Page 3 of Waiting for Love

Poor Hazard. Unrequited love was unrequited love. At least he did a better job of hiding it than she had.

At any rate, she wouldn’t interrupt their conversation.

Mama was at another table with older folks, her friends and Papa’s. Olivia didn’t want to intrude on their reunion either. It was good to see her in company again after so long. One younger man sat with them, the marquess of someplace or other—she’d been introduced to him briefly the previous evening. He was so somber faced he might have been at a funeral rather than a wedding. Although, even without a smile, he was decent looking, fair haired with angular features and a…dainty nose. He wore a fashionably cut but understated morning coat. It was intriguing. She didn’t know why he was here, but since Mama didn’t wave her over, she suspected she wasn’t destined to find out.

She chose an empty table, empty but for glasses of champagne awaiting consumption. The moment she laid down her plate, Jeremy and Jeffery, Squire Willowsett’s sons from the nearby town of Crofton, attached themselves to her sides. She welcomed their company with a grin. The twins, brown-haired, brown-eyed, gangly lads, were a bit younger than she was. They had all grown up together and had successfully passed through the silly phase where the boys imagined themselves in love with her, so now they were all friends again.

“Who was that fellow who gave away Lady Iversley?” Jeremy asked, before forking a kipper into his mouth.

Lady Iversley. Vanessa. Mama was no longer Lady Iversley, but merely the dowager. Vanessa was the countess. Jasper was the earl. Olivia knew this, but it hit her hard with a new depth of understanding—it carved a hollow in the pit of her belly. Father was gone.

Everything was changing. Even she was different. Sister, not daughter, of the Earl of Iversley. How very old she was becoming.

Crispin arrived at the chair beside Jeremy, carrying a plate of the strange dry-as-dust oatmeal biscuits he favored. She was glad he took his seat quickly. Standing, he always seemed to loom. He was an inch shorter than Jasper but because he was so thin, he looked taller unless the two stood side-by-side.

“I think it was Lady Iversley’s brother,” Crispin said. He was an even better eavesdropper than Olivia. He heard everything. And if he said “I think” it meant he knew. Or else, he knew otherwise but wanted to misdirect the listener. She loved Crispin with her whole being but still took everything he said with a pinch of salt.

Another quick sweep of the room showed Vanessa’s brother was not there. And neither was Benjamin, although it looked as though everyone else from the church had arrived. Olivia didn’t know if the twinge she felt was disappointment or relief.

“Where’d he go?” Jeremy asked.

Crispin shrugged, stirring his tea. He had that look about him though. He knew. Well, if it was Vanessa’s brother, it meant he was a Culpepper. A commoner. Although it was crass to talk of such things, the older Mr. Culpepper was said to be one of the richest men in England. Olivia had overheard that Vanessa’s family cut her off when she ran off with her soldier, but it appeared at least one of the Culpeppers cleaved to her enough to attend her wedding—her wedding, but not a breakfast hosted by an earl. She supposed he’d feel out of place. Maybe that was Benjamin’s excuse too.

The mounting volume of chatter in the hall suddenly silenced when a clinking of cutlery on crystal turned everyone’s heads. Reginald rose to make the first toast.

Reg, Olivia’s quiet brother, was the only Taverston to have inherited their mother’s dark coloring. He was also average in height and build rather than towering over everyone else the way Jasper and Crispin did, and Olivia was grateful she did not. Although not as arresting as his older brothers, Reg was handsome in his own understated way and recognizable as a Taverston by his bright-blue eyes and square chin. Five years older than she was and four years younger than Crispin, Reg had always occupied a space of his own, one populated by books and ancient peoples. He never seemed to mind the fact that, for as long as she could remember, she had played the part of pesky little sibling to their older brothers, the role that he should have played.

“A toast!” he said, raising his glass. “To my brother and new sister: Fortune and love favor the brave!”

“Hear! Hear!” Crispin called, teacup in the air.

A warm blanket of comfort wrapped around Olivia as her brothers behaved true to form: Crispin, abstemious as always, and Reg with an apt quote from Ovid.

Other voices echoed, then they all drank. Footmen scurried about to refill their glasses. Olivia returned quickly to her sausages before the next toast. She didn’t want to be tipsy before teatime. From the corner of her eye, she saw Crispin gesturing a “come closer” wave. She lifted her gaze and found Benjamin, who looked pained rather than pleased to be there.

The sausages and champagne sat heavily in her stomach as he approached. The last time they had spoken, she’d put him in a terrible position and mortified herself. She’d sworn inwardly—the moment she’d learned that Jasper had hired Benjamin—that when they met again, she would be lively, cheerful, and mature, and act as if she’d forgotten everything. As if it had never happened. Instead, her face felt as though it had caught fire, and her hands began to sweat.

Benjamin reached them. Up close, he looked older. More serious. Harder of face and of body. His clothes fit well though they were not finely tailored, and they revealed he was muscled like a laborer where he used to be wiry. His intriguing iron-gray eyes were no longer laughing but cautious. Thick, dark-brown hair framed his face. Lud. He was handsomer than ever. She felt a tightening deep in her belly that was almost like fear, but wasn’t.

“Lady Olivia. Captain Taverston.” He made an appropriate bow, then tilted his head to Jeremy and Jeffrey.

“Mr. Willowsett and Mr. Willowsett,” Crispin said, introducing them archly. No one called them that. “This is Mr. Carroll. Mr. Carroll, will you join us?”

Benjamin hesitated before nodding and pulling out a chair.

“Where is Hannah?” Crispin asked, spreading a thin layer of jam on his biscuit. “We were just starting to be friends.”

“With her nanny.” Benjamin sounded wooden. “She was overtired.”

Olivia’s tongue felt paralyzed by the weight of questions she could not ask.

Then Crispin stated to the table at large, “Benjamin adopted the little mite. Too soft-hearted to leave an orphan in Rupert’s Land.”

And this was why Olivia adored Crispin! He might have made the announcement for her sake, or he might not have. He rarely let on how much he knew. Nevertheless, she now found it perfectly natural to face Benjamin, raise an eyebrow, and say, “Oh?”

“I knew her parents,” Benjamin said, a rough edge to his voice. “They died of fevers within a week of each other.”

She didn’t know the appropriate response, so only said, “I’m so sorry.”