Lucy Muir (6 page)

Still, Olivias’s temper was becoming severely strained, and when they returned to their kiosk to find their party enlarged by the addition of Lady Sheridan and her younger brother, she was practically seething. The Sheridans had been passing by on their way to the fireworks, and upon spying Mr. Atwood and Miss Hartwell, had stopped to visit. Olivia found herself hard put to give a civil response to the Sheridans’ greeting.

“I am delighted you could join us, Lord Sheridan, Lady Sheridan,” Olivia forced herself to say politely, a definite edge to her voice. She saw Lord Murray glance her way and made a supreme effort to control her irritation. It did not help that she suspected Lady Sheridan understood exactly how she felt and was vastly amused.

Olivia tried to salvage what she could from the evening by flirting lightly with the handsome young Lord Sheridan. She could at least remind Lord Murray that there were other eligible gentlemen who found her attractive, and that he should not take her too much for granted. Overall, however, Olivia felt the evening was a total disaster.

* * * *

If Olivia was less than satisfied with the results of the expedition to Vauxhall, Phoebe and Celeste were not. Celeste, in particular, was almost exultant. She had persuaded Phoebe to remain with her for the night and could not cease talking of the evening.

“We are slowly winning the race—I know it! Did you see Olivia’s expression when I invited Mr. Arnold and myself to join her and Lord Murray on their walk? And how angry she was when we came back to find Lady Sheridan and her brother with you and Wilfred!”

“Yes.” Phoebe could not help smiling at the remembrance. She recalled, too, Lord Murray’s quick glance at Olivia’s barely civil greeting to the cool fair beauty. “I think Lord Murray is coming to see Olivia’s true nature, as you predicted. But,” Phoebe added, a frown creasing her forehead, “we did not consider other possible rivals when we decided to try to win Lord Murray’s notice. I believe him to be much taken with Lady Sheridan.”

Celeste relaxed lazily on her bed. “I do not care if Lady Sheridan wins Lord Murray’s affections. I just do not want Olivia to be the one to win them. Although,” she added meditatively, “it would be all that is wonderful if I were to be the one to bring Lord Murray up to scratch.”

Phoebe looked askance at Celeste. It was obvious that Celeste viewed the winning of Lord Murray’s affections as a game and a way to score over Olivia in retaliation for all the snubs and hurts the woman had dealt them. Celeste did not appear to have developed any tendre for Lord Murray—it was simply a competition Celeste wanted to win. It did not seem quite fair to Lord Murray, Phoebe thought and then caught herself.
Tu
quoque,
as her learned barrister father might say. You are another. Had she not originally decided to try to capture Lord Murray’s interest with much the same attitude as Celeste? But something had changed.

“What,” Phoebe asked her friend slowly, “if Lord Murray
does
offer for you?” The idea disturbed her.

“Why, then I have made the Match of the Season,” Celeste replied, surprised that her friend had to inquire. “I, the daughter of a gentleman who works in the City. Can you imagine Olivia’s chagrin?”

“But would you be happy?”

“Of course,” Celeste replied, regarding her friend strangely. “Lord Murray is well-looking, kind and a Scotsman. What more could one ask? Would you not accept him if he offered for you?”

“I suppose I would,” Phoebe answered as she slipped into the bed beside Celeste. But her reason for accepting would be much different from her friend’s. The conversation with Celeste had made Phoebe realize that the plan they had originally conceived had become more than a competition or game to her. If she accepted an offer from Lord Murray it would not just be for the glory of winning.

Phoebe pretended to fall asleep, not wanting to talk to Celeste any longer. But in actuality she lay awake for a long time, trying to analyse her feelings towards Lord Murray. Was she developing a tendre for him? It seemed incredible, considering what a short time she had known him, but she could think of no other explanation.

Chapter Four

Olivia arose in a very sour temper the morning after the Vauxhall expedition. It was not proving as simple to attach the interest of Lord Murray as she had thought it would be. Before his arrival, she had assumed that given Lord Murray’s purpose in coming to London, her eligibility and beauty plus the advantage of his living in the same house would inevitably lead to an offer. Instead, while she sensed Lord Murray did find her attractive, he had been careful not to single her out, and she knew she had serious rivals in Lady Sheridan, Phoebe and Celeste. She could understand his interest in Lady Sheridan, but Phoebe and Celeste! His apparent partiality for them she could
not
understand. Perhaps Scotsmen did not put the same value on rank Englishmen did. Whatever the reason, it was creating a problem for her.

Still thinking over her predicament, Olivia dressed in a new yellow striped morning gown and descended to the breakfast room. Her brother was already there, devouring a plate of eggs and kidneys, but of Lord Murray there was no sign. She ignored Wilfred and helped herself to some toast and coffee, a frown on her face.

“What’s giving you the blue devils, Livvy?” Wilfred enquired, noting her furrowed brow.

“I have told you not to call me ‘Livvy,’ ” Olivia said with irritation as she seated herself at the opposite end of the table from her brother. “And do try for some manners, Wilfred. You have spilled coffee down your cravat. How disgusting.”

Wilfred wiped at the coffee ineffectually. His sister was on her high ropes this morning, and he knew why.

“You needn’t snap at me because Lord Murray shows an interest in some females other than yourself. Don’t know about Lady Sheridan and Miss Laurence, but I’d prefer Miss Hartwell m’self.”

“You! No lady in her right mind would choose you, not even a red-headed ape-leader with freckles and a barrister for a father,” Olivia said vituperatively.

“Don’t know about that,” Wilfred retorted, stung. He might not be much in the petticoat line, but he didn’t care for his sister’s implication no woman could like him.

“Good morning, Miss Atwood, Mr. Atwood.”

Olivia started guiltily and wondered how much, if any, Lord Murray had overheard. She remonstrated with herself to remember to guard her tongue at all times while Lord Murray was residing with them. She knew instinctively that he would find any disparaging remarks she made about others off-putting. She smiled brightly.

“Good morning, Lord Murray. I trust you rested well?”

“Very well, thank you, Miss Atwood,” Lord Murray replied, filling a plate with food at the sideboard.

“Would you care to accompany me to the circulating library this morning?” Olivia asked, hoping that some private time spent in Lord Murray’s company might give her the opportunity to regain her lost position.

“Thank you. Miss Atwood, but I have already accepted an invitation to join Mr. Atwood in a visit to Tattersall’s.”

“I am certain you could go with him this afternoon instead,” Olivia pressed, kicking her brother beneath the table to encourage him to agree with this plan. Wilfred, however, if he understood what he was supposed to say, refused to cooperate.

“Can’t, Livvy, not if Lord Murray wants to see Silverton’s bays. They are going up at the auctioneer’s this morning.”

Lord Murray had seen Wilfred’s wince of pain and the angry glare he directed at his sister, and gave a good guess as to the cause. Atwood apparently decided to get out of the way of further retribution, for he rose hastily from the table.

“I’ll be ready to leave directly after I change, Lord Murray,” Wilfred said as he left the room. Lord Murray nodded and turned his attention to his breakfast and his remaining companion.

“Perhaps I may accompany you to the library another morning, Miss Atwood,” he offered politely.

“Thank you. On second thought I believe I may call upon Miss Hartwell and Miss Laurence this morning,” Olivia improvised, “Miss Hartwell asked me for a new receipt to fade freckles last night and I should take it to her as soon as possible.”

“Have you been acquainted with Miss Hartwell and Miss Laurence long?” Lord Murray enquired, curious. He had long wondered how such an unlikely “friendship” had come to be.

“Mr. Arnold introduced us this year past,” Olivia answered absently.

“Mr. Arnold?” Lord Murray echoed in surprise. He had yet to hear Mr. Arnold pronounce three intelligible words together.

“Yes, Mr. Arnold is acquainted with Wilfred. He is the younger son of a viscount,” she added as though to explain how Wilfred came to be acquainted with a lowly solicitor.

Suddenly inspiration struck Olivia. She saw a way to eliminate the more beautiful, and therefore the more dangerous, of her two untitled rivals.

“Mr. Arnold is betrothed to Miss Laurence, you know, although the family is keeping it secret until she has had a Season,” she volunteered mendaciously.

“No, I did not know,” Lord Murray replied, exceedingly surprised at this piece of intelligence, for he had observed nothing at all lover-like in the way Miss Laurence behaved towards Mr. Arnold, although Mr. Arnold was obviously head-over-heels in love with her. The information was even more difficult to credit when he remembered how Miss Laurence openly flirted with him in Mr. Arnold’s presence.

* * * *

Olivia’s news continued to perplex Lord Murray, and on the way home from Tattersall’s with Wilfred he ventured to raise the subject. Wilfred was in a particularly good humour, having just purchased a likely-looking grey.

“Miss Laurence engaged to Mr. Arnold?” Wilfred repeated in astonishment, when Lord Murray put his question. “I say, someone has been telling you a whisker.”

“Your sister informed me of the fact this morning. She seems to be on close terms with Miss Hartwell and Miss Laurence.”

Wilfred opened his mouth, closed it and then with the air of someone resolved to be honest at all costs, turned to Lord Murray and spoke.

“Lord Murray, you’ve been awfully sporting to me. Maybe I shouldn’t say this—I mean, Livvy’s m’sister and all that, but, well—dash it, ever since she heard you were coming to London, Livvy’s been determined to be the one to snabble you, you being a Scottish lord and what with Scotland being all the rage this Season. I mean to say,” Wilfred struggled on, “when things ain’t going her way Livvy has the devil of a temper, and, well, dash it, mean to say don’t believe everything m’sister tells you,” he finished uncomfortably, but obviously determined to warn his new friend, even if he had to be disloyal to family to do so. “I’d choose Miss Hartwell, m’self,” he finished almost inaudibly.

Lord Murray heard Wilfred out with mixed amusement and gratitude. “Thank you, Atwood, I shall keep your advice in mind. This conversation will remain between the two of us, needless to say.

“What did you think of Silverton’s bays?” he asked, turning the subject. Their morning excursion ended quite happily in a discussion of the finer points of the cattle they had seen at Tattersall’s.

* * * *

Two nights later, however, as Lord Murray relaxed in his chambers, he found himself recalling his conversation with Wilfred. Time was running out; he had only a sennight remaining in which to make a decision. How extremely foolish he had been to think he could come to London and select a bride in two weeks, he thought self-deprecatingly. Most English gentlemen took the entire Season, and already knew many of the young ladies making their come-outs, or were at least acquainted with their families. He had had no connexions with anyone but the Atwoods. Yet make a choice he must. He could not continue to delay his marriage. He reviewed the four women to which he had limited himself.

First there was Olivia Atwood. She was beautiful and had birth and breeding, but he had observed flashes of jealousy, and worse, malice, in her dealings with her friends and her brother. Nor could he overlook her deceit in fabricating the story of the betrothal between Mr. Arnold and Miss Laurence. Lord Murray had found that the hard and isolated life in the Highlands tended to make his kinsmen mighty particular about a person’s character, and Olivia’s shortcomings were ones that would not be tolerated. No, Miss Atwood might make a fine London lady, but she would never do as the wife of a Highland laird.

Next there was Lady Sheridan. She was eminently qualified, for she had a stately grace, perfect manners and was of high birth. But she was reserved and difficult to get to know. Perhaps too much so? His future wife must be able to enter into all the joys and sorrows of his numerous clansmen. Still, he would not yet rule Lady Sheridan out.

Then there was Miss Laurence. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful of the four, a true Diamond of the First Water, as he had heard her described. She did not have the high birth of Lady Sheridan and Miss Atwood, but he put less value on that than other qualities, such as her loyalty to her friend and her eagerness to please. Her main drawback was her youth. Was she old enough to take on the many responsibilities that would fall to her? He rather doubted it. On the other hand, she had made it clear she found him attractive and would not be averse to receiving an offer. Time would remedy her immaturity. He would not eliminate her as a possibility.

Finally, there was Miss Hartwell. A picture of the red-haired young woman flashed vividly into his mind, and Lord Murray knew he had saved her for the last because she was his preference. She was not too young, she had common sense, superior understanding and a good nature. The red hair that Englishmen evidently disliked he found quite beautiful, and her candid hazel eyes held infinite appeal. However, he had no idea if she liked him. She did not flirt with him as Miss Laurence did, and the generous friendliness with which she treated him appeared the same she bestowed upon everyone. According to Miss Atwood, Miss Hartwell had been out for several years. He could not believe she had received no offers in that time. Perhaps she was one of those rare women who chose to remain in the single state.