ahem—Miss Redfield. Gabriel would throttle any man who took it upon himself to harm a helpless lady.
This helpless lady nodded, bumping her head on his chin in the process.
Moving his head to the side, Gabriel wondered that any man was safe around this urchin. “Are you going to tell me what he did to annoy you?” Surely, Smith wasn’t her beau? The man’s wife had been in the ground for less than a month.
“I am helping with the care of his children.” Gabriel let out a sigh of relief for some reason at this news. He didn’t like to think of Miss Olivia Redfield being courted by the hulking laborer. She required a man of her own class. Someone kind and gentle. Someone she could run roughshod over if she saw fit.
“Isn’t he showing the proper appreciation?”
“Oh, he appreciates me well enough.” And then, upsetting Gabriel’s imagination completely, she added, “So much so that he asked my father for my hand this afternoon.”
Chapter 5
A Friend
Olivia didn’t know why she was telling him all of this. Except that he was being kind again, and she enjoyed his sense of humor.
She only wished he’d not dissemble about loving her eyes. Because surely, he was dissembling. Nobody, except for perhaps Louella, had ever loved her eyes.
Her parents had bemoaned the left one on more occasions than she cared to remember.
“He wants to marry you? Good God. Is Smith delusional? Your father told him to bugger off, of course?” Lord Kingsley stiffened behind her, and the horse jerked to the side in response. “Sorry, old girl.” He reached around her to pat the mare’s neck. When he did so, his scent had her remembering those moments they’d danced together in the gazebo. Spicy, dark. Not clean, like soap, but warm…
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 4
