Had Oliver mentioned a brother? Vivianna did not think so. “I did not realize Lord Montegomery had a brother.”
Miss Susan gave a sad smile. “Yes, and his is a strange and unfortunate story. He spoke briefly of his brother when he was last here.”
“Oliver…that is, Lord Montegomery was here?” Vivianna raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I did not realize you had met him in person. I thought you conducted the matter of the lease through his man of business and by correspondence.”
“At the time we first leased Candlewood we had not met him, no, but since then he has been here twice, or is it three times?”
“But why so many? I do not understand.”
“Neither do we.” The two sisters exchanged glances. “When he visited he would spend a great deal of time walking about the house, just looking, and once he brought a man with him who took measurements and hammered on the walls.”
“How odd.”
“It was, rather. We have also had Lord Lawson here once, shortly after we moved in, but that was to welcome us. In Anthony’s stead, was what he said.”
The two sisters watched her expectantly.
“Lord Lawson?”
Miss Susan was eager to enlighten her. “He is a member of Sir Robert Peel’s Tory party, and some say he will be the next prime minister. He may have been so now if Lord Melbourne had not inveigled his way back into government because the queen is so fond of him.”
The Beatty sisters did not appear to be impressed with Lord Melbourne, and Vivianna did not blame them. The prime minister was deeply conservative and seemed not to believe in reform of any kind. He had lost office in 1839 to Sir Robert Peel, but due to Queen Victoria’s refusal to dismiss her current ladies-in-waiting and allow Sir Robert to install new ladies of his own party’s persuasion—as was the custom—and Sir Robert’s subsequent stubborn stance on the matter, Lord Melbourne had been asked to return as prime minister. But it was, Vivianna felt sure, only a matter of time before Lord Melbourne was once more ousted—he was very unpopular with all but the queen, and now that she was enraptured by her new husband, Prince Albert, he had lost even her wholehearted support.
“Why would Lord Lawson welcome you in Anthony’s stead?” Vivianna asked, puzzled.
“Lord Lawson was Anthony’s very good friend.”
“Lord Lawson has written to us since his visit,” Miss Susan added. “He sent a note in response to our news that Candlewood was to be demolished, saying he would do all in his power to prevent it, but that as the property now belonged to Lord Montegomery, it may be a difficult matter.”
“Still, it cannot harm us to have a champion of his standing,” her sister added. “Lord Lawson is very well thought of. A great man.”
Vivianna agreed it would do them no harm to have a possible future PM on their side. “But I still don’t see why Lord Montegomery would visit Candlewood when he has said he wants nothing more than to see it turned to dust. It is odd.”
“Very odd.”
Vivianna sipped her tea. “It may be helpful,” she said carefully, “if I knew the strange and unfortunate circumstances of Anthony’s death.”
“It is mostly gossip,” Miss Susan replied with a grimace, “but if it will help…”
“Anthony had been to a dinner at his club in the city,” Miss Greta took up the story. “Afterwards, he walked to Candlewood—he often did that, he said it cleared his head. He was planning to sleep here overnight before traveling on to his home in Derbyshire in the morning. His brother was to collect him by coach and they would travel together. You see, Miss Greentree, at that time there were no permanent staff at Candlewood—only those who came once a week to do some cleaning.”
“So Anthony Montegomery was here on his own?”
“Yes, all on his own. When his brother arrived in the morning, he found him lying in the hall, quite dead. He had been shot in the head. It was put about that someone had broken into the house, a thief perhaps, and finding Anthony here alone, had shot him to escape. The odd thing is, the pistol that did the deed was Anthony’s own, and it was found beside his body. Gossip would have it that he took his own life, but the full facts of the matter have never come out because no one ever came forward, and of course the family rejected suicide. Oliver took his brother’s death very hard. I have heard he was quite changed by it.”
The story was a tragic one, Vivianna thought. To lose one’s brother in such circumstances made her heart ache for him. But did Oliver’s loss excuse his selfishness in removing the orphans from their home? No, it did not.
“After Anthony’s death, Oliver inherited the Montegomery estate, the house in London, and Candlewood.” Miss Greta’s eyes flashed. “You know the rest.”
“Why do the gossips believe Anthony killed himself? Was he an unhappy man?”
Miss Susan leaned closer. “There was a reason he may have killed himself, Miss Greentree. Evidently he was about to become engaged to a girl, a girl he loved very much, but the night he died he had come upon his brother and the girl…embracing. I suppose, if he thought his heart was broken and all his happiness destroyed, he might contemplate suicide.”
“I see that he might,” Vivianna murmured. Anger seared through her, turning any lingering pity to steam. “How terrible. And why am I not surprised?”
“The Montegomeries were once a great family,” Miss Greta added fuel to the fire. “They had wealth and position. But now they are on the wane. If Anthony had lived, perhaps they may have risen again. Everyone says he had promise, and with a friend like Lord Lawson…But his brother…” She shook her head. “He is handsome and charming, I grant you, at least superficially so, but I believe he spends all his time in the pursuit of his own pleasure.”
“And he is so lacking in any sort of honor and proper feeling that he stole his brother’s fiancée. And his brother discovered it!” Miss Susan declared.
There was a silence while Vivianna picked over the ruin they had made of Oliver’s character. Could this unsavory fellow really be Oliver, with his dark lock of hair falling over his brow, his intense eyes, and his charming smile? No doubt Oliver had also fascinated his brother’s lady-love—Vivianna did not hesitate to put the entire blame on him. What chance did the lady have against such odds? He was her Uncle Toby all over again; a wicked and hard-hearted rascal who would stop at nothing to indulge his own appetite.
This morning he had kissed her as if he could not help himself. If Lil had not interrupted, how far would matters have gone? She hadn’t felt under threat when he kissed her and held her—just strangely excited and curious—but she admitted now that she was an innocent when it came to men like Oliver Montegomery. He could not have become such a famous rake if he were not very good at what he did.
“Is there hope, do you think, Miss Greentree?”
Vivianna began to pull on her gloves with brisk, determined tugs, her eyes alight in anticipation of the battle ahead. “I believe so, ladies. I will let you know as soon as I have any news. Goodbye for now, and do not worry!”
The two sisters seemed cheered, some of the strain clearing from their faces. Vivianna kept the brave smile plastered to her own face until the coach set off, rumbling down the driveway to join the London road.
The Beatty sisters had given her much to think on. Not that she had the solution to their problems, not yet, but at least she felt she knew more about Oliver Montegomery, the man, than she had before. Perhaps she could turn it to her own advantage. Then again, she doubted he would be so easily overcome. For all his lazy smiles and indolent charm, there was a sense of strength and purpose about him that she was yet to fully understand.
Oh yes, there was far more to Oliver Montegomery than met the eye.
And what about Anthony’s fiancée and the rumors that Oliver had stolen the lady’s affections and his brother had seen them? Hardly admirable. But would a man seemingly without scruples be so changed by what he had done that he spent his days and nights in a drunken stupor? Surely
they were more likely to be the actions of a man suffering excessively from guilt and regret. A troubled soul.
Might there be hope for him? Redemption.
Vivianna knew she was just the woman to lead him there. And at the same time complete her own mission in regard to Candlewood. A memory of his mouth on hers intruded briefly, but Vivianna pushed it aside. She must concentrate on her purpose and not be distracted by this unlikely attraction she felt for him.
She would visit Berkeley Square tomorrow—she had no expectations of being allowed in or of Oliver being home, but she would leave her card for him, with a handwritten message upon the back of it. Something simple like…
I can help you.
Yes, let him make of that what he wished. Vivianna shivered, and thought that one way or another it would not be long before Oliver called upon her again…
Lady Marsh lived in Eaton Square, Belgravia, and she greeted Oliver with an unassumed pleasure that made him wonder, as he always wondered, why she continued to ally herself to him. After Anthony died, any sensible woman would have wiped her hands of him, but she hadn’t, and he was grateful.
They spoke generally for a time, of this and that, some of it gossip. Although she did not go into society much anymore, Lady Marsh liked to keep herself abreast of the latest news. Her arthritis kept her housebound and often bedridden, although today Oliver thought she seemed spry enough.
“Oliver,” she said at last, and her eyes, the same dark blue as his own, the same dark blue as all the Montegomeries had, fastened upon him. “I do not want to repeat myself, but it is time you found a wife and settled down and gave the Montegomeries an heir.”
He laughed despite himself. “No, please don’t repeat yourself, Aunt!”
“Oliver, be serious, this is very important. You need to think to the future.”
“Do I?”
“Oliver, I loved your brother dearly, and yes he was very dependable and solid, but he had neither your brilliance of mind nor your practical clear headedness.”
Oliver smiled and sipped his wine. Clearheadedness? Let his aunt have her illusions if she wished. If she could have seen him this morning in Queen’s Square, kissing Miss Vivianna Greentree in front of the servants, she would know that was something he singularly lacked. Perhaps he had lost his mind. That was it: Vivianna’s lecturing had sent him insane.
Evidently Lady Marsh took his smile for encouragement, for she continued on.
“Oliver, you do not have a partiality for Celia, do you?”
He blinked. “Celia Maclean? Of course not, Aunt.”
“I see. It is just that…”
“It is just that she was Anthony’s fiancée…almost,” he said grimly, “and she and I were together the night he died. I know, I was there.”
“So you were,” she replied, and waited.
“It was a mistake,” he said with uncharacteristic awkwardness. “Just a stupid mistake. If Anthony hadn’t seen us, no one would have known…he wouldn’t have known. I never wanted to marry Celia, and I’m very sure she didn’t want to marry me. I betrayed his trust, but not from any ill will towards him. It was a simple, stupid misstep.”
Lady Marsh nodded. “Thank you, Oliver. I thought perhaps you were nursing a secret broken heart for the girl. I am glad to hear you are not. Well, as you yourself admit that you have no partialities, I have taken the liberty of drawing up a list of suitable young ladies.” She ignored his cynical grin. “I am sure, if you cast your eye over it, you will find someone to your liking. While I do not expect any of these young ladies to be as exotic as some of your current…friends, they are far more suitable as wives. Someone to grace your table, and on whom to hang the family emeralds. And, most important of all, someone to produce an heir to carry on the Montegomery name. To be blunt, Oliver, we need a filly of good breeding and bloodline if you are to have a strong colt off her.”
Again Oliver laughed. That was one thing he liked about his aunt, she was not mealymouthed. His smile faded. He supposed he would do it, even though he had seen enough arranged marriages for the idea to leave him cold. But it was his duty now, wasn’t it? He would marry a dull and suitable girl and father a child on her, and she would be prepared to put up with his indifference to her, his failure to love her, for the sake of belonging to one of England’s oldest families. Not to mention Lady Marsh’s fortune.
Lady Marsh was watching him, trying to read him.
“Very well, Aunt, I will examine your list. Although these days my reputation is not quite what a prospective father-in-law might want for his daughter.”
It was Lady Marsh’s turn to laugh. “I think you would find he would be too dazzled by my fortune to take any notice of your reputation, Oliver.”
She was right; he knew it. He was the bitter pill that must be swallowed for the sake of Lady Marsh’s fortune—not Montegomery money, which was a mere trickle these days, but that of her late husband. And yet, as he followed her into the dining room to partake of luncheon, Oliver suddenly found himself wondering what he would do if—unlikely as it seemed—Vivianna Greentree was on his aunt’s list of prospective brides. Would he be disinterested then? The thought was so deliciously tantalizing he wanted to stop and savor it.
What was it about her? Putting aside her obsession with Candlewood, wasn’t she the epitome of the sort of woman he had always avoided? Or perhaps it was just that he was tired of being pleased; perhaps he needed someone like Vivianna, someone who would stand up to him and look him in the eye.
Damnation, don’t lecture me, woman, he had said to her this morning, and she had looked straight through him. No, not through, inside him. And then he had kissed her. And he had known, wrap it up in whatever lies he liked, at that moment, with his lips touching hers, that that was the true reason he had come to see her.
“Oliver.” Lady Marsh was looking ahead, not meeting his eyes, and suddenly he felt the tension in the twisted fingers resting upon his arm.
“Yes, Aunt?”
“I had a visit from Lord Lawson a day or two ago.”
Oliver felt his face go blank. “Oh?”
“He had come, he said, because he had heard disturbing news about Candlewood. That you meant to tear it down. He was very…well, you know what he is, he was very authoritative, as if he were giving one of his speeches to Parliament. He asked me if I could change your mind, and that it would not reflect well upon the family if you went ahead. That sort of thing.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said you were your own man and I had little influence over you.”
“Good.”
“Actually, I had the feeling he was rather glad you were demolishing the place, but he thought he should pretend the opposite. That man is so devious I sometimes wonder if he himself knows what he’s thinking.”
Oliver smiled. “While Candlewood is standing his reputation is in danger. He thinks when it is dust he will be safe. But soon he will learn that matters are not quite as simple as that….”
“Oliver…he mentioned Anthony. He said Anthony would not have liked the person you have become. He said that Anthony would have felt let down by you.”
For a moment Oliver felt sick with fury, but he swallowed it down. Made himself calm again before he spoke. “I see.” He allowed the thud of her cane to fill the silence as they reached the dining room.
“Oliver, I have been thinking…. I do not know if you should go on with this plan of yours, to avenge Anthony. I know I gave approval, and at the time I quite saw the point you were making, but now…well, I have been wondering of late whether we have been looking for a culprit to blame when there is none. Perhaps Anthony did kill himself, Oliver. I know it is not what you want to hear, but we must face the fact that as levelheaded as Anthony seemed, he may have decided, in a foolish moment, to take his own life.”
Oliver knew he must choose his words carefully, and yet he felt hot and dizzy, as though he had been out in the sun too long. Had Lord Lawson caused thi
s, his aunt’s doubt? Now, when it was almost over? Perhaps, he thought bleakly, she had always doubted him, but had played along for his own sake, to salve his conscience.
“Anthony would never have killed himself,” he said, and only the tremor of his voice showed the pressure he had to bring to bear upon himself. “His heart was stouter than that. He was murdered and we both know by whom. Be patient, Aunt, that is all I ask. It will be over soon.”
“Oliver, are you positive that—”
“Yes. You think I want to close my eyes to the possibility that Anthony killed himself, because then I would have to accept the blame? I do accept the blame. If I had not been with Celia, then Anthony would have told me what it was that was bothering him. He had spoken before, but only bits and pieces, nothing that had made much sense at the time. That night he had finally come to me to explain the whole story, to ask me for my advice. Despite the difference in our ages, despite what people thought about our differing characters, he sometimes did ask my advice, you know. But that night Celia was there, and…He walked out, he walked all the way to Candlewood, and took his secret with him to the grave.”
Lady Marsh’s cane thudded on the floor, muffled by the carpet. “You will not listen to me, Oliver, so I may as well save my breath. Only let me say this one more thing.”
They had reached her chair at the head of the table. “You may say whatever you wish, Aunt.”
Lady Marsh struggled into her seat. Settled at last, she looked up at Oliver, and her hard, proud face was pleading. She looked her age, and she looked worried.
“Oliver, you must find a wife and marry. There is solace in making a family of your own. You are too much alone these days. Oh, I know, you are always with people, but a man can stand in a crowded room and still be alone. Look at my list of brides and choose one. Please.”
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