Stephanie James Read online

  Philip’s face twisted into a look of confusion.

  Olivia, pleasant? Olivia … Miss Olivia Winter? The woman who had acidly scolded Philip more times than he could count? The woman who had told him numerous times that he was the most disgracefully arrogant man she had ever met in her entire life? That Olivia was charming?

  One would assume that Olivia was indeed in possession of an aspect of her personality that was charming and nice, but Philip had never seen it. And to know that Masters had just walked through Philip’s own gardens with the kind and pleasant Olivia Winter, well … that was a little more than Philip could tolerate.

  He lifted his gun skyward again as another wave of birds took flight. He fired four shots, but missed every time.

  • • •

  “Miss Olivia!” exclaimed the duchess. “Please do come and join us.”

  With great reluctance, Olivia entered the drawing room and sat as delicately as possible on an unoccupied chaise. She had been on her way to the library when the duchess — obviously having spotted her as she passed by the open doorway — called out her name.

  Olivia did not want to join the other ladies. In fact, she had been avoiding being alone with any of them ever since she had arrived at Tyndall Hall, but she had finally been captured without hope of escape. How could she ignore a duchess?

  To add to her misfortune, the room was populated by more women than just the duchess. The two younger girls were present, as well as a woman whom Olivia had never before seen. Upon entering the room and seating herself, the woman was introduced to Olivia as Lady Albright, a neighbor of Philip’s, who had recently arrived from the north with her husband, the Viscount Albright.

  “How are you this morning, Miss Olivia?” asked Lady Lillian once introductions had been made.

  Olivia, having quickly noticed the ladies had their hands neatly placed one on top of the other in their laps, arranged her hands to match the ladies’. “I am well, Lady Lillian,” said Olivia. “Thank you.”

  Lady Lillian smiled.

  “And how do you find your accommodations?” asked the duchess. “Comfortable, I do hope.”

  “Oh, they are very comfortable, to be sure, your grace,” Olivia replied.

  The duchess smiled. “Wonderful,” she said. “Philip will be pleased to know that his guests are comfortable.”

  Philip would be pleased by such news? Well … in that case …

  “Actually, my quarters were rather drafty last night, come to think of it,” said Olivia, amending her earlier statement. “Yes, in fact I recall a moment last night during which I was awoken by the cold.”

  “Oh, dear,” said the duchess concernedly. “That is most unfortunate. Perhaps you would like to be moved to another room, my dear?”

  Olivia had not expected this. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, your grace,” she said, flustered.

  “Nonsense,” the duchess replied. “You will be moved at once.”

  The duchess then summoned a maid and dispensed the order that Olivia’s things be moved from her current room to another, warmer one.

  “Thank you, your grace,” said Olivia, slightly embarrassed that she had caused such a fuss.

  “Not at all, dear. Do let me know if you experience any amount of discomfort with your new situation.”

  “I will indeed, your grace,” said Olivia, bowing her head slightly.

  A maid entered the room with a tray of tea, which was next poured into cups and dispensed accordingly. Then conversation began.

  “Did Viscount Albright not wish to hunt, Lady Albright?” asked the duchess.

  “Quite the opposite, your grace,” said Lady Albright. “He so wished to come and join the others, but business with our lands in the north have kept him from the hunt. But he sent me along as it is becoming quite cold near the border.”

  “How unfortunate,” said the duchess. “Perhaps next time he will be able to attend.”

  “Yes, he hopes so as well,” said Lady Albright.

  “Lady Lillian,” said the duchess. “Why don’t you tell Lady Albright about the book you were describing to me? Perhaps she would enjoy it as well.”

  Lady Lillian’s face lit up. “I would love to, your grace. That is if Lady Albright would wish to hear about it.”

  “Of course, my dear,” said Lady Albright. “I do love to read.”

  “Well, then,” Lady Lillian began, “It is a romantic tale, but I think it is most intriguing. It all begins in a faraway land, positively filled with mystery and intrigue …”

  Olivia listened here and there, but mainly she kept quiet and stared at the carpet. She knew nothing of the sort of books Lady Lillian read, or of London fashion, or of gossip, or of planning events. The women were not mean or unpleasant, that much again was true, but Olivia still did not feel a part of their crowd. She was not noble; she was common. She had been to London only once in her life; the women present resided there for most of the year, and as a consequence, they had access to the latest books and The London Times, which made them far more knowledgeable about the world in general than she was.

  She had nothing to add to their conversation, and so, Olivia quietly sipped her tea as she looked around the room, patiently waiting for the moment she would be allowed to leave and go about her own business undisturbed.

  “I have noticed the gentleman have taken quite a liking to you, Miss Olivia.”

  At first Olivia had only heard her name. She looked up quickly to see all the women staring at her. Then, once she realized exactly what had been said, she was frankly a little shocked that a lady of stature had dared to utter such a statement. Apparently Olivia was not the only person present who shared this opinion, either.

  “Amelia,” hissed the duchess, taking a break from her pleasant demeanor to scold her daughter. Her teacup clattered loudly with its saucer, a result of having moved it away from her mouth quickly while sipping, shocked by Amelia’s words. “That was entirely improper.”

  “Oh, come now, Mama,” said Lady Amelia, seemingly unaffected by her mother’s tone. “We are but a small group of women, and each of us is familiar with one another. There is no reason why we cannot speak plainly.”

  “There most certainly is,” said the duchess. “Lady Albright and Miss Olivia have only just been introduced to us this week. They are most certainly appalled by your statement.”

  “I am perfectly unoffended, to be sure, your grace,” said Lady Albright. “Besides, this seems a very interesting subject to discuss.” She smiled broadly, her curiosity far too intrigued to conceal her eagerness to hear such gossip. Lady Amelia smiled at her mother victoriously. The duchess returned her daughter’s look with one of extreme disapproval but said nothing before taking another dainty sip of her tea.

  “I do not believe they are all interested in me,” said Olivia.

  “Oh, but they are,” declared Amelia. “I have never seen Lord Masters so flustered around a woman. He likes you for certain. And Mr. Southerland!” She paused to laugh. “He often shows off, but never have I seen him so boisterous. You make him nervous.”

  “Oh my,” said Lady Albright. She had been hanging on Amelia’s every word. She looked at Olivia. “How will you choose, my dear?”

  “Philip doesn’t seem entirely too pleased by the whole charade,” said Lady Lillian before taking in a bit more of her tea.

  Lady Amelia smiled knowingly. “No, he does not, Lilly,” she said. “Well spotted.”

  “What do you mean, Lady Lillian?” asked the duchess.

  “Oh,” Lillian said, noticeably unprepared to explain her meaning. She shifted her weight on the sofa. “I only meant that I have never seen him look so … angry, I suppose is the word to describe it. Doubtless he is embarrassed by his male guests’ attempts at Miss Olivia and thus upset with them.”

  “Oh, he is upset with them for certain,” said Lady Amelia, “but for an entirely different reason.”

  Olivia did not understand. Her face twisted in confusion and she
looked at Lady Amelia as though examining her face might help her to understand.

  “Hush, Amelia,” said the duchess, who had immediately caught on to her daughter’s hidden meaning. “You cannot know that for sure.”

  Lady Albright was looking back and forth between the two women, her mouth opened slightly. “Know what?” she asked impatiently. “Lady Lillian, what are they talking about?” But Lady Lillian had taken a sip of her tea, obviously reluctant to say anything now that the duchess was upset. “Know what?” Lady Albright continued.

  Olivia did not understand the source of the tension that now filled the room. She and Lady Albright were much in the same party, as she too was lost in translation.

  “We shall see, Mama,” said Lady Amelia. She began prodding the lemon in her tea. Then the room fell silent once more but the tension remained as thick as fog.

  What other reason could Lord Philip possibly have for being upset with his male guests? Lady Lillian’s assumption seemed the most logical. As stodgy as Lord Philip was about propriety, a trait he had obviously acquired from his equally proper mother, it was undeniably embarrassing to have them pursuing her. But what did Lady Amelia mean? Was she trying to imply that Lord Philip had developed some sort of attachment to her, one that might inspire him to behave as a brother? Richard did begin to act a bit protective whenever men showed interest in her. Perhaps that was it, but Olivia doubted it.

  In fact the only possibility of which she was absolutely certain was that nothing, apart from a guilty conscious for something he had done, could compel Lord Philip to think about her at all.

  • • •

  “Good God, Philip, control yourself!” the duke ordered.

  Philip lowered his gun. It had been pointed straight at Mr. Southerland.

  “What are you playing at, Ravenshaw?” asked Mr. Southerland angrily. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you want the girl for yourself.”

  Philip began to charge at Mr. Southerland once more, but the duke held him back. “Calm down, boy! What is the matter with you? I’ve never before seen you behave in such a manner.”

  Philip straightened up. He brushed the front of his jacket off and buttoned a loosened button as he tried to think of an excuse for the spectacle he had just made of himself. The truth of the matter, however, was that he had no excuse. He had never behaved in such a manner, just as his father had said. He had never felt inspired to, but Southerland’s joking had not just pushed him over the edge of reason, it had hurled him.

  “Just you wait until I get to spend some time with Miss Winter, Masters,” Mr. Southerland had said. “I’ll have her in love with me by the end of the week.”

  These comments alone had been enough to make Philip want to shoot Mr. Southerland, but his next comment had prompted Philip to actually try it.

  “With any luck, she will return to London with me,” Mr. Southerland had said. “Tell me, Masters, is Nigel a good, strong name for our first child?”

  At the utterance of this comment, Philip had swung his gun away from the sky and aimed straight for Mr. Southerland. And now here he stood in the tall grass, disgraced by his actions with all the men staring at him, waiting for an explanation.

  “He was being improper,” said Philip simply.

  “Improper?” asked the duke, incredulously. “That is your reasoning for attempting to shoot your friend? He was being improper?”

  “He was speaking improperly of a lady whose father is present!” Philip bellowed. “How could you all stand by and laugh at words which clearly insult Mr. Winter? His daughter is not up for sport.”

  Everyone seemed to ponder this for a moment. Mr. Southerland especially must have thought about his words because his next statement was, “Allow me to apologize, Mr. Winter. I meant no disrespect at all. Miss Winter is a fine, respectable young lady, and my words have not acknowledged that I think so.” He bowed his head slightly to Mr. Winter. “Forgive me.”

  Mr. Winter returned the gesture by bowing his slightly as well. “You are forgiven,” he said.

  Mr. Southerland bowed more deeply, and then turned on his heel to retrieve his gun and continue hunting. The other men also returned to their sport, all except Philip. He rushed up to Mr. Winter.

  “Edward, you cannot possibly let him off that easily,” said Philip. “He was talking about your daughter.”

  Mr. Winter merely laughed and slapped a hand on Philip’s shoulder. “Oh, come now, my boy,” said Mr. Winter. “There was no real harm done. His words were tasteless, that is true, but he seems to be the type of man to say one thing when he actually means another. He reminds me of myself when I was his age, full of fight and ready to charge. He shall be a perfect match for Olivia, I dare say. I do hope she chooses him.”

  Philip just simply started at Mr. Winter. “You cannot be serious,” he said, astounded.

  “Of course I am,” said Mr. Winter. “Olivia is like her mother — delicate and sweet. My wife is the reason I straightened out. Olivia would do the same for Mr. Southerland, and he will love her for it. Trust me.”

  “I am not sure they will suit, Edward,” said Philip.

  “Nonsense,” replied Mr. Winter. “They will be a perfect match, just you wait and see. She will choose him.”

  When the conversation ended, Mr. Winter returned to the hunt and talking with the other men. Philip remained on his own, away from everyone else.

  When lunch had been served under the garden pavilion, Philip waited for the ladies to appear. He wanted a chance to speak with Olivia himself. Through all the commotion of his guests finding their seats and the footmen serving the food, Philip searched for Olivia and subsequently found her, under a large tree a small distance away from the group. They would have privacy, but not so much as to be improper. It was the perfect time to speak to her.

  But speak to her about what? Any actual subject he might select mattered little. All he wanted was to keep her attention from the other men, to have her smile at him for once. Perhaps he might even discover if she was as enamored with his male guests as they were with her, but the opportunity eventually passed him by.

  He prepared to descend the steps and approach her, but when one foot touched the grass, he made the mistake of looking up at Olivia. A light breeze flowed through the branches of the trees. She closed her eyes and lifted her head to breathe in as a few strawberry curls — escapees from the bun atop her head — fluttered across her face. Philip had never seen her look more beautiful than in that moment, more at peace, or happy. She was lovely, and it left him speechless.

  Instead he could only feel. Mostly in that moment he felt a longing for her, but there was peace, too. He had never felt more at ease, more certain of any truth, or more struck by anything in his entire life. And the mere sight of Olivia enjoying the breeze flow across her face was what had created it all.

  He meant to go to her; he wanted to go to her, even more so now after the swirl of emotions he had just experienced, but his feet were fixed on the spot. He simply stared and admired. But he admired for a little too long as it turned out, because before Philip could recover from the spell Olivia had cast upon him, Mr. Southerland emerged from behind the tree upon which Olivia was leaning.

  “I have found it for you, Miss Olivia,” he said, “a flower matching your exact specifications. I hope it pleases you.”

  “It does indeed,” said Olivia as she tucked the flower behind her ear. “It is most lovely.”

  “But not as lovely as you,” said Mr. Southerland. He reached up to tuck a wayward curl behind her other ear. Olivia smiled up at him warmly, with much the same look on her face as when she had closed her eyes to enjoy the wind. And in seeing that look appear on her face once again, and knowing that Mr. Southerland was the cause of it, Philip’s peaceful and relaxed mood disappeared and was replaced with an anger so intense he was thankful he did not have his rifle handy this time.

  He stormed away from the pavilion. He could not bear to watch Olivia dole o
ut anymore smiles to another man. As he walked, he raked a hand through his hair and wondered exactly how it was possible that in one single, enchanted moment he had been more entranced, captivated, and mesmerized by Miss Olivia Winter than any other woman he had ever known.

  • • •

  “Look at him, Lilly,” whispered Amelia. “See? I told you so. I knew it! I just knew it!”

  She and Lady Lillian were standing next to a column of the pavilion, watching Lord Philip as he stared at Olivia.

  “He does appear to be quite taken with her,” agreed Lillian.

  “He is far more than just taken with her, Lilly,” said Amelia. “Did you not see how he stomped off like a petulant child? I have seen that look about him before. He loves her.”

  Lillian sighed. “But what about Lord Masters and Mr. Southerland?” she asked. “They appear to be taken with her as well.”

  Amelia scoffed. “They are merely competing with one another. It is what gentlemen do. Neither of them feels as strongly for Miss Winter as Philip does, believe me, Lilly.”

  “I suppose I believe you, Amelia,” said Lillian. “But what do you intend to do about it? Philip would never compete with his friends.”

  “No, I dare say he would not, Lilly,” said Amelia, and then smiled mischievously. “But I have a plan.”

  “I do hope it is a good plan, Amelia,” said Lillian. “I do so love a happy ending, but we all leave Tyndall Hall in less than a week to return to London for Christmas. Philip will be coming, too, and Miss Winter shall remain here in Dorset. You haven’t enough time to convince him he loves her.”

  Amelia pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “No, it is not enough time, Lilly,” she said. “But I have not yet told you my plan.”

  Lillian chuckled. “You realize, Amelia that not only did you refuse to believe me at first about your brother and Miss Winter, but for someone who turns her nose up at romantic tales, you seem to be very interested in playing matchmaker.”

  “Yes, well I believe you now. And those stories are fiction, dear Lilly,” said Amelia. “Philip and Olivia are right here before us, and much more easily manipulated than a plot.” She rubbed her hands together conspiratorially. “Helping a love to grow is quite a bit more fun than simply reading about it.”