by Diane Farr
“Then—then you mean to marry despite it?” faltered Culpepper.
“We do indeed,” said Lord Rival. He looked completely content.
“How will you live?” exclaimed the unhappy solicitor.
“Well, they do say two can live more cheaply than one,” offered Olivia.
“Actually, I expect to be of great assistance to her ladyship,” said Lord Rival. “I have a positive genius for economizing. I have lived on so little for so long that I venture to state, with perfect confidence, that if Lady Olivia must spend the remainder of her life in genteel poverty, she could hardly place herself in better hands.”
“That, my lord, I am sure of,” murmured Lady Olivia. She looked utterly besotted.
“Let me be sure I understand this,” said Culpepper faintly. “Is this a—is this a love match?”
“Of course it is, you gudgeon,” said Lord Rival, with some asperity.
Culpepper was too distraught to notice or take offense at Lord Rival’s characterization. He rose from the table, trembling, and made an announcement. “My lord,” he said awfully, “I have wronged you.”
Lord Rival sighed. “Yes, well, never mind,” he said kindly. “And don’t fancy yourself unique. Everyone seems to misjudge me lately.”
“No, no, you do not take my meaning,” said Culpepper in a low, quavering voice. “But then—how should you, indeed?” He clasped his hands before him as if pleading for mercy. “I have made a monstrous error in judgment. Monstrous. Lady Olivia, I think you will accept my resignation, will you not? Do not, I beg of you, turn me off without a character.”
Olivia was seriously alarmed by the draining of color from Culpepper’s features. She half rose, reaching her hand toward the elderly solicitor. “Mr. Culpepper, pray—! You are talking nonsense. You will make yourself ill. Whatever error you have made, I am confident you acted in good faith.”
He turned pitiful eyes upon her. “Aye, that I did. I meant well.” He stood before them like a prisoner in the dock, took a deep breath, and made a clean breast of it. “I have lied to you, madam. I told you a deliberate falsehood. Indeed, I meant it for the best—but I fear I have acted very wrongly.”
“What on earth! What falsehood did you tell me? And why?”
Culpepper’s neckcloth appeared to have suddenly grown too tight. He ran a nervous finger round the edge of his cravat and cleared his throat. “You may recall, perhaps, a discussion that we had some time ago wherein I expressed my, ah, reservations about Lord Rival’s character.”
“Yes, I recall it. Well?”
“It seemed to me, at the time, that you had not taken my words to heart. I left our interview feeling extremely alarmed, my lady. I was deeply concerned for your future welfare.” He cast an anxious glance at Lord Rival. “I do hope you will understand that I cherish the highest regard and affection for Lady Olivia, my lord. My actions may strike you as inexcusable and, of course, I see now that I overreached myself. But—”
“Yes, yes, you may skip over that part,” interrupted his lordship. “We understand that whatever misguided meddling you next indulged in, your motives were of the purest.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Culpepper gratefully. “I am afraid I set a few inquiries afoot. Just to make certain in my own mind, you know, before I took any further steps to intervene. After all, I thought, perhaps I was wrong. But alas, all my inquiries seemed to confirm my fears.”
“What fears?” asked Olivia. She was sitting very straight in her chair and two spots of angry color were beginning to heat her cheeks.
Culpepper coughed. “I feared, my lady, that Lord Rival was nothing but a common fortune hunter. It sounds dreadful, I know, but a single lady of means is at risk of being taken in by such a fellow. And those of us who care for you, my lady, must be forever vigilant on your behalf. Your brother has shown himself sadly lacking in this area, in my humble opinion, and it has fallen to my lot to look after you—to whatever extent I am allowed. And I have done my level best. Hence, the inquiry. Through my sources, I discovered that his lordship was not, perhaps, as plump in the pocket as his lifestyle might lead one to believe. In fact, it appeared to me that Lord Rival’s life could rightly be described as hand-to-mouth.”
“That’s about the size of it,” agreed Lord Rival. “You interest me extremely. I’d give a good deal to discover how you learned this.”
Culpepper looked at Lord Rival sideways. “Perhaps, my lord, at a later time.”
“Yes, George, do let him tell his story. I still do not understand where the falsehood comes in.”
Culpepper sighed. “I will try to be brief.” He looked miserable. “I had planned to meet with you, Lady Olivia, and share with you what I had learned. I hoped that my information might serve to dissolve what I deemed a dangerous and unhealthy friendship with his lordship or, at the very least, put you on your guard. Imagine my distress, then, when, prior to my securing an appointment with you to go over the information I had gathered, Miss Fairfax desired me to place a notice of your engagement in the papers.” He spread his hands apologetically. “I thought you had been duped, Lady Olivia. I believed that marriage to Lord Rival would be a disaster of no small magnitude. I was sure he would make you prodigiously unhappy.”
Olivia began to see where Culpepper’s oration might be leading. She leaned forward in her chair, feeling almost faint with suspense. “Go on, Culpepper, for pity’s sake. What did you do then?”
Culpepper began turning slowly pink. “It seemed to me, madam, that if it was your fortune that had prompted Lord Rival’s offer of marriage, the disappearance of that fortune would result in the disappearance of the betrothal. And, therefore—”
“Oh, no!” Olivia was white with shock.
“Yes, madam.” Tears started in Culpepper’s eyes. “I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I—misrepresented your financial picture the last time we met.” He looked in trepidation from one shocked face to the other. His audience seemed paralyzed. “I had thought, you know, that once your engagement was at an end you might be feeling a trifle low, and that I could cheer you up a bit by confessing my little deception. In the meantime, your eyes would have been opened to Lord Rival’s true nature, so I felt sure you would forgive me at once. I was confident that you would actually be grateful to me, once you were out of danger.” He waited, but still no one spoke. “I see, now, that I was quite wrong,” he finished lamely.
The painful silence that followed was broken by a choke of smothered mirth from Lord Rival. The choking almost immediately gave way to out-loud laughter. He leaned his head on his hands and whooped helplessly. Olivia stared at him, furious. “I can’t imagine what you find so awfully funny!” Her fiancé merely waved a limp hand, apparently unable to reply while in the throes of his laughing fit.
Olivia turned her wrathful gaze upon Culpepper. “Are you telling me that you inflicted all this misery on me for nothing? Speak! Am I still a wealthy woman, or am I not?”
“You are, my lady, an extremely wealthy woman.”
Olivia fell back in her chair, speechless. Culpepper looked a little aggrieved. “Had you thought about it more carefully, my lady, you might have guessed that I would not betray my solemn promise to your father.”
“What solemn promise?”
“That I should never divulge to you the source of your income.”
He looked so prim and self-righteous that Olivia uttered a little scream of vexation. George, still laughing, placed a soothing hand on hers. “Never mind, my love. We’ll soon get to the bottom of this.” He wiped his streaming eyes and turned, grinning, to Culpepper. “Very well, you exasperating old bounder. You kept your infernal promise to the late Lord Badesworth. Am I right in supposing that Lady Olivia’s betrothal releases you from it?”
“In a manner of speaking, my lord.” Culpepper placed his fingertips precisely together. “I may not discuss her holdings with Lady Olivia, but I may do so with you.”
“Of all the intolerable—”
Culpepper shot a dubious look at Olivia and struggled with himself for a moment. It plainly went against the grain with him to speak in her presence, but he finally did so—albeit grudgingly. “Very good, my lord. I cannot think it wise, but I will tell you. Lady Olivia’s holdings could hardly be more safely invested. Her inheritance is entirely in the Funds, which is why her income is able to be delivered to her in such good order and in such precise amounts.”
“Thank you, Culpepper,” said Olivia silkily. “You may leave now.”
He took one more look at her face. Whatever he saw there caused him to pick up his hat and bow immediately. “Good day, my lady. Good day, my lord. I wish you both very happy.” He exited, with more haste than dignity.
Olivia dove into George’s arms and collapsed there, completely unnerved. “Well! That is the last straw. I shall give Culpepper the boot. Ralph has enough to keep him busy in his old age; let him go to Ralph.”
George chuckled. “As you wish, but I must say, I’m profoundly grateful to the old codger.”
“Grateful?” She pulled back against the circle of his arms, staring indignantly up at his laughing face. “Why, he insulted you! And put us both through the darkest days—”
“Very true. But if he had not done so, we both would have believed that I was marrying you for your money.” His arms tightened around her waist. “It’s worth a great deal to me,” he murmured, “to know that I am making a love match.”
An unwilling smile tugged at Olivia’s mouth. “We would have discovered that eventually.”
“I would have discovered it,” he told her softly. “But you, my dear, would never have been sure.”
Olivia grew thoughtful. “I wonder,” she said slowly. “Good heavens. You may be right.” She continued to ponder the question as George pulled her tightly to him and, humming under his breath, began to dance with her around the breakfast room.
“So we shall have a happy ending after all,” he said exultantly.
“There was never any doubt.” She smiled and looked up at him. He was obviously thinking of Rye Vale. His eyes were alight with plans and excitement thrummed through his body. He looked almost boyish.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Just—no more shocks, please. No more reversals. I vow, I can feel my hair turning gray. I cannot sustain one more shock.”
He halted and held her off, his eyes suddenly focusing on her face again. “I forgot to tell you something. Sorry, Ivy! You’ve one more shock to bear.” She looked up at him with misgiving. He grinned, and amended his statement somewhat. “At least, it came as a shock to me. It may strike you differently. It’s about poor Tom.”
“Tom?” she asked anxiously. “I hope he hasn’t run off?”
“Oh, no. No such luck. You’ll remember my frequent complaints that the old fellow was growing fatter every day.”
“Yes?”
“Well, while we were in Sussex he gave birth to a litter of kittens. I would have mentioned it earlier, but in all the excitement—oh, yes, it’s like you to laugh at my misfortune.” He shook his head glumly. “One cat was bad enough, but a houseful of them—”
“Oh, dear! You know, we should have realized that Tom is female. Only look at the way he immediately attached himself to you.”
“Yes,” said George broodingly. “It struck me as unnatural at the time. I must say, however, he’s a very good mother. Watches over the little blighters day and night, and works himself into a frightful state every time I come near them.”
“You seem to have that effect on mothers.”
“Had,” said George firmly. “I’m a reformed character.” An idea suddenly gleamed in his eye. “If you want to take Culpepper down a peg, I know how to do it. We’ll give him one of Tom’s kittens. Believe me, dear girl, I speak from experience. Nothing like a cat to humble a man.”
“Really?” she murmured teasingly. “It had no discernible effect on you.”
Up went one eyebrow. Down went the corner of his mouth. “Minx,” he growled, and kissed her thoroughly.
