Page 44 of Waiting for Love

“If she throws me out, she throws me out.”

He turned about and left the room.

Hazard hadn’t appeared aware of anyone’s presence but Jasper’s. Olivia had been so focused on their exchange, she didn’t even notice that Benjamin had crept up beside her.

“Hazard,” he said, his lips too close to her ear for propriety. “That is who we forgot.”

Chapter Sixteen

The previous night’s tea was one of the most moving gatherings Benjamin had ever attended. And one of the most interminable.

Familial bonds drew the Taverstons and their relations together in a tightly woven web. When Hazard had arrived, slotting himself into the group like a missing key into a lock, Benjamin experienced again a sense of his own disconnection.

Hazard’s sudden appearance had rejuvenated the gathering, but his swift departure left them stunned. Naturally they’d felt they must await his return. The dowager rang for more tea and sandwiches, stating that they might as well eat for there would be no formal supper. Benjamin threw yet another log on the fire. They had waited over an hour and a half, finally finding themselves entirely out of conversation before Jasper dismissed them.

“We have a difficult morning ahead of us. I will check with Peters to be sure Hazard’s room has been prepared.” He gave a false, weak smile, plainly hesitant to interrupt whatever conversation his best friend was having with his wife.

“Is there anything you need me for?” Benjamin had asked. Jasper merely shook his head no.

Throughout the morning, Benjamin had remained in his own apartments. Miss Jamison entertained Hannah making drawings. Benjamin sat in his study going over various estimates he had obtained for brickwork out at the folly. It seemed ridiculous to repair something that had been deliberately constructed to look like a ruin. It just showed that some lords possessed more money than they knew how to spend.

He concentrated poorly on his work. Time and again, he rose to look out the window. Finally, he saw Mr. Leighton drive up in a battered gig pulled by an aged sorrel. He entered the house. After a while, Reg exited and headed for the stables. Nothing happened for a good twenty minutes. Benjamin wandered back and forth between his desk and the window, unable to settle. Then Reg returned in one of the smaller, more maneuverable carriages. He left the vehicle and went inside.

Benjamin lurked in front of the window and watched.

Before long, Reg, Olivia, and the dowager emerged from the house and entered the carriage. A few minutes later, the curate appeared carrying a box that was heartbreakingly small. He set the little coffin in his gig and climbed to his seat. Three more people shuffled down the steps, swathed in heavy coats. Benjamin gaped, though perhaps he should not have been surprised. Jasper held one of Vanessa’s elbows and Hazard held the other. When they reached the carriage, Jasper picked Vanessa up. Reg’s hands appeared at the door to help gather her in. Then Jasper hoisted himself up and in. Hazard shut the door and climbed into the box seat beside the driver. The carriage set off. The curate’s gig followed.

Thank God for Hazard.

Benjamin went back to work. Still, it was impossible to concentrate. His mind kept returning to yesterday’s walk to the stables with Olivia. Riding in the rain—so very Olivia. He wanted to see her as flighty, immature. She was anything but. It had felt dangerously comfortable being with her, talking with her. Of course, the topic was serious. The focus, outward-directed. Which made it easier. All except for his slip. His reference to propriety, which she could not have misunderstood. Yet she let it pass.

And then, like a fool, he’d practically pushed that stable hand aside. He couldn’t bear the thought of her resting her hands on another man’s shoulder. He’d embarrassed her with his clumsiness; he knew that. Yet in typical Taverston fashion, she turned it into a joke.

Damn it. This was not simply an inappropriate physical attraction. That, he would be able to control. He was falling in love. He couldn’t control his heart. So, what was he to do?

He crumpled the piece of paper where he had been listing costs of bricks and labor. A list that had turned into doodling. He tossed it into the bin. For a long moment, he regarded the blank page before him. Then he started a new list. Things in London that required his immediate attention.

*

He heard the carriages return but restrained his impulse to spy any more on his employers. Miss Jamison was bustling about in their little kitchen with Hannah when a knock came upon the door. Benjamin opened it to find Reg, hand poised to knock again.

“Mr. Taverston. Is something wrong?”

Reg shook his head. “Jasper asked me to fetch you. To fetch you all. For luncheon.” He sniffed the air, which had a faint beef broth scent. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“I’m not sure. Miss Jamison—”

“That’s all right,” she called from the kitchen. Then poked her head into the room. “I can take this off the stove.”

She wore such a pleased expression it unsettled him. In her previous situations, did the families include her more often? Was she used to more companionship? Benjamin felt a tightening in his gut at the thought that she could leave them. Stability was important for a child. Reg was right; Hannah needed a mother, but the thought of marrying for such mercenary purposes rubbed him wrong.

“We will be over shortly. Thank you.”

He went into the kitchen, where he found Hannah sitting on the floor, her hands deep in a bowl of dough of some sort that had a fair amount of dirt mixed in.

“What are you making, sweetheart?”

“Bread. Good bread.”