Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  “But we know that’s not the case, since he works at the Bird Sanctuary.”

  “I know. A girl can dream, though.”

  “Not a girl anymore. A woman. A woman can dream.” She ran her hand down Lucy’s arm. “It will work out. Somehow. Some way.”

  “I just don’t see how. I just don’t.”

  ~~~~

  Kirby appeared in the doorway. “Sir, your visitor has arrived.”

  Oliver’s father waved his hand. “Show him in, please.”

  “Very good.” Footsteps echoed across the entryway as the butler left on his mission.

  “Do you really think this might work?” Oliver swallowed hard. He’d failed, miserably, in his quest to ask for Lucy’s hand from her father.

  “Son, if I can believe Mr. Ashbrook’s reputation as a greedy man, and I think that I can, he will be salivating at our offer once he hears.”

  “But what if he doesn’t? What if—?”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in.” Oliver’s father remained seated in his chair by the fireplace, as he was too weak to stand for very long at present, but his expression told of someone who would not suffer fools. Trifle with him or his family, and there would be consequences.

  Oliver only hoped to someday be half the man his father was. He darted across the room for the right moment to reveal himself.

  The heavy wooden door opened slowly. To Oliver, it signified a possible opening to his future. To the rest of the life with the woman he loved. Please, please let it be so.

  Kirby stepped in. “Mr. Ashbrook to see you, sir.”

  Oliver’s father nodded. But only once.

  When Kirby stepped aside to allow Mr. Ashbrook to enter, Oliver’s mouth went dry. Would Lucy’s father throw a conniption fit when he recognized Oliver? Would he yell again about him being an imposter?

  Oliver glanced about the room, at the furnishings and pictures he’d always known. He was in his own home. Mr. Ashbrook would have to respect that. Oliver glanced toward his father. And he will make sure Lucy’s father behaves in his presence.

  A tall man with large shoulders and a ruddy complexion entered the room. Kirby shut the door, leaving them alone. Mr. Ashbrook stood rooted in place just inside the door, openly admiring the furnishings. He had an exquisite home of his own. Why did his expression look like someone who’d never had a penny to his name? Perhaps it was as Father had said. Mr. Ashbrook was greedy. Always wanting something that he’d yet to acquire. Something just out of reach.

  “Good morning, Mr. Ashbrook. Thank you for coming.” Oliver’s father indicated the settee to his right. “Please, won’t you have a seat?”

  Lucy’s father cleared his throat and stepped farther into the room. He nodded and sat down but still had not spoken. Could it be possible that he was nervous? In awe of Father?

  That played into their plan very well, then. Oliver watched all of this from behind a large fern, just out of sight of Mr. Ashbrook. His father would signal him when the time was right to step out.

  Father clasped his hands in his lap and smiled. “How does the day find you, Mr. Ashbrook?”

  Swiveling his head back from further gawking out the window at the huge back garden, Lucy’s father startled. Was he so enamored of what he saw that he’d forgotten Father was sitting there? “Oh… f-fine. Yes. Fine. Uh… thank you for inquiring.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Father sat still and said no more. Beforehand, he’d told Oliver this was an old trick to get your adversary to start babbling on about everything and nothing. Put them further ill at ease if you stayed silent for a time.

  Mr. Ashbrook tapped his finger on his knee. He made brief eye contact with Oliver’s father and smiled. Just as quickly, though, he slid his gaze to the floor. His smile melted from his face, leaving a frown and lowered eyebrows. Surely he was confused as to why he’d been summoned?

  That’s what Oliver hoped, anyway.

  Tick-tock.

  Tick-tock.

  The case clock’s movement echoed through the quiet room. The longer there was no conversation, the more Mr. Ashbrook’s face reddened. If Oliver hadn’t been treated so shabbily by him and didn’t have a very important agenda today, he’d almost feel sorry for the man.

  Almost.

  Large hands fumbled with the hat that perched on Mr. Ashbrook’s knee. Teeth bit and then released his lower lip. Throat cleared once, then again. Followed by a swallow. It took everything Oliver had not to laugh.

  But he must stay silent. At least for a time. Until his father deemed the time was right to re-introduce Oliver to his future father-in-law. He hoped.

  His father sighed. “Lovely day, is it not?”

  Eyebrows rose as Mr. Ashbrook stared at Father. Did he think the man daft for asking him to call and then talking of the weather? “Yes. I… suppose it is, at that.”

  “Splendid.”

  Mr. Ashbrook nodded. He swallowed again and glanced toward the door. Was he looking for an escape?

  “Say, Mr. Ashbrook…”

  Lucy’s father jumped. “Yes?”

  “It seems you’ve met someone that I’m, shall we say, acquainted with.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I suppose you could even say that I know him quite well.”

  Mr. Ashbrook shrugged as if bored and stared. But he said nothing. Was he now getting agitated? Oliver covered his mouth with his hand to hold in another laugh. Watching his own father toy with the other man like a cat with a fish in a bowl was quite amusing.

  “Yes, this man is someone I can honestly say I’ve become quite fond of.” A smile lifted one corner of Father’s mouth, but just as quickly fled. Was he also having trouble holding in laughter?

  Mr. Ashbrook’s hand tightened on the brim of his hat until his knuckles whitened. A muscle in his jaw tightened, forming a solid ridge.

  “I don’t suppose you are acquainted with this man, as well?” Father tilted his head, this time allowing the smile to fully encompass his mouth. He appeared lost in his own world of daydreams, looking as daft as an imbecile on his worst day.

  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. Stopping 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.