by Carol Arens
‘I did see it from my window. But I want to see everything on your estate. The area really is as lovely as people say.’
Even though they walked slowly, remarking on this flower or that tree, they made it to the lake’s edge in under half of an hour.
‘This might be the most beautiful spot I’ve ever been in. Look, Joe, how it reflects the trees as if the water were a mirror.’
A sleek, swift bird flew low over the surface, making it seem that there were two of them. When the bird skimmed the water it nearly seemed that the wings grazed each other. Then the bird lifted up, leaving its match to vanish in the lake.
‘I’ve brought some cheese.’ Joe drew a wrapped package from his coat pocket. ‘Crackers, too, if they aren’t crumbled. Would you like to sit beside the water?’
He led her through ankle-high grass. ‘I found a pair of lambs without their mother this morning. Right over there.’ He pointed to a place where the grass was bent. ‘Poor little critters weren’t even a day old.’
Joe took off his jacket, then spread it on the grass for her to sit on. He sat beside her. Taking out the cheese and crackers, he divided them.
‘Oh, look, Joe!’ she exclaimed while removing her gloves and hat. ‘It’s a red squirrel. See it digging about in the grass where the lambs were.’
‘It’s got some small treasure. Shall I see what it is burying?’
‘Victor will be overcome with joy if it is a treasure.’
Joe got up went to the spot. The squirrel dashed off. Joe squatted down, poking his fingers about in the grass. He came back with something curled in his fist.
‘Not much in the way of treasure. A button only.’
She took it from his open palm and held it up, watched the brass gleam in the sunshine. ‘It has an unusual shape, not round, not square.’ Nearly pumpkin-shaped better described it. ‘I imagine whoever lost it will not find a replacement.’
‘It might have come from anywhere.’ His brow wrinkled in thought. ‘But it might have come from whoever took the lambs from their mother.’
She gave him back the button.
‘Poor sweet things.’ She and Victor had visited them this morning. ‘I don’t know who was happier at being reunited, the lambs or their mother.’
‘From all I could tell it was Victor.’
‘It was a very lucky thing that the estate manager located the ewe. Had he not, I fear the lambs would have spent the night with him in the nursery,’ she said.
‘You are a lucky woman to have a boy like Victor. He is good natured and full of adventure.’
‘I cannot say I do not worry about his high spirits getting him into trouble.’
‘Probably will, it’s all a part of being a boy. I wouldn’t worry, he will grow to be a fine man.’
With Joe as an example to grow by. The thought came to her before she could stop it. She ought to stuff it back where it came from, but it was such a lovely thing to imagine, she could not manage to snuff it. The best she could do was not say so out loud.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. On her part it was because she was listening to birds sing, feeling sunshine on her loose hair and simply enjoying Joe’s company.
‘What do you think of the baronetcy? Is that the right word?’
‘That refers more to your title. But if you mean the land? Quite honestly, Joe...’ she took a nibble of cracker, a nip of cheese and chewed them together ‘... I think it is the prettiest place I have ever been. I think you are going to be madly happy here once you get used to it being home.’
‘Perhaps I could be. If I can only remember something of my past, it might re-establish a connection.’
‘Try closing your eyes and your ears if you can—just breathe in. I’ve heard that smell brings back memories quicker than anything.’
‘Has it worked for you?’
She smiled because how could she not? ‘I’ve not admitted this to anyone before, but sometimes I sniff Victor’s hair, right behind his ear, because in that spot, he still smells like my baby. I go right back to the time I held him and rocked him.’
Of course there had also been the times she caught the scent of a woman’s perfume and it reminded her of the times her husband had returned from ‘visiting his ill mother’ looking flushed with pleasure.
For once, looking back on it did not rob her of her joy as it usually did. That was odd—and wonderful.
Puzzling, too. Why did the memory not crush her the way it used to?
Perhaps it was because everywhere she looked, beauty was reflected.
But maybe not that. Beauty was pleasant and could be found anywhere if one looked for it.
More, it was looking at Joe that made her happy. The way he smiled at her, his eyes squinting against the sunlight and a wave of hair cutting across his forehead—well, some beauty went beyond what one beheld and shot straight to the heart.
He closed his eyes, then cracked one back open. He arched a brow in question.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Like that, but for longer.’
Closing the eye again, he took a deep sniff, then let his breath out in a slow hiss.
‘Well?’ She leaned towards him, eager to know if it worked.
‘Hmm...’ He leaned towards her, sniffed again. ‘I smell cheese—on your lips.’
And then he kissed her.
And she let him.
She should not do it. The more she kissed him the more she wanted to.
It was only a kiss—with a wonderful man who was not going back to America—and so she gave herself over to it. Let him fill her up with—
‘I did smell something, Olivia.’
‘You did? A memory of your childhood?’ She could scarcely believe her advice had helped.
‘No, it was not the past I smelled. It was the future.’
Chapter Twelve
The next day found Olivia and Victor, along with the Stetons, riding towards Grasmere in the open carriage to visit a renowned bakery. Even in London, society praised Grasmere Gingerbread. Rumour had it that it was the best in the world.
Olivia was eager to discover if it was true.
The world’s finest gingerbread was not the only thing she wished to discover. What had Joe meant when he talked about seeing his future? Ever since he had uttered those words, she’d felt a bit off balance.
It seemed that he had spoken in reference to her, but he had made no further comment on it and she had certainly not.
What else then? Perhaps he had been referring to a new business venture having to do with cheese. It was what he had claimed to smell, after all.
She nearly snorted out loud because she knew very well he was not going to become a cheese maker. He had been alluding to a future with her and no doubt about it.
Trying to imagine it had to do with cheese was a foolish way of denying what was going on between them. Or how poignant his comment had been.
It would be wise to guard her thoughts lest she embarrass herself—truly, cheese?
‘Isn’t this a lovely quaint town?’ she commented, and not simply to distract her attention from the man sitting across from her.
The first time they had travelled through Grasmere it had been dark. Today she noticed how charming the village was. One could easily spend the whole day visiting shops and tea houses. While the village was not exactly bustling the way London was, it was busy with tourists. There were lovely inns and enough restaurants to draw visitors from all over.
The carriage stopped in front of the bakery. The aroma coming from inside was so delicious smelling that Victor began to bounce up and down on the seat in anticipation.
‘I’ll make our purchase and we’ll take it to that grassy spot beside the river we passed on the way into town.’
‘Thank you, Son, that will be lovely.’ Esmeralda smiled at Victor. ‘Wi
ll that suit you, my boy?’
‘Grandly, my lady.’ His words would have been more convincing had Victor not slouched down in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
Her son disliked being apart from his cowboy.
‘Perhaps I can take him inside with me? He can help carry our purchases.’
Victor sprang up from the seat, grinning as if only a second ago he had not been a perfect image of petulance.
‘Very well,’ she answered because she could hardly say otherwise. Besides, she did trust Joe with his safety. ‘Victor, it will be up to you to make sure Lord Haversmere does not buy up the whole shop.’
‘I’ll make sure!’ He all but leapt into his hero’s arms when Joe reached for him.
Watching the pair of them walk across the path and into the shop, her heart swelled. Her throat tightened because her sweet small boy was trying to walk with the same cowboy swagger that Joe did.
What exactly was it that Joe smelled for his future? She knew—in her heart, she did know. The prospect of what it might mean made her insides quake.
She would need to go very slowly in this. With Henry, she had rushed into marriage, beyond eager to give him her heart. This time, it was not only her heart to be considered, it was Victor’s, too.
A few moments later, Joe walked out of the bakery, holding Victor’s hand and carrying a large box. All of a sudden she did not want to go slowly. She wanted to run towards life, arms open and rejoicing.
Roselina laughed at the sight of Victor gazing up at her tall brother while telling him something that appeared to be important. Whatever Victor had to say was so fascinating that neither male had thought to wipe away the jam and crumbs smeared on his mouth.
It didn’t matter, really. What did matter was that Joe laughed and ruffled Victor’s hair in a fatherly way. Olivia was not sure she had ever seen anything that stole her so completely away.
‘I imagine—’ Esmeralda’s eyes shone with affection when she spoke ‘—my son has a very hard time saying no to your son.’
Evidently he did, if the sticky remains of a treat before his treat were anything to go by.
‘Joe will make a wonderful father one of these days.’ This remark she punctuated with a blatant, brown-eyed wink.
‘I know my brother rather well, Olivia.’ Roselina waved to Joe and Victor. ‘He would be an excellent father to Victor as well as an amazing hus—Who is that woman?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know.’ Esmeralda’s eyes narrowed in speculation. ‘And why is she scurrying after Joe and Victor?’
Indeed, why was she smiling so brightly—brazenly, in fact?
Olivia did not like the icy hot chill creeping over her skin. She knew it all too well.
Jealousy, or rather fear of it, had been her constant companion for the past six years.
She would not succumb to it again. Why should she?
Joe Steton did not belong to her nor she to him. He was free to pursue the attention of any woman he chose.
Although, she had rather thought—
‘Hello!’ the lady called.
Joe, being in deep conversation with Victor, did not seem to notice.
The woman was undeniably attractive. Her unbound auburn-hued hair caught the sunshine and glimmered. At least she was not younger than Olivia was—although why it should matter, she could not fathom.
Olivia must bear in mind that in spite of four kisses and how she felt about them, Joe did not belong to her. Oliver had not brought Victor a cowboy and neither had he brought one to her.
‘I wonder,’ Esmeralda murmured. ‘What occurred to prevent her from dressing properly?’
‘Lord Haversmere!’
‘How does she know who my brother is?’ Roselina asked with a frown. ‘But I imagine word spreads as quickly here as anywhere. People will know that Pa has passed away.’
Joe took another half-a-dozen steps before he stopped to acknowledge the woman’s greeting.
‘My lady?’ Joe tipped his Stetson.
The woman clapped her hand to her heart, tapped her chest with her fingers while smiling.
Joe did not appear to notice how she was not so innocently drawing attention to her bosom.
Roselina noticed. Olivia heard her utter a word that a lady ought not. Esmeralda must have noticed as well because she did not correct her daughter’s language.
Flirts came ten a penny, so why was it that this one rankled? Her hair, perhaps. The colour was an echo of—no, she would not remember it.
‘I have been so anxious to make your acquaintance, Lord Haversmere.’ She extended her hand for Joe to shake. ‘I’m a fellow American!’
The sight of the woman, her bare hand in Joe’s, made Olivia’s stomach queasy, but since she did not want to appear a shrew, she smiled. Really, more than that she did not want to be a shrew!
She had put all of that behind her. If she trusted Joe, and she did, she had no call to feel anything but gracious towards the woman.
If only seeing the woman leaning in so close to him did not make her feel so green and irritable.
Jealousy was something she had fought to put behind her, but here it was, clinging to her like a disgusting shadow.
It mattered not that Joe had given her no reason to feel this way. It could only be that her heart was flawed, damaged.
Josiah Steton was a handsome, charming man. Now that he was Haversmere he would be even more sought after by women.
This well-endowed beauty was only the first of many who would try to win him for themselves.
It would be wise to hold on to her heart. Keep it safe within her chest until—oh, well she did not know until when.
‘My name is Prudence Lapperton. I am the proprietress of a lovely inn here in town,’ the smooth voice nattered on. Olivia tried not to eavesdrop, but standing as close to the carriage as she was it could not be avoided. ‘We are kindred spirits, are we not, both of us being American?’
Had the harlot purred when she said it? Perhaps she had not, but because of Olivia’s rather green emotional state it seemed so. What Olivia needed to do was bite her uncharitable tongue—or thoughts, as it were.
Joe handed the box he carried to his mother, then lifted Victor back into the carriage, glancing briefly over his shoulder while he climbed in. ‘Good day, Miss Lapperton.’
‘Oh, it’s Mrs, my lord.’ She walked beside the carriage when it slowly moved away. ‘I’m a widow. Please, if you are in town and wish a place to stay rather than make the long trip home, my doors are open to you.’
‘As I recall it,’ Roselina said, ‘the drive was little more than half an hour.’
‘Perhaps if you only wish to get away from estate business? I’d be pleased to introduce you to—’
Her voice faded as the carriage picked up speed and left her behind.
‘That woman has set her cap for you, Brother,’ Roselina said with a glance over her shoulder.
Following Roselina’s gaze, Olivia saw the widow waving her arm and grinning, her bosom a-jiggle.
It was uncharitable to notice. Olivia was doing her best to be a more tolerant person, but—
‘But she has lost her cap,’ Victor chirruped. ‘See, her head is bare.’
‘Indeed she has, sweet boy.’ Esmeralda hugged him and kissed the top of his sunshine-blond hair.
* * *
‘Victor Shaw, not another bite of gingerbread for you.’
‘But, Mother, it is the best in the world. The baker said so.’
‘Just because it is the best does not mean it will not make you sick.’
Joe sat on the blanket spread beside the river, listening to the conversation. Not to the words as much as the sound of Olivia’s voice and Victor’s answering one.
Mother and son had grown to be special to him. In the short time he’d known
them they had walked smack into his heart. Indeed, and that was exactly where he wanted to keep them.
‘Lay your head down. Take a small nap.’ She stroked his hair when she said it.
‘But, Mother, I—’
Olivia pointed to her lap and the billowing folds of her skirt. In spite of his objection to napping, the child was asleep within moments.
Joe wondered if the time would come when she would invite him to lay his head where Victor’s was. If she did, he was pretty sure he would not drift off to sleep.
No, rather he would simply lie there and look at her face, hold her hand. He’d snuggle his cheek against her soft belly and sigh in contentment—for a little while.
Given his head would be where it was, and that he was a man full grown, by sugar, it would not be contentment uppermost on his mind.
Better not to even think of what else, not with his mother and his sister chatting so close by. It would be indecent.
Courting Olivia was his intention, but he would need to go slowly with it.
Blamed Lapperton woman. He had noticed Olivia’s reaction to her—had felt it when she had withdrawn from him. Until that woman forced her blatant, suggestive attention on him, Olivia had been, if slowly, coming to trust him. Over cheese and crackers at the lake she had let him close to the heart of her.
He’d felt it when the fear of being betrayed caught her heart in its fist and squeezed. The damage her fickle husband had caused would not be healed without time and patience.
Joe had time. He had patience. He also had what Olivia needed most.
Loyalty.
He would give her that no matter how many Prudence Lappertons threw themselves in the path of his title.
There would only ever be one woman for him. If he could help it, Olivia Shaw would not end her days a bitter widow.
‘So many people have approached us this morning to offer condolences. I believe we ought to host a celebration in honour of your father’s life.’ Ma glanced back and forth between him and Roselina.
‘I believe Pa was very well loved.’ Roselina’s eyes grew moist when she said so.