This was something he intended to do by himself. And if for some reason her father was reluctant, Oliver was determined he would not leave the premises until he had convinced the man otherwise.
He climbed into the carriage and grabbed the reins. Lucy, here I come.
The sound of the horses’ hooves normally soothed him. But not today. Today his heartbeat raced, and nothing he tried to calm it seemed to help. Perhaps once he had obtained Mr. Ashbrook’s permission to wed his daughter, then Oliver could relax. Positive thoughts were uppermost in his mind, but… that was no guarantee her father would listen to him.
Reaching her father’s property, Oliver slowed the horses to a walk. He wasn’t expected and didn’t want to cause a rumpus before he even gained entrance to the house.
Clip-clop.
Clip-clop.
The horses seem to take forever to reach the front entrance. Oliver took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping to remember the words he’d practiced to say when he met Mr. Ashbrook.
A groom met him when he stopped the carriage and took the horses and carriage around back. Standing alone in front of the house, Oliver prayed for strength and guidance. He knew how overprotective fathers of unmarried daughters could be. Time was of the essence, true, but finesse was called for as well.
Time to meet Mr. Ashbrook.
Checking his attire one last time, and satisfied he looked every bit the heir to his father’s fortune that he was, Oliver raised his hand and knocked on the door.
An unsmiling butler opened the door. “Good day, sir.”
“Good day.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I do not.”
“Mr. Ashbrook is a very busy man.”
“I’m certain that he is, however, I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with him.”
Silence. A sigh. A nearly imperceptible nod. “And who may I say is calling?”
“Mr. Oliver Shipley.”
The butler’s eyes widened, but only for a second. “Please follow me, sir.”
“Thank you.” After the butler turned and walked back down the entryway, Oliver took a deep breath, held it a moment, and let it out before following the servant.
The butler led him to the front sitting room. “Please wait here while I announce you.”
“Certainly.”
Oliver glanced about the large room. Opulence abounded in everything his saw. The polished cherry floors. The forest green settee with matching twin chairs in front of a gorgeous stone fireplace. Heavy, embroidered drapes were pulled back from floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the lush front lawn.
But there, on the wall above the sideboard, was the most beautiful item in the room. A portrait. Of a lovely, dark-haired girl in a white dress and pink hat with white lace, stroking a marmalade cat that sat in her lap.
Lucy.
Oliver took steps, slow and steady, toward the painting, so slow it seemed a hush had fallen over the house. As if by taking his time and moving silently he wouldn’t frighten the beautiful creature away. The artist had done a superb job of capturing her beauty, her essence, down to the twinkle in her eye as she seemed to be hiding a delicious secret of some sort that the observer would have to beg of her to reveal.
But as beautiful as the painting was, and as well as the artist had rendered her likeness, it did not do Lucy justice. His Lucy.
Nothing ever could.
She was one of a kind. Wonderful. Heart-warming. Sweet and kind. No… those adjectives didn’t do her justice either. There was only one word to do that.
Perfection.
And if he had his way, after today, she would be his.
A squeak of shoe leather on hardwood startled him from his reverie. Oliver turned.
The butler beckoned with a thin, gloved hand. “This way, Mr. Shipley. Mr. Ashbrook will see you now.”
And I shall see him.
Two sets of boots tapped on the hard floor of the entryway as Oliver followed the butler to a massive oak door. With a groan, the door opened on old hinges. Oliver stepped inside, was introduced by the butler, and within seconds, was alone in the study with Mr. Ashbrook.
Lucy’s father.
Time to convince this man that I am the only man for Lucy, and she is the only woman for me.
Mr. Ashbrook glanced up from his desk. “Ah. Mr. Shipley. I’m honored to have you visit my home. I must say, however, that I’m at a loss as to the reason. I know of your father by reputation of course, but…”
Oliver removed his hat. “Please permit me a few minutes of your time, Mr. Ashbrook, and I will answer your questions in short order.”
“Very well. Please. Have a seat, won’t you?”
As Oliver nodded and took a seat, he willed away his nervousness. This is for Lucy’s hand. Get a grip on yourself! Perspiration pooled beneath his gloves, shirt, and cravat. Hopefully Mr. Ashbrook wouldn’t notice his discomfort. Now was not the time to show weakness. It was the time for strength, surety, and forthrightness.
Mr. Ashbrook retrieved a cigar from his humidor. He held it out to Oliver.
“No. Thank you.” He waved it away. “But please, don’t let that stop you from enjoying one, sir.”
“I believe I will.”
Oliver breathed slowly in and out. In and out. Swallowing the dryness away from his throat as he waited for the older man to light his cigar and take the first puff. Acrid smoke curled from the end of the cigar, forming a tiny white cloud that floated toward Oliver’s nose. Never having been one to be fond of the rancid-smelling things, he closed his eyes and held his breath briefly, willing the stench to sail past him across the room. Relief wafted through him when the cigar was tapped on an ashtray on the other side of Mr. Ashbrook and set aside.
Finally, Mr. Ashbrook turned toward Oliver. “How can I help you today, Mr. Shipley?” He rubbed his hands together… as one might in the throes of greed. What was he about?
“Mr. Ashbrook… sir… I’ve come to discuss… your daughter.”
He frowned. “Lucy? What has she done now?”
Oliver tilted his head. Why would her father’s first assumption be that she was at fault for something? “She hasn’t done anything. That is, nothing negative.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me rephrase that. I’ve had the pleasure of making your daughter’s acquaintance.”
“Oh?”
“And…” He cleared his throat. The blasted cravat seemed tighter than when he’d entered the house. “And she… well, sir, she and I…” Was the temperature rising? He glanced at Mr. Ashbrook, who seemed oblivious to any changes in the atmosphere of the room.
“Yes… you and she…?” He crossed his arms over his barrel chest. Why was it only now that Oliver noticed how large of a man Mr. Ashbrook was?
Oliver swallowed. “You see, sir, I had the pleasure of meeting Lu— Miss Ashbrook at the Bird Sanctuary.”
“Oh. Yes. I’ve been hearing quite a lot about that place. And how was it you happened to meet? I’m afraid she hasn’t mentioned you.”
“I…” Here was the portion Oliver dreaded. Admitting that he’d been using his mother’s maiden name. “I’ve been… working there.”
Mr. Ashbrook leaned forward and furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “Work? At the Sanctuary? In what capacity, might I ask?”
“As… a laborer.”
He sat back, expelling a smoky breath. “You don’t say? Extraordinary. And what does your good father think of this… laboring.”
“Not much.”
“I should think not.”
This wasn’t going well. And they were completely away from the subject Oliver had come to discuss. “Excuse me, sir, but I believe the conversation has taken a turn from my intended direction.”
Mr. Ashbrook was still shaking his head and frowning. “Oh. Yes. Something about my daughter. Please, continue.”
“I met her… your daughter, just a few weeks ago. And… I’ve
come to—”
A light knock sounded on the door.
Mr. Ashbrook rolled his eyes. “Excuse me, please, Mr. Shipley.” He raised his voice toward the door. “Yes? What is it?”
The doorknob turned and the door slid open with a noisy creak. And in the doorway, looking more beautiful than a woman had any right to look, stood Lucy.
“Oh, excuse me, Father. I didn’t realize you had…” Lucy’s gaze fell on Oliver. Her dark eyes widened and her full pink lips formed the letter O. “O-Oliver?”
He stood and nodded. “Good day, Lu— Miss Ashbrook.”
She closed her mouth, but her eyes, those glorious eyes, stayed wide open. “I almost didn’t recognize… why are you dressed in… I don’t know what to…”
Mr. Ashbrook stood as well. “Lucy, stop babbling. Was there something you wanted?”
She frowned. Shaking her head, back and forth, back and forth, she pointed behind her toward the hall. “The new mare has been delivered, Father… I thought perhaps you’d like to…” Her eyes had never left Oliver’s. She stared, unblinking.
With a sigh, her father tapped his foot. “Can’t you see this is not the proper time, girl?” His gruff voice startled even Oliver.
Lucy bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. Yes of course. I’ll just be… going then.”
She backed toward the open doorway, not watching her steps. Collided into the doorframe, tripped, and then turned and scurried around the corner.
Mr. Ashbrook grumbled as he stomped toward the door. He slammed it shut. “Foolish girl doesn’t know her left from her right. Please excuse the interruption.”
He indicated the settee where they’d previously been, and they both sat. Oliver’s blood boiled. How dare Ashbrook speak to her, the woman he loved, in such a condescending way? True, he was her father, her guardian, but didn’t she at least deserve respect in front of a visitor?
Fighting the impulse to clench his fists, his thoughts flittered about, trying to light upon the best way to address the situation. He’d love to pummel the man, but that wouldn’t help him toward his objective. Still, he could see that finesse would not help him with this man. The troglodyte. The troll. How did Lucy put up with him? He’d need to be direct.
“Mr. Ashbrook, as I tried to explain before, I’ve made the acquaintance of your daughter recently and—”
“Yes. I noticed her reaction when she finally recognized you. Must not be very well acquainted if she hardly knew you.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
“Which would be…?”
“When I met her at the Sanctuary, I didn’t appear as I do now.”
He snapped his fingers as if just remembering something. “And you said you worked there?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Ashbrook frowned and his eyebrows lowered until nothing remained between them and the tops of his eyes. “What’s the meaning of this? Are you trying to pass yourself off as something you’re not? Are you that Barrows fellow I keep hearing about?”
“Barrow, yes sir. One and the same. But—”
“Get out.”
“Excuse me?”
“Out of my house. I don’t know whether you’re trying to pull one over on me by saying you know my daughter in hopes of gaining access to my fortune, but you can put that thought from your head.”
“I assure you, I don’t need your money.”
He stood abruptly. “Alfred!”
The door opened immediately. Had the meddlesome butler been listening at the door? “Yes, Mr. Ashbrook?”
“Escort Mr. Barrow or whatever his name is out. Now.”
He wheeled around and glared at Oliver. “I don’t ever want to see you in my house again.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lucy paced across her bedroom floor. Her boots squeaked on the wood each time she turned to walk in the opposite direction.
“Lucy, you’ll wear holes in your boots. Or the floor.” Anna shrugged. “Maybe both.”
“I can’t help it. What was Oliver doing in Father’s study? And you should have seen his attire. Top hat sitting in his lap, beautiful black coat, shiny Hoby boots.”
“Where do you suppose he acquired such clothing? I’ve never seen him in anything but old clothes at the Sanctuary. Much like Richard wears.”
She sighed. “I haven’t a clue. It makes no sense, Anna. And why was he speaking to Father? They wouldn’t have any business to conduct that I could imagine. There’s something strange going on.”
“Perhaps he wanted to speak to your father about a position in his employ.”
“But he loves his work at the Sanctuary. And those clothes. They looked so expensive. Where would a laborer have gotten them?”
“Maybe he borrowed them from someone.”
“I thought of that. But I couldn’t imagine who he would know well enough to ask such a favor.”
“It’s a mystery.”
“Quite.”
“Could you ask your father?”
“You mean just march down to his study and ask outright?” Lucy shook her head. “No. Well, I could… but I doubt he’d tell me. And I’d be made to sound a fool simply for asking.”
“That much is true.” Anna’s face reddened. “Oh…”
“No, it’s fine. You know all that goes on around here, and I trust you. Yes, I love my father but he can be as hard to deal with as a goose with a sore bill.”
Anna widened her eyes. A giant smile crept across her lips. “A sore bill, you say? And how do you suppose a goose would—?”
Lucy threw her hands in the air and laughed. “I have no idea. That silly thought just popped into my head. I seem to be thinking in terms of bird references these days.”
“I find myself doing the same.”
“Well, you should be, since your husband-to-be works there.”
“I still can believe it. Me! Married!”
“You deserve it.”
“As do you, my dear.”
“But do I deserve who Father wants for me?”
“No, I didn’t intend…”
“I know you didn’t. I’m trying my best not to dwell on it, but it’s so difficult. Cr-that man slithers into my thoughts whether invited or not.”
“Sounds like a snake of some sort.”
“Oh, I think that’s exactly what he is. Slimy.”
“Scaly.”
“Cold-blooded.”
“Frightening to behold.”
Lucy giggled. “Thanks, Anna. If I cannot make light of my predicament, I fear I shall go mad.”
Anna reached over and squeezed her hand. “You know you’re like a daughter to me. I only want you to be happy. And I truly believe you would be happy with Oliver.”
Sudden hot tears burned behind her eyelids. Gone was the merriment of only seconds ago. “So do I. It’s my heart’s desire.”
“I know.”
“What should I do? What recourse do I have?”
A frown marred Anna’s plump face. “I guess your choices are… marry the snake, or—”
“Or?”
“Run off with Oliver and marry him.”
“Then I would not receive Father’s inheritance. Not that it’s important to me, but I had counted on it to share with Oliver if he… if I… we…”
Anna reached out and ran her index finger down Lucy’s cheek. “If you choose to run off with Oliver, be prepared to live the life of the working class.”
Like you will. Like you always have. “How selfish I sound, Anna. Please forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive. You only know life as you’ve lived it. Here. In this house, wanting for nothing. How could anyone expect you to think in terms of something different?”
“I suppose.”
“But… you may have to start thinking… that way.”
“Yes. Yes, you’re right. And I love Oliver so much more than I could ever love this house. These things.” She plucked her fingers at the sash of her dress. “What happiness can they bring me
if my heart is broken?”
Anna smiled. “I do believe my little girl is growing up.”
Lucy returned the smile. “I guess it was bound to happen sometime.”
“I’m so proud of you, Lucy.”
“I haven’t done anything to earn it.”
“Oh yes you have. You’re making a difficult but wise decision about your future. That’s something to be very proud of.”
Warmth encircled Lucy’s heart. She was so blessed to have had Anna’s love and support since her mother had died. “What do you think I should do now? I’m forbidden from leaving the house.”
“But I’m not. Perhaps I can get a message from you to Oliver, through Richard.” She leaned closer and looked around, as if someone might overhear, though they were alone in the room. Alfred, though, had been known to hover at keyholes, listening to other’s conversations. “Listen, there’s something I must tell you.”
“What?”
“Richard asked me why you hadn’t been at the Sanctuary during the time he and I were away. It seems Oliver wanted to know. He was worried about you.”
“Oh!” She placed her hands on her face. “And I haven’t been able to tell him why.”
“I haven’t spoken to Richard since then, as that was only yesterday, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Richard told him of your impending marriage to… you know.”
“This is terrible! He must think me the worst sort of friend. It must seem to him such a betrayal.”
She patted Lucy’s hand. “Now, now. Let’s not get too upset.”
“Anna, my entire future rests on me not marrying that reptile!”
“We don’t even know if there’s been a date set for the wedding.”
Shivers ran down Lucy’s arms at the word. Because it was connected to Conrad. “If I know my father, it will be soon. He wants this…” She swallowed. “…union between me and Conrad, so he’ll find a way to make it happen. And it’s not as if he even likes Conrad. He’s doing it for the benefit of his business.”
“I suspected as much.”
“It’s horrible, nasty business, all of it.”
“Agreed.”
“If only…”
“If only, what?”
“If Oliver were wealthy, none of this would matter. Father would be happy to let me marry the person of my choosing if it benefitted him.”
Love Birds: The Complete Collection Page 11
