Counterfeit Earl

“I am,” Beatrice replied and embraced her again. “Come and sit down with me, Olivia, and tell me all the news from home.”

“I told you in my last letter that Lady Sophia is engaged to be married, did I not? And about the terrible goings-on at the Abbey.”

“Yes.” Beatrice looked thoughtful. “I cannot pretend to feel sorry that Lord Sywell met such an unpleasant end; one cannot but think he must have had many enemies…if all the stories about his disgraceful behaviour with the wives of tradesmen were true. I imagine there must have been quite a few husbands and sweethearts who would have liked to see him dead.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Olivia said. “People are suggesting that Lady Sywell might have done it herself, but I cannot believe it.”

“No, indeed,” Beatrice agreed at once. “If she had wished to kill him, she would surely have done so when she ran away…if she did actually run away, that is.” She wrinkled her brow. “I have always regretted that we were not able to finish our search of the grounds.”

“That was impossible after Lord Sywell threatened to shoot first you and then Harry.”

“Yes…” Beatrice shook her head. “Enough of all this gloom and doom. It was really news of you I wanted to hear, Olivia. Have you made lots of new friends in the village? Are you happy and settled?”

“I have made friends,” Olivia said. “I visited Annabel Lett a few days ago, and I went to see Amy Rushmere only yesterday morning. They both sent their regards to you. I think you are much missed in the villages, Beatrice.”

“I write to as many as I can,” Beatrice replied, smiling. “But there is so little time. Harry and I travelled to Ravensden and to his estates in the north, and then we spent a few weeks in London… You ought to have come with us, Olivia. Several people inquired after you, dearest.”

Olivia blushed. “Yes, I was sure some people would remain my friends.”

“Oh, I believe you will find that most are prepared to be kind in the circumstances,” Beatrice replied, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. “I was told several times that Lord Burton was thought to be much at fault in his behaviour towards you. Indeed, Lady Burton has not been seen in town for months. I understand she has taken a house in Bath and sees only a few close friends.”

“Oh, poor Lady Burton,” cried Olivia, her sympathy aroused by this revelation. “Indeed, it was not her fault. She was ordered to cut the connection with me, and had no choice but to obey.”

“I believe she may be suffering,” Beatrice said. “If the chance arises, Olivia, you might want to try to heal the breach with her.”

“If…if she wishes it,” Olivia agreed. “But I shall not beg for forgiveness, Beatrice. I believe that what I did was right—and you must agree.”

“Yes, of course I do,” Beatrice said. “Harry says it was his fault entirely. He should have refused Lord Burton when he first suggested a marriage of convenience, but he was and is fond of you, dearest.”

“Yes, but he loves you,” Olivia said, and smiled at her. “Had I married him and you and he had met at the wedding…”

“It would have been very different,” Beatrice said, then laughed as she saw the challenge in her sister’s eyes. “Well, I suppose we might have felt the same, but we would not have allowed ourselves to give into our feelings.”

“Nevertheless, it was as well that I jilted Harry, and that he chose to follow me to Abbot Giles—was it not?”

“I cannot disagree with that,” Beatrice said. “Your bravery in standing firm against Lord Burton’s threats has given me such happiness, Olivia. I can never thank you enough.” She leaned forward to kiss her sister. “But now I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy to be here with you. I have missed you, Beatrice.”

“You know what I mean,” Beatrice said. “Oh, Olivia, do not tell me that you do not wish to be married. If you could but know the joy of being truly loved! I know you would wish for it.”

“Yes, perhaps I should,” Olivia admitted as she saw the way her sister’s eyes shone with happiness. “I fear I am too particular, Beatrice. Lord Ravensden was not the only gentleman to ask me to marry him. I did not like any of my suitors enough to contemplate marriage. Indeed, I would much prefer to continue as I am…”

“That is only because you have not met the right gentleman,” Beatrice said and smiled confidently. “Believe me, dearest, when you fall in love, you will know…you will know the moment you look into his eyes.”

Chapter Two

“Will you both forgive me if I do not accompany you to Brighton?” Harry looked from his wife to Olivia, an apologetic expression in his eyes. “Papa and I have much to discuss, and I promise faithfully to join you in a week’s time.”

“We can easily wait until you are ready to come with us,” Beatrice pointed out. “We do not mind putting off our journey for a week.”

“No, I see no reason for you to be deprived of your pleasures,” Harry said, smiling at her. “I had thought Papa and I would have settled our business by now, but there is so much to discuss. You will be quite safe, dearest. You will have servants enough to escort you on the road, and your maid, Beatrice. I am sure you and Olivia will find so many of your acquaintance in Brighton that you will hardly notice I am not there.”

“Was there ever such a provoking man?” Beatrice asked, and Olivia laughed. “Very well, my lord. It shall be as you please. I should not wish to spoil your or Papa’s fun. Olivia and I will go tomorrow as agreed, but we shall expect you early next week without fail—shall we not, Olivia?”

Olivia merely smiled at their banter. They were so obviously in love, but sometimes merciless in the way they teased each other. Olivia knew that such a relationship was not for her. She did not know precisely what she was searching for, but she believed the man she could love would be very different…more intense, heroic perhaps.

“Well, I shall leave you to tear my character to pieces in comfort,” Harry said with a wicked look for his wife. “Papa has come up with the most ingenious design for a system of gravity heating, and we are about to inspect the east wing to see how it could best be implemented. It is really very exciting.”

Olivia raised her fine brows at her sister as he went out, leaving them in the sunny parlour, which overlooked a pretty rose garden and was Beatrice’s favourite room in the house.

“How can you contemplate the idea of having your house disrupted, Beatrice?”

Beatrice smiled. “We never use the east wing because it is so very cold. Papa can do no harm there. Besides, I have seen the new drawings. They look as if they might actually work. It is the principle of water finding its own level, you see. Harry explained it all to me. The idea is very much that used in those charming waterfalls you admire in landscaped gardens, where you see all the water tumbling down into a pool and wonder how it returns to the top to start falling again. The pressure of water carries it round and…”

“Oh, pray do not go on,” Olivia begged. “I never understand more than a few words of Papa’s theories.”

“That is because you have not had the benefit of Harry’s explanations,” Beatrice replied, her eyes alight with laughter. “We often discuss such things for hours at a time.”

“Truly?” Olivia looked at her in awe. “How can you bear it?”

“I enjoy listening,” Beatrice explained. “I have always been fascinated by the way other people’s minds work. I suppose that is why I love to gossip.”

“Oh, gossip,” Olivia said and laughed. “Now that is a very different matter, of course. Sophia wrote to me from town. Have you heard the latest about Caroline Lamb and Lord Byron? Truly, she is shameless! Everyone is talking about it…”

Olivia was thoughtful as she changed for dinner that evening. After spending a week at Camberwell, she could not doubt her sister’s happiness. Beatrice no longer spent long hours in the kitchen cooking, nor did she clean, but her influence was everywhere in the house. It was evident that her servants respected her, and her household was impeccably run while retaining a warmth and charm that was often missing in large houses.

Olivia supposed that she might be happy in a house like Camberwell, which happened to be the smallest of Lord Ravensden’s houses. Or she would be if she were married to a man she could love and admire; but somehow her rebellious spirit still craved adventure.

There was a strange restlessness inside her. She had begun to realise that her careful upbringing had been against her true nature. Lady Burton was a nervous, fussy woman, who had raised Olivia in her own image, but as each day passed the girl had gradually found her perception of the world and herself changing.

As yet she did not truly know the real Olivia. The girl who had loved to dance until dawn and flirt with the gentlemen who paid her pretty compliments was still there, of course, but she suspected there was another Olivia waiting to emerge.

“If only something exciting would happen,” she murmured to herself as she prepared to go downstairs and join her family at supper. “If only I could fall in love the way Beatrice has…” She laughed at herself. At Brighton, she was likely to meet the same gentlemen she had known in London, none of whom had caught her interest.

“What are you waiting for, Olivia?” she asked her own reflection in the mirror. She shook her head at her own thoughts as the words of a poem came into her mind. A pale knight wandering lost and alone after the heat of battle…waiting to be brought back to life by a beautiful lady, who would take the shadows from his eyes… “Where are you, my pale knight?”

Her head was full of romantic nonsense! Why could she not settle for someone kind and generous? Why must she always look for something more?

Dismissing her own longings as ridiculous, Olivia picked up her silk shawl and went downstairs to join the others.

Olivia sighed as she glanced out of the carriage window. They had been travelling for three days, having broken their journey by staying two nights with Lord and Lady Dawlish, who were great friends of Harry and Beatrice, in their house near the lovely, ancient village of Bletchingley in Surrey. It was now nearly noon, and they had set out at half-past the hour of eight that morning. They would soon be stopping to take refreshments and change the horses at the posting stage.

“Whoa! Whoa there!”

“What is happening?” Beatrice said, looking surprised as their coachman pulled the horses to a rather sudden and juddering halt. “Can you see anything, Olivia?”

Olivia glanced out of the window. “I believe there is an obstruction on the road. It looks as if someone’s coach may have lost a wheel.”