by June Calvin
“Quite. In such a case, Miss Ormhill, my brother’s title would not be Lord Edmund, but Bastard Debham.”
Edmund sprang across the room and hauled his brother out of his chair. “You made my mother’s life a misery with that threat. I don’t fear it! Go on. Make an ass of yourself in front of the ton by declaring your brother a bastard ten years after his father’s death.”
Heslington struggled and finally broke Edmund’s grip upon his coat with a violent upthrust of his arms. “If I must, to save Miss Ormhill and you from a great mistake.”
“Then do it! If there were an inheritance to consider, I doubt not many would support you, property being near to a god among the ton. But dredge up an old scandal merely to spite your brother? I think you will find yourself no small target for ridicule.”
Heslington frowned. “I doubt you would credit it, Edmund, but I am thinking of your welfare.”
“And why do you concern yourself with my welfare, Carl?”
“We are family, after all.”
“No, we are not. Never were, even before you expelled me from the fold this summer. I now know what a family is, you see, having known the Ormhills. They quarrel occasionally, but they stand by one another and care about one another. Your only interest in me is to thwart me.”
“I am not surprised you don’t credit me, but I am truly concerned for both of you. In the end she won’t have you, Eddie. Or if she does, she’ll be miserable and make you so. She loves Franklin, you know. That so intelligent and capable a young woman would look to a man so beneath her in intellect and fortune only shows her motives to be revenge. Ultimately she will discover that to be a cheap and unhappy substitute for making it up with her true love. You would be much happier with sweet, uncomplicated Mary Benson than with this woman. As for you, Miss Ormhill, you had best send Edmund back to his haystacks before you lose your inheritance and Corbright forever.”
“My feelings for Edmund, whatever they might be, would not be altered by your actions, my lord.”
“But your property would be, Miss Ormhill. Correct me if I am wrong, but if your father’s will is abrogated in any way, all of it goes to your brother, does it not?”
Edmund drew in his breath sharply. “Olivia, is that true?” He knew her father had tied up her property for her benefit, but this was news to him.
“It is.” Olivia regarded Heslington calmly.
“You see how shocked he is, Miss Ormhill? He seeks your estate, not you. What’s the matter, Edmund? Benson turn you down?”
From his tone, Heslington clearly felt he had delivered the coup de grâce to Edmund’s hopes, but to his astonishment Olivia only laughed. “You have not the knowledge I have, sir. Mr. Benson would have been delighted to have Edmund offer for his daughter. Frankly, Lord Heslington, I pity you. You have a brother who is a fine, upstanding man, a delight to know, and a good one to have on your side, but you have alienated him and made yourself dyspeptic, too, all for nothing.”
Heslington looked from one to the other, clearly perplexed. At last he shrugged. “I have done my best to do my duty by you, Edmund. Now I wash my hands of you.” He turned and walked from the room, leaving both Edmund and Olivia stunned and embarrassed. Edmund spoke first.
“Thank you, Livvy, for defending me.”
She continued to stare at the door through which Heslington had just disappeared, hardly able to believe such enmity between brothers.
“My brother is a great fool. He has embarrassed himself and us for nothing.”
She turned slowly then, looking up at him uncomprehendingly.
“He thinks we have an understanding, but we are not bound together by anything but friendship.”
“Oh, Edmund.” Her face crumpled. “Don’t!”
“Livvy, don’t cry. Please don’t look at me so.” He sat next to her on the sofa and put his arm around her. “I will do nothing to take your inheritance from you.”
“Never think I prefer it to you, nor believe you will not have me without it.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “I love you, Edmund Debham, with all my heart.”
Joy replaced Edmund’s consternation. He gathered her closer, the quality of his embrace changing entirely. “Livvy!” He traced the tears on her cheeks with his lips, outlined her mouth with their moisture, then covered her lips with his own in a kiss of such tenderness it made Olivia quiver all over. She melted further into his arms, her hands circling his neck to draw him closer.
When finally they drew apart, she asked shyly, “Does this mean you love me, too? I think you do, but you haven’t said, you know.”
“More than life itself! I have done since—oh, I don’t know when exactly, but for ages now.”
She laughed, a deep, wet chuckle. “We haven’t known each other for ages.” Her hand caressed his cheeks, where lurked a suspicious moisture. “Are you crying, too, love?”
He took her hand, lowered his head, and pressed a deep kiss in it. “With joy. Oh, Livvy. You will marry me, won’t you?” Then he pulled away. “But how can I do that to you?”
She tugged him back to her. “Heslington’s spite cannot part us. Jason will do the right thing by me, I know. And if for some reason he does not, why, you will be well able to afford a wife on what Lord Marcoombe will pay you, won’t you?”
If possible he looked even more adoringly at her. “He told me a snug little manor house goes with the offer. We’ll be partners there, love. He’ll get two estate managers for the price of one.”
Once again she ducked her head shyly. “Now, Edmund, I should be glad to be of assistance to you, but . . . that is, would there be a nursery in this manor, do you suppose?”
Wordlessly he drew her to him and kissed her deeply. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all her heart. When he drew away he tucked her under his left arm. “Do you know what I have been wanting to do ever since I laid eyes on you?”
“I do hope it is not to take me to see any more jumping spiders.”
He chuckled. “No. This.” He put his right hand on her chin and began exploring it gently. “I have wanted to touch that entrancing cleft in your chin.”
“Entrancing! It is a flaw. . . .”
“No, indeed. You are perfect.”
“I am not! Oh, Edmund, when I think how often I have hurt you! I have a hasty temper, you know. I shudder to acknowledge it, but I may yet scold you again. How can you stand to live with such a flawed wife?”
“I can’t stand to live without you. And I do not think of your prickly nature as a flaw, just as part of what makes you . . . you. Doubtless you will discover my flaws soon enough, if you haven’t already.”
“No, I have seen no sign of any. That is why I almost fear to inflict myself on you.”
“I have too much pride, Olivia. Odd, in one who felt so worthless, but I suppose because of that, I was too sensitive to your criticisms. I should have courted you flat out from the beginning and never let Corbright near you once! My foolish pride kept me from letting you see how much I cared.”
“I did wonder why you seemed so detached at times. You must never again believe anything I or anyone else says against you!” She cupped his head in her hands and pressed on his lips a tender kiss that soon turned passionate and brought his arms around her, drawing her onto his lap.
It was thus that Aunt Lavinia and Peter Barteau found them.
For only an instant did her aunt look indignant. Then she clapped her hands together. “Does this mean what I think it does?”
“Indeed, ma’am!” Edmund looked up, not releasing his treasure. Then his eyes slid to Mr. Barteau. “At least . . .” He straightened and set Olivia away from him. “It means my brother upset Olivia.”
“That vicious young whelp. I’ll bet I can guess why.” Peter heaved his bulk into a nearby chair. “He’s trying to scare you off, isn’t he? He told me the other day he wouldn’t stand for your poaching on Corbright’s territory.”
“N-no,” Olivia said, putting even a l
ittle more distance between herself and Edmund. “That wasn’t it at all. It just upset me so to see how cruelly and hatefully he speaks of Edmund.” She dried her cheeks ostentatiously, accepting the handkerchief Edmund offered her. “C-come. We shan’t let him ruin our outing. It is a sunny day, and there won’t be many such left.” She bounced off the sofa. “To Kew Gardens, shall we?”
Aunt Lavinia looked at Peter, then at the couple facing them, forced gaiety on their faces. “You can trust him, you know. He has told me a great deal about his nephew, none of it good.”
Barteau leaned forward, fists clenched. “He is an insolent, arrogant, false creature. Hate to say it of my own nephew, but it is true. He hadn’t a word to say to me, indeed seemed somewhat ashamed of me until my son died two years ago. Since then he has cultivated me assiduously. Wants to be my heir, you know. A clothing manufacturer is not someone that mushroom wished to know until there was a chance of inheriting a fortune. Now, I won’t pry, but don’t you dare see me as an enemy in your camp!”
Olivia and Edmund relaxed a little. “We won’t, then,” Livvy said, “but do let us go out into the lovely day.”
Later, as they walked several feet behind Lavinia and Peter, Edmund told Olivia sotto voce, “We may be able to trust him, but I’m not sure.”
“Nor am I. Do you know what Cynthia called him? A tailor! That could explain his interest in fashion. Perhaps he is not the wealthy man he pretends to be. I do hope he is not after my aunt for her property, as part of Corbright’s scheme to get the whole valley under his control.”
“How long have you believed that?”
Olivia’s face grew grim. “Once I heard he had acquired Smithfield’s land and offered to buy or lease Jason’s, I knew my worst suspicions were correct.”
Edmund whistled softly. “And here I thought you still considered marrying him.”
“I meant for you to think it, you and Jason, until I found a husband. I feared a confrontation between Jason and Corbright if Jason forbade him to court me, as he threatened to do. I still fear it. Only once I am married will I feel that Jason is safe from Corbright and his own temper.”
Edmund stopped walking, a look on his face she couldn’t interpret.
“I didn’t mean I want to marry you just for that reason,” she hastened to reassure him.”
“That’s not what I was thinking. You are right about the potential for conflict. Corbright is ruthless and cunning, and Jason is impetuous and hotheaded. I have an idea that might work, but I am afraid you might once again believe me a fortune hunter.”
“No. Edmund, whatever happens, I have learned what kind of man you are. I trust you completely.”
He reddened with pleasure. “Oh, Livvy!”
“No, don’t kiss me here.”
He glanced to where Lavinia and Peter stood waiting for them to catch up.
“I will tell you my plan tonight.”
“No, I can’t wait. Whisper it to me now, as we walk.”
“I know my brother, Livvy. He will do as he threatens, just to spite me, even if he isn’t acting for Corbright. But such suits in the ecclesiastical courts take a long time. Your father’s will says you must marry a lord, but I doubt he thought to require that your husband remain one. Surely he could not have anticipated so peculiar a circumstance. If we act quickly . . .”
Her eyes danced. “I am so happy to be marrying such a clever man! We shall get a special license and be married before your brother can do much more than file to have your parents’ marriage set aside, and before Corbright can do any mischief.”
“Just so. I will apply for a special license tomorrow morning.”
“And I will write Uncle Ormhill and Jason, telling them. We’ll go home as soon as possible. I do wish my uncle to marry us.”
“As do I.”
“Aren’t these lovely, Olivia?” Lavinia called her attention to some small shrubs with bright red berries on them. “I wonder what they are, and if they would thrive in Norvale?”
“We must ask the curator, Aunt. If they will, I know just the place for them.” She leaned forward and whispered in her aunt’s ear, “At Wren Hall. I expect to be taking up residence there soon.” When Lavinia looked about to break into joyful speech, she shushed her, looking at Mr. Barteau. “Not yet, Aunt.”
“You still suspect him,” Lavinia huffed indignantly.
“Only being cautious. I will explain later. Also, I think I should tell Jason and Uncle Milton first, don’t you? Please, Aunt. Say nothing.”
Lavinia agreed reluctantly, and led Peter off to give her niece and Edmund privacy.
Edmund seemed to have drifted into a brown study. As they walked along silently, Olivia could see the furrows in his brow that were so expressive of worry or unhappiness. “Won’t you tell me what is troubling you?” she asked.
“Olivia, if your suspicions of Corbright’s motives proved to be untrue, how would you feel about him? Would you be looking for another husband, or turning to me, if . . .”
Edmund’s heart sank as she hesitated, obviously thinking his question over. “You do have a great deal in common, you know, with your love of Greek, and—”
Olivia burst into a peal of laughter. “I don’t love Greek. I loved being recognized as intelligent enough to learn it. I loved studying it with a handsome young man. Remember when he came over and gave me that copy of The Odyssey?”
Edmund nodded. “And made me feel a dunce!”
“Well, I tried to read some of it, and found I had quite forgotten all my Greek, and had no desire to learn it again. At that time, I still thought I might marry Corbright, and I wondered how I would manage to escape studying it with him.”
“Well, I hope that you are sure, for I shan’t study it with you.” Edmund shook his finger at her, laughing.
“I am so glad you asked me about that, Edmund. I had never put it to myself quite that way before.”
“What? Whether you want to study Greek?”
“No, whether I would want to marry Corbright even if he were as innocent as a spring lamb of all the things I suspect him of. I wouldn’t. Nor would have, even before I knew I loved you. Whatever drew me to him died a long while ago.” She threw her hands in the air and spun around in a joyful little dance. When she stopped, dizzy, and let Edmund steady her with his strong arms, she smiled tenderly at him. “Now, I want you to stop worrying that I still have an attachment to Corbright, do you hear me?”
He laughed at her exuberance. “I hear and I obey.”
Chapter Twenty
“How many men does this female intend to marry?”
Mr. Peter Barteau’s eyes goggled as he grasped the import of the archbishop’s clerk’s question.
“Do you mean to say someone else has applied for a license to wed her?”
“Two others, in fact. One last week, and the other yesterday morning. Ormhill. Unusual name, Ormhill. Wouldn’t mistake it, much less when I see it for the third time in a week.” The clerk began to search through a large stack of documents.
“Ah, that explains it. There are two Miss Ormhills. My fiancée’s first name is . . . Did you say the third application?”
“Indeed, sir. This Miss Ormhill is obviously running some kind of a rig. Doubtless she has taken expensive gifts from each of you. I should have her up before the magistrate if I were you.”
Peter Barteau mopped at his brow. He understood well enough the clerk’s confusion of Lavinia’s and Olivia’s names, and had guessed that Olivia and Edmund meant to marry, so two applications would make sense. But three?
“I don’t believe you,” he exclaimed. “May I see those documents? I don’t want to accuse my beloved falsely.”
“Well, it is irregular, but I do hate to see a decent man being taking advantage of by some doxy.” The clerk’s mouth twisted in distaste. “Here is the one from yesterday.”
Peter Barteau studied the application. As he expected, it was for Olivia and Edmund’s license.
“As f
or the other,” the clerk continued, “it was approved. The prospective bridegroom called for it this morning. Seemed to think she was to marry him in Saint George’s this very day. Too bad I didn’t remember the other application in time to stop him.”
“Let me guess. A tall blond man? Lord Corbright?”
“That sounds right. If you know him, I hope you can succeed in warning him off. Hate to think of him getting wed to such a scheming hussy.”
Peter explained that he wished to marry the aunt of Olivia Ormhill. “The names are often confused,” he said. “And as for Miss Olivia Ormhill running a rig, she has no knowledge of Lord Corbright’s application. He is my nephew, you see, and as far as anyone knew, he was in Scotland. Nor does Miss Olivia have the least inclination to wed him.”
“He apparently doesn’t know this,” the clerk said, fascinated.
“Obviously not. She wishes to marry Lord Edmund. Please process his application as expeditiously as possible, will you?”
The clerk scratched his head. “If you are quite sure the young lady is what she should be . . .”
“She is very much a lady, a woman of property, too. She will choose her own husband, and that choice will fall on Lord Edmund. My nephew has exerted himself in vain.”
“When you return to collect your license you must tell me how it all comes out.” The clerk smiled at Barteau and placed Edmund’s application on the top of the stack.
“I’ll see if Miss Olivia Ormhill is at home, my lord,” Kittrick said, bowing reverentially to Lord Corbright on the basis of the card he had been handed.
“No need. I’d like to surprise her.”
When Kittrick made to object, Corbright flashed a golden guinea. “I’m her fiancé, you see. She won’t mind.”
“In that case, my lord, she is in the drawing room.” The butler palmed the coin, though his eyes followed Corbright uneasily as he dashed up the stairs.
“You look so charming, my love.” Corbright sailed into the room and straight toward the small writing desk where Olivia sat penning a letter to her brother. He spared but a glance toward Lavinia.
