Читать книгу The Louise Allen Collection: The Viscount's Betrothal / The Society Catch - Louise Allen - Страница 25

‘You do not love Lord Weston at all?’ Decima regarded Olivia’s miserable face with horror. The younger woman must have misread her expression for one of condemnation, for she began to sob quietly, wringing her hands into the fine muslin of her pretty morning gown in her distress.

‘I want to be dutiful, and I do not have to love him, do I?’ she faltered. ‘Mama says no gentleman would expect such a thing in any case and I am foolish and wicked to think about it.’ She stifled a hiccup in her handkerchief. ‘I think he is very kind…at least, he used to be, but I am so silly, Mama says, no wonder he seems strict with me now.’

Oh, lord. Decima cast a hasty glance at the drawing-room door to make sure it was firmly closed and did her best. ‘I know that love is not considered a prerequisite for a happy and fulfilling marriage,’ she began carefully. ‘Between gentlefolk, and especially the aristocracy, I believe it is the exception rather than the rule. But there must be mutual affection and respect, I am sure—do you not feel those things for Lord Weston?’

‘He was very kind to me before we became betrothed.’ For some reason Olivia blushed scarlet. ‘And, of course, I respect him because he is so intelligent and has such a great position.’

‘Well, then, I expect this is all nerves and you will be very happy when you are married.’ Decima thought she sounded like Hermione. But what else could she say? Should she encourage Olivia in her doubts in the hope that she would jilt Adam? That would be despicable, besides risking ruining the girl’s reputation.

‘And do not forget he proposed to you despite the fact that you are not titled and—forgive me—perhaps not as richly dowered as some young ladies.’

For some reason that produced an even deeper blush and a look of total misery. ‘I am sure he had no intention of proposing to me before the Longminster house party.’

‘Then that shows how taken he was with you,’ Decima said, attempting to inject a rallying tone into her voice. ‘You must know how beautiful you are, and I am sure you have all the skills needed to manage a great house.’

‘Th…thank you.’ Olivia dabbed at her eyes. ‘You do not seem at all afraid of him.’

‘Why, no. Why ever should I be? Has he said anything to give you a fear of him?’

‘No…’ Olivia did not seem too sure. ‘He seems very stern sometimes, but then so is Papa.’

Not very romantic. ‘Has he done anything to alarm you, then?’ Decima persisted.

‘He…kissed me.’

‘Oh. Well, that is to be expected, is it not? I mean, you are engaged to be married.’

‘I did not think it would be so…so…’ Olivia stammered. ‘I thought he might kiss me on the cheek, or my hand, but not on the mouth like…like that.’

‘Ah. Er…has your mama explained about…um…marriage?’

‘Not really. She says I am a goose.’

‘Well, I cannot talk to you about it, Olivia. After all, I am unmarried myself and really do not know about these things.’ Decima could feel the blush rising up her throat and only hoped the girl would attribute it to the embarrassment of discussing intimate matters. She tried again.

‘But don’t you think, if you were to attempt to return any affectionate, or even passionate, gesture by at least not shrinking from him, that might help? He would feel you trust him and you might sooner become accustomed to his…caresses.’ Olivia nodded thoughtfully, dabbing her eyes. ‘And if you were to confide in him a little, explain that you feel nervous—not about kissing, but about some subject that is easy to discuss, say, how you will get on with a large household to manage—then you will get to know him better and he will make allowances for your inexperience.’

‘I will try,’ Olivia said bravely. ‘Thank you so very much, Decima. I would never have dared discuss such things with Mama.’

‘But you were having real doubts about the betrothal? Is there anyone else?’ Decima pursued.

‘Oh, no! Mama would be so angry if I were to fall in—I mean, if I were to do such a thing.’ The colour was ebbing and flowing under Olivia’s fine skin as she looked both guilty and utterly wretched. She was obviously a very poor liar. ‘I could never go against what Mama felt to be right.’

Decima waved goodbye to Olivia as she stepped up into her carriage with mixed feelings and a crashing headache. Loving Adam meant she should want what was best for him, and if that meant Olivia, then so be it. On the other hand, she still had nagging doubts about whether Miss Channing truly was the bride for him. Had he simply fallen for a ravishingly pretty face? But that seemed to suffice for many men. Which was a lowering thought—one would have hoped that the object of one’s affection had better judgement.

The Freshfords returned home to find their guest reclining on the sofa, languidly flicking through a book of poetry and fighting what Decima frankly described as a thundering headache. She took herself off to her room rather than dampen everyone’s spirits over luncheon and was somewhat cheered by Pru’s smiling face.

‘I’ll make a cold compress for your forehead, shall I?’ Pru tiptoed about, finding the hartshorn and the lavender water and humming softly under her breath.

Decima levered herself up against the pillows and regarded her with interest. Pru had been very quiet, and extremely close-lipped, the past few days, and Decima had decided not to pry, but it was such a relief to talk to someone who appeared to be happy that she ventured a question.

‘Have you seen Bates lately, Pru?’

‘Yes, Miss Decima. Almost every free evening I’ve had, and my half-days. I don’t think we’ve stopped talking, hardly.’

‘Really? Bates talkative? Don’t you argue any more?’

‘He was just shy, that’s all. Bashful, like.’ That seemed unlikely, but then, Decima decided, she was not regarding Bates with the eye of love and perhaps Pru was more perceptive about his character. ‘We don’t argue at all now, not about anything.’

‘That is wonderful, Pru.’ Headache forgotten, Decima sat up properly. ‘Has he said anything about the future?’

‘Not yet, but he sort of hinted. He said his lordship might see his way to letting him have a cottage if he ever felt like settling down.’ That was promising. It would mean losing Pru, of course, but Decima couldn’t begrudge that. ‘I think he might say something this evening.’ Pru’s round face was creased by a beaming smile and Decima thought she had never seen her look so pretty.

‘What will you be wearing? Would you like to borrow my Norwich shawl?’ Pru’s eyes widened in delight—the fine Paisley-patterned cashmere was a luxury no lady’s maid could hope to aspire to buying.

‘Oh, Miss Decima! I’ll be ever so careful of it.’

Decima felt revived enough to take some soup and fruit in her bedroom, but she refused Lady Freshford’s invitation to accompany them on a shopping expedition. She was still trying to forget Adam, Henry and Olivia by thinking about Pru when there was a tap at the door.

Decima opened it and found the Freshfords’ butler outside, an expression of rigidly repressed irritation on his face.

‘I am sorry to disturb you in your chamber, Miss Ross, but Lord Weston is at the door. I informed him you were not at home, but I regret that Staples, who was passing through the hall at the time, very pertly interrupted me to say that you were in your room with a headache.’

‘I am sorry she spoke in such a manner.’ It was outrageous of Pru, and a direct attack on the butler’s authority and dignity. ‘I will speak to her directly.’ But the man did not appear mollified.

‘His lordship then said that he was sorry you were indisposed, Miss Ross, but that if you were so unwell that you could not come down, he would come up here himself and speak to you.’

‘What? Has his lordship been drinking?’

‘No, Miss Ross. I would venture the opinion that his lordship is exercised, to a high degree, with some irritation of the spirit. I tried to insist, but he refuses to leave, and I am reluctant to employ the footmen in ejecting a peer of the realm without Sir Henry’s express orders.’

‘No, of course not, Starling, that would never do. You have acted quite correctly. Please show his lordship into the little drawing room and tell him I will be down directly.’

‘Certainly, Miss Ross. I will find Staples and have her sent to you.’

Decima hesitated. Whatever had brought Adam here in such a mood, it was unlikely to be trivial, nor something she would want to share with anyone, not even Pru. ‘No, Starling. I imagine this is a confidential, family matter. I will see Lord Weston alone.’

She turned back into her room, but not before she had caught a glimpse of the disapproval on the butler’s face. He would no doubt complain to his mistress, but, with her headache rapidly returning, Decima was past caring.

She smoothed her hair and her gown and made her way downstairs, past the rigid figure of the butler and into the small drawing room. Why she should be feeling quite so ridiculously apprehensive she could not say, but her stomach appeared to be trying to tie itself into a knot and she felt positively queasy.

‘Adam…’

‘Do you really have a headache?’ He was standing by the cold fireplace, one booted foot on the fender, his brows drawn together as he regarded her.

‘A little, it is better than it was.’ Decima returned his unsmiling look with a level one of her own. ‘What exactly is so important that you must outrage Lady Freshford’s butler so?’

‘You have had a very busy morning, Decima, have you not?’ Adam drew the leather gloves he had been holding in one hand through the other, making a snapping noise that jolted her stretched nerves painfully.

‘I have had a visit from Olivia, that’s all.’ She was becoming angry now, but the apprehension was still there, coiling inside her.

‘All? I gather I have you to thank for the transformation of my fiancée from a modest and innocent young lady into one of a highly coming disposition.’

‘But…but all I said was…’ Decima lost her voice. What on earth had Olivia been saying—and doing?

‘Yes, Decima, do enlighten me. At what stage in your discussion of my lovemaking did you suggest that Olivia throw all precepts of well-bred decorum to the winds and hurl herself into my arms?’

‘I did no such thing! And I have not been discussing your lovemaking, as you put it.’ She took a few agitated steps away from him and swung round again, appalled at just how wrong her well-meaning advice had gone. ‘Olivia asked to speak to me. She wanted to confide in me. What was I to do? Spurn her? She has no female friend to talk to.’

‘She has her mother.’ Adam’s face was set and hard with anger.

‘She is terrified of her mother. Olivia would not say boo to a goose and she certainly could not confide her worries to Mrs Channing, not without receiving such a scolding that the poor child would be prostrated.’

‘So, what did she want to talk about?’

‘I have no intention of telling you, she spoke to me in confidence.’ Decima was uneasily aware that Adam was getting closer, and began to edge away behind the illusory safety of a pie-crust side table.

‘Decima, do you want me to get it out of her—or will you tell me?’ His voice was dangerously quiet.

‘Very well, if you are going to bully her otherwise. She told me that she was sometimes somewhat nervous of you. I put it down to her youth and inexperience and her very sheltered upbringing. Now I do not wonder at it, if you treat her to many of these exhibitions of domineering ill-temper!’

Adam ignored her sweeping insults. ‘So, what did you tell her to do?’

‘Talk to you, that is all. Explain that she was nervous, using some matter she felt less shy about mentioning than—than intimate topics. I was sure that once she got into the way of confiding in you, her trust would soon grow.’

‘Very sound advice, I am sure.’ Decima was not lulled into relaxing by his sarcastic tone. Adam sounded far from grateful for her assistance. ‘And exactly how might she interpret that as throwing herself into my arms and kissing me passionately? If she had not been so unskilled, I would have taken her for a loose woman.’

‘She was also alarmed by your kisses,’ Decima blurted out. ‘I simply suggested that if she made some effort to return any gestures of affection you made, she might find herself growing accustomed.’

‘And you are so very experienced that you can offer advice?’ Adam was closer now, almost within arm’s reach. Decima edged further back and came up sharply against the lowered flap of Lady Freshford’s writing desk.

‘You know exactly how experienced I am,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t understand why you are so angry. I would have thought you could have trusted me to try and do what is best for you, as a friend. Olivia is very shy and very sheltered—it would be dreadful if her fears led her to do something…’ she hesitated, seeking the right word ‘…something unwise.’

‘You think she would be wise to marry me, or that I would be wise to marry her?’ Adam’s eyes were very green, very hard, as he watched her face.

Decima shook her head, baffled at the question. ‘You asked her to marry you, she accepted. For either of you to cry off would create a scandal. It could ruin Olivia. Why are you speaking like this? You sound almost as though you don’t want to marry her!’

Adam watched Decima’s face, seeing the confusion chase across her features. She wanted to do the best thing for him, and for Olivia, and he loved her for it. Whether that was coming from her sense of duty, or whether she really did want to see him married to another woman, he could not fathom. He had begun to think he understood Decima Ross—now he was far from sure.

‘You think I might have made a mistake?’ he asked slowly, trying to read her thoughts in the expressive, wide eyes. The frustrated anger that had driven him to demand to see her was ebbing in the face of that candid gaze, despite the fact that she had put his progress with Olivia back by days, if not a week.

‘If you have, there is nothing you can do about it!’ She was staring at him, horrified. ‘You cannot mean to jilt the poor girl?’

‘No, no, of course not,’ Adam said slowly. If his plans did not work, then he would have to accept, and make the best of, a marriage to Olivia Channing. But he had no intention of it coming to that, however Decima might unwittingly try to scupper his scheme. He toyed with the idea of telling her the truth, but baulked. She was surprisingly good at hiding her true feelings for him—unless, of course, she had none, only feelings of friendship.

‘I am interested in your opinion, that’s all.’ He turned aside, trying to make his voice light. ‘You’re right, Olivia is very sheltered—I should take account of that.’ And possibly push her further? He might have to, now she was trying to apply Decima’s well-meaning advice. He had certainly been seriously taken aback when what had been intended as a kiss designed to send Olivia into nervous, blushing confusion had resulted in her bravely throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his head down so she could return it with clumsy determination.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Decima. ‘You are in a very strange mood today, Adam.’ She sounded less angry than exasperated with him; he supposed he deserved that. Goodness knew what she made of all this. ‘Promise me you will not jilt poor Olivia.’

‘Do you really think I would do such a thing?’ It hurt, he found, to have her believe he might. What would she say when she discovered what he was planning to do? God, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her—just hold her, so he could smell that elusive jasmine scent, feel her soft warmth against him. He reached out a hand and caught hers. For a moment she resisted him, then allowed him to lead her to the sofa.

‘No…no I don’t, except that when you act so strangely, I don’t understand you at all.’ She hesitated, looking down at their clasped hands, then gently pulled her own free. ‘Do you love her?’

‘No.’ He could not lie to her about that. ‘No. It is time I married; you heard the views of my family on the subject. Love is not expected when persons of our class wed. You must continue to encourage Bates and Pru if you want to witness a love match.’ He had hoped to distract her by talking of the two servants, but she made a little gesture as though to brush that aside and raised troubled eyes to his.

‘You will be kind to her though, won’t you? Olivia has not had much affection in her life, I think.’ She caught his hand in hers again, apparently unconscious of anything but the need to impress upon him the importance of what she was saying. Adam tightened his fingers around hers, feeling the beat of her pulse. It seemed to enter his body, take possession of his own heartbeat.

She turned her face up to his, searching his expression as though to read the truth in it. Adam fought the urge to simply catch her in his arms and kiss her until she understood how he felt for her. But he had fallen into that trap already, consoling Olivia—there was too much at risk now to dare revealing the slightest hint of his feelings for Decima. She was so close his senses were full of her, of the warm scent of her skin, of the touch of her breath on his skin.

‘Decima, I promise I will do everything in my power to make things better for Olivia than they are now.’

‘Thank you,’ she said simply and he placed his other hand over hers, trapping it between both of his. ‘Adam—’

The door behind them opened abruptly, swinging back on its hinges. Decima started, instinctively reaching for Adam’s lapel with her free hand and he, equally instinctively, turned to shelter her body with his.

Lord Carmichael stood on the threshold, his face red with outrage. Behind him there was a glimpse of the butler and a flurry of skirts, but no one was going to pass Charlton.

‘How dare you, my lord! Decima, come here this instant! I can hardly believe my eyes, to find you here, unchaperoned, alone with a man, behaving like the veriest trollop—’

He did not finish the sentence. Adam had heard the expression ‘to see red’ and had believed it to be merely that, an expression. Now he found, viewing Charlton Carmichael through a blood haze, that it was simple description. He got to his feet, clenched a serviceable right fist and hit the furious baron squarely on the jaw.

Charlton fell back, collided with Starling and the two of them crashed to the floor of the hall, narrowly missing Pru, who jumped back with a squeal of alarm.