Love Birds: The Complete Collection

by Ruth J. Hartman

  A smile tugged on her lips. “Yes. The more I’m acquainted with them, the more I want to know. They are each and every one fascinating creatures.” She bit her lip. “Especially the cuckoo.”

  Oliver’s loud laugh startled nearby ducks. Wings flapped and bills quacked and proop-prooped. Raising his other hand toward the birds, Oliver waved. “Sorry old chaps. I’m afraid I was overcome by mirth. You may feel free to put the blame at Lucy’s feet.”

  With her hand, her hand not resting comfortably and warm in Oliver’s, she lightly slapped his shoulder. “Oliver. What must the ducks think of me now?”

  “I can’t imagine the male duck who took a fancy to Lofton would have any great affinity toward you.”

  Lucy sputtered out a laugh. “If that duck had such affections for me, I might find myself worried.”

  “And I might find myself jealous.” Red, instant and dark, appeared from his forehead to his collar. “Oh… I…”

  Pleased to no end, although embarrassed herself, Lucy squeezed his hand. “What a wonderful compliment. Thank you.”

  He lowered his lashes and gazed directly at her lips. “If my discomfort leads to your enjoyment, then I would gladly say the words again.”

  “You would?”

  He nodded. “Anytime. Anywhere.”

  He leaned closer. His breath smelled of mint and the outdoors. What would his lips taste like? Eyes dark as chocolate peered into hers. She held her breath. Not that she tried to, it just wouldn’t seem to come. All of the Sanctuary noises were gone. The ducks. The geese. The chiff-chaffs and owls. The nuthatch and even the cuckoo. Only silence remained. Silence and Oliver’s breaths coming in quick succession.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Only a whisper of air between their lips…

  “Lucy! Oh there you are.” Anna’s strident voice carried across the expanse of the Sanctuary.

  Lucy widened her eyes. She’d been about to kiss Oliver! In public! Where God and everyone could see!

  Stepping apart at the same moment, as if synchronized, they both swallowed hard. Then, with chests heaving as if having run a race, took shallow breaths. Lucy glanced at Oliver, whose face was flushed. Was hers the same?

  Anna reached them. Mr. Warner was right behind her. And they were smiling. Even more than usual. What could be causing this much gladness?

  “Lucy.” Anna reached out to grasp her hands. “You’re flushed, dear.” Well that question is now answered. “Are you ill?”

  “I’m fine. Uh…” She glanced at Oliver again, who smiled. And there was that dimple again. That single spot on the man’s person seemed to get her in more trouble. All she had to do was get a glimpse of it and suddenly she wanted to kiss—

  “…our news.”

  Lucy whipped her head back toward Anna. “Pardon?”

  “I said… I’ve yet to tell you our news.”

  “News?”

  “Yes. Wonderful news.”

  “Wonderful news?” Why did she sound like a parrot?

  “Dear, perhaps you need to sit and rest. You look as if you’ve been running a race.” Anna frowned. “As does Mr. Barrow.” She lifted a brow. “What would have been going on to make you—?”

  “Your news, Anna. You must tell me.” She led Anna to a nearby bench.

  The two women were seated, while the men stood facing them.

  “Richard has…” Anna giggled and fanned her face with her hand. “Asked for my…” More fanning. “…h-hand.”

  Lucy widened her eyes. “Oh my. Isn’t that somewhat sudden?”

  Mr. Warner stepped forward and put his hand on Anna’s shoulder. “When you find the right person, Miss Ashbrook, length of time spent together beforehand matters not.” He turned and looked Oliver full in the eyes and nodded.

  I wonder what that can mean?

  “Yes.” Anna tilted her cheek against his hand. “It’s true. Although, I never dreamed it could happen…” She glanced up into Mr. Warner face. “…to me.” Her face glowed. Glowed.

  Lucy shook her head. “I’m amazed. But oh so happy for you both. You have my sincere congratulations.” She hugged Anna and then held out her hand to Mr. Warner. “I’d be pleased if you addressed me as Lucy, since you’ll be like family now.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled as he held her hand briefly. “And I am Richard.”

  “Welcome to our family, Richard, for I think of Anna as a mother.”

  Anna, wiping a tear away from her cheek, gave Lucy a wink. And Lucy was so very happy and excited for Anna and Richard.

  Yet…

  Something cold, something desolate swept through her soul. Why could it not be her? Her and Oliver announcing such wonderful, exciting news. Would that ever happen? Could it?

  If Oliver did make his profession of love to her someday and did propose marriage, would Lucy’s father stand in their way?

  A painful jab to her heart told her the answer. But maybe, just maybe, if Lucy were to explain to him how much she cared for Oliver, what a hard worker he was, Father might see that Oliver could, with the aid of Lucy’s inheritance, see to her care quite nicely.

  If she told Father those things, if he could see her face as she spoke of her heart’s desire… surely he would relent.

  The man did possess a heart, after all. Did he not?

  Chapter Eleven

  Conrad stormed from the Bird Sanctuary. Laughter from Lucy and Barrow still ringing in his ears. And that bird! That disgusting, obnoxious, vengeful bird. How dare it soil not only his pristine coat, but his boots as well? And his hat! How on earth would the valet be able to properly clean that?

  He spat on the ground, not caring who witnessed it. And when the vile creature had… in his mouth! Shudders rolled through him, nearly forcing the contents of his stomach up his throat. There might not be enough tooth powder in London to rid him of the taste of that.

  His carriage was waiting near the Sanctuary gate. Increasing his speed, he hurried toward it. The fewer people who witnessed his appearance at the present, the better. His groom turned toward him and reached to open the door. But his hand stopped in midair. With his mouth dropped open, he stared.

  “Stop gawking! Open that door at once!”

  The groom obeyed, but his eyes were still the size of walnuts. At least he’d closed his mouth.

  As I should have done. Then at least I wouldn’t taste that…

  Pushing away the thought, Conrad climbed into the carriage. Relief washed over him when he was finally alone and away from curious stares. Soon he would be home and could change into clean clothes and rinse out his mouth. Lucy and Barrow were probably still filled with mirth at his expense. His face heated. How dare they?

  Birds twittered in the trees as the carriage rolled by. Well that was the very last noise he wished to hear. Conrad fisted his hands in anger. He had to marry Lucy. He had to! All because his father had left him in debt up to his chin. Yes, he’d inherited the earldom, but the problems that accompanied it hardly seemed fair. The situation forced him to pursue a woman in whom he had no feelings. In truth, he loathed her. Lucy was vapid and silly and seemed to possess absolutely no redeeming qualities. The fact that he needed her inheritance rankled.

  But need it, he did.

  Even with the money he’d receive from blackmailing Ashbrook, it wouldn’t be enough without the inheritance. Certainly he overspent and had racked up debt with every business in London, but how was an earl supposed to keep up appearances otherwise? A certain standard of living was crucial to someone of his status.

  Society expected it.

  So did Mother.

  Mother… If he didn’t marry Lucy soon, his mother would have his head. Such a demanding woman. Yet, he respected her. So unlike Lucy, whose sugary sweet demeanor nauseated him. At least, she was sweet to others. Not to him. Never to him. If only she would give him the respect he deserved.

  And if she would have accepted one of his multiple proposals over the years, none of this would
be an issue.

  He wouldn’t be blackmailing Ashbrook for his daughter’s hand.

  He wouldn’t have to deal with that common laborer, Barrow.

  And he wouldn’t be spitting out bird…

  The horses’ hooves slowed as the driver steered the carriage into Conrad’s lane. Finally, he could go inside, away from the outdoors. The filth. The birds.

  And he could change into clean clothing and wash his face. And tongue!

  He opened the door before his groom had a chance, barely waiting for the carriage to come to a complete stop, avoiding the driver and groom as he hopped to the ground.

  Conrad hurried toward the door of his home, relieved when the door opened before he reached it. His butler, Giles, widened his eyes briefly and then composed his features. “Good day, my lord. Do you require—?”

  “Stuff it.” Conrad rushed across the entryway and up the steps. He glanced down at his clothing. The mess left by the abhorrent cuckoo was already dry. What if the valet couldn’t remove it? With Conrad already in such debt, he’d be hard pressed to convince the shop owner to let him purchase another suit so soon.

  When he entered his rooms, Stephen, his valet, was already there. The man kept Conrad’s things in order and pristine. Would he be able to save the clothing he wore at present?

  Stephen turned toward Conrad. “Good day, my—”

  The valet’s words died on his lips.

  Conrad frowned. “Just help me out of these clothes.” He stood and waited for Stephen to assist him. Imagine if he didn’t have servants? How on earth would he survive? Panic welled in his chest. I have to marry Lucy. Quickly.

  “Hurry up. I have somewhere else to be. And I cannot go looking like this,” Conrad snapped, glaring at Stephen and tapping his boot impatiently.

  Stephen rushed toward him, nodding so fast it surely made him dizzy. “Certainly, my lord. Let’s get you out of these… clothes.”

  Conrad caught a glimpse of himself in the looking glass. Egads! It was worse than he’d imagined. White dried blobs stuck to his hat, coat, gloves and boots. And his face. A putrid white streak ran from his nostril, over his lips and to the bottom of his jaw. No wonder his stoic, normally emotionless servants had stared. His image was horrifying.

  With care, and a grimace on his face, Stephen helped Conrad undress. The soiled garments were left on the floor. At first, Conrad was angry. Usually dirty clothes were draped over the back of a chair until Stephen could attend to them. But in this case, perhaps it was fitting that the items were treated as refuse. At least until the valet could get them cleaned.

  If he could get them clean.

  Quickly redressed and having cleaned his face and mouth, Conrad stormed from his rooms much as he’d stormed from the Sanctuary. And Lucy. And Barrow. And the laughter.

  He stomped toward the staircase and down the steps. Anger pushed him toward the door. Toward his carriage. Conrad instructed the driver to take him to Ashbrook’s. He climbed up and sat inside.

  His mission must be accomplished. Soon. Not a moment must be wasted now, if he wished to get his hands on Lucy’s inheritance.

  Fresh horses had been haltered to the carriage, which in itself looked better. The seat and floor had been swept clean of the small white dry pieces of bird dung. If nothing else, his servants were quick and reliable.

  Would he even be able to afford them in the near future?

  A gasp escaped his lips. No! He would not, could not live without servants.

  Since it was only a few miles between his home and Ashbrook’s, the ride was over soon. His heart raced as he climbed from the carriage. Would he be able to convince Lucy’s father to force her to marry him? And soon?

  He raised his hand to knock on the door, but it opened before he had the chance. Alfred stood in the doorway.

  “Good day, Lord—”

  Conrad waved a hand at him. “Yes, yes. Enough of that. Where is Mr. Ashbrook?”

  “He’s in his study, my lord. Let me see if he’s—”

  “Never mind.” Conrad brushed past him and headed toward Ashbrook’s office. Why had I even asked where the man was? It seemed he rarely left his study. When he reached the closed door, he didn’t bother to knock. He didn’t give a hang whether he would interrupt anything or not.

  The time had come for Ashbrook to uphold his end. Or Conrad would go public with the information about Proust. He hadn’t a qualm about doing so.

  Turning the knob and shoving open the heavy door, Conrad was greeted with the other man’s signature frown.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Lofton? Can’t you see I—”

  Conrad slammed the door, the noise echoing from the wall. “I don’t really care what you’re doing, Jeffrey.”

  “Now listen here—”

  “No. You listen. I’ve put up with this long enough. It’s time.” Conrad walked toward the desk slowly, as if he had not a care in the world, when in truth, his heart raced like that of a cat having been chased by a large dog.

  “Time?”

  “For you to do what you said you would.”

  “I never agreed to anything.” Ashbrook crossed his arms.

  “You can try to weasel you way out of this, Ashbrook, but it won’t work. You know what will happen if you don’t get Lucy to marry me. Soon.”

  “But you wouldn’t really…?”

  Conrad took a final step toward the huge desk, bent at the waist, and planted his hands on the desktop. “Oh, wouldn’t I? Try me.”

  Ashbrook swallowed, his Adam’s apple rolling up and down. His face paled. “You really would, wouldn’t you? You’d ruin me if I refuse to give you Lucy.”

  Conrad leaned closer. The aroma of cigars clung to Ashbrook’s breath. “You can bet on it, Jeffrey.” He straightened and smoothed his hands down his coat. “So what’s it to be?”

  A huff of air came from Ashbrook’s mouth. “Fine. You win.”

  Conrad smirked. “I always do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucy entered her father’s study. And waited. She had no patience left after dealing with Conrad’s whining, insults, and tantrums. Making a small sound to garner her father’s attention would take more energy than she possessed at the moment. And Anna’s news, while wonderful, had knocked the wind from her sails.

  Sitting on the settee, she folded her hands in her lap. Eventually, her father would look up from his work and notice her. Until then, she’d relax and try to calm down. Anger still bubbled just beneath her skin, prickly and annoying. Just like Conrad. The names he’d called Oliver! Why couldn’t the man—

  “Lucy?”

  “Hello, Father.”

  “Is something the matter? You look a bit bedraggled.”

  She reached up to touch her hair. Had it come undone from the pins again? Or did he mean something else by bedraggled? “I’ve been to the Bird Sanctuary.”

  “Please don’t tell me a goose absconded with another hat.”

  Her father’s attempt at humor didn’t appease her current mood. “No. No additional hats were lost. I…”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Conrad was there.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “I don’t understand.” He avoided direct eye contact with her.

  “He said it was your suggestion to… chaperone me. I told him it couldn’t be true.”

  Silence.

  “Father?”

  “I had a conversation with him. I did indeed ask him to chaperone you.”

  “But why? Anna went with me.” So it was true. Conrad hadn’t been lying.

  “Yes, but from what I understand, her attention may have been elsewhere.”

  Heat flooded Lucy’s face.

  “Just as I thought. It seems she’s taken a fancy to a certain man who works there.”

  “Yes, a very kind man.” Lucy wouldn’t tell her father of Anna’s engagement until Anna was ready for him to know.

  �
�And have you… taken a fancy to… a very kind man?”

  Lucy’s head shot up. She blinked. How did he know? Anna wouldn’t have told him. She’d not seen anyone else that she knew while she’d been at the Sanctuary.

  Conrad. Yes, it’s something the unctuous weasel would do. Tattle on her to her father. Try to get her in trouble while at the same time benefit himself.

  “If you must know, yes. I have taken a fancy, as you call it, to a very kind, sweet man.” Now that her father was aware of Oliver, might this be the moment to introduce the idea of—

  “Lucy, what are you thinking?”

  “That I’ve met someone.”

  “No!” He pounded his fist against the desk. “I’ll not have it.”

  “But—”

  “While it’s true that you are not getting any younger, and you need to marry soon, it will not be to a man of his ilk. Oh, I know all about him. A Mr. Barrow. A common laborer. Really, Lucy. Are you naive enough to believe I would accept such a person as a son-in-law? As an heir to my fortune?” Voice rising on the last word, her father’s face colored an angry red.

  “But, Father, I love—”

  “No! Did you not hear me? You shall not marry him. I will not have it.” He swallowed and adjusted his cravat. “I can see now that you can’t be trusted on your own. And Anna seems to be of little help as a chaperone. It’s settled then. You will marry Conrad Croome. Very soon.”

  Legs coiled like springs, Lucy flew off of the settee and hurried to the side of her father’s desk. “Please, no! Not him.” No-no-no!

  “Yes, him. You turned down any other offers from your Season. You’ve given me no choice. Marrying Croome is the only way you shall receive your inheritance. And if you do not behave yourself and go along with the marriage, I will use my wealth and my power in the community to have your laborer friend relieved of his position at the Sanctuary.”

  A single tear, followed by a second, then a third, traveled down her cheek. Mouth gone dry, she swallowed. Hard. It couldn’t be. It just could not be. She’d rather die than marry that awful, spiteful, pasty man. And it would be a hundred times worse, now that she’d met Oliver. Now that she knew what being in love felt like.