“Instead why don’t we take the horses out without the hounds? We could go for a vigorous gallop rather than chasing down foxes.” Edward nodded toward Olivia. “I know how you feel about fairness in the animal kingdom.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said in a soft voice. Quite unlike her usual tone, but then again, nothing about her now was usual.
“And then when we’ve returned, perhaps you would like to take a walk to the village?” This time it was clear Edward was speaking to her, although the invitation was a general one.
“I would love to,” Olivia said.
Her sisters agreed also, although their mother demurred, perhaps because that would mean she might miss tea.
So perhaps later on she would be able to speak with him. About her and him and them and all the things she had barely allowed herself to admit within the confines of her own head.
Now that his father was no longer in imminent danger of perishing, Edward could fully concentrate on the thing—or more specifically the person—that brought him the most enjoyment in life.
He knew when he’d mentioned hunting that she would speak up against it. He found himself savoring how her voice rose in volume, as did the color in her cheeks. How her eyes flashed furiously as she argued in defense of the foxes.
It had been easy to agree to what she said. It was a pleasure, actually. To accede to her wishes in something so minor when it would bring her so much satisfaction.
“Mr. Wolcott, how many people live in the village?”
Her voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head to smile at her, conscious of her arm on his left. Her sister Lady Pearl was on his right-hand side, while their other sister Lady Ida strode ahead, looking back with an aggrieved expression at how slow the rest of the party was.
Edward wasn’t assuming that; she had called out a few times for them to hurry up, but her sisters had told her they would walk at their own pace, thank you very much.
“I am not certain,” he replied, doing a quick tally in his head. “Perhaps five hundred? I don’t go into town much, not unless I am meeting one of our representatives at the Lamb and Flag. The local inn,” he explained.
“And do the children attend school?” she demanded, clearly already spoiling for a fight.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Olivia, of course there is a school,” Pearl said dismissively. “They’re not barbarians.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You implied it,” her twin pointed out.
“You need to ask questions, even obvious ones, to make certain everything is as it should be,” Olivia replied in her most autocratic tone.
“Of course you do,” Edward said, patting her arm.
“Now you’re being condescending.”
Edward took a deep breath. “You’re right. I am. I apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” she said in a low tone.
“Thank you,” he said, equally quietly.
The more he got to know her, the more he realized how vulnerable she was, despite her headstrong determination to be on the right side at all times.
It must be very difficult for her to always be on the alert for injustice. From ducks to foxes to impoverished children, it was all equally important.
Perhaps he should be asking her if she had ever had any unadulterated fun.
“I believe that today is market day in the village. I haven’t been for some time, but as far as I recall, it’s a festive occasion. And,” he said, making a grand gesture of consulting his pocket watch, “it should be late enough so that the children are no longer in school.”
She swatted him on the arm, but he could see her smiling out of the corner of his eye.
“I have some pin money, perhaps we can buy something,” Pearl said in an excited tone.
“I do as well, although I cannot think of anything I would want that is more important than someone else’s comfort.”
“Oh, do give it a rest,” Pearl said. “Can’t you just have fun without worrying about people?”
“No,” she said. He hurt for her, that she felt she had to be so vigilant all the time.
No wonder she kissed him so often—she was probably desperate for something that would take her mind off her constant monitoring of potentially unjust situations.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, him wishing he could get her to ease up on her worries without having to compromise her.
Olivia knew she was being unpleasant. Pearl only ever wanted the best for her, but she was finding it impossible to concentrate on anything with him so close. Her hand looped through his arm, his body right next to hers.
“I used to come to the village once a week when I was young,” he said in an abrupt tone of voice. As though he wasn’t accustomed to telling anybody anything. “The people who lived there knew who I was and didn’t treat me any differently. Neither as though I were more important or less.” He chuckled. “Maybe because I was twelve years old and skinny as a rail, and yet I know I always looked as though I were ready to punch someone.”
The image was sweet, in its own odd way—a young Edward blustering through the world, keenly aware of his birth and determined not to let anyone stop him from being who he was.
Except he had come to her world to be more than he was. Only, if he were to be accepted by her world, he would have to end up being less. Marrying a woman who was less, because she had agreed to marry him. Having to watch his behavior all the time so nobody could accuse him of living up to his origins rather than his upbringing.
“It must be exhausting,” she said, feeling the ache inside her. Like her own type of fatigue, only his wasn’t born out of injustice for others. But injustice for himself. Something he couldn’t escape by attending a party or laughing with siblings—he didn’t have any, that she knew of—or playing with kittens.
Or kissing. Although maybe that was why he had responded so fiercely when she kissed him. Because he was trying to escape, not because of how he actually felt about her.
The thought was lowering, but she deserved to think that. She’d spent so long thinking she was above others because of how she thought about them—as though they needed her attention and care. Bennett didn’t want her attention; she could admit that to herself now. Did Edward?
She would have to ask.
She was opening her mouth to do just that when they turned a corner and walked into the heart of the village. Ida and Pearl were already there, already clapping their hands as a trio of musicians played some sort of lively tune.
A few grubby children were dancing at the outskirts of the circle, and Olivia felt that familiar tug grip her. The urge to help, to do something, to show that she cared.
“Do you have any money?” she asked him.
He frowned, puzzled, and then nodded. “A bit. I am to purchase some new pens for my father.”
“Can I have it?”
She didn’t wait for his reply; she just held her hand out, palm out.
He shook his head, withdrawing his wallet from his inside pocket. He extracted a few bills and placed them on her hand.
“Is that all you have?” she demanded.
He shook his head again and withdrew some change, placing that on top of the paper.
“Excellent,” she said, curling her fingers around the money and turning, the fierce flood of doing good making her whole body heat.
What was she doing? Edward wondered as he watched her stalk toward the tables set up for the market. He saw her go and speak, apparently fervently, to a few of the merchants, gesticulating in that vibrant Olivia way he’d come to love.
Love?
That word caught him up short, only to blindside him with the veracity of it. Love. He loved her.
How had he denied it to himself for so long?
He loved her, his prickly, sparkling, vibrant firebrand, who barged into situations and demanded justice—for ducks, for women, for foxes. For him.
Love. It wasn’t something he
’d thought he’d ever have, certainly not with someone like her—a duke’s daughter. A lady who, in normal circumstances, would scorn what he had to tell her.
But these were not normal circumstances. Not at all.
He felt off-balance, and yet righted, now that he knew what he was suffering under. Love. The greatest toppler of nations and gentlemen the world had ever known.
And now Olivia, his love, was gesturing to the town, waving his money in the air, a fiery blush on her cheeks as she seemed to be arguing passionately for—
“But I want to buy everything for the children!”
The children in question had stopped dancing, likely because the musicians had stopped playing, and everyone else was frozen as Olivia whirled around to look at the crowd.
Most of whom were looking back at her with disdain.
Oh no.
“We aren’t in need of your charity, miss,” one of the women said. The other women nodded their heads in fervent agreement.
“And nobody asked you to come here and wave your cash around,” a merchant selling fruit added in a belligerent tone.
He waited for her to crumple, but of course she didn’t. Because she was Olivia, and she did not crumple.
Instead, she did what she always did; rush in and fight.
“But it’s not charity. I want to help!” She glanced around the crowd, her shoulders thrown back, her chin raised. Looking every inch a pampered aristocrat condescending to people who were beneath her. Who didn’t know any better.
Except they did. “Your kind of help isn’t wanted,” another of the women said, waving her arm in dismissal. “You think you can just come in here and pay for everything and it will be fine.” The woman stepped forward. “And it was fine, until you came. Do you think we can’t take care of our own? Do you think we need your help?” And she finished her sentence by spitting on the ground in front of Olivia.
Edward winced, restraining himself from going to her. His presence would just exacerbate the situation; he knew full well Olivia could take care of herself, and he also knew neither she nor the townspeople would welcome his interference.
Olivia took a step forward also so that only a few feet separated her from the woman who was still glaring at her.
“Don’t you want to be fed and nurtured?” she asked in a low, almost desperate voice. “I just want to help,” she continued, shaking her head.
The woman folded her arms over her chest, her gesture giving a clear answer to Olivia’s question.
Olivia’s cheeks were flame red, and she continued to face the woman, but he could read that, for the first time, she was suffering from defeat.
How must that feel for Olivia? Treasured duke’s daughter that she was?
Edward also felt compassion for the people in the crowd—he knew the villagers, none of them were starving, none were in need of the kind of desperate help Olivia was offering. They didn’t fit the role that Olivia expected them to play; in her world, people were either bullies or oppressed. These people were neither.
His father had made sure of that, actually, having set up various means of assistance through his years of living in proximity to the village.
Of course Olivia didn’t know that. Didn’t know any of that, but then again, she hadn’t asked. If she had asked if the townspeople would be receptive to the kind of lofty charity she was attempting, he would have given her a firm refusal, and perhaps—just perhaps—she would have conceded that for once her help was not needed.
But it was too late.
He stepped forward, reaching her in a few quick strides, taking her arm and drawing her away from the table, her face frozen, her expression confused.
“I just wanted,” she began, and he took her hand and drew it through his arm, pulling her close to his body. As he did so, he made eye contact with Lady Pearl, who was regarding her twin with a rueful expression. Maybe Lady Pearl had anticipated that one day her sister’s help wouldn’t be wanted?
Lady Ida glanced between the twins, her expression pained, eventually taking Pearl’s hand in hers and stroking it in sympathy.
The sisters walked toward them as he escorted Olivia back the way they’d come, his money still clutched in her hand, her head bowed, her gaze on the ground.
Chapter 21
Everything you thought you knew is wrong.
Lady Olivia’s Particular Guide to Being Reckless
Olivia’s heart felt bruised as she allowed Edward to walk her away from the village. When she had seen the children, the idea had been so clear—help them however she could, with what means she had at her disposal.
The means were in Edward’s wallet, and the help would be to offer the children some food. But the merchants had declined the offer, as though she had no right to make it, and the children had just stared at her when she tried to ask them about it.
And then one of the children’s mothers had glared at her and stepped over to the children, her chin lifted proudly.
And then—and then she had been publicly humiliated. When all she wanted was to help.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.
She bit her lip and raised her chin. “I am fine,” she said, even though her voice was wobbly.
“You were trying to do the right thing,” Lady Pearl said, coming up to Olivia’s other side. Ida walked behind them.
“I was. They just didn’t want my help.” Olivia spoke wonderingly, as though she found it difficult to believe.
And of course to her it was.
“Not everybody wants help, Olivia.” Edward had hold of her arm, and he felt her jerk away at his words.
She stopped and spun to look at him, a high wash of color on her cheekbones. “But they don’t always know! They might be in need of things, those children could be hungry, and they wouldn’t know! Or they’re too proud,” she said in a bitter tone.
Edward shook his head slowly. “But I know. I do know about them, and this situation. It’s not like the ducks, Olivia. The townspeople are perfectly happy and are doing quite well. But you just assumed, since you are determined to see injustice and inequity everywhere, that those people were suffering. But if you had asked . . .” And he let his words trail off, waiting to see her reaction.
Her expression froze, and then he saw her blink as though processing her thoughts. She bit her lip, and he wondered for a moment if she would cry—but of course she wouldn’t, she was Olivia.
His beautiful, brave, headstrong, foolhardy, proud Olivia.
“I should have asked,” she said at last.
And then he fell even more in love with her.
“Olivia?” Lady Pearl said, tapping her sister on the arm. “We should start walking, it looks as though it might rain.”
Olivia shook her head. “Go ahead, you two. Mr. Wolcott will walk with me.” Then her eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “Though I should have asked, shouldn’t I?”
“You don’t have to ask,” Edward replied, seeing Lady Pearl’s mouth open as she heard his words.
“We’ll just be going along then,” Pearl said, a knowing look in her eye. She took Lady Ida’s arm as the two started walking briskly back, Pearl bending her head close to her sister’s and whispering furiously.
Leaving them alone.
Edward glanced up at the sky. Sure enough, there were some clouds forming.
“I believe your sister is correct. It looks as though it’s going to rain.”
Olivia shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t control everything. I definitely cannot control the weather.” She sounded deflated, and Edward suppressed the urge to take her in his arms. He would enjoy that—and she might as well—but the most important thing now was to restore her confidence.
Instead, he raised his eyebrow at her. “You can’t? Lady Olivia, you wound me.” He clapped his hand on his heart and staggered back as though struck. And then righted himself and grinned. “It’s fine. You suffered a humiliation just now. It just proves you’re hu
man.”
She snorted. “I have always been human, Edward.” She looked up at him, her eyes vividly bright in the increasing greyness of the sky. “I wanted to be more than just me, Lady Olivia. One of the duke’s daughters, a lady who would do just as she was supposed to.”
“And you have.” He stepped toward her, putting his hands on her arms and tugging her forward to him. “You are remarkable, Olivia. You are brave and strong and I admire you. Even if you can be stubborn and rush into things without heed.”
Her lips curled into a rueful smile. “That is true.” She slid her fingers up his arms and curled her fingers into his hair. “I find that I like rushing into things,” she said.
So of course he had no choice by then but to kiss her.
Was there anything better than being kissed by Edward?
Well, perhaps. Although none of that had happened yet, so she couldn’t answer for certain.
They were standing out on the road, for goodness’ sake, where anyone could see them. Not that they’d seen a soul until they went into town—into that blasted village filled with people who very definitely did not want her assistance—so it likely didn’t matter.
He slid his tongue into her mouth, and she opened her lips to accept him, loving how delicious it felt, how her whole body was starting to tingle.
His hands were stroking her back, up and down, and she moved even closer into his body, putting her hands on his side, underneath his coat, sliding her fingers on his body.
She’d seen what he looked like underneath his clothing. She wanted to see it all again—his firm, muscled chest, his broad shoulders, the sprinkling of hair on his chest. She wanted to run her fingers all over him. Yes, there too.
There where she felt him pressed against her.
She wanted more.
She drew her head back and looked at him, noting his heavy-lidded gaze, his deep inhalation of breath, his intense focus on her.
“It’s going to rain. We should find shelter.”
He looked at her as though he didn’t understand at first, then nodded, a wry smile on his mouth.
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