by Carol Arens
‘I’m beginning to remember things,’ he said quietly. ‘Just now, watching your boy sleep, I recall what it felt like to lay my head on my mother’s lap and just drift away. Nothing has ever felt so peaceful as that, I think.’
‘Victor will remember this and you in the same way.’
The question was, would Joe be remembered as a cowboy he once knew or the father who held his small hand, watched him grow and helped him to become an honourable man?
‘What did you mean when you said that you saw me?’
She scooted across the quilt so that they sat shoulder to shoulder, both of them gazing down at Victor.
‘I see you, Joe, who you are.’ She looked at him then, her eyes catching the blue of the sky—or maybe it was the other way around. She touched his cheek, gently drew one finger along his jawline. ‘What it means is—I love you.’
‘You won’t be sorry, darlin’.’
Never, not one day or minute would she have cause to regret what she had just told him.
‘I know that. I would hardly hand you my son’s heart if I did not.’ She covered his hand with hers where his fingers still nestled in Victor’s curls.
‘I love you, Olivia.’ Simple words and yet powerful—life-changing. He bent low, whispered against Victor’s plump pink cheek, ‘I love you, too, Son.’
Olivia started to cry, but she was smiling so the tears pooled in the corners of her mouth.
A breeze came up so Joe snatched up his jacket, settled it over his and Olivia’s shoulders, drawing them close. The jacket’s shadow cast a patch of shade over Victor.
Funny, but the leather no longer smelled like Wyoming.
* * *
Later that afternoon Joe rode Blue into Grasmere. It wasn’t his first choice of where he wanted to be. No matter that the village was as charming as the poets claimed it to be, he would rather be at Haversmere, wooing Olivia.
First thing, he would to pay a visit to the jeweller. He had a marriage proposal to make. For it, he needed a ring, along with something for his boy.
His boy! If the grin on Joe’s face got any wider, it might pop his ears off.
The idea of having a wife and a son filled him with such high spirits folks were bound to wonder why his feet didn’t touch the stones when he walked.
A proposal while they sat beside the river earlier today would have been nice, appropriate for the moment, but he had hesitated.
Appropriate was fine, but something well thought out, planned to make the moment even more special for her would be better.
To ask ‘the question’ during a romantic waltz, the steps slowed down for the intimate occasion, would be a thing to cherish for ever.
She hadn’t taught him to dance yet, but he would shuffle about as best he could. Olivia deserved nothing but to feel cherished.
Joe tied Blue to a post in front of the bakery. The scent of gingerbread drifted out of the open door. He would bring plenty of that delectable bread home.
The image of a small crumb-dotted mouth warmed his heart.
‘Lord Haversmere!’ He recognised the warbling voice, blame it. ‘I have been beside myself hoping to see you again.’
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Lapperton.’ He ought to say how nice it was to see her. It would be the thing a gentleman would say. ‘I hope you have been well.’
That sounded polite enough. He did not wish the woman ill after all. He just did not wish to be in her company.
‘As well as I might be, I suppose.’
Of all the bad luck! She fell into step beside him while he walked towards the jeweller’s shop.
‘A widow on her own can only be well enough, do you not think?’
‘It depends upon the widow, I imagine.’ Olivia was doing a fine job of running Fencroft in her family’s absence. He would point that out, but did not wish to engage her in conversation. ‘Is there something in particular you want to discuss?’
That was a rather broad hint that he did not wish to linger in her company.
‘How did you know?’ She took a deep breath, no doubt a strategy intended to lift her bosom to its best advantage. It was not the first time he had seen a forward lady use the tactic. ‘Perhaps it is because we are both Americans and share an affinity.’
That was unlikely, but he did not express the thought out loud. All he wanted was to be on his way home—to Haversmere.
It was interesting how being away from the estate made him long for it in the same way he had longed for the ranch.
Returning memories were binding him to Haversmere much more quickly than he expected. He had to have been happy here as a child.
It might not only be the past deepening his connection to the estate. Thoughts of spending the future here with Olivia and Victor might be causing it as well.
‘Have you come to spend a day or two at my inn?’ The shameless turn of her mouth made it clear why she wanted him to.
‘I prefer the comfort of my own home, Mrs Lapperton.’
‘Of course, but may I say how sorry I am for the trouble at Haversmere?’
‘What trouble do you mean?’
‘Why, the haunting, of course. Naturally, I do not believe it. But some folks here? Anything that is not easily explained they deem to be of the spectral realm. Don’t you know, I heard someone only this morning claim they saw Mr Wordsworth and his sister, Dorothy, strolling arm in arm into the bakery.’
‘You need not be concerned for Haversmere. It is not haunted.’
‘No doubt that is true. I only hope you have better luck convincing your staff of it than poor Mr Miller did. When his inn appeared to be haunted, they all quit. Tourists were afraid to lodge there and he went bankrupt—penniless.’
‘Is there some reason you think the same will happen to Haversmere?’
‘Naturally not, not with someone like you in control.’ She cast her gaze over him in a slow, lingering perusal that made him feel all but violated, right here in broad daylight. He was only grateful that Olivia was not here to witness it.
She’d said she trusted him and he believed it. None the less, after all she had been through over the years, trust would be a fragile thing for her.
‘Good day, Mrs Lapperton.’ He supposed he ought to tip his hat. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, and Olivia had gone to great lengths to transform him into a refined fellow.
For the sake of all her hard work, he did it—but he could not bring himself to smile before turning towards the jeweller’s shop.
‘Just one thing, Lord Haversmere,’ she called after him. ‘You might be relieved to know that Mr Miller did not end up as destitute as he might have. My late husband left me with a great deal of money and I was able to purchase the inn. It is more successful than ever.’
‘That is fortunate. Again, good day.’ He continued on, but she caught up, snagging the fringe on his coat sleeve.
‘I’m telling you this because I am interested in opening another inn and Haversmere is a perfect spot for it. I will pay handsome money for the property.’
‘Haversmere is not merely property. It is home to my family and to many others.’
‘Those are the very words your father told me.’ The woman was still smiling, but something, a shadow or a dark thought, crossed her eyes.
‘You asked my father to sell?’
‘Indeed I did, this time last year.’
She sighed again, but her attempt to draw attention to her prominent feature was wasted.
Joe tipped his hat to a woman passing by pushing a baby in a pram, which was far more pleasant than being toyed with by the widow.
‘I’m certain he would have, had he not—oh, but he did pass away and so—’
This time he did not wish her good day or tip his hat. He spun away without a polite parting word.
What Joe was certain of
was that his father would not have considered selling Haversmere any more than Joe would.
There had been a time when he might have entertained the idea. The funds would have allowed him to purchase another ranch in Wyoming.
No longer, though. Not now that he was beginning to see a life here—to recall the one he’d had.
All of a sudden he recalled something. It crashed upon him, cut him to the heart.
Joe had sobbed on the day his father carried him away from Haversmere, his tender heart had shattered.
Pa had cried that day, too.
He felt the widow’s stare niggling at his back even after he closed the jeweller’s door behind him.
* * *
Olivia watched Roselina smiling across the trout platter during dinner. And no wonder she was—‘Freddie’, as she had begun to refer to her intended, had not ceased grinning at her.
Which in turn made Olivia smile, which also in turn made her happy to be free of the woman she had been only weeks ago.
The bitter, suspicious Olivia would have warned Roselina to be careful about giving her heart away so freely. Indeed, she would and had done exactly that.
Where was that woman? Not here tonight, and Olivia desperately hoped she would never return.
This evening she wanted to do nothing more than rejoice for Roselina and her young man. While it was true that difficult times would come, there was nothing to say their love would not grow even stronger for having faced them.
‘I caught one trout for each of us and one more for whoever is really hungry.’ Victor counted them out loud, looking as pleased with his fish as Roselina did with her Freddie.
‘You should have seen him land those trout,’ Joe said. It touched Olivia, hearing genuine pride reflected in the comment.
Seeing the way he looked at her child—loving him, devoted to him—it was only one of the reasons she loved this man.
Even now she could scarcely believe she had revealed how she felt. She had promised herself she would never make herself that vulnerable again.
But she had and did not regret it. Even though she had placed both her heart and Victor’s squarely into Joe’s care, she did not think she had made a mistake.
Victor’s cowboy was a man to be trusted.
‘I met Mrs Lapperton in town this afternoon.’ Joe addressed the comment to his mother.
A pin aimed its shiny point at her happiness. She neatly deflected it. Even if Joe had enjoyed speaking with the widow, what could she say about it?
Yes, they had declared their love, but they were not bound to each other by an engagement.
An engagement was a very serious matter. If Joe did propose, she would take a long time before giving him an answer.
‘I am sorry to hear that, Son. What a disagreeable woman.’
‘More disagreeable than the first time we met.’
It was a relief to see him frown in regards to his encounter with the widow. She could hardly deny that it was not.
‘She told me she made Pa an offer to buy Haversmere. Did he ever mention it?’
‘No. If she did, your father did not take the offer seriously enough to tell me.’
‘Let’s not think of her,’ Roselina declared. ‘We have a party to plan.’
‘Yes, let’s do! We have a great deal to celebrate,’ Esmeralda Steton declared. ‘Seven fine trout to eat and an engagement to celebrate. As I see it, the gathering ought to be of an open-house style. All our neighbours should be invited, everyone from our own people to those in Grasmere.’
While they ate, Roselina and Joe’s mother got down to the details of the gathering: colours, flowers, food, and music.
‘It sounds grand!’ Freddie said with a grin at Roselina.
‘How long do I have to learn to dance?’ Joe wiped his mouth on a napkin, glancing about with his brows lifted.
‘Not nearly long enough.’ Esmeralda shook her head, looking discouraged. ‘Two weeks is all.’
Joe stood, reached for Olivia’s hand. ‘Shall we begin my lessons?’
Now? Oh—well, why not? There was nothing she would rather do than be with her handsome student, teaching him new skills.
‘I’ll take Victor to Miss Hopp and we will begin.’
‘Teach me to dance, too!’ Victor dabbed his mouth with the napkin the same as Joe had done, then stood up, matching Joe’s posture.
‘How would it be if your mother and I put you to bed and then tomorrow I will teach you what I have learned?’
Esmeralda’s gaze shifted between Joe and Victor. Olivia suspected she understood the deep bond growing between them.
Her smile shifted, settled on Olivia. She lifted her wine glass, then winked.
Lady Haversmere was a woman who could look at a person and see the heart of them. But then she was a mother, so perhaps it was not so unusual when it was her children she was looking at.
Olivia had no trouble at all seeing Victor’s heart, knowing how badly he wanted his cowboy to become his father.
Chapter Fourteen
Victor did not want to sleep. He begged for story after story, which had been fun up until a point. But Joe had a wedding proposal to make and wouldn’t feel settled until it was made and accepted.
Although the ring he’d picked out was delicate and nearly as brilliant as a star, he did not know for sure that Olivia would accept it.
Admitting you loved someone was not the same thing as agreeing to a lifetime with them. Could be she would not want to leave London and live here. It could be that, for all that she felt for him, when it came down to it perhaps it was a born-and-bred gentleman she wanted to spend her life with.
While he chewed over the worry, Olivia sang her boy a lullaby.
He closed his eyes to listen and must have started to doze off because all of a sudden he felt lips near his ear.
Olivia’s warm breath skimmed past his temple. Odd how warmth could make a body shiver.
‘Shall we discover if you really do have two left feet?’ she murmured, then, straightening, walked towards the nursery door, where she cast a glance and a smile back over her shoulder at him.
‘It’s true.’ He rose, then followed her into the hallway. ‘We better find a place where no one can watch me behave like a fool.’
‘You would only be a fool if you did not try. But really, Joe, you do have a natural grace in the way you move. Dancing should come easily to you.’
‘I reckon I’m a puzzle.’ He leaned down, kissed her. ‘Go get your coat and meet me on the terrace. Let’s see if you can fit the pieces together.’
Joe watched her walk away, admiring her straight carriage and the way her efficient steps carried her down the hallway.
Love and marriage went together, didn’t they? The same as he and Olivia went together.
Surely she would accept his proposal.
It took but a moment to go to his own chambers, snatch up the ring and the small music box he had purchased in town. On the way out he grabbed his coat, spotting the package of gingerbread. He took it, too, since he did not know where the night would lead and it never hurt to have a snack at hand.
Outside, the night was brisk, but not frigid. The air was still and the sky resembled a ballroom made of stars reaching from horizon to horizon.
He was glad he had decided to wait until tonight to ask her to become his bride.
Hearing steps on the stones, he turned. Olivia carried a cloak in the crook of her arm.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked.
He reckoned he had been ready all of his adult life. He had never felt this depth of wanting a woman before. No doubt it was because there had never been a woman who stirred him up the way Olivia did.
‘The question is, are you?’ He winked, touching his shirt pocket under his coat to be certain the ring was still safely hidden aw
ay.
‘We have no music so it will be a bit of a challenge.’ She set her cloak on one of the chairs that he had shoved to one end of the terrace in order to give them room. ‘We will simply have to count the steps.’
‘Close your eyes and put out your hands.’
‘Why?’ She narrowed those wide lovely blues as though she feared he would place a bug in her palm.
‘Don’t worry, darlin’. It’s not a beetle.’
‘I adore it when you call me that.’ She closed her eyes, but her lips parted ever so slightly, glistening in starlight.
What could he do but kiss them while he placed the music box in her hands.
‘It’s beautiful!’ She touched the ruby on top with her fingertip. ‘What does it play?’
‘“Sleeping Beauty Waltz”. The jeweller says it’s new. Have you heard it yet?’
She opened the box. The pretty melody tinkled over the terrace. He was dang sure he was not going to look pretty trying to keep time with it.
‘No, I haven’t. Oh, but it is exquisite—and joyful sounding.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, swaying slightly to the tune. ‘I’m certain if you study hard you can learn to waltz.’
He held out his arms because, while he did want to learn, what he wanted even more was to hold her. To tell her he loved her again, to ask her to dance with him for ever.
‘Are you that brave, Olivia?’
She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, men’s voices intruded, sounding alarmed.
A dozen or more boots thumped across the bridge, coming hard and fast. They dashed towards the front of the manor, but spotting him, they changed course, running for him with their coat-tails flapping as though they’d caught on fire.
‘My lord,’ the eldest panted while the others glanced behind, left, then right.
The shepherds looked spooked, as if they thought something was going to pop out of the grass and devour them. Perhaps sheep were not as protected from predators as people assumed. One and all, they trembled, the youngest looked as if he had soiled his breeches.
