Page 5 of Waiting for Love

Oh, bosh.

She put on her most exuberant smile, hoisted her flute, and said the first thing that popped into her head.

“A toast to Lady Georgiana. For saying no to Jasper.”

There was a moment of silence so complete she heard the wind outside blowing. Then Crispin began hooting with laughter. When Crispin laughed like that, it was impossible to resist laughing along. Vanessa raised her glass to Georgiana. The whole room followed suit, crying, “To Lady Georgiana.”

When the laughter finally died down, Hazard gestured lazily and drawled, “Well, Captain Taverston. Your turn.”

Crispin got to his feet, muttering, “Reg took Ovid. That leaves me with this new fellow, Lord Byron.”

They waited. He lifted his teacup. To Olivia’s mind, he was savoring the moment. Then he smirked. “To Lord and Lady Iversley! I have great hopes that they shall love each other all their lives as much as if they had never married at all!”

Chapter Three

That was torture. Benjamin had told Jasper the offer of the steward’s job at Chaumbers was a godsend. And it was. Yet during the past few hours, posing as a wedding guest who belonged in such exalted company, he felt as though he was being tempted by a thousand devils. Kindly devils. The most dangerous kind.

The duties of a steward were all-inclusive. In addition to keeping the books for the estate, Benjamin would be overseeing its management: hiring staff and firing them if there was cause; making sure the tenants were producing and paying their rents; managing the managers of the livestock; settling any disputes among the tenants or staff; overseeing the care of the land and any improvements the earl should wish. Benjamin looked forward to the challenge. His education had prepared him and his own innate bent toward organization worked in his favor. The time he had spent at Chaumbers as a guest of the elder Taverston brothers had imbued him with a deep love for the place. Truly, he was made for this job.

But his history also worked against him. Were it any other estate, or any earl other than Jasper, Benjamin would settle comfortably into the role. He’d know his place. And his duties would not include sitting at the earl’s wedding breakfast with the earl’s brother and sister; of that, he was certain.

Thank God the celebration was over. Or close enough that he could leave.

Shortly after Crispin’s toast, a toast of dubious taste that had nevertheless elicited raucous laughter, Jasper and Vanessa exited the hall to embark upon their honeymoon. The wedding guests followed them out to the drive to give them a cheering send-off.

Since Napoleon had cancelled grand tours of the continent for Englishmen, the happy couple was heading to a lakeside cottage near Binnings, Crispin’s inheritance, a place they called quaint, and Benjamin called palatial. He had spent a month there with the Taverstons nearly a decade ago. He remembered aching with envy and gratitude as they swam, boated, hiked among the trees, went riding, picnicked…while servants of every stripe catered to their whims.

It had not been the wealth and privilege that attracted Benjamin to the Taverstons. It was the family closeness. Their generosity. But he could not deny that he was jealous of their ease.

Jasper had never been one to flaunt his position, heir to the earldom though he had been. He did not spend ostentatiously; yet Benjamin found the very carelessness of Jasper’s attitude toward money almost as painful to witness as profligacy would have been. His own situation—son of a laborer, attending Oxford on scholarship—was so damnably different.

Watching the newlyweds ride off in the earl’s well-sprung coach, accompanied by liveried outriders, with its trailing carriage stuffed with baggage and servants, made Benjamin feel almost physically ill. It was all so extravagantly fine. The long, straight portion of the avenue leading from the estate was lined by beech trees that had been coaxed and shaped to identical heights, their autumn leaves coppery in the afternoon sun. Earls even tamed nature to their fancy.

Benjamin didn’t begrudge his old friend any of it. But the divide between their world and his was unbreachable. No matter how chummily Crispin behaved. No matter how insistent Jasper was in calling up their shared past as if it still mattered. No matter how sweetly amusing Olivia was.

With Jasper and Vanessa’s entourage fading from sight, the cheers quieted to chatter and muted laughter, rustling pelisses, and boots clomping on manicured grass. Benjamin supposed the locals would stay through teatime. The few Londoners would spend the night. Family, which apparently included Alice and Viscount Haslet—Hazard, he might as well call him since everyone else did—would likely stay longer.

There was enough bustle that his own absence should not be remarked upon. For excuse, should one be needed, he could say he had to return to Hannah, who would be wide awake by now and looking for him. Not only an excuse, it was the truth.

He edged his way through the twenty-odd guests who were slowly filtering back toward the house, wondering the politest way to take leave. Who was the host? Or was the dowager the hostess? He had learned a good deal of society protocol over the years, but the finer points still escaped him. Four years in the wilds of Canada hadn’t helped.

Ah. There was Reg, standing just at the edge of the drive. That would be the most convenient out.

He strode closer. “Mr. Taverston? I should make my goodbyes. I—”

Reg turned, a faint grimace on his face that quickly dissolved as he said, with barely perceptible irony, “You’re leaving, Mr. Carroll?”

The exchange of “misters” sounded pretentious even to his ears. A long-forgotten memory flashed to the fore and Benjamin had to choke back a laugh. Young Master Reginald, who must have been ten or twelve, called him “Ben” the summer he’d taught the boy how to spit.

They’d been playing a bastardized version of cricket. Reg shouted something and a particularly large and evidently nasty-tasting bug flew right into his mouth. The boy stood there drooling, trying to peel legs and wings and antennae from his tongue while his brothers laughed at his misfortune as only older brothers could. Apparently, Reg had imbibed as gospel the lesson that gentlemen did not spit. He did not know how! Benjamin stood beside him, desperately attempting to keep a straight face, while explaining how to let saliva pool in one’s mouth to expectorate.

“Yes, I’m leaving,” he managed to say. “I told Miss Jamison, Hannah’s nanny, I wouldn’t be late. I suppose I should find your mother first?”

Reg pursed his lips thoughtfully, then chuckled. “I don’t know who you should find. All I am sure of is that it isn’t me. But I will pass your goodbyes along if you’d like.”

“Thank you. It was wonderful seeing everyone and I don’t wish to be rude…”

“Oh, I don’t believe the breakfast will continue much longer. For Georgiana’s sake, I hope not. She tires easily.” Reg smiled sheepishly. “I’m not supposed to refer to such, but there it is.”