Olivia could kill him for this. At the same time, she did not currently appreciate her friend’s reproachful opinion. Olivia was not the same as Eliza. Olivia was not in love with anyone, and she had no illusions that Lord Kingsley might ever think of her in terms of anything more than friendship.
No gentleman of any worth will make a respectable offer to a cockeyed gel.
“It’s nothing, Eliza. I came across him while I was walking home yesterday and we… talked. I think perhaps Louella has put him up to it. Either that or he feels sorry for me.” The minute the words left her mouth, she wondered if that wasn’t what was behind all of this.
Of course. One or both of these reasons likely explained the attention he was paying her. It was good that she’d not deluded herself into imagining he… liked her.
“He’s offered to pay Freda until she is no longer needed. And it must be a tidy sum, if her enthusiasm is any indication.”
Olivia bit her lip.
She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to go on a picnic with a handsome gentleman. She wanted to pretend she was like any other daughter, deserving of her father’s pride and affection. But she was not, and she should not allow her thoughts to travel in that direction.
Because, unfortunately, she also knew what she ought to do. She ought to send Freda back to town. She ought to don her apron and begin peeling potatoes.
Olivia backed toward the door and shrugged. “I imagine I’ll have to be more insistent this time.”
But did she want to be?
“I almost didn’t come.” Perched high above the ground on the shiny red vehicle pulled by two of the loveliest horses she’d seen in a long while, Olivia figured she ought to make some sort of protest. Oh, but above them, only a few dainty clouds dared to block the brilliance of the sky. The treetops rustled in a warm breeze and fragrant wildflowers blossomed everywhere.
Making any sort of complaint was going to be difficult.
She’d gone home, changed into her favorite day dress and tried to convince herself she would remain there with Mary. She’d picked up a book she’d been reading, Frankenstein, a new novel by Mary Shelley, but even that had failed to draw her in.
She been worried that he wouldn’t come but also worried that he would. Her gaze never strayed far from the window.
And now, here she sat, like a perfectly normal lady being escorted by a fine gentleman on a beautiful day.
Unchaperoned.
There hadn’t been room for Mary to accompany them on the small conveyance that Lord Kingsley had said he’d borrowed from Louella’s husband.
Would her parents even care that she’d gone on an excursion alone with the earl? They’d allowed Louella to go for a drive unchaperoned with Lord Stanton but the two of them had been as good as betrothed at the time.
Which was hardly the case today.
“I would have been disappointed.” His voice sent a chill of pleasure dancing down her spine.
He didn’t sound as though he was joking or condescending to her. Was this what it was like to have a male friend? An attractive male friend? One who happened to also be an earl? But then he added, “After all the trouble I’ve gone to.”
Lord Kingsley baffled her.
Today, he’d rejected his normal black clothing, which normally consisted of a black coat, pants, and waistcoat in favor of buff breeches, an olive waistcoat, and a fine evergreen woolen jacket. Rather as though he were attending a country house party and planned on walking about the grounds.
“You did not go to the mine this morning?” she couldn’t resist asking. Louella had hated hearing about the mining operations. She’d hated that her betrothal contracts had listed their father’s mining rights along with her hand in marriage, in exchange for a title, wealth, and influence.
Olivia resented the mine for other reasons. It was cursed. She was cursed. Together, they amounted to her father’s greatest failures.
“I had a few matters to settle. A friend of mine required assistance in extricating herself from a rather sticky situation.” He obviously felt no shame inserting himself into her affairs.
“Did you not think to ask this friend of yours whether she wanted your involvement?”
He sent a snide glance in her direction. “She admitted she’d like to go on a picnic. I merely made arrangements so that it would be possible for her to do so.”
He had a fair point there. She’d admitted to wanting to go on a picnic. And she had, especially with him. She’d also told him she couldn’t. Olivia bit her lip. She couldn’t help wondering why he had offered in the first place.
“Did Louella set you up to this?” she asked, already resigned to what his answer would assuredly be. “Because it really isn’t necessary.”
His sigh was so loud she heard it over the horses’ footsteps and the crunching of the gravel beneath the vehicle’s wheels.
“No, Miss Redfield. Rather the opposite, I’m afraid. And not your sister but her husband.”
Lord Stanton? Why would Lord Stanton have any reason to direct Lord Kingsley’s attention away from her.
“He asked you to stay away from me?”
“Threatened.”
Olivia raised her brows. “Because of… your past behavior??” Upon becoming betrothed to Louella, Captain Lord Stanton had made a lovely apology for his own part in tormenting her before he’d left England to take up his commission with the British navy. He and Kingsley had been nothing but trouble back then. She’d reminded him at the time that he’d not done so alone.
Gabriel’s gaze remained averted straight ahead. “I think he believed you required protection from me. But had he realized your father had given Mr. Smith permission to offer for you…” He shook his head, as though at an utter loss for words.
“Do you pity me then? Is that what this is all about?”
Again, he shook his head. “Must there be a reason?”
She nodded emphatically. Of course, there was.
“Perhaps I’m making amends. Can we leave it at that?”
She’d irritated him. “Why are you here, anyhow? Aren’t all earls and whatnot supposed to be in London for the Season? Aren’t you required in Parliament?” Or perhaps… “Do you have an interest in the mine as well?”
“Yes, I suppose I ought to be in London for the Season. In fact, my presence is required there before the Season winds down.” He winced. Some responsibility there he didn’t seem to wish to get into. “And yes, in answer to your last question as well. But only until Stanton and your sister return.” Gabriel didn’t expand upon his explanation, focusing instead, it seemed, upon the road he’d turned them along.
“But you don’t have a financial interest in the mine?” For some reason, this mattered to her.
He shrugged. “Stanton was concerned about leaving and would have worried about it when he ought only to be worrying about his new bride. I had nothing pressing to attend to.”
She’d walked this way several times before. Tall trees lined the rutted corridor and a few dandelions grew up between the tracks made by other wheels before them. She wished she could have gone to the mine. She’d have liked to see what all the trouble was about.
“So, you are not after the gold for yourself?”
He laughed at this. “Simply assisting a friend in need.” And then, with another sideways glance, he said, “Just as you are doing for Mr. Smith. Doesn’t, by the way, mean I’m going to marry him.”
Olivia ignored his comment. “Stanton still has concerns about the mine then?” She frowned. Opening the mine disturbed her. Too many people had pinned their hopes upon it. “Do you think it will all be worth it?”
She didn’t expect the soft laughter at her questions. “Oh, there’s gold all right. Will it be worth it though?” Olivia glanced toward him in time to see a wry grimace. She studied him closely, his demeanor not nearly as enthusiastic as she would have thought it would be.
“It is dangerous then?”
He tightene
d his jaw. “It may be.”
Working below ground was always a dangerous proposition. “What makes it more dangerous than any other mine?”
She could barely make out the clenching at his jaw again. “You don’t really want to know all this.” He forced a harsh laugh. “The engineers aren’t worried. Most of them anyhow. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. I’m insisting upon every precaution available. You’ve no need to worry over your dear Mr. Smith.”
Olivia had only worried about Luke Smith’s safety in so much as he was all his children had. Before she could comment, though, the wheel hit a bump and had her grasping his arm tightly.
In doing so, she felt his muscles flexing beneath her hands. Warm. Solid.
And why would the act of holding his arm cause her breaths to come more rapidly?
“Do you—?” She swallowed around a lump that hadn’t been in her throat a moment before. “Do you go below ground often?” The thought that Lord Kingsley would put himself in danger sent a tight squeezing sensation to her heart.
His grin reappeared. “How else could I be of any value?”
So, he did.
She swallowed again. “You aren’t worried about the curse?”
Gabriel hadn’t expected Miss Olivia Redfield to show any interest in the blasted mine. Which meant, unfortunately, that his hope of putting it far from his thoughts was to be dashed.
For a moment, he considered feeding her insipid reassurances, expressing a confidence he did not feel. Any other chit, and that was exactly what he’d have done.
He could feel her watching him. As though his answer mattered, as though she cared to learn the truth.
“I’m more worried about erosion than any curses, for certain.” And because other issues had been circling through his mind, he couldn’t help but add, “Unstable buttresses, optimistic projections, inaccurate calculations, impatient dukes…”
His companion sat quietly beside him. Had his words gone right over her head completely?
But then she said, “Perhaps that is the true curse of it. The lure of the gold in such an unstable location.”
Not over her head.
In fact, perhaps Miss Olivia Redfield had a greater understanding of his worries than anyone else. Perhaps because neither of them stood to benefit from the takings. Sometimes a little distance gave one a far greater perspective.
“What are locals saying?” He’d wondered this and she might know. People might tell her opinions they’d withhold from himself.
She shrugged. “People believe what they want to.” And then almost as an afterthought, “The people in Misty Brook are a superstitious lot. Believe me, I know.”
A clearing appeared as the trees receded behind them and the sound of rushing water could be heard. He and Stanton had swum in the small pond just beyond the next rise, dozens of times in the past.
“As I said, it’s not the curse that worries me. It’s… other matters.”
“And yet you are assisting the Duke of Crawford in this questionable endeavor.” Gabriel could almost hear the thoughts racing through her mind.
“Not Crawford. Stanton.”
She pondered that a few moments and then nodded. “Then you are a good friend.”
Gabriel wanted to change the mood. He’d brought her out today so that she could have some amusement. Not for him to unburden his own worries. “And as your good friend, I insist we put an end to this unpleasant conversation. Enough with the blasted mine.”
“You wish to only speak of pleasantries? You’re absurd.”
“I think you’ve told me that before. What’s absurd is that you’ve failed to notice my charisma and charm. Simply because I’m a tad impulsive…”
Her giggles joined the sound of the stream nearby. “If that is what you prefer to call it…” And then more laughter.
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Drawing the pair to a halt, Gabriel rolled his eyes heavenward and then hopped off.
As he sauntered around to the other side of the vehicle, he wondered if he should question the enthusiasm he felt at spending a day with the enigma that was Miss Olivia Redfield. He’d not been wrong the night of Stanton’s ball when he’d called her a mystery woman. Today, her gown, a simple cotton yellow print, had seen better days, and her bonnet seemed about three sizes too large. And yet…
Without any hesitation, she placed her hands on his shoulders, and he assisted her to the ground, sliding her scandalously along his own length. He took his time letting her go.
The material of her dress was thin, and she’d left off stays.
Damn his eyes, this wasn’t what he’d brought her here for.
Was it?
Chapter 8
Reasons
“Where did you get this wine?” Olivia threw herself backward on the large blanket they’d spread over the grass and stared up at the sky. “It’s divine. As was the cheese and the bread and the fruit.”
Gabriel stretched out beside her on his side and propped himself on one elbow so that he could study her closely.
For over an hour, she’d asked him questions about his travels, childhood, and even his friendship with her new brother-in-law. She wanted to know all about Brussels and the other legends around the statue he’d introduced her to in the garden at Ashton Acres. She’d commented thoughtfully but would then jump from one subject to the next with no transitions in between.
“Do you have a dog?” She turned her head and startled slightly when she realized how close he laid beside her. “I’ve always wanted a dog but my maid, Mary, says she’s allergic.” And then she turned to gaze back up at the sky.
And as gloriously blue as the sky was that afternoon, the color of her eyes put it to shame. He reached across the blanket and plucked a dandelion from the grass.
“Likely your maid simply doesn’t want the hassle of one. My mother has used that excuse for ages.”
She turned back to look at him, smiling. “I’d be willing to wager you forced the issue, did you not?”
“His name is William. My siblings and I claimed to have found him in the woods, that he’d been wet, starving… dying. He was not, of course, and we did not. He was the largest pup of a perfectly healthy litter a few farms over.”
Her lips parted, and the giggle he was coming to crave escaped.
Not moving his gaze from her face, he lifted the dandelion and traced it along the curve of her cheek.
Her chin.
And then her lips.
“Is this what friends do, Gabriel?” Her smile faded as she gazed back at him.
Friends? No. The thoughts in his mind had nothing to do with friendship.
“Why are you unmarried?” he asked, which was only one of the questions that had been bothering him about her.
Surely, Luke Smith was not the only man to offer for her. “You are no antidote, Miss Redfield, and although you refer to yourself as a spinster, I can’t imagine you’re much past your majority.”
“I’m five and twenty.” Her voice sounded breathless.
Gabriel drew the delicate petals of the flower along her lower lip, back and forth. And then the top, nearly hypnotizing himself with the temptation to taste her.
“Surely, you’ve disappointed others?”
Looking a little dazed, she shook her head slightly. “Luke Smith is the first.” And then she blinked three times. “You want to be my friend? In truth?”
Oh, hell. What was he doing? Stanton would kill him if he were to attempt anything untoward with her. And he’d deserve it because he had nothing more than friendship to offer. “I do.” He tapped the end of her pert nose with the yellow flower.
“I have had no other offers.” And then she sighed and turned her face away. “I’ve never had a male friend before. Do you have many lady friends?”
He’d never been interested in friendship with the ladies of his acquaintance. Except for his betrothed, Victoria, who seemed more like a sister than a fiancée. Pursuing friendship w
ith most ladies of the ton might be considered dangerous. He’d never been compelled to take such a risk.
Although he’d taken risks with a few widows and, of course, a few ladybirds of the demimonde. “A few,” he finally answered vaguely, the flower caressing the corner of her eye now.
“Friends do not kiss, do they, Gabriel?”
He chuckled. “Generally, no.” But all thoughts of laughter left him as her lips parted when he trailed the flower along the pink flesh of her mouth.
“But you wish to kiss me now, don’t you?” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper and her slightly hooded gaze met his with unabashed honesty. “I am not mistaken. You are very close to me. There is something…” Her voice trailed off as she seemed to search for the words.
“Something?” Her innocence delighted him.
“Heavy,” she said. “Warm.”
“In the air?”
“No.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You.”
Gabriel swept his hand through the space separating them. “But I am not even touching you.”
“I know. But your thoughts are. And that’s how I know.”
She was not wrong but what could he say? Yes, he wished to kiss her. Yes, he wished to touch her with more than his thoughts. He swallowed hard and jumped on the first subject he could think of in order to change the direction of this conversation.
“Have you ever been treated by a physician?”
It was obvious he’d confused her this time. “For kissing?” But then she realized what he meant, and she moved her gaze from his eyes to the buttons at the top of his shirt. “Once.”
“You don’t wear spectacles. Is your sight not affected?”
At this question, she raised her arm and draped it across her forehead, effectively blocking him from reading her very expressive face. “Before William was born, the doctor gave me a patch to wear. And I did so, diligently. Unfortunately, I wore it over the wrong eye. My mother had told me to cover the bad eye when the doctor intended me to cover the good one. A year later, the same doctor came through town and informed us that I’d done it irreparable harm. I tried wearing the patch over the good one, hoping it could still make a difference, but my mother forbade me to do that.”
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 7