Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  “Giles, please open the door.”

  “I… I can’t.”

  More giggling.

  “Giles.”

  Laughter, and what sounded like thrashing about inside the small enclosure, followed. Were they getting dressed?

  Good heavens! Conrad took a step back when the doorknob turned. The door opened with a creak.

  Giles emerged along with one of the new chambermaids. Susan, or Sally. Something with an S. “Yes, my lord?” The butler’s shirt was hanging askew and his face was red.

  A tiny spark of jealousy coursed through Conrad. At least someone in the house was having a pleasant diversion with a pretty woman. He shook off the thought. “I need you to have this note delivered immediately. It cannot wait.” He flicked a glance to the girl. “For anything.”

  Giles bobbed his head and straightened his shirt. “Yes, my lord. Right away.” He took the note from Conrad’s outstretched hand and hurried down the hall. The Susan-Sally person curtseyed and all but ran the other direction.

  Conrad let out a whoosh of air. He hoped Oliver Shipley would consent to see him. Soon. So many things depended on it. Even if he agreed to see Conrad, though, would he agree to his request?

  What Conrad would ask was risky and bold. Oliver had every reason to refuse and no reason to agree.

  Yet… Oliver was one of those men who was honest and straightforward. A decent sort. Something Conrad had never been. Something he’d never witnessed growing up. Not with his father. And certainly not with Mother.

  But that was no excuse. Things needed to change. Had to. Or Conrad would end up bitter and alone.

  He peered around the empty, silent hallway. Isn’t that how I already am? Sadness warred with guilt from past deeds. But the change must begin with me. What would happen if Oliver refused him? No. Conrad must convince him, somehow, that he wished to change. Wished to turn his wretched life around.

  He walked to the parlor. The heavy green drapes were closed, blocking any possible sun from entering the room. Just how his mother preferred it. He grasped one side of the fabric and tugged to the side. Bright light poured in and he squinted against it.

  He stepped closer until his nose was only an inch from the glass. A grimace formed on his face. Grass. Dirt. Insects. Dust. All sorts of vermin and disgusting creatures inhabited the out-of-doors. His mother’s voice echoed through his mind from years past.

  “Conrad, stay indoors. Only ruffian boys play in the dirt.”

  “Don’t bring that filthy cat into this house. Who knows what kind of diseases it has from eating disgusting birds.”

  “You’ll soil your white handkerchief if you don’t stay in the house. You know I prefer you to stay spotless in appearance.”

  “Look what you’ve done! You’ve gotten mud on your boots. Mud! Take them off this instant, and we shall buy you new boots right away.”

  Words from years past? Who am I fooling? She said some of those words just last week.

  A movement from several feet away diverted his attention. A bird, ugly and vile with mottled brown markings. A shiver ran through Conrad at the memory of being assaulted by a common cuckoo at the Bird Sanctuary. What a horrid day that had been. He’d gone after Lucy to try to keep her away from Oliver. To no avail. Those two were meant for each other.

  Conrad couldn’t imagine there ever being anyone who would be right for him. How could he be tolerated? Look how Lucy abhorred him. But could he blame her? He had at first… had been furious with her and Oliver at the way he’d been treated.

  But now… now it was as clear as the sparkling glass through which he observed the outside world that he had gotten everything he had deserved. Which would make it even more difficult to convince Oliver to meet with him.

  Steps approached from the hall.

  “Lord Lofton?”

  Conrad turned. Giles stood, red-faced and perspiring.

  “What in heaven’s name have you been doing, Giles?” Surely he hadn’t gone back into the closet again so soon?

  “I had just sent off your missive with strict instructions for the footman to wait for a reply.”

  “Yes, yes, go on.”

  “A messenger approached with a message for you.”

  “I don’t understand. There couldn’t have been an answer that quickly.”

  “No, my lord.”

  “What, then?”

  Giles’ deep breath hinted at long suffering. “The messenger handed me a note with similar instructions as what I’d just given. To give you the message and wait for a reply.” He held out the sealed note toward Conrad.

  “Step closer man, I don’t have all day.”

  “Pardon, my lord.” He crossed the room, handed him the note and turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “If the messenger needs a speedy reply, I’ll read it now and pen my answer. You then can send him on his way with the note.”

  “Certainly, my lord.”

  Conrad returned to the desk for a pen and some ink. He sat down to open the note. Who could it be from? A faint scent of lavender rose as soon as he’d open the note and spread it on the desk. Was the note from a woman?

  He squinted down at the small penmanship and read the short message.

  Lord Lofton,

  I would be most pleased if you would join me this evening for a small gathering at my home at eight.

  I look forward to your reply.

  Miss Talbot.

  Miss Talbot. Amelia Talbot? He’d made her acquaintance in the past, briefly, but hadn’t spoken more than a few words of polite references to the weather. Parties, dances, dinners. She was always there. Beautiful red hair. Alluring green eyes. Oh yes, he’d noticed her.

  She wanted him to come to her father’s estate. Tonight. This was the first invitation he’d ever received from her. From any woman younger than his mother. Should he accept?

  A cough came from across the room. Giles. Waiting for Conrad’s answer. Conrad dipped the pen in the ink, wrote his acceptance, and closed and sealed the paper.

  “Take this to the messenger, Giles. Quickly.”

  With a nod, the butler turned on his heel and darted from the room.

  What an odd turn of events. A party invitation from the most arresting woman Conrad had ever seen.

  Chances were, though, that other men in attendance would garner her favor. Conrad didn’t garner any woman’s favor.

  Ever.

  Footsteps approached from the hall again. Had Giles forgotten to tell him something? He stared at the open doorway. But it wasn’t the butler.

  “Conrad, there you are.”

  Oh good. She found me. “Yes, Mother?”

  “I still need to discuss my mortification at the milliner’s shop.”

  Conrad inhaled deeply but said not a word. He didn’t need to. His mother talked enough for a roomful of people all on her own.

  Chapter Four

  Night noises, uttered by some type of horrid frogs and insects, croaked and buzzed in the cool evening air. Somehow, Conrad had managed to escape his home without his mother’s knowledge. He didn’t care how it had happened, he was just ecstatic that it had.

  Irritation pricked at him as he waited for the driver to bring the carriage to the front door. Why hadn’t it been waiting there for him? The servants knew how much he hated spending time outside. He tightened his gloved hands into fists at his sides and tapped his toe.

  By the time the carriage rolled to a stop, Conrad was livid. “How long must I stand and wait for you? I have somewhere to be.”

  Even in the lengthening shadows, it was obvious the man’s face had reddened. “Pardon me, Lord Lofton. Whinny threw a shoe and I had to—”

  “No time for that, now.” Conrad climbed into the carriage and sat down. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the lane brought him pause. Perhaps that really had been the reason for the delay. And if that were the case…

  Then I’m not doing a very
good job of making the changes I desire to make. Things which in the past annoyed me must now be given thought before I react negatively. He released a frustrated breath. How difficult it was to change patterns developed over nearly thirty years.

  The sky grew ever darker and with it, the appearance of a multitude of bright stars. He glanced up. It was pretty, he supposed, though it was still the out-of-doors, and his mother…

  It always seemed to come back to her. Her influence. Her dislikes. Her… everything.

  If Conrad were ever fortunate enough to marry, would the poor woman wilt in his mother’s overbearing presence? It didn’t do any good to think about marriage, though. What was the point? Even if someone agreed to marry him, which in itself seemed far-fetched, he couldn’t afford a bride. Being in debt wasn’t something that would draw a woman to any man.

  Time to stop dwelling on what he lacked, both in finances and personal charm. He blocked the negative thoughts from his mind and wondered instead how many people would be at tonight’s gathering. Miss Talbot had written it would be small. Ten? Twenty? It mattered not. Conrad was simply relieved to be away from his mother for an evening. He’d gladly have dinner with a flock of birds rather than… He grimaced. Well, no, not a flock of birds.

  His carriage rolled along several more streets before stopping in front of a large house in Mayfair. Lit candles lined the windowsills, and Conrad focused on one downstairs window. He squinted. Where were the other guests? Was he early? Someone stood at an upstairs window, watching. Now that my presence is known, I must go to the door, early or not.

  Conrad stepped from the carriage and gave the driver instructions to wait down the street since he didn’t know how long the evening would be. He made it a point to thank the man. An apology was in order, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words.

  Some habits died hard.

  A cool breeze wafted around his face and neck. He hunched his shoulders in his coat, hoping for a respite from the chill. Ever since he’d developed that bad tooth, he’d lost weight. And the loss of body mass failed to keep him warm. His stomach rumbled. Perhaps the food served tonight would be something he liked. It was past time for him to put on more weight. Even though he was several pounds heavier than before having his tooth removed, his clothes still hung on his skinny frame.

  And since the state of his finances wouldn’t allow him to buy new jackets and trousers, for the time being, he’d have to make do with resembling a sad scarecrow. His boots tapped along the walk and to the door. He raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could.

  A butler, spotless in all black, nodded his head in greeting. “Lord Lofton?”

  Conrad opened his mouth and then closed it. How had the butler known his name? He’d never been there before. Perhaps he was the only one invited who hadn’t been to the house previously, the only strange face, so to speak. That must be it.

  “Yes, I’m Lord Lofton.”

  The butler stood aside and swept his arm toward the entryway. “Please, my lord, come in out of the cold.”

  Warmth flowed over Conrad as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He couldn’t wait until he had more meat on his bones to stop the shivers he often experienced.

  With a loud pop, the door closed behind him. The butler stepped around him and turned with his gloved hand extended. “May I take your hat, Lord Lofton?”

  “Certainly. Uh… thank you.” That last was belated, as he didn’t always remember to say it to servants. Blast his mother for insisting that he not.

  “You may make yourself comfortable in the parlor if you’d like.” He indicated the room to his immediate left.

  “I believe I will.” Conrad took a few steps in that direction. Why was it so quiet? He angled his head back to the butler. “Where are the other guests?”

  The butler, with lowered eyebrows, didn’t respond, but instead smoothed his features once again into unemotional placidity. “Your hostess will be with you shortly.”

  Odd, that. Why wouldn’t he have answered the simple question? It hadn’t been an outlandish thing about which to inquire, after all. He continued across the hall until he entered the parlor. It was massive. It made his look like a closet. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase occupied one wall. A quick perusal of the titles confirmed a large number of classics, as well as several Conrad had never heard of.

  Portraits lined the opposite wall, some of horses and dogs, others of people. Judging by several women with red hair, Conrad guessed them to be ancestors of Miss Talbot.

  Would she do more than wish him a good evening? At other parties, that was usually the extent of others’ conversation with him. A deep sigh forced through his lips. Would things ever change? Could he ever change?

  “Lord Lofton, so pleased you could attend.”

  Conrad turned. The vision before him stood in an emerald green dress, which matched her eyes. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head with a few curly tendrils hanging down her neck and around her ears, invitingly. Of its own volition, his gaze lowered to her décolletage. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen quite that much exposed cleavage before.

  He started to speak, changed his mind, and swallowed at the wrong instant. A tickle, deep and persistent, raced down his throat. The resulting cough hacked its way up and, unfortunately, out.

  Miss Talbot rushed toward him. “Oh dear. Are you unwell, Lord Lofton?”

  Another cough sputtered out. “I…” With the third cough he feared losing a vital organ.

  Miss Talbot grabbed his arm and tugged him across the room. “Here, let me help you to sit down.”

  He plopped on the soft settee and covered his mouth. Why now? Why of all times, in front of a beautiful woman did he have to look like a cow vomiting its cud? Footfalls padded across the rug to the other side of the room and back.

  “Here, my lord.” She held a cup. Water. Saints be praised.

  He eyed her briefly and blinked. Speaking was still out of the question. When she held the cup to his lips, he took a sip. Miss Talbot leaned in. Everything in him told him not to look down.

  Too late. All of that cleavage was impossible to ignore. Smooth, pale skin beckoned for more than a look. Oh how he long to reach out and—

  “Did that help?”

  Seeing the tops of her breasts? Oh my, yes. A smile lit his lips as he continued to stare. When she took a breath, the objects of his fascination rose, temptingly higher. Surely they wouldn’t break free of her gown?

  “Lord Lofton?”

  He gasped, which brought on another cough.

  She patted his back. “I was hoping the water would help.”

  Conrad’s gaze met hers. Ah, she’d been asking if the water had helped, not her — Heat rose from his cravat and traveled up his neck, face and straight to his hairline. Surely he must have resembled a ripe strawberry.

  One corner of her pink lips lifted. Was she amused by his reaction? Having sport with him at his expense? He glanced around the room and to the open doorway. At least none of the other guests had been witness to any of that. It was bad enough that she—

  “You’ve regained some color, Lord Lofton.” She leaned away but did not move over on the settee. Was she this friendly with all of her male visitors?

  His cravat suddenly tight, he gave it a good tug. “Y-yes. Uh, thank you…” His gaze flicked down her dress and back to her eyes. “For the water.”

  “Certainly.” Her long fingers smoothed the fabric of the green gown over her impossibly long legs.

  What an excruciatingly awful visit they were having. Yes, a few pleasantries had been exchanged in the past, but this was the first time it was more. More conversation, if he included the hacking fit. Actual physical contact when her fingers had grazed his chin as she held the water to his lips. And the heat emanating from her closeness nearly had him tied in knots.

  Tied in knots? A vision of him tied to the settee and Miss Talbot raining kisses all over his face and neck… Oh my.

  She
clasped her hands together on her lap. “I’m so very pleased you agreed to my invitation this evening.”

  “Yes. T-thank you… for the…for the… invitation.” What was wrong with him? He sounded like an imbecile.

  Miss Talbot smiled and wrapped her finger around one long curl of her red hair. The scent of lavender floated toward Conrad.

  “Ah…” The same as from the note she’d sent him. His eyes drifted half closed and he inhaled deeply.

  With one eyebrow raised, Miss Talbot angled her head. “Do you like lavender, Lord Lofton?”

  Conrad widened his eyes. I uttered that out loud? This evening was quickly sliding downhill. He swallowed, praying it wouldn’t induce further coughing. “Quite. Lovely. Nice. Uh… yes.”

  “I used it especially for you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You see, Lord Lofton, I’ve often thought you and I should become better acquainted.”

  “You have?”

  “Oh certainly. I think we would find that we have much in common.”

  “You do?”

  She nodded. Dim light from a nearby candle reflected from shiny gold combs, which held her hair away from her face.

  Steps sounded in the hallway. Someone cleared their throat. “Pardon me, Miss Talbot.”

  Conrad whipped his gaze from her and turned toward the voice. A maid stood, staring. At him. He opened his eyes even further. Oh good heavens! He’d been sitting there with Miss Talbot on the settee. Without a chaperone. His haste in moving away from her nearly planted him on the floor.

  “Yes, Annie?” Miss Talbot frowned. Was she annoyed at the interruption? She certainly didn’t seem embarrassed to be caught in the current situation.

  “The refreshments are ready, miss. Shall I have them served in the dining area, or…” She limply waved her hand about the room. Her face colored up.

  “In here, Annie.”

  With a quick curtsey, Annie nodded. “As you wish, miss.”

  Conrad waited for the maid to do Miss Talbot’s bidding and fetch a cart. Instead, she stayed planted where she stood in the doorway and waved her arm at someone who must have been out in the hallway. She nodded to the person and back toward them.