by Kim Bowman
Eyes widened beneath bushy eyebrows. “How could I possibly know? You’ve not told me the man’s name!”
“Oh, haven’t I? Well I suppose that information would make it a slight bit easier for you to know if you’ve met him, yes?”
“Yes.” He started to rise, appearing to have had more than enough of Father’s inane banter.
Oliver’s father held out a hand. “Sit.” Gone was the daft smile, the dreamy expression, the innocent tone of voice. Now his eyes flashed fire. His frail body sat up straighter than Oliver had seen in quite some time. His mouth sat in a firm line. And he stared at Lucy’s father.
Mr. Ashbrook sat down hard. He frowned. “Pardon me?”
“You will sit there until I’ve had my say.”
“You’ve no right to—”
“I have every right. You’ve treated someone very dear to me in an appalling fashion. That is something I do not take lightly.”
“I’ve no idea—”
“Remember the man I spoke of? The one who I said you’d also become acquainted with?”
“Yes but—”
“I’d like to introduce you to him now.” Father waved his hand in Oliver’s direction, but never took his glare from Ashbrook’s face.
Oliver stepped from behind the large plant, and slowly, slowly, raised his gaze to Lucy’s father. His boots tapped the floor, sending echoes scurrying across the bare wood, sounding every bit like a death knell.
Oliver stopped and crossed his arms. But said nothing.
Mr. Ashbrook’s mouth opened. “But you’re that… that laborer I had thrown from my…” His eyes widened as he turned his head toward Oliver’s father. His lips clamped shut.
Father leaned forward. “Yes, that’s correct. You had him thrown from your house.”
“But he’s just a—”
“Watch your tone, sir.”
“I don’t understand why you’re taking the side of this common worker.”
“Because this common worker, as you put it, is my son.”
“That’s impossible.”
“And why is that impossible?”
“He showed up at my house… dressed as he is now. He claimed to be your son but—”
“But what?”
“But he works at the Bird Sanctuary.”
“Yes I’m quite aware of the fact.”
“That’s not possible.”
“That I’m aware of the fact? Oh I assure I’m a—”
“No, blast it! That your son would be working as a laborer.”
“Of course it’s possible. Because it’s true.”
Ashbrook stood abruptly. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Shipley, but I don’t believe you. Not a word.” He turned toward the door.
His father turned his head in Oliver’s direction. “Show him, please, son.”
“Certainly, Father.” He stepped across the room to an ornate tapestry hanging against the far wall. Reaching up, he grasped the edge and tugged it toward him.
To reveal a portrait.
A family portrait.
Mr. Ashbrook gasped. “But that’s… that’s—”
Father finally stood. Slowly, he walked across the room to stand beside Oliver. “This portrait was done a few months before my wife died. See the strong resemblance between my son and his mother? The dark eyes. The brown hair. Strong chin and deep dimpled cheeks.” He sighed. “I’ve always loved this portrait.”
Oliver smiled. “And so have I, Father.”
“What are you playing at, Shipley?” He glared at Oliver now. “I don’t know why you're working at that bird place when you are… who you are. And I don’t care. It has nothing to do with me, so I’m leaving.”
“No. You’re not.” Father placed his hand on Oliver’s arm, a sign that he was weakening. Oliver helped him to sit back down.
“You cannot force me to stay.”
Now safely back in his favorite chair, his father sighed. “That much is true. However, the reason why I’ve called you here has everything to do with your family. And mine.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
Oliver stepped forward and crossed his arms. “If you will please take your seat, Mr. Ashbrook, I think you will find the discussion quite beneficial to you.”
Eyes lit up. Mr. Ashbrook sat back down, this time laying his hat beside him. It seemed mention of some possible benefit to him made all the difference in his demeanor. But then, that’s what Oliver and his father were counting on. The other, the ruse to make him uncomfortable, was just for sport. At his expense, of course. “I’m listening.”
Of course you are. Oliver sat across the room and leaned back against the chair. He crossed one leg over the other and smiled. Now his father would make an offer so sweet that Lucy’s father wouldn’t be able to refuse.
Or at least that was their hope. Because if he didn’t bite, Oliver might have just lost his final chance to marry the love of his life. Please let this man’s obvious greed not fail him this time. We need him to take the bait and value financial gain over his previous wishes for who she should marry.
“Mr. Ashbrook, we — Oliver and I — have asked you here today for a very important purpose.”
“Go on.”
“When you met my son the other day…”
Lucy’s father had the decency to blush and avert his gaze.
“…he was there to talk to you about your daughter.”
“Yes. I remember that now. And when she came in the room, she knew you. After a time.”
Oliver nodded. “That’s right. And do you remember why she didn’t know me at first?”
“Because you said you weren’t dressed as you were then. Or as you are now.”
“Exactly.”
“I still don’t understand how this will make me any…”
Was he going to say money? The man didn’t care a whit about his daughter. He only wanted whatever would line his pockets the most. But then, they’d counted on this when they’d asked him to come today.
Oliver’s father held up his hand. “Let me explain. You see, my son met your daughter at the Bird Sanctuary. They haven’t known each other all that long, but…”
“From what I’ve heard, he was calling himself Barrow.”
“That’s true. He was.”
“That seems a tad deceitful, if you ask me.”
Oliver scowled. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? Besides, no one had asked him.
“Not when you hear why he chose to call himself something other than Shipley.”
Oliver tapped his foot. Not in irritation, but in guilt. His father had not been at all happy to hear he’d been using his mother’s maiden name at the Sanctuary. And now, he would be explaining that very thing to the surly, greedy man in their midst.
“Mr. Ashbrook, Oliver loves his work at the Sanctuary. Very, very much. But in order to work there, he needed to keep his true identity hidden. He used a different name and kept out of sight of the visitors. That is, until he met your daughter.”
“But why would he want to make her acquaintance?”
Oliver nearly stormed across the room. The man had to be one of the most uncaring fathers there ever was! To blithely ask why anyone would wish to know his own daughter? How dare he speak so about the woman Oliver loved?
Father looked at him, closed his eyes, as if telling him to stay calm, and then opened them again. He turned back and addressed Lucy’s father. “Because, Mr. Ashbrook, he’s in love with her.”
Oliver’s breath caught in his throat. Yes, it was true. And yes, he’d told his father. But to have the words spoken out loud to someone else, especially that someone being the girl’s own father, sent shivers up his arms. It made it all seem so real. But then, it was real. And today would determine what happened next.
“What? In love with her. That’s preposterous.”
Oliver had had more than enough nonsense from the blustering fool. He stood and walked across the room. Stoppin
g to stand in front of him, Oliver crossed his arms. “With all due respect, Mr. Ashbrook, I’d prefer that you not speak of the woman I love in such terms, whether or not she’s your daughter. When in your home, you have the right, I suppose, to speak however you choose. But here, in our home, you will not.” He raised one eyebrow and stared at Mr. Ashbrook, refusing to blink before the other man did.
And Mr. Ashbrook did.
Repressing the satisfied smirk that longed to come out and play on his lips, Oliver took a half step closer. “That being said, I wish to marry your daughter.”
“She’s already betrothed.”
“To a twit.”
“Be that as it may.”
“Sir, your daughter does not love him. She does not even like him.”
He shrugged. “That matters not to me.”
“But it matters. To her. And to me.”
“I already have… ahem… things in place for, well…”
“Are you trying to say money is changing hands, Mr. Ashbrook?”
“It’s not the first time it’s been done, you know.”
“Of course not. It’s done all the time.”
He leaned forward on the settee, glaring at Oliver. “If you want to marry my daughter so badly, you’ll have to make it worth my while.”
Oliver glanced at his father, who nodded. “That is exactly what we wish to discuss with you.”
Ashbrook paled. “There’s another… problem, I’m afraid.”
“And what would that be?”
“You see, when the money changed hands for Lucy, well…”
Oliver frowned. “Please go on, Mr. Ashbrook. I’m confident that whatever problems you perceive can be overcome.”
He nodded. “Lofton had discovered something about me. Something… illegal.”
“I see.” Oliver crossed his arms.
“Along with Lucy’s inheritance, I was paying him for…”
“His silence?”
Ashbrook let out a deep breath. “Exactly.”
Oliver turned to his father and raised his eyebrows in question. His father nodded again.
“Mr. Ashbrook, I love your daughter very much. I’m quite certain I can make Lofton see reason. If I pay him enough. And as for you, I assume it’s safe to say you’ll end your illegal business endeavor immediately?”
Ashbrook sat up straight and nodded rapidly.
“Then we have a deal.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lucy smoothed the fabric of her new dress. Nervous shivers ran over her skin. Today, at Anna and Richard’s wedding, would be the first time Lucy would visit the Bird Sanctuary since… She swallowed against a large lump in her throat. Would Oliver be there? Conrad had insisted on going to the reception with her.
Since they were now… betrothed.
Every time that though crossed her mind, nausea threatened her stomach. Married. To him. Living. With him. Sleeping…
Why did things have to be this way? Her life was ruined. All because of her father’s greed. Because that’s the only reason he was forcing her to marry Conrad. It was so unfair. And just when she and Oliver—
No. It would do no good at all to dwell on him. Which might be difficult if he was working at the Sanctuary. Would he acknowledge her? Give a smile and show that marvelous dimple? Or would he ignore her presence? Slight her? That’s what she deserved. At least in his perception it might be. Because he knew nothing other than she stopped visiting the Sanctuary and hadn’t seen or spoken to him since.
If she were in his place, she’d be devastated.
Confused.
Heartbroken.
Who was she fooling? She already was all of those things. And more.
Knock. Knock.
“Yes?” She placed her hat on her head and turned toward the door to her bedroom.
The door opened a few inches, and Alfred stood peering in.
“Yes, Alfred? Is Anna nearly ready?”
“She asked me to tell you that she needs some assistance from you.”
“Thank you. I’ll go now.”
With a click, the door closed. Lucy scowled at the thick wooden structure as if it were Alfred himself. She had a very strong feeling that the sneaky butler had aided in Conrad continually knowing just when she would be at the Sanctuary.
Slimy man.
She left her room and made her way toward Anna’s. Was she nervous? Excited to marry Richard? They were so sweet together. As if they had always been a couple. Amazing how quickly that had all come about. But Anna had told her that Richard had married his first wife even more quickly than that.
Her boots tapped as she walked down the long hallway. Reaching Anna’s room, she knocked.
“Lucy? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
“Come in, dear.”
The door creaked as she pushed it open. “Oh, Anna. You’re lovely.” Her maid stood in the middle of the room in an off-white dress with flowers and lace at the bodice. “Alfred said you needed help, but you look perfect to me.”
A blush stained Anna’s cheeks. “Thank you. I need…”
Lucy stepped closer and took Anna’s hands in hers. “What? What do you need?”
Stiff fabric rustled as Anna shrugged her shoulders. “I’m nervous.”
“Oh, Anna. Don’t be embarrassed. Of course you are. You’re a new bride.”
“But at my age? It seems silly.”
“Anna, the last few weeks as I’ve watched you with Richard, you’ve seemed young and vibrant. I don’t think it matters about a person’s age, but what’s in their heart.”
“I needed to hear that.” She smiled. “Thank you, love.” She blinked. “Also, I’m going to miss living here with you. I love seeing you every day.”
“We’ll still see each other often. I promise.”
“Do you?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I’m relieved. Truly.”
“Now, shouldn’t we be getting downstairs to the carriage? The time is drawing near for you to become Mrs. Richard Warner.”
~~~~
The carriage stopped in front of the Bird Sanctuary. Lucy’s heart hammered in her chest. Was he there? Would she see him? What would she say if he spoke to her?
“Ready, darling?” Conrad leaned toward her, his reptilian, icy blue eyes turning her insides cold. How was she going to marry the toad? She wasn’t even sure how to get through the next little while at Anna’s wedding luncheon with him by her side.
And if Oliver saw them together…
Her first response to him would have been something sarcastic. But then she thought of Anna right before leaving for the wedding. How her cheeks had flushed a pretty pink. Eyes had brightened with anticipation. Hands clasping and unclasping in nervous excitement. She could not do anything to mar Anna’s happiness.
She wouldn’t.
“Yes. I am ready.” They’d only waited a short time for the newlyweds to arrive after their private wedding, but to Lucy it had seemed a lifetime.
They walked the short distance to the grove of trees under which Richard had proposed to Anna. They wished to have the reception in the same place.
Anna had wanted Lucy to be a witness at the wedding, but Lucy’s father would have none of it. He said it wouldn’t be appropriate given their difference in class. Unfortunately, he was probably right. Even though it didn’t seem right to Lucy.
Richard was standing beneath a lovely oak tree, lush and full of large green leaves. And next to him was…
No… Oh no.
How could I have been so stupid? Of course, Oliver would be a present for Richard. They’re very close.
Oliver spoke to Richard, stopped mid-speech, and turned his head. Toward her. How had he known she was approaching? She hadn’t said a word. Had he somehow sensed her presence?
His eyes, dark and kind, gazed at her as if she were the most precious, beautiful being who ever lived. One corner of his mouth rose, forming the dimple that was
always her undoing.
He can’t show that dimple. Not today! Not with me standing here next to… Her gaze slid to her left. To the reptile who slithered up next to her. He placed his hand around her shoulders. She squirmed and gave him the evil eye, but he simply smiled his alligator smile and turned his head. To Oliver. And glared.
Lucy gasped. How rude! It was Conrad, after all. Too bad the cuckoo wasn’t nearby to do a repeat performance on Conrad’s… well, everything, again.
But then, that might ruin Anna’s special day, and as much as Lucy would love to see Conrad get his comeuppance again, she had no wish to spoil anything for the bride.
A peek from under her lashes at Oliver showed him to be smiling even wider than before. Not at all what she’d expected! Did he enjoy being the object of another man’s scorn?
He seemed not to mind in the least. In fact, his countenance was quite jolly. But perhaps he was overcome with joy for his good friend Richard. Yes, that must be it, for no one would look upon being glared at by someone, anyone, as a positive thing.
Anna and Richard stood side by side in front of the reception table. Lucy’s mind drifted as they accepted good wishes from friends and acquaintances. Try as she might, she couldn’t get her thoughts from Oliver. He was standing just a few feet from her, after all. How was she supposed to concentrate on anything but him?
Richard leaned down and gently, tenderly, pressed his lips to Anna’s. Had their kiss during their wedding ceremony been their first? Or had they shared one prior to that morning?
Lucy bit her lip. She and Oliver had come close, oh so very close to doing that very thing. He’d stepped closer. Leaned forward. His scent had mingled with the outdoors and sunlight where they stood. She’d been ready. So ready for his kiss. And just as their lips were no more than a whisper apart from pressing together…
Anna had called to her to announce her betrothal.
Lucy stole yet another glance at Oliver. How many did this one make in the short time since they’d arrived at the Sanctuary? Perhaps it was best not to think about what nearly happened. What she’d wanted to happen. Longed to happen.
