Priorities, Kempthorn, he silently chastised himself.
In the distance, the three of them watched a couple crossing the gravel path ahead and disappearing behind a hedge.
Miss Lydall turned around to face them. There was genuine panic in her eyes. “I cannot do this.”
Gideon took a step closer. “Olivia, what choice do any of us have?”
“I could return home,” she said, warming to her ridiculous plan.
“Don’t be a goose, Miss Lydall,” Thorn said, ruthlessly dashing her hopes. “You cannot walk several miles wearing only one shoe. Nor will we allow you to do so.”
“I am willing to take the risk,” she said, too stubborn for her own good.
He scowled at her. “Try it, and I will be entering the main house with you tossed over my shoulder.”
“Thorn,” his brother murmured.
Miss Lydall stuck her chin in the air. “You would not dare!”
Gideon tried to step between them. “My brother would never humiliate you—”
“I can speak for myself, Gideon.” Thorn moved closer to intimidate her with his height. “Test my patience, Miss Lydall, and you will be unhappy with the results.”
He waited for her to decide.
“You are a coldhearted gentleman, Lord Kempthorn,” she said, her lips set into a mutinous line of defeat.
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “Then we understand each other, Miss Lydall. Just think of all of the misunderstandings we will avoid this Season.”
Her lips trembled as she swallowed a scathing retort. Turning on her heel, she wordlessly walked away from the brothers.
Chapter Three
Never in her life had Olivia detested Lord Kempthorn more than in that moment.
He was overbearing, uncaring, and hateful. She pitied Gideon for being tied to such a callous creature.
Her anger gave her the strength she needed to forge ahead. Gideon’s apologies and his attempts to soothe her feelings were just an irritating noise in her ears. All she could think about was him. She saw only the triumphant gleam in Lord Kempthorn’s eyes, the arrogant curl of the corner of his mouth, and the outrageous threat that he would toss her over his shoulder if she did not obey his dictates.
Obey him.
Oh, his rudeness was beyond the pale.
“Be reasonable,” Gideon cajoled, when the cobblestone walk ended and the gravel path began. “If you think I will permit you to continue—”
“No! Thank you,” was her curt reply, her high dudgeon allowing her to endure the discomfort of the rough stones against her unshod foot.
“Stubborn,” Lord Kempthorn muttered under his breath.
“And you can go to the devil, my lord,” she said, tossing the careless words over her shoulder.
Neither gentleman spoke another word as her gait slowed and her limp became more pronounced. Olivia walked through the cultivated sections of Lady Felstead’s terraced gardens without stopping to admire the flowers. She ignored the stares and soft exclamations from the guests the trio encountered with increasing frequency as they approached the house.
When the gravel path ended and she stepped onto the lawn, she had to stifle a moan of relief. The bottom of her foot was bruised and she doubted the stocking could be repaired, but she took some satisfaction in having made the return to the house without having Gideon carry her like a helpless lamb.
If she had not been so vexed at Lord Kempthorn—
Had he deliberately set out to upset her? The unexpected insight caused Olivia to stumble. Before she could react, she felt the earl’s hand close around her upper arm to steady her. She started at his touch. He murmured an apology and released her arm. She had not realized he was walking almost at her heels or that he had observing her so closely.
Olivia glanced over her shoulder, but Lord Kempthorn was staring ahead. Even an unexpected dip in the chilly lake had not taken the starch out of his expression. He looked detached from everything around him.
Including her.
What a daft thought! The man was as cold as the fish in the lake.
“My, my,” a middle-aged woman said as Olivia, Gideon, and his twin approached the back terrace. “A bit chilly for a swim. What mischief have the three of you been indulging in?”
“A minor sailing accident,” Gideon said, placing his palm against Olivia’s back when she froze. “You are so kind to inquire after our welfare.”
Olivia inhaled sharply. The woman had done no such thing. Her knowing glance suggested the three of them had been doing something wicked.
Gideon gave Olivia a little shove to spur her forward.
The terrace was a gauntlet of speculative looks, amusement, questions, and expressed concern for their woeful condition. Olivia edged away from Gideon, with a fleeting thought of escape, but she was boxed in by Lord Kempthorn.
“You are not a coward, Miss Lydall,” the earl whispered in her ear. “Prove it.”
Olivia stiffened at his words and her chin lifted.
Had she not decided all of this was his fault?
No one came too close to them as they moved closer to the open doors of the ballroom. Olivia and her companions moved through the growing crowd of guests like soap bubbles in a washtub of dirty water. The curious flowed around them, but kept a safe distance. She could not blame them since their clothes were still dripping with lake water. Or—she wrinkled her nose as she sniffed her left shoulder—they smelled like rotten fish and old boots.
In the distance, she heard someone order one of the footmen to retrieve some blankets.
“Thorn … I cannot believe it. Is it really you?” a gleeful feminine voice halted their progress.
Up until this point, Olivia had not made eye contact with anyone, taking comfort in the slight haze to her surroundings. However, the familiar voice brought an unpleasant clarity that she preferred to avoid—Lady Millicent Atson.
The twenty-four-year-old was Lord and Lady Flewett’s eldest daughter. Her family’s lands were southeast of Malster Park, so Olivia had been acquainted with the young lady for most of their lives.
Not that she considered Lady Millicent anything more than a distant neighbor—and an annoyance. As a child, she had chased after the Netherwood twins and had taken an immediate dislike to Olivia. Gideon and his brother enjoyed flirting with the dark-haired beauty whenever she came to visit, but it soon became obvious that Lord Kempthorn was the gentleman she had set her cap for.
Slightly wounded by her indifference, Gideon had confided to Olivia one evening as they watched several ladies flutter around Lord Felstead’s young heir. “A beautiful lady with aspirations of marrying a titled gentleman never casts her lure at the second son.”
Of course, many of the same ladies took solace in Gideon’s arms when Lord Kempthorn ignored them or moved on to more challenging conquests.
Olivia should have anticipated that Lady Millicent and her family would attend the fete. While the young lady and Gideon had grown less fond of each other over the years, she would not miss an opportunity to flirt with Lord Kempthorn.
“Lady Millicent,” the earl greeted her cordially.
“Goodness, it is you,” Lady Millicent said too brightly for the awkward occasion. “I almost did not recognize you.” Her gaze reluctantly moved from Lord Kempthorn to his brother. “Netherwood, it is good to see you again.”
“Lady Millicent,” Gideon acknowledged her with a slight nod.
“While you were off on your little adventure, my family and I have remembered you in our prayers each day,” she said, her gaze drifting back to the earl. “We were so happy when Lady Felstead told us of your return. I cannot tell you how disappointed my mother was that you did not call on us last summer.”
Olivia felt Gideon’s fingers tense on her back. “Please extend my apologies to your family, Lady Millicent. I regret that I was unable to return home until recently.”
The lack of warmth in his voice revealed he was not pleased by Lady Milli
cent’s attempt to delay them or her determination to ignore Olivia’s presence.
“Did you lose your way and fall into the lake?” Lady Millicent teased. “I suppose Thorn lost his footing as well when he rescued you.”
“Not quite,” the earl said, the chill in his tone causing Olivia to shudder.
She moved to slip away from her male companions, but one of the footmen came up from behind and covered her shoulders with a wool blanket. Two other servants presented blankets to Lord Kempthorn and Gideon.
“Thank you,” she murmured, offering the footman a weak smile. “Do you think it would be possible for me to retire upstairs and—”
“After all, Miss Lydall was part of our little misadventure,” Lord Kempthorn continued, lightly gripping her upper arm so she could not flee. “You do recognize another one of your neighbors, do you not?”
Assuming the earl was speaking to her, Olivia glanced up, but his attention was focused on Lady Millicent.
The woman pasted an insincere smile on her face as she finally met Olivia’s wary gaze. “Of course. Pray forgive me, Miss Lydall. I confess, I did not recognize our little Olive under all that wet hair, male togs, and mud. I thought you were one of Lady Felstead’s servant boys.”
Several of the onlookers chuckled at her observation.
Olivia lowered her gaze and shifted her stance so her bare foot was concealed behind her muddy shoe. The blanket hid her ruined bonnet, but not the sudden anger and shame burning red flags on her cheeks. “Quite understandable, Lady Millicent. It is your younger sister who is admired for her cleverness, is it not?”
Olivia gently tugged her arm free from the earl’s grasp and walked by the speechless woman.
She heard Lord Kempthorn as he coughed into his fist. However, it was Gideon who did not bother to hide his snort of laughter. It was unlike Olivia to be so mean-spirited, but the sting of “little Olive” had not abated. It was an old nickname that Lady Millicent and her friends had not bestowed on her out of affection.
“Miss Lydall, wait.”
She disregarded the earl’s command and continued her retreat across the ballroom. She headed for the nearest door. Two servants followed in her wake, attempting to mop up the lake water dripping from her hem. Once Lady Felstead was made aware of her circumstances, Olivia was confident that a dry dress could be found for her.
She exited the ballroom and walked straight into the path of the lady who intended to marry her father before the end of the year.
“Olivia Lydall! I want an explanation at once,” Nann Mathews, Countess of Grisdale, snapped, already warming to her future position as Olivia’s stepmother.
The thirty-five-year-old light blonde widow had buried her husband five years earlier and possessed the confidence of a woman who knew her worth and was unafraid to take what she wanted. Her tall, willowy figure attracted gentlemen who were younger and older than her, and she caused quite a stir when she appeared in London last October with her taste for daring fashions and disreputable men. The gossips had linked her name with numerous gentlemen, but she was often seen with an earl who was ten years younger. He had spent a small fortune on her, which included a sapphire necklace that matched the color of her eyes. A few weeks after their public parting, she was wearing diamond earrings that were a gift from an Italian count. A month later, she was betrothed to a marquis, but she hastily severed her ties with the Spaniard when he beat her for flirting with another gentleman.
In between her torrid affairs and betrothals, Lady Grisdale was introduced to Olivia’s father and a friendship blossomed. Although the countess’s betrothal to Lord Dewick had not been formally announced, the lady was not about to allow such a trivial detail stop her from taking charge of the baron’s household or his family.
Unfortunately, her father seemed too bemused by the woman to deny her anything.
“The dock was slippery,” Olivia lied, deciding any explanation that involved the Netherwood twins would not amuse the countess. “I was about to ask Lady Felstead if I could borrow some clothing while my dress dried.”
Lady Grisdale had made it quite clear from their first introduction that she was not charmed by Olivia’s frivolous nonsense. She found her lover’s daughter lacking, although she reserved her more critical remarks for when they were alone.
“You will not trouble Lady Felstead,” the countess countered. “She has more important guests to look after than a young lady who trips over her own feet.”
“I did not—” She swallowed her protest. Lady Grisdale detested young ladies who whined.
The older woman’s gaze dropped to Olivia’s feet, and her lips parted in surprise. “Where is your shoe?”
Olivia tried not to wince. “I lost it in the lake.”
The countess shook her head. “What is your father to do with you, girl? You have ruined your beautiful dress and look like a—” She gestured with her hands when she could not summon the right word to describe Olivia’s appalling condition.
“It was an accident,” Olivia quietly explained.
Their conservation was already drawing a small group of curious guests. There were so many people attending Lord and Lady Felstead’s fete, she doubted there was an empty room available for Lady Grisdale to scold her in private.
“I apologize for embarrassing you and Father,” she said in hopes of appeasing the older woman.
“I vowed to take you under my wing, my dear girl, but even I cannot work miracles,” Lady Grisdale lamented. “You will have to be sent home.”
Olivia nodded in relief. “Of course. I will change my dress and return shortly.”
“There is no need for you to rush. You will not be returning to Malster Park,” the countess decreed, her eyes narrowing when Olivia’s lips moved to protest. “You have turned yourself into a laughingstock with your clumsiness and there is nothing I can do to spare you from further shame. Thank goodness, you and your father will be leaving for London soon. If we are fortunate, I am certain we can find a few unmarried gentlemen who are not in attendance this afternoon.”
As much as she loathed admitting it, the notion of exchanging words with Lady Millicent again held little appeal. She was sure Lord Kempthorn would be also pleased to see the last of her. “You are correct, my lady. I shall return home at once.”
“What’s this? There is no need for you leave,” Gideon said, overhearing her announcement.
Olivia turned around to see Gideon and Lord Kempthorn approaching them. The brothers had identical scowls that might have been humorous if she was not the source of their displeasure. Behind them, she noticed Lady Millicent and several other guests had followed.
Lady Grisdale’s eyes widened as she realized Olivia had not told her the entire tale of her fall into the lake. “What have you done, Olivia?”
“And who are you, madam?” Lord Kempthorn asked, staring intently at the older woman.
“Lady Grisdale, my lord,” the widow curtsied. “I had the pleasure of being introduced to you last Season. Since our last meeting, Lord Dewick and I have become betrothed, and hopefully you will consider me a valued friend to your family.”
The earl raised his eyebrows at the other woman’s bold statement. “If you are a friend of the family, then you should know that Miss Lydall is innocent of any wrongdoing, my lady,” he said, surprising Olivia by coming to her defense. “I am to blame, I fear.”
“You are too generous, brother. In truth, I am the one responsible,” Gideon argued. “And we have come to apologize and make amends.”
“That is not necessary,” Olivia said hastily.
The countess was suspicious, and very little could dissuade her when she had made up her mind about something. “I agree. It is very chivalrous for you to protect Miss Lydall, but we have already decided that it is best for her to return home.”
“Nonsense,” Gideon said, winking at her. “With a house filled with guests, there is bound to be someone who can loan her a dress. Our mother would insist. Olivia
is practically a member of our family.”
“Indeed,” Lord Kempthorn muttered under his breath, earning him a contemptuous look from his twin.
“Well, she isn’t borrowing one of my dresses,” Lady Millicent said to no one in particular.
It was sweet of Gideon to step in and defend an old friend. However, Lady Grisdale was correct. In a few hours, everyone would know what happened, and the speculation and teasing would only fuel the lady’s indignation.
“No, I—” Olivia cleared her throat.
“I just heard from one of the servants that—good heavens, Olivia, you were the poor girl who was almost drowned by my boys!” Lady Felstead swept into the hall and wrapped Olivia into a warm embrace as her gaze narrowed on her sons.
Lord Kempthorn and Gideon tried to look innocent.
“It was a silly accident,” Olivia murmured against her hostess’s generous bosom. “No harm done. I was just leaving for home.”
Lady Grisdale stepped forward. “Lord Dewick and I feel it is for the best.”
It mattered little that the gentleman was unaware of his daughter’s plight.
Lady Felstead stared at the other woman as if she had spoken to her in a foreign language. “You will do no such thing,” the marchioness declared to Olivia. “We have trunks filled with dresses. There is bound to be something that will fit you.”
Without waiting for anyone’s approval, she held on to Olivia and led her to the staircase. “You must be chilled. I will have someone send up water for a bath. And tea. You will feel better once you are warm and dry. I will see to it personally.”
Olivia glanced over her shoulder, and noticed Gideon was following them. Lord Kempthorn had not moved, but was observing their progress with an unreadable expression. Lady Grisdale, on the other hand, did not disguise her anger at being thwarted by the lady of the house.
Waiting for an Earl Like You Page 3
