Page 19 of Waiting for Love

“That all sounds rather Taverstonian,” Benjamin said.

Reg grinned. “It is. The cottage was shamefully neglected. But Crispin wants to handle any renovations himself.”

“From Portugal? While fighting a war?”

Reg nodded. “Exactly. So if Jasper puts anything to you—”

“I’m not getting in the middle of that.” He pictured Jasper and Crispin in fighting mettle. Then he laughed out loud. In truth, no bond was ever tighter.

Reg chuckled along. Then, offhandedly, he asked, “Are you busy? Will you join us for luncheon?”

“I’m afraid I do have a rather pressing matter to attend to.”

“Tea, then.”

“I—” He shook his head. “That is my time to spend with Hannah.”

“Bring her.”

An ache spread throughout his whole body. He wanted to. That was the danger. How badly he wanted to. The earnestness of Reg’s expression made him ache more. He was the brother who should understand.

He set his jaw and ground out, “Mr. Taverston, don’t.”

Reg flushed and his eyes darkened, wounded. He answered quietly. “All right, Mr. Carroll. I won’t. But you can expect Iversley will.”

Chapter Eight

Jasper’s message had thrown the household into an uproar that increased rather than subsided over the next two days. Olivia was thrilled, naturally, that he and Vanessa would be home that evening. She missed Jasper, and it was high time for her to become better acquainted with her sister-in-law, but she didn’t understand why his return was the cause of such fuss. It was only Jasper, even if he was the earl, arriving with his countess, to take up residence at the estate.

Every surface had to be swept and washed. Every bit of silver polished. Chandeliers were taken down and scrubbed till they sparkled. Draperies were brushed and sponged. Rugs were taken outside and beaten. Feasts were planned and bake ovens were kept full day and night. Cards were sent out to the neighbors. It was ridiculous.

The overwhelming scent of lemon oil and silver polish in every room made Olivia’s head throb. She had taken an extralong ride that morning, but it hadn’t sufficed. Still, she didn’t dare go out again lest she miss Jasper and Vanessa’s arrival. They said evening, but if the roads were clear and the horses quick, it could be any minute. She decided to go sit in the garden so she could breathe.

Although their garden was spectacularly lovely from early spring through late fall, this was not the time to admire it unless one was enamored of brown stems poking up from the earth among pruned, sad-appearing, hedges. Still, winding paths made it a good place for a brisk walk, since she could stroll a mile without ever being too far from the house.

She had chosen her route, a narrow shrub-lined path leading to a cluster of statuettes. According to Jasper, one of the cherubs looked just like her, though she had never seen the resemblance. She was certain he insisted just to vex her.

She stepped inside the gate and turned to latch it. To her surprise, she heard a child’s whispery sing-song voice. It had to be Hannah. How lovely! Miss Jamison was so scrupulous in keeping the poor thing away from the family, it was if she thought they were all harboring spots.

Instead of her intended route, Olivia followed the sound and soon found Hannah sitting in the dirt at the foot of a lilac bush. She was dressed warmly in a red woolen dress and knit cap. The cap was askew, and two fat braids extended down to her shoulders. Miss Jamison reposed on a nearby bench, darning in her lap, eyes closed. Olivia felt a moment’s peevishness at the laxity of her attention, but at least her eyes snapped open upon Olivia’s approach.

“Good day, Miss Jamison,” she said in her sunniest tone.

Miss Jamison bobbed to her feet to make a curtsy. “My lady.”

“It is a lovely day, is it not?”

“Yes, indeed. I hope you don’t mind us here. Mr. Carroll asked permission of Mr. Taverston.”

“I don’t mind! I’m glad of the company.”

Olivia whisked off her cloak, laid it on the ground, and plunked herself beside the little girl, who started and shied.

“Hannah?” Olivia held out her hand. “I am Olivia. I am a friend of…” Good Heavens. What did the child call Benjamin? “…Mr. Carroll.”

“Papa,” Hannah said, with a toddler’s confidence. Then she put a dirty trowel into Olivia’s hand.

“Oh, Hannah, no!” Miss Jamison said.