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He dropped his hand and looked at her again, once more taking in her face and figure, her hair and eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it,” he murmured. “I was going through a bad patch. I’d probably been drinking my father’s brandy—I used to do that when I was home from Cambridge—fell asleep in the soup once or twice.”
“Lord Lacey…”
“It was afternoon and I went for a walk and you were…” His mouth twitched. “You were climbing over the stream on those cursed stones.”
“Stepping stones.”
“Yes, well, you fell in.”
“You startled me by yelling.”
“I could see you were going to drown, of course I yelled.”
“You frightened me and I fell in and almost did drown, except you saved me. You sat me in the sunshine until I dried and told me it was our secret and not to tell. And I said—”
“You would have to tell unless I married you, and then you would be legally obliged not to tell.” He stared at her and shook his head. “Are you sure you were only ten? No wonder I called you a witch.”
“You proposed to me and I accepted.”
He limped to the window, favoring his injured leg. “So you did. I was in enough trouble that summer without being accused of drowning you, Miss Monteith.”
“When my sister died—” she began.
“Yes.” He looked at her over his shoulder, his expression troubled. “I remember your sister.”
Sarah was her older sister, her only sibling, and she had been away at school. She had caught a chill, and instead of recovering she grew weaker and sicker, and died. Nic had come upon Olivia wandering desultorily along the lane. He walked with her, leading his horse, and his soft, kind way of speaking, his generosity, were all good memories during that dreadful period of sadness. He might try and play it down, but to Olivia it meant a great deal.
“You were very kind to me.”
“Kindness is a simple matter, Miss Monteith. It means nothing.”
“We began to meet by the stepping stones and talk. You made me laugh. There has not been much laughter at home since my sister died, and our meetings were something I looked forward to.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “It was all perfectly innocent, but imagine what it would do to my reputation if it became known I was playing big brother to you?”
Olivia shook her head decisively. “I never thought of you as a brother.”
His eyes narrowed. “I know you didn’t, Miss Monteith. I was aware you had a girlish fascination for me but I chose to ignore it.”
She felt her cheeks heat up. He knew she was in love with him all these years and he “chose to ignore it”? “You used to call me Livy.”
His shoulders shook with laughter. “Then you can’t possibly marry me. ‘Livy Lacey’? What self-respecting woman would lumber herself with a name like that?” His smile faded and he grew serious again. “Come now, Miss Monteith, be sensible; you know such a proposal is not binding. You were a child and I a fool. You can’t hold me to something like that. You would be a laughingstock if you tried.”
“Perhaps, but I still want to marry you. I am quite serious.”
Impatiently he pushed his hair out of his dark eyes. “So I see. You are a beautiful woman. You could have your pick of men. I don’t understand why you have chosen me.”
Because, she thought, you are everything I want in life.
“Will you agree?” she insisted.
He hesitated, and she thought for a moment she’d won, and then his gaze slid over her again and he smiled with regret. “You’re grown up. And as much as I would like to have the pleasure of your presence in my bed every night, Olivia, I have to say no, I will not marry you.”
She thought of arguing, of pleading, but in the end she decided whining would not further her course, and she should leave it there. For now. The matter had been set in train and that must be enough until next time. Leave him guessing. Olivia walked out of the room and did just that.
Out in the hall, Abbot, the manservant, was pretending to straighten a mirror. He turned when he saw her and hurried to open the front door for her.
“Miss Monteith, I do hope you will call again,” he declared fervently.
