The Fifth Kiss (23 page)

“That she would be your
sister
one day? No, I don't suppose you
could
have guessed.” He grinned at her mischievously. “Although anyone with half an eye could have noticed how smitten I was when she walked into the house that morning to fetch you back to Langley. It was love at first sight, you know.”

“Was it really?” Olivia asked curiously. “I didn't notice it at
all.
” Here was another example of her amazing ignorance in matters of the heart. She felt a vague frustration. When would she
ever
learn about love?

Charles, complacent and expansive, spent the next half hour telling his wide-eyed sister about his wedding plans. Elspeth had insisted on returning to Langley Park as soon as she was well enough to travel, unwilling to leave the problem of Perry's emotional state on Olivia's shoulders alone. But she'd promised her ardent lover that, as soon as Perry was in a better frame of mind, she would give her notice. Then, when Lord Strickland had found a suitable governess to replace her, she would be free to marry him. Until then, they would keep their betrothal secret. Charles could only hope that the entire process would not be long. “I shan't be able to contain my patience for more than a few weeks,” he confided to her sister, “so I hope I can count on your assistance in freeing the girl from her obligations as soon as can be.”

Olivia, as she became accustomed to her brother's news, found herself more and more delighted at the prospect of Charles' forthcoming nuptials. She assured him of her support with the utmost sincerity and wished him happy with glowing enthusiasm.

A little later, Lord Strickland put his head in the door to say that his aunt had retired for the night and that he was about to do the same. “Eugenia has asked me to wish you good night. I shall add my civilities to hers and leave you both to your
tête-à-tête.
”

“I believe our
tête-à-tête
is quite concluded,” Charles said, rising. “Shall we all go upstairs together, Livie, my dear?”

“You go ahead, Charles. If his lordship can spare me a moment, there is something I would like to say to him before I retire.”

Strickland came into the room, giving Charles a questioning glance as the two men passed each other. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I don't think so,” Charles said, giving him a reassuring wink. “Good night to you both.”

When the door had closed behind Charles, Strickland frowned down on Olivia quellingly. “I hope you do not intend to renew your attack on me for inviting my aunt to stay with us. I've heard quite enough on that score.”

“No, I don't. Quite the opposite, in face. Please sit down, Miles. My brother tells me that I am
beholden
to you for inviting her. I … I feel that I must apologize for what I said to you earlier.”

“There's not the slightest need for apology, my dear,” he said, nevertheless taking the chair opposite hers. “I quite sympathize with your feelings. My aunt is a managing female, to be sure.”

“Yes, but you must let me express my regret at my outburst. I was very foolish and … naive. Please accept my thanks … belated though they are … for inviting her. The act shows a thoughtfulness of my position that I didn't … er …”

“Didn't expect of such a monster as I am?” he finished, a slight suggestion of his ironic smile making an appearance at the corner of his mouth.

She felt herself flush. “I was
not
going to say ‘monster.'”

His smile widened. “I shall not dare to ask what you
were
going to say. Let us leave well-enough alone.” He got up and helped her to her feet.

“But I do thank you sincerely for what you did,” she insisted earnestly as they walked from the drawing room to the stairs.

He raised an eyebrow at her, suspicious of her unwonted humility. “Even if you have
two
‘companions' to contend with—one of whom has already indicated that she will attempt to interfere with your plans and your schedules and so forth?”

Olivia paused at the foot of the stairs and put up her chin. “As to that, my lord—”

“
My lord
, again?” he teased.

She ignored the interruption. “As to that, I hope you will come to my support when your aunt—or my cousin, for that matter—tries to take over the reins.”

“No, my dear, I will not. I shall endeavor to avoid all such female altercations, even if it means hiding in the stables. So be warned.”

She tossed him a look of scorn. “Coward! I might have known you would choose a craven's role.”

“I confess it openly. Call me coward if you wish, but if you believe that using that epithet will drive me to promise you to put myself in the midst of these women's wrangles, you've completely mistaken your man,” he declared, his grin wide and his unsympathetic manner apparently unshakable.

She stamped her foot in irritation. “Very well, sir. But I warn you, I shall
not
be overridden by those two … harridans. They may be your guests, but I shall not let that fact deter me. I shall
fight
them … every step of the way!”

He met her challenging look with one of wry amusement. “I was certain that you
would
, ma'am,” he said drily. And, with a friendly nod, he bid her goodnight and went callously up the stairs to bed.

chapter sixteen

But Olivia did not have to quarrel with her two “companions” at all, for the chaperones, having taken an instant dislike to each other, were too busy bickering between themselves to pay much attention to Olivia and her doings. Not an hour would go by when Eugenia would not make some pronouncement which Hattie would negate. “I always take eggs and lightly salted lamb for luncheon,” Eugenia would state, intending to order Olivia to so inform the cook.

“One should never eat eggs or meat for luncheon,” Hattie would counter, her thin lips pursed in disapproval and her eyes fixed on her omnipresent needlework. “At that time of day, they become putrescent in the stomach and one suffers from alkaline corruption.
I
always eat a great deal of fruit and cheese for the afternoon meal.”

Eugenia would redden and her impressive bulk would start slightly to quiver. “Balderdash!” she would exclaim in her masculine voice. “I have been eating eggs and meat for all these years, and my digestion is excellent. One needs eggs and meat for the proper balance between the radical heat and the radical moisture of the body.”

“Radical heat? Radical moisture?” Hattie would cackle in disparagement. “There's not a medical man in the whole of Christendom who still believes such antiquated bibble-babble.”

“My doctor believes in it, and
he
has been an advisor to Princess Caroline herself!” Eugenia would exclaim.

And so the argument would lengthen, involving all the theories they'd ever heard in regard to nutrition and medicine, and including all the royal personages whose names could be dragged in to support their claims. Meanwhile, Olivia would quietly inform the cook to go ahead and prepare the menu that she and the cook had long ago decided upon.

While Aunt Eugenia and Cousin Hattie argued about the meals, Olivia and Strickland took the children on their daily outings. While the chaperones debated about the propriety of including young children at the tea-table, the children were already present, unmindfully drinking their chocolate and eating their jelly sandwiches. While the two elderly ladies bickered about what card games would be most entertaining for the family after dinner, the rest of the members of the household had already dispersed to do what they wanted.

Olivia managed, during the next few days, to retire early. She had a great deal to think about, and the thinking was best done in the privacy of her bedroom. The most immediate problem was the status of the tutor, for his fortnight of grace was rapidly coming to an end. Strickland had listened politely to Olivia's arguments in favor of retaining him on the staff, but his lordship had made no decision on the matter. Beyond her favorable assessment of the tutor's scholarship and her feeling that Perry was attached to him, Olivia could think of no other justifications for keeping him on. She only hoped that Perry's need for a sense of continuance and stability would be sufficient reason for Strickland to countermand his earlier dictum.

She also thought about Perry's progress. The boy had lost the terrified look that she'd seen at the back of his eyes when she'd first arrived, and he seemed to be more comfortable in his father's presence than ever before, but he was still rather silent and withdrawn. Olivia had never heard him stand up to his father. The boy had never—even in the smallest way, like making an objection to wearing his goloshoes—rebelled against anything his father said to him. It was Olivia's secret goal to build up the boy's spirit to the point where he would have the courage not only to rebel but to be strong enough to face his father's wrath without backing down.

Another subject that occupied her mind was her brother's betrothal. She remembered with remarkable clarity that Clara had told her, “You're not the sort to be a matchmaker, Livie. You haven't the knack.” Clara had been quite right—she had no talent in matters of the heart. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have believed that her brother would be attracted to Miss Elspeth. Not that there was anything wrong with the match; Elspeth Deering was a gentlewoman with a sweet nature, well-reared and well-educated. She was in no way foolish or vulgar. But she hadn't the sharpness of mind that Charles had. She was always so indecisive, so vague, so vacillating in her thinking that at times one could not even follow what she said. Often her sentences verged on incoherency. How could a man like Charles—a scholar and a writer, a man capable of incisive thought and exact expression—become enamored of a woman with so wispy a mind? She wished Clara were here to explain it to her.

“People don't take to each other in such neat, comfortable patterns,” Clara had said. And she'd been right about
that
, too. But then, how
did
people “take to each other”? What made them lean in one direction and not in another? Charles had met dozens of eligible ladies in his adult years. Why, of all of them, did
Elspeth
attract him?

Olivia had gone so far as to
ask
Charles that question. He had been her teacher in so many subjects, perhaps he could teach her something about the subject in which she was most deficient. But he had only shrugged and replied that he didn't know. “All I remember is that her nose was red with cold,” he'd said. “It is such a very small nose, and it was so red it looked clownish. There sat this young woman in our hallway, her feet planted together on the floor in perfect decorum, her hands in her lap clutching a single glove, a proper but horridly dowdy hat sitting bravely on her head … and that silly red nose making a mockery of all that rigid and respectable propriety. In ordinary circumstances, I suppose I would have laughed and gone about my business. But that morning, the sight of that cold little nose touched me. I had the most overwhelming desire to … to
protect
her. To take care of her
always
. Isn't that strange? The feeling has never left me since.”

Olivia had been moved by the story, of course, but it had not been particularly instructive. A pathetic little red nose seemed an imprecise explanation for love … and a woefully inadequate motive for marriage. Olivia could think of only one other reason for her brother's attraction: Miss Elspeth's beauty. Olivia had noticed from the first that Elspeth had a lovely face. But the beauty was hidden behind the distracted expression, the wispy hair and the helpless, fluttery manner. Charles, sensitive and perceptive, had managed to penetrate through the superficial disguise to the lovely core. The red nose had drawn his attention to the less-obvious attractions behind it.

But was physical beauty the secret of love? Was
that
all one needed in order to feel drawn to another—the attraction of
a face
? It could not be, for she had found Morley Crawford as handsome a fellow as any she'd met, yet she'd never felt the slightest inclination to
love
him. There must be something more to it.

Again she had to put the puzzle aside. The subject was too complex to yield an answer on the basis of vicarious experience. Books didn't help her; her brother's experience didn't help her. She realized that, until she felt the emotion firsthand, she would never truly understand love's secret nature.

Meanwhile, there were things to do and think about which were of much more immediate importance. She had to find a way to save Mr. Clapham from discharge, she had to find a replacement for Elspeth, and she had to find a way to convince Elspeth to come down to dinner with the family. Elspeth had always taken her meals with the children and, wishing to keep her betrothal a secret until the proper time, was reluctant to change her custom. “It will give the secret away entirely,” she protested when Olivia had first invited her. “What other reason could you find for making such a … you know … change in our customary …?”

“But I don't
need
to find a reason,” Olivia had insisted. “I've always felt that you should dine with the family. There are many households in which the governesses are treated more like family than like servants.”

“Oh, no, Miss Olivia. I don't think you can be right. I've never heard …”

“And you must stop calling me
Miss
Olivia, Elspeth. Charles calls me Livie, and so must you.”

“Oh, dear, I don't think I can ever become used to …”

“Yes, you can,” Olivia assured her firmly. “You'll be surprised at how easily you'll become accustomed to it.”

But Elspeth was too shy to agree to
any
of Olivia's suggestions. The astounding and enormous change in her life was too recent for her to be able to face all its ramifications with equanimity. She adored her Charles with enraptured awe, and she could scarcely believe that he loved her and wanted to make her his wife. It was enough for her to think of their moments together … of their strange meeting … of the quick growth of their mutual affection … of his sudden proposal of marriage. She would sit in the schoolroom gazing absently at the opposite wall, a slight smile on her lips and a flush on her cheeks, reliving every moment of that miraculous week in London. (Poor little Amy had to tug on her sleeve to get her attention.) Those memories were enough for now. She couldn't yet cope with more.