A Lord for Olivia (5 page)

“If you must refuse them, carry it off with humor; that is what you have always said, and what you have done in the past. What maggot got into your head? Now you've got Jason horribly upset, and he has already been far too unhappy lately for me to be comfortable as it is.”

This caught Olivia's attention. “What . . . what do you mean, Aunt?”

“You know how moped he has been. He is an active young man, ripe for adventure. At eighteen, no wonder! It is his birthright to discover the world. To remain shut up here in Buckinghamshire with his older sister and his ancient aunt is torture to him.”

“If he would only interest himself in the management of his estates . . .”

“Well, he won't. Not until he has had a bit of fun.”

“I have said many times that he may go, that he should go. I am no longer the young girl my father begged him to protect. As if he could have protected me at fifteen anyway.”

“You know he would never break his promise. Nor would you have him be the kind of young man who would do so.”

Olivia shook her head impatiently. “We have been over this a hundred times. But what did you mean to imply? You do not suppose he will do himself an injury?”

“Yes, my dear, I do. Oh, I don't mean that he'd take his life, not on purpose. But there are other ways. Drinking and gambling in taverns . . .”

“With Uncle Milton to keep him company! Coming it too strong, Aunt.” Olivia strove for jocularity.

“May I point out that my brother had retired to his bed long before the mischief was done last night? Nor was this the first time Jason has gambled into the night with strangers. And then there is the riding.”

Olivia shuddered. Jason had always been a bruising rider. Lately he had become a reckless one. Not two weeks ago he had come a cropper at a wall he never should have attempted, injuring his favorite hunting hack in the process.

“Yes, you understand me. Somehow this situation has got
to be resolved. And that poor young man may just hold the key.”

“But not the key to my heart. Not that you care for that!”

“The man who had the key to your heart threw it away. The heart can be a very false guide, my love. You pride yourself on being a rational female. At least consider the advantages of wedding Lord Edmund.”

Olivia shook her head. “You heard him. He doesn't want to marry me. But even if he did, and even if I gave up my determination to be a spinster, I simply can't—won't—give myself to such a man. Now, if you will excuse me, Aunt, I have some . . . some fields to inspect.”

“At the least, apologize to him for your harsh treatment. You don't know his full situation.” Not to be denied, Lavinia took Olivia's arm and steered her back toward the house as she explained what she knew about Lord Edmund.

“And I don't doubt his brother disowned him,” Lavinia added at the end of the recitation, “for he is a hard man. Your father disliked him intensely.”

“Yes, I remember now,” Olivia murmured. She had met the marquess a few times in company with her former fiancé. “The question is, just how much like him is Lord Edmund?”

 

As Lavinia tried to calm Livvy and convince her to at least consider marrying Lord Edmund, stressing his love for the land and admiration of her abilities to manage it, her nephew was loudly quarreling with him, convinced he had deliberately provoked his sister into her resounding refusal.

“Not fair,” Edmund protested. “Nor was the wager itself fair. You led me to think you had a homely, plain sister, eager to wed. Knowing her as you do, you must have been foxed beyond reason to propose the wager in the first place.”

“I hoped you'd take your time with her, court her. Thought you might win her over, at least enough that she would marry to please me. But I think she refuses to marry to displease me! And then you go and insult her and end all hope!”

Jason seemed to grow angrier and more agitated the longer they talked, so Edmund turned and walked away.

“Where the devil do you think you are going?”

“It doesn't matter. It will come to fisticuffs or worse, if you go on any longer.”

“Oh, ho! A duel. Well, I hope you may challenge me, you card cheat.”

Edmund whirled on him. “Take care, bantling.”

“Why? Why should I? You have just forged the last chain in my shackles. At least a duel would relieve the tedium.”

It was at this point that Olivia and Lavinia arrived back at the door to her office. “A duel? No, no!” Olivia raced into the room. “You can't! I won't allow it.”

Jason snarled. “Don't pretend that you care a whit for me, Livvy, for it won't fadge. I'm leg-shackled to you for life, and I've no taste for a long one, on such a tether!”

Olivia shrank from the bitter ferocity of his expression. All her aunt's fears seemed confirmed by Jason's shouted words and livid face. Truly frightened for him, she turned an imploring face to his opponent.

“Lord Edmund . . .”

“You needn't fear, Miss Ormhill. I won't act as your brother's executioner. I am not quite that low, in spite of your assessment of me.”

Olivia studied his tense, almost haggard expression.
He must have truly been devastated by his brother's rejection, and my words were so harsh.
Not for the first time in her life, she regretted her hasty tongue.

“I must apologize for my remarks, Lord Edmund. They would have been rude in any event, but after hearing the story from my aunt, I realize I have wronged you.”

His face softened marginally. “Not so completely as I wish I could claim. I was desperate and drunk last night, a good combination for causing a man's sense of right and wrong to slip.”

“As my brother's did, with less excuse. Now, Jason, I want you to release Lord Edmund from his obligation to us, and to restore his property.”

“No, I can't accept that,” Edmund protested. “He won all
from me, fair and square. The marriage idea was ridiculous. I should never have entered into such a bargain in the first place. What we can do, Jason, is go back to the stake I proposed first: a year of my labor in exchange for its worth.”

Olivia and Lavinia both objected to such an idea, while Jason said with a sneer, “Which is exactly nothing, as Mr. Dutton so accurately observed.”

“Not true. Did I not understand you to say, Miss Ormhill, that you needed help with your haying?”

Olivia Ormhill once more looked disdainfully at him. “I hardly think you could be of much help.”

“Why not? I am strong and willing. I will work alongside your crew from sunup to sundown—you'll see. And once the haying is done, I will find other ways to make myself useful through the year.”

She shook her head, amusement lightening her expression. “You are a gentleman, Lord Edmund. What I need is someone who knows how to load a hay wain.”

“Why?” Jason demanded. “What is wrong with old Bleck and the Joneses?”

“They have found employment elsewhere, at double their wages.”

“Double? Now who would pay that?”

Olivia looked away briefly. “Everyone around Flintridge has an abundant harvest this year. Laborers may name their price.”

“Then pay them more.”

“Most of them prefer to work for a man when they can.”

Jason shook his head, baffled. “Then we shall simply purchase hay.”

“If you had attended more to estate matters, you would understand how dearly that would cost us. The estate must be self-sufficient insofar as possible, if there is to be any profit in what we sell. Without our hay, we will have to sell off much of our livestock, thus ruining my breeding program, not to mention your stud.”

“Then all the more reason you need me, Miss Ormhill,” Edmund insisted.

Olivia laughed softly at his naiveté. “You might master a
scythe, Lord Edmund, if you did not cut off your leg first, and to pitch hay up to a wagon . . .”

“Unconscionable,” Lavinia objected. “One cannot allow a gentleman to work in such a way.”

Olivia continued without responding to her, “But one man's labor will not solve my problem. I have many fields left to cut, and hay lying on the ground. I need an experienced crew to load and unload the hay wains as quickly as possible and make up the hay cocks, for such a harvest as this year's will spill over our barns, I am sure.”

“Anyone could load a hay wain,” Jason yelped. “What a piece of work you are making of this. It is just a matter of stacking it up as high as possible, after all!”

Olivia turned back to him, a challenging light in her eyes. “Then you accept Lord Edmund's proposition to substitute a year of his labor instead of this marriage scheme?”

Jason frowned. “No, I do not! I only meant you can hire any strong man to bring in the hay. It would be unseemly to put Lord Edmund to work in our fields. He is a gentleman.” Jason almost shouted, “And your future bridegroom.”

Olivia shook her head. “You'll vex me about this scheme forever, won't you.” Her aunt's warning, combined with her brother's attempt to force Lord Edmund into a duel, made ending the impasse between her and Jason imperative. She put one finger to her lips and tapped them, thinking. “I know. You are so fond of wagers, perhaps you will enter one with me?”

“What sort of wager?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“Very simple. As you seem to believe anyone can load a hay wain, I propose that the two of you each load one. If you both, working separately, can load your wagon to the usual height, and have the hay remain on it until it reaches the storage barn, I will marry Lord Edmund. If you cannot, you consider yourself released from your pledge to my father. Also you will restore Lord Edmund's property to him, plus what he had won from you before you began to drink heavily, and let him go on his way.”

Jason's eyes lit with triumph. “Done! By Jove, you shall have a husband by this time tomorrow!” Jason grabbed her
in his arms and swung her about exuberantly. “Did you hear, Aunt Lavinia? Olivia has at last been caught!”

“I suppose,” Lavinia said doubtfully.

“You agree to these terms?” Olivia asked Edmund as soon as she could free herself from her brother's embrace. “Understand, I do not refer to merely loading the wagons up to the top of the sideboards. We would be forever at the job, and be overtaken by the rains, if we transported our hay at that pace. A properly loaded hay wain is almost a full story high.”

“I understand, and accept most gladly, Miss Ormhill. I have only one question: what if one of us succeeds in loading the hay wain and the other does not?”

Her brows arrowed together. “I hadn't thought—”

“Then allow me to propose a slight modification to the wager.”

“Such as?” She looked as wary as her brother had a few minutes ago.

“If only one of us can load the hay wain and have the load survive intact to the storage barn, the wager between your brother and myself is at an end, but you will agree to allow me to remain here for one year. I will work for you in various capacities on the farm, while you teach me as much as possible of what you know about estate management.” Edmund's voice rang with enthusiasm.

“You surprise me, Lord Edmund. One would almost think you wish for that outcome.”

Lavinia interrupted. “Indeed, when we talked earlier, and he was demanding the right to manage my land—”

“He
what?
” Olivia drew back, astonished.

“Never mind; I will explain later. At any rate, at that time he told me he would seek to learn how to manage my land from Jason's estate agent.”

“Exactly so,” Edmund said. “And now I know that agent is you, Miss Ormhill.”

Olivia felt her cheeks warm at this compliment, so rare from a man. “You do not scruple to apprentice yourself to a female? There are many around here who think it quite
impossible, indeed, almost blasphemous, for a woman to manage an estate.”

“I am a pragmatist, Miss Ormhill. I believe what my eyes tell me. As I rode about this morning I could see evidence of advanced agricultural practices, and have been told that you are the one who is responsible. I therefore conclude that I have much to learn from you.”

Olivia's mouth opened slightly and her eyes widened, showing a softness he had not seen in them since she had learned of the wager. “You are an unusual man, Lord Edmund.” Again she tapped her finger to her lips. “Very well, I will agree to that, on one condition: that Jason agrees to learn right alongside you.”

“Oh, no! If I win, you wed. If I lose, you don't. That was our stake,” Jason responded.

“I wish to modify it,” Olivia said. “If you lose, you learn.” Her expression became stern. “Accept that part of the bet or I'll have none of it.”

 

“N
ow see here, Olivia,” Jason began, obviously intent on arguing over the stakes his sister proposed.

“A word in private, Ormhill?” Edmund's tone of voice reflected his several years as an officer in His Majesty's service. He gestured Jason to follow him out onto the veranda.

“You've clearly decided to lose this bet and wiggle out of your obligation to me,” Jason groused as he followed Edmund.

“No such thing. How could I know she'd propose this wager, much less these terms? At least it gives you a chance to achieve your aims. Otherwise I may as well leave today.”

“And if we lose the main wager, this side bet you have proposed will give you an excuse to remain here and become better acquainted with Olivia. Perhaps you will discover that you like one another very well!” Jason brightened at this thought.

“It seems unlikely,” Edmund said, “but possible.” In truth, he thought it impossible. Miss Ormhill's raking him over the coals had made him disinclined to even attempt to win her over. Still, he didn't like to upset the youngster further. “And even if that is not the outcome, you will be capable of managing your own lands.”

“Don't want to manage them,” Jason snarled. “Told you. Want to travel.”

“In that case I shall manage them for you, once I am able. Remember, if you lose, you will be free to travel.”

Jason shook his head. “A wager can't erase what I
promised my father, whatever Livvy may think of the matter. I agreed only because it gave you a chance of marrying her.”

“Then I wonder if it is a valid wager.” Edmund felt troubled about the situation. On the one hand he sympathized with Jason's devotion to duty. On the other, he saw that Olivia was trying to free him from an unnatural restriction.

“As long as we understand between ourselves—Oh, hang it all! We can load two hay wains, can't we?”

“I'm not sure. But consider this: If I take over management of your estate, Olivia may find that time sits heavy on her hands, and will look about her for a husband. And it will be far better for you to spend the next year learning than roving aimlessly about the countryside seeking oblivion in card games and wine bottles.”

“Will it?” Jason scowled. “You can't know what it is like, Lord Edmund. You've had the opportunity to travel, to see the world. I can't so much as leave Buckinghamshire without my sister. It's not only boring, it's humiliating.”

Edmund laughed mirthlessly. “ 'Tis true I've seen a large part of Europe, but through a haze of dust and blood. Never did I pass a day in Spain, Portugal, or France without yearning to return to English soil. In the heat of New Orleans and the muddy, blood-soaked fields of Quatre Bras, I dreamed of just such a peaceful valley, of just such calm summer days. Even the thought of cold, rainy winter days on English soil filled me with longing! This is where I yearned to be, and whether I be here as husband or agent, or even a mere farmhand, here is where I'd like to remain while you travel to your heart's content. If that is impossible, I can gain credentials here that will allow me to find employment elsewhere.”

“Indeed, you win either way,” Jason groused. “Oh, very well. This bet is the best I can do, it seems. But we doubtless will lose. If I know my sister, and I do, it is not as easy as I thought when I mocked her, else she never would have agreed to the terms.”

“No, it isn't.” Edmund chuckled. “Ormhills are certainly dangerous to wager with.”

“Oh, I say!” Jason's gloomy countenance brightened. “I'll bet you know how. You must teach me!”

Olivia and Lavinia had followed the men out and stood nearby, fearing another confrontation. “
Do
you know, Lord Edmund?” Olivia demanded, hurrying toward him.

Edmund smiled reminiscently. “When I was a boy, I was fascinated by all the activities on our home farm. Never one for the books, I'd escape my tutor to help with the planting and harvesting as often as possible. Though it was a long time ago, I did stand atop a hay wain more than once, helping to load it. Not that I was much help. There is a technique to it, as you well know, Miss Ormhill.” He lifted his eyebrows in amused accusation.

Olivia's cheeks pinkened a little. “Of course. Otherwise I'd be a fool to make this bet. And you may
not
teach Jason what you know. He made the wager thinking there was nothing to it, and that is how he must fulfill its terms. I'll have your word of honor on that, gentlemen!”

“You have it, Miss Ormhill,” Edmund said, extending his hand to her.

“Devil take it! Well, know this, Livvy: If we lose, I cannot agree to break my word to my father. I will drop trying to get you to marry Lord Edmund, and I will work on the estate, but that is all.”

“Oh, Jason.” Olivia sighed. “Please reconsider.”

“Absolutely not! Nothing will ever make me do anything so base.” Jason stormed from the room.

“Oh, dear.” Lavinia hurried after him.

“I am sorry you have been forced to witness our family turmoil, Lord Edmund,” Olivia said, mortification plain in her flushed cheeks.

“Do not consider it, Miss Ormhill. I assure you, my family's disagreements were legendary, and have recently become so parlous as to end all sense of kinship.”

“I owe you another apology, for an offense less easily dismissed, sir. I spoke hastily—and cruelly—to you earlier, when I learned of the wager. Now that I know something of your situation, I—”

Edmund interrupted her by holding up his hand for
silence. “We both spoke more sharply than we should have. I must confess there was a great deal of truth in what you said. I have done quite a bit of gaming in my life, and I did, at one point, hope to separate Jason from his purse. And I cannot deny the mercenary nature of my matrimonial aspirations, can I? In fact, only one of your charges was patently untrue.”

Olivia cocked her head to one side. “What was that? I am sorry to say I do not remember everything I said in the heat of the moment.”

“You accused me of foolhardy bravery, Miss Ormhill.”

“Oh, that was truly inexcusable of me,” Olivia wailed, wringing her hands in chagrin. “I have heard what carnage Waterloo was. You have risked your life in battle in the service of your country. I had no right to trivialize it in such a way.”

“I meant to deny my bravery, not my foolhardiness.”

“What . . . what do you mean? My brother says Wellington himself praised you.”

“I performed only one act of true bravery in all my years of service, Miss Ormhill.” Edmund's expression turned somber. “That was the first time I went into battle, as a raw sixteen-year-old. That in my terror I did not turn and run when the enemy began to fire upon us, I will allow to be called brave. After that, I went into each battle as to an unpleasant job. I learned, you see, that death on the battlefield is utterly random. Good men die, bad ones live. The brave perish, the cowardly survive, and vice versa. It seemed pointless to worry about my fate.”

“But you were mentioned in the dispatches. . . .”

“If I fought hard, it was not out of bravery, but out of anger at the waste of it all, the ugliness of it. When the men under my command and my fellow officers began to fall, wounded or dead, a kind of fury rose up in me, a desire to protect those I cared for by killing as many of our enemies as possible.”

Olivia watched in fascination as Edmund's expression took on the ferocity of a man in mortal combat. A little
shudder went through her.
He would be a formidable opponent,
she thought.

Edmund saw Olivia's eyes grow round, her expression almost fearful, and swore softly. “I beg your pardon. I had no intention of speaking of such dreadful experiences to you—a gently bred female should not have to think of such things.”

“I am not so weak a creature as to be unable to bear hearing unpleasant truths,” Olivia snapped. “And I think you would be called brave by any definition, so my apology stands.”

He smiled. “I most definitely do not think you a weak creature, Miss Ormhill. But I prefer not to speak of the war if I can help it. I want to forget it!”

“I can understand that,” she murmured.

“But tell me: Do you really mean to keep your brother kicking his heels in Buckinghamshire forever? I'd say his bad temper now is only a mild foreshadowing of what is to come if he is denied the right to pursue his own way for very much longer. A young man of his temperament, full of juice, must be given a long lead.”

“It is not I who keep him here! You do not understand.”

“I think I do. He will not be freed by anything less than your marriage.”

Olivia turned her head away. “I do not intend to marry.”

Edmund watched her expression grow stormy. “Why do you hate the idea so?”

She bristled. “That is none of your business, Lord Edmund.”

“No, of course it isn't. But I seem to have landed in the midst of your business. I could deal with the situation better if I understood more. Most women are eager to marry. You act as if it is a fate worse than death. Was your parents' marriage terrible? Have you always disliked the idea of marrying, and dared refuse it only after your father's death?”

“No, Lord Edmund. I just do not wish to put my fate in the hands of a man.”

Edmund spoke softly, gently. “Your fiancé's rejection broke your heart. You still love him, don't you?”

Olivia shook her head. “No, I was well rid of him. His character has become better known to me in the intervening years.”

He studied her face thoughtfully. “Perhaps you no longer trust yourself. Having chosen so badly once, you fear to trust your judgment again.”

Olivia felt as if she had been taken into strong, capable arms for a comforting hug. Not only was Lord Edmund sincerely trying to understand her point of view, but he had succeeded in discovering what she had never been quite able to put into words. She could only nod, her eyes brimming with tears. Determined not to cry in front of him, she said, “If you'll excuse me, I have work to do.” She withdrew to her office and busied herself with adding some columns of figures. It was all pretense, of course, for she sat there and fought against the tears that threatened to engulf her. Experience had taught her that once tears had begun, they were almost impossible to shut off. Odd how the understanding and tenderness Lord Edmund had just displayed loosened the spigot in a way that no amount of hurtful comments from her brother could do.

Edmund watched her for a few moments, then turned to survey the vista spread out before him. Beaumont Manor overlooked Norvale, the fertile valley he had surveyed from the road that morning. A variety of grain crops grew there, and along the banks of the small river that meandered through it, rich grass waved in the summer wind.

“Time and past to cut that grass,” he muttered, understanding Miss Ormhill's anxiety to get on with the harvest. He remembered enough about farming from his childhood to know that grass must be cut while it was still green if it was to retain its nourishment when dried. And once cut, it must be dried in the fields before being stored, which meant the task must be completed before rainy weather brought on mildew. These pleasant late July days were haying time, and the farmer delayed at his—or in this case her—peril.

Edmund vowed silently to see that the tart-tongued but appealing Miss Olivia Ormhill succeeded in bringing in the
harvest.
My life is in a muddle, and I have no idea how I may come about, but this at least I can do.

 

That evening Jason seemed to have conquered his bad mood. After dinner he and Edmund had an excellent game of billiards over brandy and cigars. When Edmund had won the third game in a row, and was richer by the possession of Storm and his own waistcoat and riding breeches, Olivia stuck her head in the door. “Six of the clock comes early, gentlemen,” she advised. “You might wish to turn in soon.”

“Six of the . . . !” Jason stared at her, openmouthed. “You cannot be serious.”

“Indeed!”

In spite of her advice to Jason and Lord Edmund, Olivia did not go directly to bed, but returned to her study to go over her accounts.
If I sold those three colts Jason wanted to keep, I could afford to offer higher wages to get back some of my workers.

The thought of the howl her brother would set up over that made Olivia shudder. She stood, stretched her back, and walked to the French doors to stare out over the valley. The river blazed with orange fire, giving back the light of the newly risen full moon.

Harvest moon,
she thought wryly.
If only we actually have a harvest!
Her glum mood lifted, though, as she took in the beauty of the scene. The rising moon was hidden by the side of the house. She opened the French doors and stepped quickly along the veranda, determined to drink in the magic of a full moon. As she rounded the corner she crashed into someone. “Unnh,” she groaned as she staggered back. Momentary alarm had her struggling to flee even though she had not yet caught her balance. Strong arms caught her as she swayed dangerously near the edge of the porch.