Fencing for Ladies (The Archer Family Regency Romances #5) (25 page)

“What do you say, child?” Doña Luisa prompted her.

Miss Bron studied Olivia with a frown creasing the smooth skin of her brow. “You cannot make me like you, you know. Even if you give me a dog.”

“Miss Bron!” Doña Luisa said, a stern look hardening her face. Her mouth compressed into a thin line as she studied the girl.

Miss Bron’s chin tilted up, and her eyes flashed with defiance as she looked from her grandmother to Olivia.

“Of course, I cannot,” Olivia agreed complacently. “However, I am sure we can be friends. And I can provide you with a near endless supply of puppies, if you are interested in such things.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Miss Bron stared at her for a full thirty seconds before she covered her mouth with one thin hand and giggled. She jerked her head up to push a long, dark lock of hair over her shoulder before she dropped a quick curtsey. But as if she needed the reassurance, her left hand never left Bathsheba’s smooth head.

“Thank you, Lady Olivia,” Miss Bron said.

“You are quite welcome.” Olivia brushed off her skirt and returned to her seat, only to have Justinia lean against her and sit on her feet. She looked around and almost laughed. The dogs had disposed themselves cleverly amongst the three guests and Olivia, so each animal could receive as much attention it wanted.

Doña Luisa sighed and brushed a few tan and white hairs from her dress. “I regret that our visit must be short, Lady Olivia. I have promised Miss Bron a trip to Gunter’s Tea Shop.”

Miss Bron’s hand paused in stroking Bathsheba’s ears, and a wide smile glowed on her elfin face as she looked at her grandmother. “I am to have a cake — whichever cake I want!”

Olivia stood. “Certainly. I am pleased to have made your acquaintance, and I hope you will visit me again. Perhaps, if you are going to Gunter’s, you should leave the dogs here.” When she saw the look of panicked disappointment in Miss Bron’s face, she hastened to add, “We will send them to you this afternoon, however. Never fear.”

Miss Bron glanced at her father. He smiled and nodded, encouraging her to relax enough to smile at Olivia and say, “Thank you, Lady Olivia.” She curtseyed and moved to lean against her grandmother’s knee.

“My son may stay, however,” Doña Luisa said. “I understand he has other business here.”

“And he may bring the dogs home —
please
, Papa?” Miss Bron ran to her father and draped herself over his lap to gaze up pleadingly into his face. Bathsheba yipped and followed quickly to also press against Lord Milbourn. “Please, Papa?”

Lord Milbourn’s eyes warmed with amusement as he looked into his daughter’s eyes, and he pushed her long black hair off her shoulders. He sighed in mock exasperation and shook his head. “Very well,
mi niña bonita
. I shall bring the dogs with me when I return. But I shall only do so if you promise not to annoy your grandmother, or grow ill from eating too many cakes.”

“I shall not, since I can never eat too many.” She stifled a giggle as she leaned against her father and looped an arm around his neck to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Your promise fails to reassure me,” her father replied wryly.

His daughter giggled again and then pressed her hand over her mouth as she cast a measuring glance at Olivia.

Olivia smiled reassuringly and shook her head.

“Say a proper goodbye to Lady Olivia,” Lord Milbourn said, “and then you may go.”

Miss Bron was quick to comply with the required social conventions. She curtseyed and remarked grandly that she had enjoyed meeting Lady Olivia, all the while her eyes glowed and her feet danced to be on her way.

Olivia rang for Latimore, who came, accompanied by a footman and several leashes. The butler escorted the two ladies to the carriage, waiting for them in the street, while the footman led the dogs away.

When Olivia turned away from the door, she found Lord Milbourn had moved to stand next to her. Her breath caught in her throat. She took a step forward, leaving only six inches between them. Warmth radiated from him, filling the space between them, and her gaze fixed on the soft, white folds of his starched linen neckcloth.

Slowly, hesitatingly, she placed her palm against his chest. His heart beat strong beneath the smooth wool of his jacket. He smelled of bay and cloves, and she closed her eyes briefly to breathe in the heady scent.

When she lifted her head, he slipped a hand around her neck and pulled her closer to press a kiss against her lips.

“Honestly, you might give a fellow a b-bit of warning,” Peregrine said in a disgusted voice.

Lord Milbourn released her abruptly, and Olivia stepped away, her cheeks flaming.

Her brother stood in the doorway, his fists on his hips. He looked from one to the other before he sighed and shook his head. “I suppose you expect me to c-call him out now, and d-defend your honor.”

“I expect nothing of the sort,” Olivia said. “Other than to have the decency to turn around and grant us some privacy.”

Peregrine smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I would be happy to oblige, except you have another visitor — I s-saw her on the s-stairs coming up.” He turned his head. “Miss Denholm.”

Cynthia brushed past Peregrine briskly, drawing off her gloves. The fading remnants of a bruise colored her left temple and the area around her eye with a vivid combination of blue, green, and yellow splotches. Unfortunately, her dark green walking dress highlighted it beautifully, making it even more noticeable than it might normally have been.

Cynthia nodded to them. “You are looking well, Lady Olivia. Lord Milbourn.” Striding over to the fireplace, she held her hands out and rubbed them vigorously. “Dreadful weather. Starting to sleet, so I suppose all the walkways will shortly be covered with ice.”

Olivia exchanged glances with Lord Milbourn. One of his dark brows rose, and a half-smile twisted his mouth to one side.

“You ought not stay, t-then,” Peregrine said, crossing his arms over his chest. “W-would you like a c-coach?”

Olivia frowned at him and shook her head. Much as she would like to have been alone with Lord Milbourn for a few moments longer, she was not so rude as to suggest Cynthia leave immediately after her arrival.

After all, it was her duty to endure fifteen minutes for a social call.

“A coach? Why would I want a coach?” Cynthia stared at Peregrine, her eyes wide with astonishment. “A little sleet does no harm.” She studied Lord Milbourn and Olivia, a smile growing on her face. “Ah, I see. Private conference and whatnot. Don’t need to hit me over the head.” She grimaced. “Again. Well, I won’t stay, then. Just came to ask after your health.” She drew her green leather gloves back on and walked toward the door. “Is Mr. Archer about?”

Peregrine straightened and looked at Olivia, his mouth opening and shutting with surprise. “W-what?” He cleared his throat and hastily added, “At your service, of course.”

“Not you — Mr. Edward Archer,” Cynthia replied.

“Edward?” Peregrine’s expression of confusion deepened. He stared at Olivia as if seeking enlightenment.

Olivia raised one hand, palm up, to signal she had no further knowledge than he had.

Poor Edward, I hope he is already at his club, or he could find himself buttonholed again by a very determined Miss Cynthia Denholm.

“
I saw Mr. Edward Archer leaving just as we arrived,” Lord Milbourn said. He cupped Olivia’s elbow in one hand, and she could almost feel the subtle rumble of a smothered chuckle shake him.

“Well, that is that, then. I must say, Lady Olivia, that it is time he found himself a wife. Past time. These eternal bachelors — not a good thing. Leads to bad health and whatnot.” Cynthia flashed a stern look at Peregrine.

Peregrine turned pale, and his fingers began to fidget with one of the brass buttons adorning his sky blue waistcoat. “Right. W-well. He is not here.” He politely stuck out his elbow to escort Cynthia down the stairs, although the grimly desperate expression on his face looked like he’d much rather dash off without her than perform this particular duty. “Are you leaving, t-then?”

“No point in staying, is there? Good day to you, Lady Olivia. Lord Milbourn.” She slipped her hand around his elbow and allowed him to drag her toward the staircase.

“Poor Mr. Archer,” Lord Milbourn murmured in Olivia’s ear.

“Which one?” Olivia laughed and looked up at him, so filled with love that she thought she would burst. “I fear if Mr. Peregrine Archer is not careful, he will have a betrothal to announce upon his return.”

“Then he will not be the only one.” He brushed her cheek tenderly with his fingers and caught her gaze, his eyes dark with an intensity that caused a cloud of butterflies to flutter in her stomach.

“No. My sister, Lady Margaret—”

He gave her a slight shake. “Not Lady Margaret.
Lady
Olivia
. Did you not guess when I brought my mother and daughter here to meet you, that I hoped you would consider a more permanent place in my life?”

“Permanent? As a fencing partner?”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. “We can fence as often as you wish when you are Lady Milbourn.”

“Or Lady Olivia—”

He pressed a long kiss to her lips before she laughingly pushed him away.

“I have not agreed,” she complained, leaning away to stare up at him. Joy constricted her throat, and all she could do was grin idiotically.

“Have I been presumptuous, then, in speaking to the earl?”

She had to swallow a bubble of excitement before she could say, “No. High-handed, perhaps, but not quite presumptuous.”

“And what is your answer?” His voice was rough as his strong arms tightened around her.

“You have not spoken of love—” she complained.

“I have, as you well know.” He gave her a small squeeze. “To repeat, I love you — I’ve loved you for these past ten years.”

She laughed, unable to speak, and reached up to trace the high curve of his cheekbone with her fingertips and the faint line of his freshly shaved beard.

“And you?” he whispered.

“I have loved you since I was eighteen, as
you
are well aware.” Bubbling joy broke through her words, making them froth in a merry little stream.

Before she could say more, he pressed another kiss to her eager lips. Finally, she relaxed against him, feeling his warmth and strength fill her.

She was beloved, and she belonged. And her dreams did not seem so out of reach at all.

THE END

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