Page 36 of Waiting for Love

“What made you think you would find it?”

He didn’t think. He’d been bored, desperate, frustrated with his life, and he’d allowed his better sense to be overcome by fantasies of wealth. Wealth and what it could buy. Not a gentleman’s status, of course, but the trappings of it. It was humiliating.

“It is none of your business, is it?”

Crispin started. Then he rubbed his eyes and said, “No. I don’t suppose it is.” He peeled himself from the wall. “We all have our weaknesses. Don’t mention the cake. I won’t mention the gold. Fair enough?”

Benjamin snorted. “Fair enough.”

Crispin walked away. Benjamin watched, then swept his gaze about the room, just once, but didn’t see Olivia. With a quiet groan, he stepped away from the wall. He would go exchange pleasantries with the Danforths. And then find his bed.

*

Olivia waited for Crispin and Benjamin to lose themselves in the gathering before slipping out from behind the screen. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. Well, maybe just a little. The men often said more to each other when they didn’t think she was nearby. She’d hoped Crispin might confide more of his plans. Of course he didn’t.

However, now she knew why games of digging for gold hairpins upset Benjamin. Hannah’s parents had died on a treasure hunt. A hunt he was embarrassed to have joined.

Unfortunately, just as Mama had threatened, there was a downside to listening to conversations she was not meant to hear. She couldn’t tell Benjamin she no longer needed his explanation. He would continue avoiding her so as not to spill the secret he was doing a poor job of keeping.

He couldn’t have avoided their waltz though, without outright snubbing her. And there had been something in his eyes, hadn’t there? When they danced and he’d pulled her tight?

Olivia sniffed. She was doing it again. As if she were fourteen and smitten, she was imagining things that were simply not there. It was a waltz. Partners were supposed to look into one another’s eyes. And Benjamin’s arm had probably brushed Jasper’s too, and Crispin’s, while they were crowded at the table, playing cards. Benjamin was not interested in her. He never had been. She’d been so certain he loved her because she had counted up clues and misinterpreted every little gesture. Just as she was doing now.

She felt a warm flush rise, remembering his horror when she’d accosted him all those years ago. He’d tried to be kind. He reminded her that she was a Taverston and a very young one. Starry-eyed and determined, she said he could wait for her. She wouldn’t always be young.

His face had darkened. “No, but you will always be a Taverston.”

She’d wept. All the stupid, stupid things she’d said, even accusing him of pretending to love her. She began listing things he’d said or done that she’d imagined signified something. Until he pushed a handkerchief into her hand and said, with finality, “This is inappropriate.” He left her there in the billiard room. Heartbroken and mortified.

She certainly would not do anything like that again. When she made her debut, she would be cool and aloof to her suitors. They would have to profess their love to her. There must be some gentleman of the ton whom she could learn to love. Truly love. Like Reg and Georgiana. Or Jasper and Vanessa. Not like the silly infatuation she’d once felt, but didn’t any longer.

Still, she peered through the reception hall until she saw Benjamin. He was speaking with the Danforths. While she watched, Mrs. Byrd approached them. Mrs. Byrd the dressmaker. She had her niece in tow. Jilly. Jilly was learning to be a dressmaker also. She wore very nice clothes but tended to overdo the ribbons. She was pretty, with her wheat-colored hair, sunny smile, and the type of figure she’d once heard Crispin refer to as “pleasingly plump.” She was lively, too. Olivia liked her.

Benjamin bowed courteously in greeting. Olivia watched the interaction. Watched Jilly smile and press his arm. Watched Benjamin smile back. Oh, that smile.

An ache spread through her chest. Her imagination was her worst enemy. But the ache she felt was definitely real.

Chapter Fourteen

The months between harvest and planting were said to be quiet times in the countryside, but not so far as Benjamin could see.

As the old year passed into the new, he had to balance the books for 1813, pay overdue bills to clean the slate, and begin planning purchases for the spring.

In addition, the rector of the parishes of Fremont and Bellwether passed on, and the livings, Jasper’s to dispose of, had been promised to the curate over in Ipswich. On a blustery January day, Benjamin was tasked with delivering the mixed-blessing tidings. To his surprise, the curate, Mr. Tibury, was no older than Reg. More surprising still, he bore an unsettling resemblance to…well, to Jasper. He had the Taverston bright-blue eyes and strong chin. That would explain why so plum a living, two livings, would be given to so young a clergyman. But Benjamin could not, for his life, figure out where to place him on the family tree. Which meant it was none of his business.

He spent a good deal of time at the steward’s cottage. His cottage. Out beyond the folly, it was located a good mile and a half from the house. Constructed solidly of old yellow stone, it had a boxy, compact appearance, having been built upward rather than outward. Three stories and a cellar. The windows had all been shattered. Too tempting a target for any local boys, Benjamin suspected. The woodwork had rotted, but the stonework was as sturdy as a castle keep. With Jasper’s permission, he hired several of the tenants to work on the place, who appreciated the opportunity to earn a few pence over the winter. Cleaning out the cobwebs and vermin nests made a world of difference. He was bringing in a glazier from Barring Downs to replace the windows. Willy Pyle would handle the carpentry. Benjamin thought he might hire Everet to paint the interior when it was time. And maybe ask Jack Fowler to start a garden near the well.

Very likely, he and Hannah and Miss Jamison could move to the cottage come spring. Then he would have to hire a cook and a housemaid or two. That expense would be his responsibility. He would no longer be able to hoard the greater portion of his salary to build a nest egg for Hannah, which worried him. He didn’t know what life held for her. Marriage, he hoped. A dowry would help. Possibly she would have to learn a trade. He understood this. Yet he wished he could give her the moon and the stars.

Tomorrow, he would bring her to see the cottage. They could stop at the folly on the way, and she could play among the ruins. But now, he should return to the house. Jasper had received a packet of reports from his man-of-business, and he wanted Benjamin to look them over.

He rode Goose, who was quickly becoming his favorite mount. She was spirited and sometimes had a mind of her own, but she was not difficult. With Hannah though, he would only ride the more placid Bluebell.

His mind skittered from thought to thought as he rode. He knew Hannah enjoyed spending time with “Olly.” They met down at the Dower house—Benjamin was not such an unreasonable grouch that he would forbid Miss Jamison from occasionally taking tea with the dowager and her daughter. Moreover, whatever games Olivia played with her tired her out and she slept more soundly at night on those days. There was no more mention of gold or pirates, so he had no reason to complain.

Since Christmas, he’d seen very little of Olivia. He supposed she was keeping Georgiana company, spending time with the other ladies, paying her calls on the tenants. Mostly she seemed to be locked away for hours on end with Mrs. Byrd and Miss Jilly Byrd. What a ridiculous name: Jilly Byrd. And a sillier girl he’d never met. All the girl talked about was ribbons and buttons.

Of course, Olivia was preparing for her London debut. And everyone else was preparing to welcome Reg and Georgiana’s little one into the world. The Duchess of Hovington had arrived a week ago to be with her daughter. With all the activity, it was easy for a steward to fade from sight.