The owner of the cottage would not be home, Gabriel was well aware. Mr. Smith was currently laboring some fifty feet or so below the surface of the earth.
Gabriel lifted his gloved fist and rapped twice on the door. He had no explanation for his visit but suspected she’d be here.
When the door opened, he was not disappointed.
“Lord Kingsley?” Warm pink flushed Miss Olivia Redfield’s cheeks. Curling tendrils of golden hair had plastered themselves to the side of her face. Her wide eyes halted his thoughts for a moment as he realized they were the exact color of his mother’s favorite violets in May. The scent of cinnamon and apples floated out the door.
“You haven’t married him yet, I hope?” Gabriel pushed the door open wide and swept past her. “Because apple pie is one of my favorites, and I’ve yet to have eaten today.”
“What are you doing here?” She closed the door behind him, and he imagined her standing there with both hands fisted upon her flared hips.
Spinning around, he smiled to himself that he could predict her actions so well. “Didn’t I just explain? Food, woman. Since you seem to enjoy toiling over a stove, you might as well practice your skills by feeding me.” He glanced around the room at the meager furnishings. Did she really think she could live this kind of life forever?
She folded her arms in front of her and, for a moment, Gabriel wondered if she might send him packing. But then, with a jerk of her chin, she indicated the bench that sat along a worn but clean wooden table. “Of course, I haven’t married anyone yet, you buffoon. And keep your voice down. The baby is sleeping.” Covered in an oversized apron, she bustled around, acting quite as though she belonged. “The coffee grounds are used, but I suppose I can eek one more cup out of them.”
Her comfort in Smith’s kitchen unsettled him.
“Has he asked again?”
Gabriel could almost hear the wheels of her brain turning as she contemplated whether to answer his question. Straining, she awkwardly lifted the boiling pot of water to pour it into a chipped cup. Gabriel would have performed the task for her but doubted she’d appreciate it.
She nearly bristled in her independence.
With an exhale that sent the hair on her face flying into the air, she slammed the cup in front of him. “I make it a point to leave the house before he’s returned.”
Just as he thought. Gabriel glanced down at his watch. “You’ve a few hours left then. Plenty of time for you to serve me a slice of that pie.”
“You cannot eat his pie! What will he think if it’s already been cut into?
“Send it home with me. He never needs to know the pie existed.”
“He would smell it. The cinnamon.” She frowned at him but then pulled out a knife. Minx that she was, she shook it threateningly at him for all of three seconds before turning to carve out a rather large slice and transfer it onto a plate. “Why are you here, My Lord?”
“A few days ago, you called me Gabriel Fellowes. Enough of this My Lording. We are friends, are we not?”
She placed the pie in front of him along with a bent fork and then sat down facing him on the opposite bench. “Why are you here, then? Gabriel Fellowes.”
“He’s going to catch you eventually, you know. And he’s going to ask. Someone needs to talk some sense into you, so you don’t trap yourself for the rest of your life.”
“This is no concern of yours.” But she frowned at his words, and rightly so.
“We’ve already established that, have we not, my dear Miss Redfield? For the life of me, I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“Olivia. You might as well call me Olivia. But only if no one else is present.”
“Not Lazy-eyed Livvie?“
“So help me!” She lifted the knife threateningly again, effectively cutting him off before he could finish speaking.
Thoroughly enjoying himself, Gabriel chuckled and held both hands up in surrender. “But I love your eye!”
She leaned closer with the knife and lifted one brow.
“Eyes. I love your eyes. Both of them. The perfect one and the perfectly delightful one.” He knew he shouldn’t tease her. Stanton would kill him. But Gabriel couldn’t help himself. He loved watching sparks of annoyance shoot from her gaze nearly as much as he enjoyed hearing her laugh.
In exasperation, she placed the knife on the table and shook her head. “You are no help to me. Do you realize this? I’ve enough troubles without you.” She tried sounding flippant but hurt was more than evident in her voice.
Gabriel pursed his lips together. Ever since hearing the viscount refer to her as his own personal curse, he’d been unable to keep his mind from returning to her situation.
A perfectly lovely girl shamed by her own father.
“You’re right. Despite my best intentions, I’ve done nothing but harass you. And I did have a reason for coming here. Truly, I did. And this pie is divine, by the way. I think I will take the entire dish with me when I go.”
Ignoring his teasing, she brushed a few wayward hairs back and stared at him warily. She was one of the most pathetic but beautiful women he’d ever been acquainted with. More than acquainted. A few days ago, he’d indicated he was her friend, hadn’t he? How delightfully original of him to have a beautiful woman for a friend.
“What is your reason for coming here?” She pinned him with her gaze.
And that question gave him pause. Why did I come here?
“Why?” He frowned at her question. Why indeed? Oh, yes! “Because ever since you informed me that you were contemplating marriage to Mr. Smith, a man of fine character, I’m sure, but a man with whom you can have little, if anything, in common, I haven’t slept a wink.”
At that, she rolled her eyes.
“I feel that it is my duty as your friend, especially since your sister and Stanton are unable to advise you in this matter, to make certain that you do not make an irreparable mistake. I will be quite content at having done my duty when I know that you have no qualms uttering the most powerful word in the universe.”
At her confused look, he stuffed another bite of pie into his mouth and then spoke around it. “No.”
“No?”
“Exactly. You must be prepared to say the word with conviction.”
“No,” she said more firmly, causing him to smile.
“Very good, Miss Redfield.”
“I am practicing on you. No, Gabriel Fellowes, you cannot take the pie home with you. It’s for Mr. Smith and his boys. Luke Jr. would have conniptions if he returned from his scavenging this afternoon to find that the pie I promised him had been stolen away by a thieving aristocrat.”
Gabriel nearly choked on a laugh. “It would seem I needn’t have come then.”
“Indeed.”
He scooped up the last bite of gooey flaky crust and stared at her solemnly. “In all seriousness, Miss Redfield. I’d hate to see you trap yourself into a life in which you cannot escape. A lifetime is an awfully long sentence to pay for such a mistake.”
He reached across the table and captured her tight little fist in his. How could such a spritely minx feel so very fragile? And how was it that she could be so contrary with him and yet so very meek where others were concerned?
“I’ve gone over it in my mind a thousand times. My options. So much so that I can hardly see straight.” Her admission surprised him.
“And?”
“Marrying him seems the right thing to do, the Christian thing to do. I’d no longer be a burden to my parents. I’d have a home that was truly my own—“
“Your husband’s,” he interrupted.
“My husband’s?”
“The home would not be yours. It would belong to your husband.” He corrected any misapprehensions she might have on that matter.
“Very well. I’d have a home, though, and a family. Although this marriage isn’t at all what I’d imagined when I was younger, does that really matter? The children need me. And Mr. Smith already has e
xpectations. As does nearly everyone else who has provided assistance. My father has given Mr. Smith permission to ask me… and I’ve not turned him down...”
“If you intend to turn him down, you’d best alter your course immediately. You cannot continue making yourself so…” he spun the fork in the air with his free hand as he searched for the best word to describe what she’d been doing, “…available. You need to cease spending your days in the man’s home.” The solution seemed apparent to Gabriel. It was also obvious to him that she was becoming more and more ensnared as each day passed.
“If I don’t come, who will care for the children? Baby Harvey–“
“Will do fine without you.”
She blew out a breath and turned her hand over, gripping his fingers tightly. Gabriel wasn’t certain she even realized that she’d done so.
“You’re right. I know you’re right. But…”
“You are as afraid of saying no as you are of saying yes,” he finished for her.
She lifted her chin and met his gaze fully. Her left eye seemed to be traveling of its own accord slightly more than it had when he first arrived. He wondered if it moved more when she was upset, or emotional.
“I’m afraid to be forgotten.” She swallowed hard and then dropped her gaze. “I know it seems foolish. Of course, I won’t be forgotten, will I? But Louella is going to have her own family now. And my father…”
Damn her father. Hallowell’s idiotic beliefs had done this to her. Isolated her. Condemned her to a life of insecurity.
“Such a fear is irrational but not foolish.” From what Gabriel had garnered from Stanton, Olivia Redfield mattered greatly to her younger sister. “Lady Stanton will never forget you. She’ll never leave you behind.” And then, because it seemed the right thing to say, he added, “And neither will I. We are friends, are we not?”
She tugged her hand back and wiped at her face. “Of course. Ignore my self-pity. I don’t know what’s the matter with me these days.”
“Come for a picnic with me tomorrow. I’ll take you to see the mine. We’ll make an afternoon of it.” Spectacular views abounded atop the hill at the mine’s opening. Seeing it might even inspire her. There was more to life than Thistle Park or Luke Smith’s troubles.
But she was already shaking her head. “My father would kill me if I went anywhere near it.” And then she pinched her lips together. She most likely was fully aware of her father’s irrational beliefs.
“Very well then. We’ll picnic by the river, and you can practice the new word we’ve added to your vocabulary.” He could check in at the mine early and then collect her at midday.
“I cannot. I’ve already promised I’d come early so that Miss Cline can attend to her chores at the vicarage. And besides, I know I’m not…” She dropped her lashes rather than continue. “But I oughtn’t to go alone with a gentleman…”
“We’ll bring your maid along, if you wish. And besides,” he waggled his brows, “who is going to see us?” Objections were meant to be overcome, and problems were meant to be solved. Gabriel studied her closely. “If you were not needed here, you would like to go?” He’d be certain first.
She shrugged her frail shoulders. “Of course, but—“
“In that case, I will see you tomorrow around noon. Wear comfortable walking shoes.”
“Gabriel, did you not hear me?”
But he’d already risen from the bench and was headed toward the door. “Tomorrow, Olivia.” And before she could argue any further, he opened the door and made a hasty escape.
He wasn’t sure why it mattered that this young woman experienced some entertainment on occasion. Or why he determined himself the person to provide it.
He only knew he’d like to see her smile again.
And hear her laughter.
Olivia shook her head in disbelief as she strolled down the road back to her small house. Gabriel Fellowes, the Earl of Kingsley, considered himself her friend!
More than that, he’d said he wanted to help her. He’d said that he didn’t want her to make a decision she’d regret the rest of her life.
But why? Surely, the mine kept him busy enough, in Stanton’s absence. And Ashton Acres would abound with activities and entertainments.
Or had Stanton and Louella asked him to watch out for her? It was exactly the sort of thing her little sister would do.
Oh, good heavens! It wasn’t as though Olivia was a child! How pathetic she must seem to him.
She would not be going on a picnic tomorrow—to the mine or anywhere else. She most certainly did not require a keeper.
Tomorrow, like every other day the past few weeks, she’d be diligently caring for Luke Smith’s sons.
Again.
He’d taken hold of her hand while he’d implored her, sending an awareness through her she’d been unable to ignore. He was only being a friend; she’d had to remind herself. The same as Eliza, or… the vicar… or…
But she’d never had a friend quite like him. Not because he was an earl. In fact, she practically forgot his title most of the time. It was… him.
Experiencing all of the effects of his charismatic zest focused solely upon her… It made her feel… alive.
Arguing with him, merely being in his presence, made her happy.
She’d best not get used to it.
She’d do well to ignore the butterflies he sent dancing in her stomach whenever he teased her, his black-as-midnight eyes dancing flirtatiously. He was something of a rake and likely had half the debutantes in London tied around his little finger.
But he’d been serious with his warning.
You cannot continue making yourself available. You need to cease spending your days in the man’s home. Gabriel’s words echoed over and over in her head as she approached the sanctuary of her own small cottage.
Mr. Smith was a good man.
Why was this not enough for her?
When the idea of marrying him first presented itself, she’d not had all of these unsettling misgivings. What had changed? When had she changed?
Louella’s wedding.
Or had it been the ball?
She would not consider that her change of heart had anything to do with the fact that she’d become better acquainted with the Earl of Kingsley. It most certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she’d danced with him under the moonlight, nor that she’d sat in front of him atop his beautiful mount.
Inhaling his scent.
Absorbing his warmth.
She blinked quickly, forcing herself to summon the image of Luke Smith to mind. Peering at her from bright green eyes, Mr. Smith had thick reddish hair and was as attractive as Kingsley, more so even.
He lacked manners, though. Didn’t wash as often as she thought he ought… He was a laborer! What did she expect? And how many times must she remind herself who she was?
Gabriel Fellowes had indicated his wish to be her friend. Nothing more.
Her change of heart could only be attributed to Louella’s wedding. Olivia missed her sister. The young girl who’d been by her side for as long as Olivia could remember was moving on without her.
Which, that contrary voice in the back of her brain reminded, ought to have her wanting to marry Mr. Smith all the more. She, too, would have a husband, a family.
Dissonance niggled her thoughts because another annoying voice reminded her that perhaps she simply belonged with no one.
Making this choice was like to drive her mad and time was running out. Because, just as Gabriel warned, if she didn’t make this decision for herself, someone else was likely to make it for her.
“No.” She tentatively spoke the word aloud to the empty road. It sounded strange to her own ears in the silence of the countryside. Not a soul for miles to hear her and yet saying it made her uncomfortable. When had she last denied anyone anything?
Aside from the pie, that was.
“No!” she said even louder. It didn’t feel so strange this time. It felt good
. Why had she never considered herself worthy of telling people no? For forever, it seemed, she’d bobbed about in the sea, like a rudderless ship, going where the winds blew her, riding out the storms alone.
Since before her younger brother, her father’s rightful heir, had died.
Since before she’d been banished from her parents’ home.
Since before she could even remember.
She kicked a stone out of her way and then twirled around in a circle. “No. No. No. No. No!”
Chapter 7
An Outing
“I didn’t think you were coming today.” Eliza peeked up from her sewing when Olivia stepped inside, a deep frown etched into her forehead.
Busily working in the kitchen, a familiar-looking red-headed girl scurried about making herself useful.
“Freda Whitley?” Olivia remembered where she knew her from. The girl’s father had been the town blacksmith for as far back as she could remember.
“Good morning, Miss Redfield, mum.” The girl’s smile couldn’t have been any wider. “His Lordship told me you might forget that he’d hired me. Asked me to remind you he’d come by your house to collect you for your appointment.”
“My appointment? His Lordship?” He didn’t! He wouldn’t! Did he not realize people would jump to the wrong conclusion if he were to single her out? And not a promising conclusion, at that. She could see already that Freda had gotten the wrong idea.
Although her reputation didn’t matter much in the overall scheme of things, it meant a great deal to her.
“Lord Kingsley?”
Freda nodded, as did Eliza, who looked none too happy. In fact, she clucked her tongue in that disapproving way of hers. She certainly wasn’t a vicar’s sister for nothing.
“He offered to take me on a picnic—Mary and me, that is,” Olivia offered in way of explanation. She would not dissemble with her. “But I refused.”
Eliza hushed her but then exploded in a harsh whisper, “He obviously didn’t take your refusal seriously. Did you learn nothing from my own experience, Olivia?”
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 6
