Thorn looked askance at Lady Felstead. “Well, Mother, what do you have to say about this business? I do not believe I have ever seen you at a loss for words.”
To his dismay, his mother’s eyes filled with sudden tears. Lady Felstead rose from the sofa and cradled his and Olivia’s clasped hands within her own.
“I cannot believe you are betrothed,” she said, her voice strained with emotion. “I never thought I would live long enough to see the day, my lad.”
“Mother never thought you would find a lady who would have you,” quipped Gideon, and everyone in the drawing room laughed.
“In our hearts, you have always been part of our family, Olivia,” the marchioness said, releasing their hands so she could embrace the lady she viewed as her future daughter-in-law. “I am so happy one of my sons has the good sense to bind us through marriage.”
Olivia looked at him for guidance but she was on her own. “Thank you, Lady Felstead.”
His mother accepted a handkerchief from Thorn to wipe her damp eyes. “Just imagine, you will be able to call me mother like the rest of the children. With your dear sweet mother gone, I must insist on it.”
“Uh—I am honored, my lady,” Olivia said, overwhelmed by the easy acceptance from his family.
Only Gideon seemed reserved.
“This calls for a celebration,” Chance said as both he and Tempest stood. “I will tell the butler that we need wine and glasses for a toast.”
His cousin slapped him on the back as he headed for the door to find a servant.
“I am very happy for you, Miss Lydall,” Tempest said as the two ladies embraced.
Thorn stepped aside so his family could each take a turn at embracing Olivia and welcoming her to the family.
“Everyone is overjoyed with your unexpected news,” Gideon said stepping up to him from behind. “How disappointed they will all be when they learn that this is a ruse.”
“My engagement isn’t a pretense, brother,” Thorn said, annoyed that his twin’s reaction had been similar to Olivia’s. “I have secured Lord Dewick’s blessing, and Olivia has consented to be my bride.”
“Is that so,” Gideon said sullenly. “Fine. Keep your secrets from the rest of them. Lord knows our family has enough secrets to fill the Thames. I just want you to know that I am watching you. If you hurt Olivia in any way, I will make you regret it.”
“Because you love her,” Thorn replied tersely.
“Aye, I love her,” his twin confirmed. “Can you say the same, brother?”
* * *
“Your father tells me that congratulations are in order, Olivia,” Lady Grisdale said as she and Olivia waited to disembark from the lady’s coach. “I must confess I did not believe it until Lord Dewick explained that he was in a position to apply a little pressure on Lord Kempthorn once you and the earl were discovered in rather embarrassing predicament.”
She could not believe her father confessed the entire tale to Lady Grisdale. “That embarrassing predicament was a kiss, my lady. You have been married, and hope to marry my father. I warrant at your age, you have kissed a few gentlemen who were not your husband.”
Her father had insisted that Olivia join the countess this evening in her private box at the King’s Theatre. Not only did he wish to encourage civility between his future wife and his daughter, he also thought Olivia could benefit from the countess’s insight and experience.
“I am not scolding you, my dear,” the countess said with a laugh. “I am applauding your resourcefulness in convincing the elusive bachelor to come up to scratch. I have lamented to the baron for months that your average looks might not be enough for you to secure a husband. Because of your tender age, I had dismissed that you had the aptitude for trickery.”
If anyone had been tricked into this engagement, it had been Olivia. Still, she kept the opinion to herself. Her father had already revealed too much to the countess. As eager as Lady Grisdale was to separate Olivia from her father, she did not trust the women.
“No trickery was involved, my lady,” Olivia said, glancing out the window of the coach. “Lord Kempthorn told his family that he is quite smitten.”
Lady Grisdale trilled with condescending laughter. “Oh Olivia, you can be quite naïve when it comes to men. Kempthorn took a risk in amusing himself with you and was soundly caught. To his credit, he is willing to accept his defeat with some grace. However, I am familiar with his sort. It is in your best interest to marry him as swiftly as possible before his eye wanders and settles on another lady. Oh, and you might wish to speak with his brother.”
“Why do I need to speak with Gideon?”
“Lord Dewick claims you and Mr. Netherwood are good friends. If he is an ally, use him,” the countess advised. “He could tell you if your betrothed keeps a mistress and how often he sees her.”
A mistress. Olivia had not considered that Thorn had a mistress tucked away somewhere in London. “If Lord Kempthorn has a mistress, there would be no reason for him to marry me.”
“Little innocent,” Lady Grisdale mocked. “Lord Dewick is offering a generous dowry, Lord Kempthorn’s family approves of the match, and marrying and bedding you will give Kempthorn his heir. So there are benefits in proceeding with the marriage. However, it is not your fault if you are unable to fulfill all of his carnal appetites. That is why many gentlemen return to their mistresses once they are married, and you should be grateful for it.”
“Will Papa be joining us this evening?” Olivia asked, uncertain of her father’s decision as Lady Grisdale was planting seeds of doubt of Thorn’s intentions.
“He assured me that he would,” the countess said. “However, trusting a gentleman to keep his promises will lead to disappointment. A clever lady accepts that all males are flawed but can be managed. As your stepmother, I will instruct you as best as I can.”
It wasn’t the first time that Olivia wondered how her father could love Lady Grisdale. She was as cold and calculating as a viper in a henhouse. Still, it would not do to make this lady her enemy.
“Your generosity is boundless,” Olivia said, lowering her gaze to give the appearance of modesty and respect.
Lady Grisdale brought her handkerchief to her nose to sniff the fragrance she had sprinkled on the linen so she could tolerate the foul smells of the street. “Olivia, you have a bad habit of overplaying your advantages and compliments. It is just another flaw we need to work on.”
* * *
In 1787, Prague had celebrated Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Seven months later, the prolific composer oversaw the premiere of the opera in Vienna. It had taken thirty years for the opera to debut at the King’s Theatre on Haymarket. Rainbault and St. Lyons had obtained the coveted tickets for the opera’s first performance in April and had highly praised the production. However, it was not the repeat performance that had drawn Thorn to the theater but rather Miss Lydall.
His mother had mentioned that Olivia would be attending this evening’s performance with her father and Lady Grisdale. After witnessing the countess’s callous treatment toward Olivia at Malster Park, Thorn had decided to use his newfound status as her betrothed to alter the baron’s plans. No one would question if he escorted Olivia to the Duke of Rainbault’s box so she could enjoy the opera away from the disapproving gaze of Lady Grisdale.
There would be plenty of chaperones to ensure he behaved himself. St. Lyons and Rainbault were eager to watch Don Giovanni again. Chance and his wife had been invited, and Tempest had invited Lady Arabella. There would be others. Rainbault was quite popular and there was a never-ending flow of visitors who wished to be seen with the exiled prince.
If an opportunity presented itself, Thorn might even steal Miss Lydall away for a few minutes for a kiss or two. The lady would soon learn that he was willing to dedicate himself to the task. Gideon had declined to join Thorn and their friends at the theater. He offered no excuse for his disinterest, but it was for the best. Thorn’s engagement to Olivia was supposed to dis
courage his twin from pursuing the lady. After his brief confrontation at Lady Felstead’s town house, Thorn had been concerned that Gideon was determined to rescue Olivia from his lascivious attentions, but his brother had kept his distance from her. Thorn had a spy in the Lydall household who would report back to him if his twin called on the residence.
“Where is your lady, Thorn?” Rainbault inquired when he entered the theater box.
He gripped the back of the duke’s seat and lowered his head so they could speak freely without being overheard. “The lady is elusive, but I am eager for the chase. My mother could not tell me which box Olivia would be seated in. St. Lyon has offered his assistance. If I cannot find her, I will visit each private theater box until I do.”
As much as he had made light of his endeavor, it was no simple task. The theater was comprised of four tiers of boxes, a large pit, and a gallery. There were forty-three boxes on each tier, so he needed a stratagem to locate Miss Lydall or else he and the viscount could spend the entire evening searching boxes.
Rainbault tipped his head back and glanced over his shoulder to meet Thorn’s gaze. “Gideon seems unhappy about your engagement to Miss Lydall.”
There was nothing he could do about his twin at the moment that would not lead the brothers to a physical confrontation.
“Gideon has forgotten how to share,” Thorn said with a contemptuous curl to his mouth that amused his friend. “He views Olivia as his alone and it incenses him that her father has placed her into my care.”
“To be fair, you did force the baron’s hand by compromising his daughter,” the duke reminded him.
“A little more discretion, Your Grace,” he cautioned. “Or else you ruin the lady and all of my good intentions.”
* * *
“Miss Lydall, it appears fate persists in bringing us together,” Lord Norgrave said when he encountered her and the countess near the theater’s entrance.
“Good evening, my lord,” Olivia genially greeted him. “Do you know Lady Grisdale?”
“I make a point of acquainting myself with all of London’s great beauties.” The marquess bowed. “Lady Grisdale, is it true that your heart has been claimed by another?”
To Olivia’s amazement, the countess appeared flustered by Lord Norgrave’s flattery. “Lord Dewick and I hope to make an official announcement soon.”
The older gentleman turned to address Olivia. “And bits of gossip about you have reached my ears too, Miss Lydall. Immediately I dismissed it as idle chatter, but I heard the rumors again last evening.”
“There is no need to be evasive, my lord. I assume you speak of my recent engagement to Lord Kempthorn,” Olivia said, grateful the earl had not escorted her to the theater. She understood that Thorn’s loyalties were aligned with the Blackberns because the duke and duchess were family. However, Lord Norgrave had done nothing to warrant her condemnation.
“So the rumors are true.” The marquess’s unusually light blue eyes studied her face as if searching for a sign of deception. “I would not have considered you and Kempthorn a good match, but the gentleman was very protective of you when he confronted us at Lady Purles’.”
“You are not the first to note our differences,” Olivia said blithely. She had given voice to the same concern but had promised her father that she would not add to the speculation of her relationship with the earl. “Nevertheless, one must follow one’s heart.”
“Lord Dewick is quite pleased with the match,” Lady Grisdale interjected.
“When will the banns be posted?” Lord Norgrave asked.
Olivia faltered. Her father and Thorn had not addressed the wedding details since Thorn expected her to break their engagement in the near future. And when Lady Felstead had suggested that they begin to prepare for the wedding, Thorn had not exactly discouraged her but he had been deliberately vague about when and where the wedding would take place.
It was Thorn’s fault that she was in this awkward predicament with Lord Norgrave.
“My father and Lord Kempthorn have not worked out all of the details,” Olivia said, looking to Lady Grisdale for some guidance.
“Naturally, with two weddings to be planned there is much to be settled,” the countess said.
“I have no doubt.” The marquess’s expression grew pensive. “Would you ladies care to join me in my private box? My son, Lord Marcroft, is awaiting my return with increasing impatience, I have no doubt. Lady Arabella is also here.” He smiled at Olivia. “My daughter holds you in high regard and will likely press you for more details about your engagement to Lord Kempthorn.”
The notion of visiting with Lady Arabella was preferable than sitting with Lady Grisdale. “I—”
“I have my own box, but we could spare a few minutes to greet your family, Norgrave,” Lady Grisdale said cordially. “And what of Lady Norgrave? Is she here?”
“Regretfully, my wife does not share my passion for Mozart,” Lord Norgrave confessed.
“A pity.” The countess’s gaze was sympathetic. “Is this your first opportunity to see Don Giovanni?”
Pleased to have discovered a fellow Mozart enthusiast, the marquess said, “No, I attended its debut in April.”
“I was unable to attend,” Lady Grisdale lamented. “Lord Dewick rarely attends the theater, though he promised to make an exception since this opera was so well received by the ton.” She touched Olivia lightly on the arm. “My dear, with Lord Norgrave’s permission, I will leave you in his capable hands while I visit our private box to make certain your father is not waiting for our arrival. I will also leave a note with one of the attendants and join you shortly.”
“Shall we, Miss Lydall?” Lord Norgrave held her gaze with an unspoken challenge in his light blue eyes.
Olivia placed her hand on his arm and offered him a tentative smile. With any luck, Thorn would not hear that she had once again found herself in the marquess’s company.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You will never find Miss Lydall in this crush,” St. Lyon said, his dark blue eyes searching the nearby boxes.
The viscount had received numerous invitations from his admirers to remain and leave Thorn to carry on his quest to find his errant lady without him. However, St. Lyons was a good friend and he had politely declined all offers. It was the last woman who had whispered into the man’s ear that had tested his fortitude.
“You can always return to the wench once I find Olivia,” Thorn said, when he caught his friend waving to the woman.
“You do not know what I am giving up for our friendship, Kempthorn,” St. Lyons said, exhaling slowly. “Do not allow that innocent countenance to fool you. What that creature whispered in my ear was truly wicked and possibly criminal. I may never recover from the shock.”
“You are likely the fifth gentleman she has propositioned this evening,” Thorn said cynically.
It was no surprise that St. Lyons and Rainbault had praised Don Giovanni. Their own lives reflected that of the fictional libertine.
“Then the poor lady deserves my pity. Perhaps I should console her—”
“Damn you, St. Lyons … if you”—Thorn noted the viscount’s sly grin—“Ah, so you have not lost your sense of humor, I see. I will make you a promise, if you can concentrate on our task a while longer, I will deliver you to the lecherous lady.”
“This engagement has made you tense,” St. Lyon complained. He paused for a moment. “Well, more than usual.”
It wasn’t the engagement that was making him tense. It was Olivia. She was unpredictable and attracted trouble as easily as St. Lyons collected female admirers. Not that trouble did not also find his amorous friend. St. Lyons’ carnal exploits had caused numerous unhappy gentlemen to don the horns of the cuckold.
Thorn was dismayed when he and St. Lyons entered the next box and saw Lady Millicent sitting with her parents, Lord and Lady Flewett. The young woman’s expression brightened at the sight of the two gentlemen.
“Good evening, Thorn
… Lord Bastrell,” Lady Millicent greeted them, so the two men lingered to pay their respects to her mother and father. Fortunately, all of the seats in the box were occupied. Otherwise Thorn would have had to decline an invitation to stay and watch the opera from the Flewetts’ private box.
While St. Lyons answered the countess’s inquiries about his family, Thorn glanced out into the amphitheater and searched the boxes for Olivia. It was an endless sea of people as everyone paid their respects to friends and rivals alike. He was about to ask Lord Flewett if he knew which private box belonged to Lady Grisdale when his gaze landed on a familiar face.
Norgrave.
Thorn fought down the urge to sneer. He had not been aware that the marquess was a patron of the arts. The Duke and Duchess of Blackbern were also present this evening, though there was little risk of a confrontation. The two families usually avoided public displays. However, he would warn Chance about the marquess when he and St. Lyons returned to Rainbault’s private box.
With his attention on Norgrave, Thorn murmured in his friend’s ear that they should leave. As he lowered his head, he almost missed the lady in a lilac-colored dress. She was seated to the right of the marquess. Lady Arabella, wearing a light blue gown, sat at the lady’s right and Lord Marcroft was seated behind the two ladies. He had not noticed her because she had shifted in her seat as she conversed with Norgrave’s daughter.
She has my attention now.
Miss Lydall tilted her head and laughed at something Lady Arabella had said. Her unruly chestnut curls had been pinned high so her hair artfully framed her delicate face. His heart stuttered in his chest at her beauty.
From his vantage point, his betrothed seemed blissfully content to be seated with the Brant family. His eyes narrowed on Norgrave as he observed that the marquess’s attention kept returning to his daughter and Olivia.
A feminine hand touched him on the arm. Thorn’s gaze moved from the gloved hand up her arm to Lady Millicent’s face. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “I had hoped that you and the viscount would stay longer.”
Waiting for an Earl Like You Page 24
