“I am so sorry, Kendall.”
“Do not be foolish, my lady. Napping is not what I am paid for. Tell me you want a fresh dress and your hair combed and I will be happy for a week.”
“That is exactly what I want.” Olivia smiled and wrinkled her noise.
“You do?” Kendall raised a hand to her heart as if palpitations were making her uncomfortable. “How wonderful. You so rarely care.”
It took much longer than Olivia had anticipated. Kendall thought the pink dress with the white and pink flounces was too dressy for the time of day and the white dress not at all appropriate for the cool weather even if it was almost June. She finally allowed that the lovely winter white with the green stripes was perfect. She insisted that Olivia carry a moss green Paisley shawl and wear the beige leather slippers and that she “not walk on the grass.”
Finally Kendall did her hair, winding a winter white satin ribbon through the curls. It made her look like a schoolgirl, but Olivia said thank you and did not pull it out until she left the room.
Like the perfect maid she was, Kendall never once asked for whom Olivia was dressing so carefully. If her maid knew, her heart palpitations would not be an affectation.
Olivia found Big Sam waiting for her in the almost-empty kitchen. She took the smaller of the two baskets from him as they walked toward the gatehouse.
“We are taking supper to Mr. Garrett. You can carry the big basket with the soup tureen.”
“If that is what you wish, Miss Lollie, but tell me if the one you are carrying is too heavy.”
She agreed with a smile and turned her attention to the sky. The sun was doing its best to shine, but she was glad that she had worn the shawl.
Olivia hoped that Michael Garrett did not think this year was typical of Derbyshire spring weather. She would have to explain what Gabriel had told them, though it was hard to believe that a volcano erupting on the other side of the world could ruin their summer.
“Miss Lollie!” Big Sam stopped and pushed her behind him as a man on horseback cantered down the path from the castle.
“It’s quite all right, Sam.” She waved to the rider who saluted her with a hand to his cap. “That’s the courier, on his way to London. Though he is leaving unusually late today. It’s almost four, is it not? He usually leaves after breakfast.”
Sam waved at the back of the courier and shrugged off the late departure. “He’s the one who brings us poetry from the duchess.”
And newspapers for the duke and recipe books for her. His return was one of the high points of her week.
Not a minute later Big Sam suggested that they take a route they had never used before.
“If we do that, Sam, we will have wet feet, and Kendall insisted that I not allow my shoes to touch the wet. Besides, if our feet were wet it would be an invitation to illness.” Olivia could never understand why Mary could annoy her so easily and she had endless patience with Big Sam.
“Oh, yes, milady.”
On and on. Sam had to be talked out of myriad unrealistic threats to her well-being. By the time they reached the end of the drive and the gatehouse, Olivia wondered if Big Sam was becoming a trifle overprotective.
He knocked on the gatehouse door with all the force of a father coming to confront a wayward beau. Sam’s knock was answered promptly by Mr. Garrett. It was, after all, four o’clock and even if he needed sleep she had calculated that he would be awake and dressed by now.
He was wearing different clothes from the ones he had worn last night—a fresh shirt and a waistcoat that was as conservative as his haircut—and had a clean-shaven face. His boots were polished so that, though old, they looked perfectly respectable. She was happy to see him looking so well.
“Good day to you, Mr. Garrett.” His smile made her smile back at him, and confusion quickly followed it. She came into his parlor without an invitation, and stumbled, almost dropping the basket.
Garrett grabbed her around the waist and rescued the basket from her. “I’m delighted to see you too,” he whispered and proved it by missing the table and letting the basket plop hard on the floor.
They both began laughing as though it was the funniest thing that had ever happened to them.
It might have been. How much cause had they had to laugh about anything until this moment? Olivia was so happy that she turned in his arms to hug him. He dropped his arms from her waist and stepped back.
“My lady.” He bowed as formally as if they had met in a ballroom. She gave him a small curtsy and sobered as fast as she had started laughing, more embarrassed than disappointed.
Garrett turned from her and held out his hand to Big Sam. “Samuelson.”
Big Sam’s confusion was genuine. Most people ignored him, as if pretending he did not exist was possible with a man close to seven feet tall and as white as a ghost.
Big Sam took the hand offered him and smiled when Mr. Garrett gave it a firm shake.
Mr. Garrett pointed at the basket. “I assume that is for me.”
“You sleep through dinner most days so I thought I would bring you something. Some of my truly restorative chicken soup and the newest of my attempts at savory rolls. There is also some ale with which to wash it down, and strawberries and cream.”
Stop babbling, Olivia, she commanded herself.
“May I go upstairs?” Big Sam’s question was perfunctory as he was already on the first step.
“He wants to be sure that I am safe and that no one is waiting to attack me.” She spoke in a normal voice but gave Garrett a look that dared him to refuse the request.
When Big Sam disappeared around the corner of the staircase, Mr. Garrett approached her. For a moment Olivia thought he was going to sweep her into his arms, but instead he took her hand and spoke with some urgency. “While he is gone, Lord David and I discussed something a few nights ago that we both think we should ask you about.”
She did her best to ignore the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was smiling and focus on what he was saying. Now was not the time for flirting.
He led her to the chair opposite his at the table, apparently unmoved by the feel of her hand in his.
Garrett detailed his plan to promote Samuelson, as he insisted on calling him, to the position of night guard, “second only to the night porter for security of the castle after dark.”
“Do you truly think he is ready for such a responsibility?” Olivia folded her hands in front of her on the table and tried to think of more pertinent questions. He was asking her opinion. Amazing.
“I do think he’s ready, yes. He will be scrupulous, which is what I want until the miscreants who are responsible for your kidnapping are no longer a threat.”
“Why would you think they are still a threat? It has been weeks.”
“Admit that you are still nervous when you walk to the vicarage.”
He must have seen the surprise on her face at his ability to read her mind because he pressed his advantage.
“Think how much safer you will feel if Samuelson is on patrol and your brother or I go with you when you leave Pennford.”
“All right.” She nodded and realized that he was right. The very thought that David or Mr. Garrett would be with her made her feel strong enough to do it. Was it that she had lost confidence in Big Sam? No, not really. It was just that David and Mr. Garrett were cast from the same mold. Men who had faced the worst life could bombard them with, and lived.
“Once again, my lady, you impress me with your common sense. Not a compliment I give to many women.”
“Thank you.” She hoped her dutiful response covered up her longing to hear something a trifle more personal. She could tell him how much she loved the color of his eyes, the way his arms felt wrapped around her.
But if she could not show her affection that way, she would do what she did for all the other men she loved. She would feed him.
35
NOW YOU MUST EAT.” Olivia popped up from her chair and lifted the
basket onto the table. It took only a minute to set the food before him, on a cream cloth cover, chattering the whole time. “I invented this silverware. It is specifically designed for travel or a picnic. Ideally one would not serve food that requires a knife on a picnic.”
He picked up the spoon/fork and put it down again.
“I devised this holder for it, which will also function as a serviette.”
She knew she was babbling again. He seemed to have that effect on her. Pressing her lips together she gathered the storage items and the basket, carried them to the door and stayed there to look out the window, so he could eat in peace.
The gatehouse was a charming place, more like a dollhouse than a man-sized establishment. When Papa had decided not to staff it after Mr. Hackett retired she had asked him if she could live here with Tildy and Annie. He had not even deigned to answer her.
It would have been perfect. There were only two bedrooms, but she and Annie had shared a room for years without telling anyone. Tildy was the most wonderful governess and mother in the world, even if she had finished off her days with too much to drink.
When Olivia turned back to Michael he was starting on the strawberries. He had eaten all the soup but only one of the two buns. That was all right. They were rather large.
Walking back to the table she sat opposite him, her elbow on the table cradling her chin as she watched him dip the berry into the cream and take a bite.
He chewed and swallowed, well aware of her eyes on him. When he had eaten one more she could not stay quiet any longer.
“Are they not delicious? There is nothing in the world that tastes better than strawberries and cream.”
“They are delectable,” he said, nodding, “but I can think of two or more things that would taste even better.”
“Two or more! That is impossible.” She could see he was teasing her, but that she did not understand the joke made it all the more annoying. “I insist that you tell me what they are.” What could taste better than strawberries in cream, unless it was strawberries in champagne? It occurred to her in the next second that he was not talking about food, but she was distracted from that line of thought by Big Sam’s voice.
“All is well upstairs.”
She blushed but Mr. Garrett looked up at Big Sam with a blasé expression she wished she could copy.
“Samuelson, would you care to share some strawberries with me? I know for a fact that Lady Olivia would like to take a bit of this roll to my horse, and I would have a few words with you.”
“You want to talk to me, sir?” Big Sam asked. Michael knew the request would surprise Big Sam, but he had not realized he would look at Olivia as if something was profoundly wrong.
“Yes.” Olivia patted his arm, nodding energetically.
Standing, Michael walked to the window next to the front door. “It is a short walk and we can watch her from here. You can see Troy in the paddock so they will be in sight at all times.”
“If it is that simple, I guess it will be all right, sir. But I’d feel even better if we could stand outside and watch. We could feast on the strawberries when we know she is safe.”
Michael was impressed again by the big man’s dedication to his duty, something a seasoned soldier would never admit out loud.
Olivia happily broke off a good chunk of the bun, wrapped it and with a wave to both of them ran, or was it skipped, down to the stable. Troy came to her without invitation. Even without the proffered treat it would have been a touching reunion.
“Horse likes her,” Sam said.
“A mutual admiration.” When Sam looked confused Michael tried again. “And she likes Troy.”
“Aye, hard not to like a horse as beautiful as that.”
Michael knew better than to think Sam was joking, and wondered if the man saw colors normally.
Michael took Samuelson back inside, seated him and set a plate with two strawberries in front of him. After he ate them, in two giant bites, Michael made his proposition with slow and careful wording, so that the man would see he was being promoted and not replaced.
“You know which room is Lollie’s and can give special attention to that side of the castle. You know where I live and can come for me should anything seem wrong.”
Samuelson was quiet a long time. Then he nodded. “Sir, thank you, sir. No one has ever thought to offer me such a post. I must ask Miss Lollie and Lord David and the majordomo, and I am sure that the duke will have an opinion.” It looked like he had thought of two or three other people who he needed permission from but could not recall their names at the moment.
“Ask whomever you must, Samuelson,” Michael said, relieved that he had already discussed this at length with Pennistan. “I assure you they will all be pleased with the idea.”
“I am not so sure, sir.” He looked away. “You see, I have not told the truth about Miss Lollie’s kidnapping.” When he looked back Michael could see that the giant actually had tears in his eyes.
Michael felt a sinking sensation that had nothing to do with the wonderful meal he had just eaten.
“You see, when I was at the vicar’s that day, the day Miss Lollie was taken, a man came up to me and asked if I would stay behind for a few moments so that his master could have some time with her ladyship. That he wanted only a moment to give her a poem and a bunch of flowers and declare his admiration.”
Well done, you bastards, Michael thought. Find the weakest point and make it work for you. It was what he had done in France.
“Mr. Garrett, I was so pleased for her. I would be happy to guard her forever, but I am old and will surely die before she does. I thought if she found a husband she would be safe even if I was dead.”
Samuelson loved Olivia, Michael realized, in a way most men did not begin to understand.
“Had that ever happened before, Samuelson?”
“No, sir.” He hesitated, shifting in the chair. “Once a long time ago I found her in the garden kissing the vicar’s nephew. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes.” He knew that story. Amazing how much of this woman’s life was like a public record.
“That’s the only time. I did not go to London with her for her Season. She did tell me that there was no one who was much fun except for Viscount Bendasbrook, but she would never consider a match with him.”
Big Sam must have learned his storytelling from Olivia-the-chatty. These were more details than he needed, though now he was curious as to why the viscount was not appealing. Was he not interested in food?
“Finish telling me what happened that day when you let Lollie meet with her new beau.”
“He was not her beau.” Samuelson spoke as though it was a detail Michael might not be aware of. “It was a lie. I knew it was a lie the moment I saw the carriage racketing up the road. I ran, I ran as fast as I could but I was crying and could not keep pace with them.” He stood up. “You may not want me for such a post if I cannot tell an honest man from a liar.”
Michael kept his seat. “Samuelson, you must listen to me.”
Sam sat back down and Michael looked him in the eye. “There are not many who can tell a lie from the truth when they want to believe something so much.”
“Is that so, sir? I thought that one of my weaknesses. I always believe what people tell me.” He looked out the window. “I used to believe what people tell me. Now I am afraid everyone is lying.”
Most of the time they are.
“You will learn who you can believe and who you will always doubt. If you decide to accept this new position you can come to me whenever you are not sure. Even if it is ten times a night.”
Big Sam nodded.
“I have one other question, Samuelson.”
Big Sam nodded again and tilted forward as if he thought he might miss a word.
“Did you give the men some baskets?”
“No, no sir. I never saw those men before that day.”
God help him, he would have to ask Olivia exactly what she
was wearing when she was taken so they could determine if all her garments were accounted for.
“Samuelson,” Michael stood and waited for Big Sam to do the same. “We all make mistakes, from the Prince Regent to the scullery maid.”
“Yes, I know.”
The answer was perfunctory. Michael could see that he was not free of guilt. “Go to Lord David and tell him. See what he suggests.”
“Do you think that he would take me to the boxing ring, if I asked?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“A good thrashing will make me feel so much better.”
“If that is so, I will meet you in the ring. With Lord David’s permission.”
Big Sam looked inordinately pleased at the prospect of being beaten to a pulp. With a bow, he left the gatehouse, stopping for a moment to speak to Olivia.
Michael could tell the moment the man confessed to Olivia the way he had been deceived. Her sympathetic expression changed to disbelief, shock. She put her hand on Samuelson’s arm and spoke to him with such earnestness that Michael did not have to hear what she was saying.
Samuelson gave her a profound bow and Olivia accepted it with a pat on his head. Michael watched her watch the big man as he hurried up to the castle, a frown very much in place as she returned to the parlor.
“Did you tell Big Sam that you would meet him in the boxing ring?”
“Yes.”
“What were you thinking?” Her frown turned to annoyance.
“I am thinking that I wish it were as easy as that to rid myself of guilt for the wrongs I have committed. I am thinking that the least I can do for the man is ease the awful responsibility he feels for your kidnapping. He will not be hurt above a bruise or two, and he will take on his new position with more confidence and a clear conscience.”
“But I do not want either one of you to be hurt. It’s barbaric!”
“Perhaps it seems so to you, but Lord David knew exactly what he was doing when he had that boxing ring built.”
She folded her arms and turned to stare out the window. Obviously she was not fully appeased.
Mary Blayney Page 48
