Days after returning from London, a mere hours after burying the old duke, Crawford had asked if it was true that Olivia had gone to the mine just a few days before the cave-in. Gabriel had been unable to dissemble. Yes, Olivia had visited the mine, he was of a mind to believe that she’d even entered the first few feet or so while he’d gone down under.
“Goddamnit.” Crawford had responded to the news. “Why in the hell would she have gone there?”
“Because I offered to take her,” Gabriel had responded. “She’s known about the damnable pit of horrors for most of her life, I felt the least she deserved was to lay her eyes on it.”
“I know. Hell, I took Louella up there the first day of our courtship. I only wish…”
“What?”
“Damnable rumors are flying around. A few of the families are saying she cursed the workers with her eye. I was hoping I could refute that she’d been there, but—”
“Evans and Ben were there, too.” Damn ignorance. “There’s no fucking curse.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Stanton had run one hand through his hair. It had been a hellish month for both of them.
“She believes it sometimes. She’ll deny it left and right, but her father’s done his best to convince her.”
Crawford had paused and was watching him carefully. “You seem to have come to know my sister-in-law a great deal over the past few weeks.”
Gabriel had been unable to meet his friend’s eyes as he sat across the large desk between them. Instead, he’d unrolled a document he’d been working on that laid out all the weaknesses of the shaft they’d been utilizing at the mine. It would do no good to discuss Olivia with him.
Their friendship, likely, could not hold up to the transgressions Gabriel had committed against her.
“But of course, the betrothal’s not cursed,” his mother agreed in a placating manner, bringing Gabriel back to the present.
With hands that were beginning to show her age, Lady Kingsley then pulled her son down so that her kiss could land easily enough along his jaw. “We must get past this wedding so that you and Victoria can begin your life together, set up a nursery, and give me some grandbabies to fawn over.”
And then another damnable thought struck him. He would wait one month and then he needed to assure himself he’d not done any more damage than he originally thought.
He needed to write to Olivia.
In the weeks that followed the collapse of the mine, Louella and Crawford surprised the entire village by taking in the Smith children. They intended to care for them and raise them as their own.
No distant family member had come forth and the only other couples who would have wanted them would have only taken one, two at most. The boys would have lost each other in addition to losing their parents.
Just when Olivia had begun contemplating their predicament, the children had been swept away to Ashton Acres. Baby Harvey, the twins. Even Luke Junior.
Of mind to help her sister with the daunting responsibility, Olivia had made the short walk to Ashton Acres a few times but quickly discovered that with all the nurses and nannies hired by Crawford, there was no need. Although she’d managed to get Louella through one particularly rough spot, it seemed important to allow the children to settle into their new home, their new family, without her interference.
She was happy for them, and for Louella and Crawford.
And yet––Olivia glanced down at the book she’d been trying to read for the past half an hour––she could not shake this melancholy.
She’d read the same page over and over and still had no idea who Miss Bennett was talking to.
So much had changed. The children no longer needed her, Eliza had gone to visit an aunt, and Mary was taking the loss of her brother hard. The other woman made attempts at cheerfulness, but Olivia knew her maid had been close to him. He had married the previous spring and died leaving an expectant wife and not much to support her.
Such sadness. The loss of life that spring would be felt in Misty Brooke for years to come.
Olivia missed spending her days assisting Eliza caring for the children and although she tried not to dwell on it, she missed Gabriel’s sense of humor and adventurous spirit.
She missed how he had teased her and goaded her into wanting more for herself.
She missed him.
A knocking on the front door had her closing her book and setting it aside, once and for all.
A few minutes later Mary stood at the door. “It’s a letter for you.”
She rarely, if ever, received any mail and didn’t recognize the handwriting. Upon turning it over, however, she caught her breath. The sealed wax emblem boldly stated the sender to be the Earl of Kingsley.
He’d written to her.
Gabriel.
“Thank you.”
Mary nodded and withdrew silently. As dear as Mary was to her, Olivia needed to be alone when she saw his handwriting––when she read his thoughts.
It would not be a love letter, however, no matter how much she wished that it was.
There was only one rational reason for him to write. He wanted to be certain there were no repercussions from the night they’d spent together. He was, after all, a gentleman. And as such, although her claim to gentility was tenuous at best, his honor would dictate that he… do something.
There had not been any repercussions. She’d gotten her monthlies just two weeks after…
She ought to have been relieved but there was apparently no end to her foolishness.
She’d cried.
Olivia cracked the seal of the envelope and opened the carefully folded parchment.
Without focusing on the words, she dragged the tip of her index finger along the hastily scrawled lines of ink and then lifted the paper to smell it.
It mostly smelled like linen and a hint of spice and… man—left over from his hand, no doubt—that caused a whirlwind of sensations to sweep through her.
Memories. Longings.
She opened her eyes and read,
Olivia, Miss Redfield,
I hope this letter finds you in good health content in your situation. My conscience has been annoyingly persistent and will continue as such until I have satisfied myself that you are not experiencing devastating unwanted ruinous unseemly repercussions following our acquaintance this spring. Below is where I can be contacted if you find yourself in need of me additional assistance and/or support from myself.
I miss Please do not hesitate to send for me if necessary.
Your Friend,
Gabriel Fellowes, Kingsley.
And then he’d managed to scrawl barely legible directions to Kingsley House in Mayfair.
Why couldn’t she simply forget him? Or better yet, hate him? It would make his absence so much easier.
Olivia tipped her head back and stared up at the ceiling.
She squeezed her legs together, closed her eyes, and lifted the letter so that she could inhale his scent again.
Ten weeks had passed since they’d been together. Ten of the longest weeks of her life.
Chapter 20
Moving On?
“My Lord.” Victoria rose to greet Gabriel with her hands outstretched. “It is so wonderful to see you looking hale and healthy. I’d begun to wonder if you were ever going to return to England.”
When she offered her cheek, he had no reluctance in placing a kiss upon it, just as he’d done with his sister less than one week ago. “I’d be the world’s greatest fool if I did not. How are you, Miss Shipley? You look even more beautiful than when I left.”
And he was not dissembling. He’d never once found her looks lacking. Her hair was brown, but with shimmering golden highlights, and her chocolate-colored eyes always met him with a welcoming warmth.
He couldn’t allow her time to answer, as he felt her aunt’s disapproving gaze burning a hole into his back. He turned and bowed to the discommodious woman in hopes of sweetening her temperament even the slightest. “Mrs.
Beasley, It is a pleasure to see you again as well.”
Which, of course, was an outright lie.
“Harrumph,” she answered in kind. “Your mother informed me that you had returned to London all of a week ago. How good you are, to come rushing immediately to your intended’s side.”
“Aunt Delia.” Victoria shot her aunt a pleading glance. “I’m certain Lord Kingsley had important business to attend to.”
He held onto his cajoling smile even as he recalled all of the important duties he’d allotted for his time. Such as drinking and gambling well into the night at a few of his clubs, working himself to exhaustion at Gentlemen Jackson’s. Writing and then rewriting letters to send to Olivia.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “May I?” He gestured toward the long settee. “I was hoping we could settle on a new wedding date.”
There, he’d said it. He was not on the verge of jilting his fiancée for another woman. He hadn’t even allowed himself to think such thoughts. But he could not bring himself to do the deed as quickly as had been decided a year ago. The Season was already over, really.
And who married in London when no one was in town?
Mrs. Beasley’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Victoria nodded but remained silent. Likely, she’d become so frustrated over the past few attempts that she refused to allow herself to summon much excitement for their nuptials until they were both standing at the altar.
“A summer wedding would be most commodious,” he began while studying a bouquet of flowers on a table near the window. Society weddings required an abundance of flowers and decorations. And there ought to be a wedding breakfast as well. He frowned. “Then again, to schedule the ceremony so precipitously allows only a short amount of time for planning.”
“I’m certain that between your sister, your mother, Miss Shipley, and myself, we can manage the necessary arrangements,” Mrs. Beasley suggested.
But Gabriel was shaking his head. “No, no. I won’t have it.” He nodded toward his fiancée’s relative. “Miss Shipley has waited far too long to marry with anything less than all pomp and circumstances.”
Victoria caught her aunt’s eye.
“Christmas would give us plenty of time to plan adequately.” She suggested so softly that Gabriel had to lean forward in order to hear all of her words. She couldn’t be any more different than Olivia, although both of them were lovely ladies indeed.
Mrs. Beasley’s lips pinched together tightly.
He furrowed his brows.
It had snowed last year at Christmas time. A vicious blizzard, in fact.
Gabriel was shaking his head once again. “If the weather turns, it could make for difficult travel and we’d be left with an empty church. What would you think of the first Sunday in May, my dear? My mother will go into raptures at the promise of a ton wedding held at the pinnacle of the Season. What do you say, Miss Shipley? A spring wedding at St. George’s?”
She shrugged and raised her brows. “I don’t know why not. We’ve waited this long…”
Mrs. Beasley wasn’t so accommodating. “Too long, as far as I’m concerned. What does my niece need with a fancy Society wedding anyhow?”
“Nothing but the best for my future countess, and if she’s of mind to have a spring wedding, then a spring wedding she shall have.” And having made such a definitive decision, Gabriel rose once again and placed his hat back atop his head. If only Victoria’s aunt was less of a dragon, the poor girl might smile on occasion.
It occurred to him that he might make more of an attempt. And he would.
Soon.
“I’ll inform my mother and sister before they leave for their afternoon visits. It’s never too soon to begin making plans.”
Mrs. Beasley glowered at him. “All the expenses are to be billed to you?”
Not much of a question, really. “Of course,” he answered amicably.
And then Victoria yawned behind a fan she’d been holding. “Springtime is a long way off. One never knows…”
“I will be counting the days.” He performed some mental calculations before adding, “Around 298, or thereabouts, if my guess is correct?”
Mrs. Beasley clucked her tongue.
Victoria shook her head, but Gabriel made out a barely perceptible grin.
“Will you do me the honor of joining me for a drive through the park this afternoon?” Ah, yes. There it was. A full smile.
“As long as it’s not one of those high-flying vehicles.” And then she chuckled. “I’ll be counting the hours.”
“A spring wedding at St. George’s,” Gabriel announced when his mother glanced up from the book she’d been reading before he barged in unannounced. The gratified smile he expected never came, however. Instead, his mother frowned.
“Must the two of you wait so long? What if another relative knocks off? I’d think Miss Shipley would have been more practical in selecting the date.” His mother stared at him intently. “I do hope she’s not considering crying off. This is something both your fathers wanted for so very long.”
Gabriel dropped into a large wing-backed chair and crossed his legs. “She’s not considering crying off. If she doesn’t marry, she’ll be stuck with that ghastly aunt of hers for life.”
Given the choice, he would have much preferred to have the wedding over and done with, but since Victoria had her mind set on the full regalia of a spring wedding in London, who was he to disappoint her? The poor girl had had a horrid time of it over the past few years. “Absolutely insists upon the additional time to plan. And, of course, you and Prissy will want to help organize…” he twirled one hand in the air, “…all the things that need organizing. Say, where is Prissy, after all?”
His only sister, also his youngest sibling, had made her come out two years ago at the age of eighteen, and he’d only run across her a few times since returning. She wasn’t the same gangly girl she’d been when he had left for his travels two years before.
“She and Miss Ayles are taking in the sights at the Tower with Lord Lockley today. I do believe he’s considering offering for her.”
“Lockley, eh?” From what Gabriel remembered, the marquess was nearly a decade older than Gabriel and considerably more experienced than his sister. If his memory served him right, the man was quite popular amongst London’s most popular brothel madams. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but he’d continued his patronage throughout his marriage. Not the sort one wanted for one’s sister, that was for certain. “A little old for Prissy, don’t you think?”
His mother shrugged. “He seems a little quiet for her, but he’s handsome, and although he’s only been widowed little more than a year, very sought after.”
Gabriel rubbed his chin, determined to do a little asking around.
“Your brothers haven’t brought forth any objections.” His mother picked up some knitting and busily worked her needles with what appeared to be little effort. She’d always had a book, or sewing, or something to keep her occupied.
“I can imagine how a pup like Nathaniel would be balled over by Lockley, but I’m surprised Gilbert would approve very handily.” Gabriel’s two younger brothers could hardly be more opposite than one another in nature. Nathaniel was more apt to use his charm and boyish good looks to get by in life, while Gilbert relied upon good sense and skepticism. Prissy fell somewhere in between.
As the oldest, Gabriel had done his best to keep the peace amongst them all.
“Perhaps if you remain in Town for a while, you can come to know the man himself. Prissy is quite taken with him.”
Before taking it upon himself to travel the Continent, living in London had more than suited Gabriel’s needs. Entertainments abounded in the form of his clubs, government affairs, horse racing, cards… the occasional high-end brothel if he failed to attach himself while visiting the green room… But none of it held the same appeal this time around.
Already, he was feeling restless.
Useless.
Not that he had any desire to involve himself ever again in Crawford’s mining operations, but he was beginning to believe he was a man who needed to participate in activities that had more purpose—not just more purpose—but any purpose at all. Neither he nor his mother made much use of Sky Manor, located about an hour from Ashton Acres, since his father’s passing.
“Not sure how long I’ll remain in Town, Mother. I’m of a mind to make a visit to Sky Manor before the season ends.”
“Sky Manor?” She’d dropped her needles and studied him closely, but then began nodding slowly. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”
He’d not expected her to be so pleased with his imminent departure.
“We’ll all go.” Without so much as an acknowledgment from him, she’d set the knitting aside, and taken up a piece of paper and pencil.
“Are you certain, Mother? You wish to leave London for the summer then?”
“It’s time, son.” She smiled up at him.
Rising from his chair, Gabriel found himself feeling satisfied indeed with his accomplishments for the day.
If only the mail had brought the missive he’d been watching for. He supposed that he ought to assume Olivia had no need of him.
She’d not returned his letter. Which ought to indicate that they had managed to avoid any… complications.
Because it would have complicated everything.
As a gentleman, honor would have forced him to offer her and their child the protection of his name. He’d have had no choice but to bow out of his betrothal with Victoria. It was the only possible scenario where he would have gone against his father’s wishes.
But she had not written.
His disappointment was quite unexpected.
Of course, it was not the thing at all, for an unmarried lady and a gentleman to correspond in such a manner, but they were rather beyond such formalities… and he would have liked to know how she fared.
Crawford had written on a few occasions with questions regarding reopening the mine. From what Gabriel understood, however, operations would move at a snail’s pace and when future concerns arose, they would be halted until the problems were addressed and resolved. All of the bodies had been recovered and although a handful of the initial workers were returning, a good deal of them had stayed away.
The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2) Page 16