Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Miss Talbot sighed. “Thank you, Annie.”

  “Certainly, miss.”

  A mutter came from just under Miss Talbot’s breath but not quite low enough to cover all the words. Conrad was certain he’d heard something about her parents’ maid being a spy.

  “Shall we?” Miss Talbot inclined her head toward a butler who pushed said cart into the room.

  Weren’t they going to wait for the other guests? Conrad stood when she did. Something was off. The invitation had read eight o’clock. Conrad peered around the room until he located a clock sitting against a far wall. It was now eight-fifteen. Had he been the only guest to arrive on time?

  How gauche that the others were late. His gaze trailed to the butler uncovering plates of strawberries and cheese on a tray. Why wasn’t Miss Talbot instructing him to wait until the other guests arrived?

  She fixed a plate filled with huge, ripe strawberries, large chunks of yellow cheese, and… Conrad squinted as he watched her scoop a spoonful of something white from a bowl. With a plop, it landed on the plate. Was that… cream?

  Something tugged at his arm. “Come along, Lord Lofton.”

  She’d only fixed one plate. “But aren’t you going to…?”

  Another tugged caused him to stumble.

  She glanced up at him, although not very far. For a woman she was quite tall. “Oh please forgive me. I didn’t intend for you to lose your balance.”

  Something strange was going on. But as to what, he hadn’t a clue. Belatedly, he nodded.

  A few more steps across the room and they were back where they’d started, at the settee. She placed the plate on a table to her left and seated herself. As she once again smoothed her skirts over her knees, he found that he simply couldn’t look away. When she tugged on the neckline of her dress, down, not up, it was nearly his undoing.

  “Have a seat.” She patted the cushion next to her.

  As if in a trance, Conrad sat. This by far had to be the strangest evening he’d ever encountered. A glance at the corner assured him that the maid hadn’t left them alone again. Good. Perhaps he could relax a little. If Miss Talbot would only stop fussing with her clothing.

  He moved away from her a few inches, for propriety’s sake. “Miss Talbot?”

  “Yes?”

  “Perhaps we should wait for the other guests to arrive.”

  A smile lifted both corners of her plump lips. “There aren’t any other guests, silly.”

  “There aren’t? But your invitation said—”

  “It said a small gathering, did it not?”

  “Well, I…”

  “Two is small, I believe, my lord.”

  He opened his mouth then quickly snapped it shut. She had a point there. “May I ask—?”

  “You, my dear, may ask me anything.”

  My dear? His throat tickled again. Not now. No more coughing, please. “Uh… why am I the only guest?”

  “I wanted us to become better acquainted.”

  “Please don’t think me rude, Miss Talbot, but may I ask why?”

  She sighed. “I thought I was making that perfectly clear.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  She leaned closer. So close that her minty breath warmed his cheek. “I am in need of a husband.”

  Conrad shot up from his seat. “A husband? I… That is… we… can’t…”

  “Of course we can.” She yanked on his hand until he sat down again.

  “No, Miss Talbot. I’m not sure why you have an idea that I am in the market for a wife, but—”

  She fluttered her eyelashes. “Isn’t every man?”

  “Not this man. I cannot… afford… I couldn’t support…”

  “Don’t be silly, Lord Lofton. Everyone knows how wealthy you are. And that you only desire the best of everything.”

  He stood again. “Listen, I really must be going. Apparently there’s been a huge misunderstanding here. Are you fond of the drink, perhaps? In the future, maybe it would be best not to imbibe prior to entertaining guests. Or guest, as it were.”

  She reached out and grabbed his arm. This time he did stumble. Nearly landed in her lap. Indignation coursed through him. How dare she? He was an earl.

  Miss Talbot edged very close and grasped his chin in her fingers. He tried to pull away as she turned his head to the side. What was the woman doing? Was she mad?

  Her warm breath tickled his ear as she whispered, her voice so low he had to strain to hear. “I know something about you which you would want no one else to learn.”

  Conrad’s heart pounded. What did she mean? Surely she couldn’t know about—

  “Let’s just say I’ve come upon the knowledge that you are not who you claim to be.”

  No… it can’t be…

  She shook her head. “I tried to do this the easy way. I really did. Why couldn’t you have succumbed to a woman’s charms like any other man? I have no desire to resort to unpleasantness.”

  He struggled against her, but she tightened her grasp. Why? Why is she doing this?

  “You are not really Lord Lofton. You are an illegitimate imposter. I’m sure you’d do almost anything to keep that information a secret.” She turned his face toward her and stared into his eyes. “And that, my good man, is why you’re going to marry me.”

  Conrad had a faint awareness of the maid gasping as Miss Talbot firmly planted her lips on his.

  Chapter Five

  Conrad stood on the Shipley’s doorstep. Perspiration dotted his upper lip even though the day was cool. If only his stomach would calm. Surely a flock of flighty birds couldn’t be any more active.

  He closed his eyes and swallowed. Birds. Why did I have to think of those?

  The doorknob turned, which grabbed Conrad’s attention. All right, take a fortifying breath. And pray very hard that Oliver is in a generous, forgiving spirit today.

  A butler stood in the now open door. “Good day, sir. Who may I say is calling?”

  Conrad nervously flexed his gloved hands at his sides. “Lord Lofton to see Mr. Shipley. I’m expected.”

  “Very good, my lord.” The butler stepped aside for Conrad to enter. Opulence abounded from every corner. Conrad’s home was large and quite nice, but he hadn’t the money to update anything. Hadn’t in years. Compared to this, his seemed shabby and sad.

  Sad. Which describes me today, unfortunately.

  “May I take your hat, my lord?”

  “I… no. I’m fine.”

  The butler blinked. “Please follow me, Lord Lofton. Mr. Shipley is waiting in his study.”

  Conrad nodded, suddenly too nervous to even speak. If I can’t say something to the butler, how will I plead my case to Oliver?

  Their footsteps echoed as they took the gleaming wood-floored hallway to the last room on the left. Conrad waited until the butler opened the door and stepped aside.

  “Thank you.” Thank heaven his mother wasn’t here to scold him or thwack his shoulder again. He stepped inside.

  “Very good, sir.” The door closed behind him, but Conrad didn’t turn to look. No, he was riveted in place by the stare of the man who occupied the chair behind the monstrous desk.

  Oliver Shipley.

  Oliver stood but didn’t make a move beyond that. No nod. No hand stretched out to Conrad. No words.

  Did I expect anything else? I don’t even deserve to be standing in his house. Conrad gulped. It would be up to him to make the first move. He removed his hat and stepped into the room. “Good day, Mr. Shipley. I trust you are well.”

  Oliver crossed his arms. “Cut out the small talk, Lofton. Just say what you feel you need to and then leave me in peace.”

  A slap to the face could not have stung more. “I deserve your ire. Every bit of it.”

  “So we agree on something. At last.”

  His feet felt as heavy as boulders, but Conrad forced himself to take another step. “First of all, I want to apologize for my past behavior.”

  Oliver sputt
ered a laugh. “You? Apologize? I didn’t think you even knew the word.”

  Conrad briefly closed his eyes. This was going to be even more difficult than he’d imagined. “While it’s true that in the past, I rarely — all right, I never apologized. To anyone. I didn’t see the need.”

  “Pretty much as I remember.”

  “Now, however, I’ve had a change of heart.”

  Oliver held up a hand, palm out toward Conrad. “What do you want, Lofton? Because I know you didn’t come here simply to apologize. And at any rate, I’m not the only one who deserves your apology.”

  Lucy.

  Heat rose to Conrad’s face. At least now he might have some color instead of his usual pale appearance. “You’re right. I owe her an apology as well. For so many things.” Tears burned the backs of his eyes and he blinked them away.

  Oliver lowered his eyebrows. “You’re serious.”

  “I am.”

  Papers rustled on the desk as Oliver brushed against them. He rounded the desk and stopped, as if he didn’t know what to do or say next.

  “I was… hoping you might have a few moments to… hear me out.” Relief swept over Conrad when Oliver indicated a grouping of chairs across the room.

  “Please, Lofton, have a seat.”

  A wave of gratitude washed over him. Conrad stepped toward a wooden chair with no cushion.

  Oliver stepped forward as well. “Wouldn’t you rather sit on one of the more comfortable chairs?”

  “I don’t deserve to even be here. I certainly don’t deserve to be comfortable.”

  Oliver rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “My word, man. You really are serious about making a change, aren’t you?”

  The chair was indeed uncomfortable. “Very serious. I just wish I’d done it a long time ago. Or that I’d never…” Grief flowed through him. He shuddered.

  “Say, are you unwell? I could get you something to—”

  “No. I must speak to you about something of great importance. Then I will leave you in peace, as you requested.”

  “Listen, about that, I…”

  “No, you were right. I had that coming. And much more. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

  Oliver sat forward with his forearms on his thighs. “You seem distraught, Lofton. Something must really be off for you to come and see me.”

  “Off. Yes. I’m afraid so.” Conrad glanced down at the floor.

  “Then please… say what you need to.”

  How did one go about asking a former enemy for help? Conrad’s gaze rose to meet Oliver’s. No malice was present. Only curiosity. And possibly… concern.

  “There’s obviously something weighing on you. Perhaps if you just said it… got it out in the open, we could discuss whatever it is.”

  How to begin? “Yes. That’s the only way I’ll be able to…” Time to open himself up to possible ridicule and refusal. Both of which Oliver had every right to dish out. “All right then, I’ll just say it.”

  A tiny bit of confidence returned when he saw that Oliver was still there. Was still listening. “When I was trying to court Lucy, it wasn’t… exactly my idea.”

  A crease formed on Oliver’s brow. “I don’t understand. You pursued her for years.”

  “Yes, that’s true. But the purpose behind that pursuance came from someone else.”

  “And who would that someone be?”

  “Lady Lofton.”

  “Your mother?”

  He nodded.

  “So you’re trying to tell me that your mother was the one who wanted you to marry Lucy for her inheritance?”

  “Yes. That’s it exactly.”

  “But why? When you’re well off in your own right.”

  “Therein lies the problem, I’m afraid. My… father had a bit… no, more than a bit, of a gambling problem.”

  “I see.”

  “So bad, that at one point we very nearly had to vacate our home.”

  “That is bad, Lofton.”

  He spread his hands apart, palms up. “I’m not telling you this for your sympathy. Not in the least.”

  “Then why are you telling me?”

  Here comes the difficult part. “You see, along with the debts that my father saddled us with, my mother is also very, shall we say, demanding.”

  “Go on.”

  “She’d made it abundantly clear that she expected me to rectify our financial situation soon. By any means possible.”

  “Are you saying that if it hadn’t been for your mother…?”

  “I would never have pursued Lucy. At all.”

  “My goodness. I’m beginning to see how it was, then.”

  “My mother is also quite angry with me for being unsuccessful in my marriage pursuit.”

  “Incredible. If I may ask, Lofton…?”

  “Please, you have a right to ask me anything, and I will answer.”

  “Just how dire is your financial situation?”

  “Quite dire, I’m afraid. I’ve been late in paying my bills for an embarrassingly long time. The grocer, baker, tailor… The milliner and Mantua-maker for my mother. And yet, she just keeps on spending.”

  “I’ve heard of women like that. Thankfully, Lucy…”

  “No, Lucy would never cause you a moment’s concern, I’m sure. You’re very fortunate to have her for your wife.”

  Oliver shifted in his seat. “Did you ever have feelings for her?”

  Conrad started shaking his head before Oliver was finished speaking. “No. I didn’t. Not as more than a friend.”

  “But you were so persistent in your quest for her hand.”

  With a shrug and sad smile, Conrad said one word. “Mother.”

  “So everything you did…”

  “Everything. Pursuing Lucy. Making a nuisance of myself to her. And to you.” He glanced away. “Blackmailing her father and…”

  “And taking a payoff from me to stay away from Lucy and her family.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I think I’m getting a clearer picture of things now. In light of all that you’ve told me, is there a reason for your visit besides the apology and explanation?”

  It was Conrad’s turn to fidget in his seat.

  “Please, Lofton. You’ve come this far and have told me some very personal things, some of which I’m sure you wouldn’t tell to anyone else. Go a step further and tell me the rest of the purpose for your visit.”

  As difficult as it had been to tell Oliver of his debt, his request would be even more painful to ask. But if he didn’t say the words now, he might not ever have the courage again. “Now that I’ve confided in you about my current state of affairs, I’ve come to ask you a… favor.” He looked Oliver in the eye. Would the other man pick now to balk at him? Send him on his way?

  “I thought as much.”

  “But—”

  “It’s all right, Lofton. Really. In light of all you’ve told me, if I had been in your shoes, I might have done the same.”

  “You? You might have?”

  “Absolutely. Desperate men do desperate things, do they not?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid desperate describes my situation perfectly.”

  For the first time since their meeting had begun, a smile graced Oliver’s face. “How can I help you?”

  A huge burden slipped from Conrad’s shoulders as well as from his mind. “There’s a business venture I’m interested in. I’ve checked it out and it’s quite reliable. My only problem is I have no…”

  “Capital?”

  “Precisely.”

  “And you say it’s reliable?”

  “Very. With my current situation, I’d not even chance it otherwise.”

  Oliver clasped his hands in his lap. “I’ll want to check into the venture myself, you understand, but barring any problems, I see no reason why we can’t work together on this project.”

  Surprise widened his eyes, despite his efforts to keep his emotions under control. “Truly?”
/>   “Truly.”

  “Thank you. I am in your deepest debt.”

  “After what you’ve endured at the hands of your parents, let’s not use the word debt.”

  Conrad cleared his throat. “Agreed.”

  “I’ll see to it that you have a substantial advance to see you through for the time being until we can get the business venture in place.”

  “Thank you. You are most generous.”

  “Is there… something else?”

  Should he tell Oliver of the bizarre happenings of the night previous? Why not? He’d come this far. “It appears as if… I may be betrothed.”

  “Is that so? Who’s the bride-to-be?”

  Conrad lowered his voice. “Miss Talbot.”

  A smile lifted the corners of Oliver’s mouth.

  Conrad tilted his head. “What’s the smile for?”

  “I remembered how you’d watched her with interest that day at the Bird Sanctuary.”

  “The day you paid me off.”

  “Yes.”

  “Which, by the way, I intend to repay you in full as well as any other money you loan me, once I’m on my feet.”

  “I believe you. But I do think you’re changing the subject from your betrothal, Lofton.”

  Conrad shifted his gaze to his boots. “Perhaps I am.”

  “Why? Don’t you wish to marry her? She is quite lovely.”

  Now would come the hardest admission of all. “Since I’ve disclosed so much of my personal affairs, I feel I can trust you with one more thing. And this is something that must not be repeated.”

  “Of course.”

  “For several years now, I’ve known the truth of my parentage. Or rather, the truth of whom my father was not.”

  “I don’t understand. Was he not Lord Lofton?”

  Conrad pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “No. My mother… she was expecting when she met him.”

  “I see.”

  “And she lied to Lord Lofton and passed me off as his son.”

  “So in truth, you’re really not…”

  “No. I am not an earl.”

  “Incredible.”