A Lord for Olivia (16 page)

“Though I cannot make all the happy announcements I wish I could make,” he began, bowing to Olivia, “I called you all here to show you a project I have in mind, one which will be of great cultural benefit to Britain. My friends know of the admiration I have for all things Greek. Lord Elgin's marbles have been a source of admiration for me for some time. Someday I hope to travel to see the real thing, but what with banditti of both Greek and Turkish persuasion making the area dangerous, I have decided to bring the Parthenon to England.”

With that, he whisked the drapery from the painting. At first no one made a sound. All gazed at a less than excellent rendering of the Parthenon, done in the same florid, overcolored style as the fresco on the ceiling. It stood on a promontory overlooking a valley. Beneath it a Greek village gleamed white in the sunlight. Lesser temples dotted the valley and the hills on either side.

To Edmund there seemed something familiar about the landscape. As he puzzled over it, Jason almost shouted, “That's Norvale.”

As a buzz of speculation swept the room, Edmund realized that the scene depicted the entire valley from the viewpoint of Wren Hall, Olivia's property. The bluff on which the Parthenon stood was the one that could be seen across the river from Olivia's office. They had watched the early morning sun gild it after the Hervilles' party.

Corbright raised his hand. “You have the right of it, Mr. Ormhill.” He motioned to the footman, who lifted the drapery from the table, revealing a detailed scale model of the same scene depicted in the painting.

Edmund looked at Olivia as she leaned over it. Her expression gave nothing away. Aunt Lavinia was quite another matter.

“One of your lesser temples seems to occupy Sparrow Hill, where the Ormhill hay is stored, Lord Corbright. And where is Beaumont?”

Corbright glanced sideways at Jason. “My artist left them
off, feeling that pastoral simplicity better displayed the magnificence of the scene. That temple on Sparrow Hill is a model of a temple of Persephone.”

“As you cannot possibly mean to transport the real thing from Greece, do I understand,” Lady Bower asked, “that you propose to build a life-size model of the Parthenon here in Norvale?”

“Precisely.” Corbright beamed and appeared to await the approval of his guests.

It came quickly from those not native to the area. Calls of “Bravo,” and “I can't wait to see it,” could be heard above the less approving murmurs of the local gentry. One of the latter, a red-faced man of nearly sixty, after a hasty conference with some others, said, “That Parthenon of yours occupies the spot where Mr. Smithfield's barns stood.”

“The very place.” Corbright's smile slipped a little.

“But the Swalen brothers own it now,” Mr. Herville objected.

“Not anymore. They sold it to me.”

“Deuced odd,” Herville said. “Only just bought it. Told me they planned to settle here.”

“Yes, well, I decided they were not the sort of people we want here in Norvale.” Corbright's jaw jutted out. He looked intently at Olivia. “When I had expressed my opinion to them forcefully enough, they agreed to sell to me. I intend to pull the farm buildings down to make way for the Parthenon, and below it I will build a model Grecian village. It will house visitors to the area, for I am sure there will be many.”

“On Ormhill land?” Lavinia looked at her nephew, expecting him to object.

Jason turned beet red. He had not intended to reveal his plans to Livvy in this public way. Indeed, he had scarcely given Corbright's proposed purchase any more thought. He looked to his uncle for help, but the elder Ormhill's complexion was equally high-colored.

“Yes, well, it is speculative, of course,” Corbright responded smoothly. “I am hopeful I can work something out
with the young squire, but if not, then it can be relocated on my own lands.”

“What do you think, my dear . . . ah, Miss Ormhill?” He looked at Olivia expectantly. Every other eye in the room turned to her, too.

“I scarcely know what to think. It quite takes the breath away.” Olivia flushed deeply. Everyone who lived in Norvale knew why Corbright had decided the Swalens did not belong here. She wondered how far the tale had spread, and what embellishments it had received. She hardly knew whether to thank Corbright for getting rid of them or to scratch his eyes out for making her the object of such attention. As for building his village on Jason's lands? One glance at her brother's embarrassed face told her something was afoot.

“I hoped you would be pleased, being as devoted to Greek culture as I am.”

Olivia lifted doubtful eyes to his. He looked so proud, so hopeful, she felt she must say something positive. “This should be educational. Many who can never hope to travel to Greece can visit this. Though I cannot think the gentle green hills of Buckinghamshire very close to the pictures I have seen of the bare limestone cliffs of Athens.”

“True, but this area is close to London, so many will visit on their way to or from the city. Just think of the employment the building of it will offer to workers in the area. I will schedule construction in the off-season, when agricultural workers are underemployed. You have recently made me aware of the problems they face during the winter months.”

“That would be excellent.” Her doubts still showed in her voice. Her brain was racing, her slight trust in Corbright rapidly crumbling. Mr. Smithfield had refused to sell his land to Corbright for some reason. Now he had it, thanks to the Swalens. A nagging question suddenly surfaced: how had he known she would be free to dance with him at the Hervilles' party? Thinking she had no dance free, why had he not reserved a dance with some other woman? Had the insults by George Swalen been planned in advance? Corbright had known of the fight very early the next morning.
Had there been an intentional provoking of Jason that night? With what purpose? Her mind was so busy she scarcely heard Corbright's continued explanations.

“And when the model village is built and begins accepting guests, there will be work there too, of course. I know Miss Ormhill will like that, as she has such tenderness for the welfare of the valley's laboring sort.”

“Quite a good idea, I think,” Sir Comfrey said, beaming at his host. “It will be the talk of England.”

Corbright bowed toward him. “Just so. And here is the champagne, as promised.” He gestured to the door, where footmen bearing trays of champagne were entering. “I hope all of my friends will join with me in a toast to the success of this venture . . . and of another I have in mind when I can convince the fair one of its merit.”

Murmurs, chuckles, significant looks, and elbowing accompanied this public declaration, putting Olivia to the blush again. The company accepted the champagne and drank the toast enthusiastically. Most of them, that is. Reverend Ormhill did not refuse the toast, nor did Edmund, though both drank it with no sign of pleasure. Only Jason Ormhill did not lift the glass to his lips, but stared at the painting as if transfixed.

Olivia and Aunt Lavinia quaffed the sparkling wine, then turned aside to listen to the cluster of females who surrounded them. Edmund watched Olivia, wondering what she really thought of this ludicrous scheme.
Her smile looks strained,
he thought, but then he gave himself a mental shake.
Wishful thinking,
he cautioned himself. She had not objected to Corbright's very public attentions. He turned away and took another glass of champagne from a servant's tray and downed it. As he drank, he noticed that Jason was in deep and animated discussion with several of the local gentry. He had a rather wild look in his eye.
Have to keep an eye on him,
Edmund thought.
Whatever Olivia thought of that scheme, Jason did not like it by half.

Olivia slipped away from the crowd of excited guests and headed for the terrace, where she stood looking at the moon shining brightly over the site of the projected Parthenon.
Thoughts and impressions tumbled together in her mind, and she tried to concentrate on the beauty of the night to gain some control. But a memory kept shattering her composure: Mr. Smithfield had come to her shortly after his barns had burned, offering her the purchase of his farm.

“Selling out? But Mr. Smithfield, your barns can be rebuilt. I know you feel badly about the loss of your prize cattle, but . . .”

“No, I won't be doing that. I've had it in mind for some time to try my luck in . . . in Canada.”

“For some time? Then why did you put in the new fences this winter? And make those improvements to the cottage?”

“I . . . thought it would fetch me a better price.”

Reluctantly she had refused. “I am dreadfully sorry, but we cannot purchase it. We lack the funds. Why do you not offer it to Lord Corbright? Part of it marches with his land, and—”

“No, I will not sell it to Corbright,” he had almost shouted. “I will leave it fallow first.”

He had stopped abruptly. The look in his eyes, which would not quite meet hers, had been so uneasy, his manner so fearful, that she had not pressed him further. Soon everyone in the valley knew he was going, knew, too, that he had refused to sell to Corbright, but no one knew who had purchased his farm, which had sat idle this last year.

Now Corbright had the land Smithfield had sworn not to sell to him, through the Swalen brothers. Speculation filled her mind with unease. There had been other odd incidents around Flintridge recently—fires, livestock mysteriously stolen or dying suddenly, wells gone bad. At least two other freeholds had been sold and left fallow.
I must look into their ownership.

“A penny for your thoughts.” Corbright joined her at the balcony.

She looked up into eyes filled with longing—and longed to know what thoughts really lay behind them.

 

S
ince she could not know all of Corbright's thoughts, she had no intention of letting him know all of her own. But one thing she could not forbear to tell him.

“I was thinking how much you have embarrassed me tonight with your pointed attentions. I have told you repeatedly I could offer you only friendship.”

“You are looking so beautiful tonight. So fashionable. Another new gown, delightfully designed to show off your charms. Who else did you think to charm with your beauty tonight, if not me?” His mouth tilted up in that confident, arrogant smile that had once made her heart race.

She responded hotly, “You are not the only eligible male here!”

He looked around. “Hmmm. Did you know such a large group would be here?”

“No, I—”

“Did you think the Swalens would be here? Are you displeased that they are gone?”

“No. Though I wish you had not spoken of it in public.”

“I will always defend you, Olivia. Now, if it was not the Swalens you hoped to impress, who was it? As far as you knew, there were only the usual local people, mostly married men, boys still in leading strings, or men with one foot in the grave.” He slid his hand along her jawline in a possessive caress. “I think you dressed with such care for me tonight.”

She spluttered, “I knew Lord Edmund would be here.”

Corbright dropped his hand. “Edmund!” He spat the
word. “Edmund Debham is so far beneath you in so many ways, I scarcely have the patience to list them. For one, he is almost illiterate. He is a bearer of tales—exaggerations of the truth and outright lies. And lately, a gamester. Surely an intelligent young woman like yourself would not throw yourself away on a penniless fortune hunter? Look.” He turned her toward the room where most of the dinner guests stood talking. “He is making sheep's eyes at Mary Benson. Her fortune outweighs yours, so do not think to capture him with it.” He stalked to the balcony, which he gripped tensely, swaying back and forth.

“Edmund Debham is my brother's friend; that is all.” She turned away from the sight of Edmund smiling warmly at Mary Benson.

“Good. Walk in the garden with me.”

She shook her head. “I have some questions I must ask you.”

“About my project?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of it?” His eager, almost boyish look momentarily disarmed her. She could not quite bring herself to snap at him as she wished,
Why is it set on land you didn't yet own? Why a village on Jason's land?
She temporized.

“It will be an astonishing feat. And as I said, it will be educational.”

“Olivia, stop fencing with me. I thought you would be thrilled. I surprised you with it, sure that once you saw it, you would be swept away and wish to join with me. . . . Never mind. I was obviously mistaken. You do not like it.”

“It isn't that. I am wondering about its location.”

“That's easy. The artist, Pierre Montrose, put it there. While he was painting the frescoes in the manor, he also roamed the valley, which he pronounced quite picturesque, making sketches for paintings he planned to do later. One of them was from Wren Hall, which everyone knows has the finest view in the valley. On a whim he put the Acropolis where Smithfield's barns stood, and showed it to me. It fascinated me. I asked him to work it up into a finished oil
painting. He added other temples, the village—just let his imagination run riot.”

“And you had a model made up from it.”

“Yes. But before you begin to see deep plots and dishonesty, let me assure you that the location of the Acropolis can easily be changed, if you object to it.”

“I don't object to it; it just seems odd that now you own that land.”

He scowled at her. “You don't think I had anything to do with Smithfield's problems?”

“You must admit it looks suspicious, particularly when he told everyone he would never sell to you.”

“He went a little crazy after his prize cattle burned. Surely you can't imagine I had anything to do with that, though?” When she did not reply, he moaned. “I deserve for you to suspect me. After all, I jilted you. I must win back your trust. Olivia, if you object to the location of any of the buildings, I will place them elsewhere. Indeed, if you wish, I will abandon the entire scheme. It is you I want. Greek temples are made of marble and would not warm my bed at night as I hope you will.”

Abruptly he took her arm and half dragged her down the terrace, out of the line of vision of the guests in his house.

“What are you doing? Let me go!”

“No, I must show you, must convince you.” He pulled her behind a hedge. “Oh, Olivia, I love you so much. Can you have forgotten how it was between us?”

She tried to flee, but his hands held her just above her elbows.

“Remember that night when we shared our first kiss?” He leaned close to her. “We were in your aunt's rose garden. The air was heavy with their perfume. You came into my arms so sweetly, so trustingly. You had never been kissed before, but I think you quite liked it.”

Olivia relaxed a little. His hands had gentled on her arms, and his voice had taken on a crooning tone. “Yes, I remember. You proposed to me afterward.”

“And you accepted. Oh, Olivia, don't let my one rash, foolish act destroy what was so perfect and could be again.”
He lowered his head and, when she did not draw back, pressed his lips to hers. Olivia allowed it, wondering if indeed the old magic was still there.
No, be honest,
she told herself.
You wonder if his kiss will affect you as Edmund's did.
She waited for the sizzle to begin in her veins, but it didn't.

His arms went around her, molding her body to his. His lips grew hard and insistent, as if he would compel her to respond to him as she once had. The pressure was painful rather than pleasurable, and she began to push against his chest. He only intensified his efforts. Olivia frantically struggled, kicking him with one foot, with little effect.

Then suddenly it was over. He was stumbling backward, and her brother was between them, charging at Corbright, raging at him. “Get your hands off my sister. Do you think she is some doxy, to be taken behind a hedge? You'll answer to me for this!”

Olivia almost fell from the violence with which her brother had shoved them apart, but she found a pair of strong arms supporting her from behind. She looked over her shoulder into Edmund's concerned eyes.

Corbright put his hand out to prevent another shove. “Take it easy, Jason.”

“Take it easy! While you manhandle my sister?”

“My fiancée! Or would be again, if you had not so inopportunely interrupted us.”

Jason sneered scornfully. “After you had raped her?”

“Don't be ridiculous. We were kissing one another; that is all.”

“She was struggling for all she was worth. You are a lying, deceitful, scheming bastard.”

“Take care what you say, Jason.”

“I know what I am saying. You are never to go near her again.”

By this time Olivia had come to stand by Jason's side, terror thrumming through her. Corbright looked at her, his eyes hard. “You had better rein in this cub, Olivia. I won't tolerate such slurs on my character.”

“I am not a cub,” Jason snarled. “Name your seconds!”

“No!” Olivia gasped.

“Take care, Corbright.” Edmund moved to Jason's other side. “I've known boys of his age to kill grizzled veterans. And you should know I also believe that you were forcing yourself on Miss Ormhill. If Jason fails to convince you of the error of your ways, I shall have to do so.”

“Stop it, all of you,” Olivia pleaded, looking from one to the other in panic. She saw on Edmund's face that same fierce implacability that she had seen the day he told her why he had always fought with such ferocity. Jason's young features echoed the same harsh determination.

Abruptly Corbright's expression changed. “This is ridiculous. Olivia and I shared a romantic moment in the moonlight. I will admit I became carried away. Jason, you have the right of it. You are not a cub. You know enough of passion to know a man may be overcome by it, don't you? And I'm sure Olivia will agree that at first she was a willing participant.”

Even if she had not permitted the kiss, Olivia would have agreed, so desperate was she to prevent a duel between her brother and Corbright. “Yes, yes, I did. We . . . we were talking about old times. About when we became engaged.”

Jason's mouth still looked grim with purpose. “You won't marry this man, Livvy. You don't know all of it. When you do, you will never consider him.”

“Don't tell her, Jason. Not yet. Let me.” Corbright held out his hand to Livvy. “Please, my dear. Come aside with me. I have something to say that you must hear from my lips only.”

“On no account.” Jason knocked down Corbright's hand. “Go up to the manor, Livvy. Tell Uncle to escort you and Aunt Lavinia home.”

“I will not!” Olivia drew herself up. “I am an adult, and this is a ridiculous quarrel.”

“Yes. As if I would duel my beloved's brother.” Corbright laughed hollowly. “She'd never forgive me, never marry me then, whatever the outcome.”

“She never will, anyway.”

“I will decide whom I marry. Come, Lord Corbright. We'll step just out of their hearing.” Olivia took Corbright's arm, and threw Edmund a pleading look as she moved away
with him. She heard Jason's protest, and Edmund's low-voiced response. Whatever he said must have convinced her brother, because he stayed where he was.

When they had gone about ten feet away, Olivia stopped and looked up at Corbright. “What is it that you want to tell me?”

“You know I never meant to force myself on you, Olivia. I became overcome with—”

“Yes, yes, I know, with passion. My father used to say a gentleman never allows his emotions to control him.”

Corbright drew back as if she had slapped him. They glared at one another for a long moment; then he sighed. “I suppose I am not a true gentleman, then, nor ever will be.”

“Perhaps you had best tell me what it is that Jason started to say to me.”

Corbright turned away, looking at the river placidly gleaming in the half-moon's light. “I offered to buy his land.”

Olivia gasped. “You
what
?”

“Or lease it, if your uncle would not approve of the sale.”

Olivia felt as if she had been dealt a blow to the stomach. “Sell Ormhill land? Did he agree to this? Did my uncle?”

“He hadn't decided. Neither of them had. Olivia, I thought to relieve you of the huge responsibility the management of his estate entails. Now, of course, he thinks I wanted it for my project. I should have realized that construction might have been placed upon my offer. Stupid on my part.” He struck his forehead with his hand, then turned to her. “But I swear to you, Livvy, by all I hold sacred, I never did it for that reason. As I told you, I can move the Acropolis to another site, one that we have owned since we first came to Norvale. You can see it from the other side of those shrubs.” He held out his hand to her.

“No.” She drew back. “Jason wouldn't permit it just now.”

“That hothead is going to get himself killed someday. . . .”

“He is my brother. He has a right and a duty to protect me.”

Something odd came into Corbright's eyes. “And you, to protect him?”

She felt cold, suddenly. Cold and afraid. “I had best go.”

“Olivia, wait. I will cancel the project. I will! I'll sell the manor and all my land here. Anything to convince you and Jason that all I want is you.”

Olivia looked into his eyes. He seemed so sincere. He was so dangerous. Suddenly all the turmoil in her mind overwhelmed her. Her head began to buzz, and for the first time in her life she felt she would faint. As she swayed, Corbright caught her, then took advantage of the moment to put his arms around her. She clung to him a moment until her head cleared, then pulled away. “I am going to go home now. I feel a bit tired.”

“But you haven't said . . . you do believe me, don't you? Oh, God, how I wish I had not promised myself to the Comfreys. I am to leave with them tomorrow after my guests have gone, to look at an alabaster quarry he owns in Staffordshire. But I can't. I must stay here and convince you somehow—”

“No, go on with your trip. It will give Jason time to cool down.”

“Yes, perhaps that would be best. After all, I'll see you in Scotland in a few weeks, when grouse shooting begins, won't I?”

“I . . . we haven't made our plans yet, but I expect so.”

“That is all right, then. We'll meet there, and spend time together. Lots of time. We'll talk, become reacquainted, make plans.” His eyes seemed feverish in their intensity. Olivia could only nod, wishing to be away from him.