Lord Ravensden's Marriage Page 7

  There was a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob, then Olivia unlocked her door. She was

  pale and strained, but had not been crying. She pulled a wry face at her sister.

  'Lord Ravensden led Papa to believe we are still to marry. He has invited him to stay—and he

  will. I know he will! Believe me, Beatrice, he will not be moved. He has the oddest notion of

  humour. He seems amused by this whole situation—at least, he was laughing when Papa brought

  him home.'

  'He was not laughing when I left him. Do not worry, Olivia, I do not believe he will stay long. A

  man like that...he will find this house uncomfortable.'

  'Yes, I dare say,' said Olivia, who was finding her own bedroom, where the fire had not been lit,

  less than cosy. 'Must I truly see him, Beatrice?'

  'I think you must at least grant him a hearing. I believe he means to beg your pardon—and ask you

  to reconsider...'

  'I do not want to marry him.'

  'Nor would any woman of sense,' Beatrice said, 'though it seems he may not have said all the

  things you were told—but you need not fear, dearest. If after you have listened, you still do not

  wish to marry him, I shall support you. He may stay tonight, if he insists, then go back to town

  tomorrow.'

  'And you will not try to make me marry him?'

  'Is that what Lord Burton did?' Olivia nodded, and Beatrice felt anger at the foolish manner in

  which her sister's adoptive father had behaved. 'That was indeed bad of Lord Burton. Well, I shall

  not do any such thing. Wash your face and tidy yourself. I shall do the same, then we will go down

  together and beard the lion in his den. The sooner we set him to rights, the sooner he will leave

  us.'

  'Yes.' Olivia looked slightly ashamed. 'It upset me to see him laughing with Papa. It was as if he

  were making game of me—but I dare say they were talking of something else.'

  'Yes, I am certain they were. Papa would not laugh at you, dearest—and I do not believe Lord

  Ravensden would either, for all he is the most provoking creature.'

  Beatrice smiled at her and went away to tidy herself.

  Downstairs in the parlour, Harry had persuaded Mrs Willow to stay and drink a glass of sherry

  with him.

  'Forgive me,' Nan said as he began to eat with a hunger that showed he was much in need of his

  breakfast. 'I should have offered food and wine. I was so startled by Olivia's foolish behaviour

  that it went right out of my mind.'

  'Pray do not apologise, ma'am,' Harry said. 'I should have stopped to break my fast at an inn, but I

  was in a hurry to reach this house. All this trouble has been a dreadful misunderstanding.'

  'I was sure it must have been,' Nan replied, smiling at him. 'I dare say it was no more than the

  spiteful wagging of a malicious tongue.'

  'More than one, I fear,' Harry admitted. 'And my fault. I was away at the time it began. Had I been

  in town, much of this could have been avoided...'

  'I knew it could not be as Olivia thought.' Nan looked at him with approval. He was in her opinion

  a very charming man, and in coming down at once to set things right had behaved in a proper

  manner. Olivia would be a fool not to take the opportunity he was offering her. 'I am sure my niece

  will see sense when you have talked to her...' She broke off as voices in the hall announced the

  arrival of Beatrice and Olivia. 'I must leave you now, sir. I have many tasks awaiting me.'

  She rose to her feet as her nieces entered together, their arms linked, then nodded to him, and

  smiled at the sisters in passing as she went out.

  Harry was already on his feet. Olivia was looking pale and nervous. He was acutely conscious of

  his part in her distress. What a villain Burton was to behave so ill towards her!

  'Forgive me, Miss Olivia,' he said at once. 'I startled you by arriving so suddenly. Yet I felt it was

  necessary to follow as soon as I returned to town and learned what had happened in my absence.'

  'I was...upset,' Olivia said, her head going up proudly. 'But I should not have run away. It was

  good of you to come, sir, but there was really no need to put yourself to so much trouble. My

  decision was final. I fear you have had a wasted journey.'

  Harry glanced at Beatrice, who had gone to the fire and seemed to be attacking the logs with a

  poker.

  'Will you not at least allow me to apologise? My remarks were careless, but you have been told

  lies. I said only that it was not a love match. The rest has been added by another.'

  'Surely that is enough?' Olivia said, her eyes meeting and challenging his bravely. 'Had I not

  believed you cared for me...'

  'Oh, but I do...' Beatrice attacked the logs so fiercely that Harry could only think she was wishing

  it was him she was wielding her weapon against. 'I have a high regard for you, Miss Olivia. I am

  not a believer in romantic love, but I think we might have made each other tolerably happy.

  Indeed, I still believe it. It is my earnest wish to set things straight between us.'

  There was a crackling sound behind him and then a great whoosh. Suddenly, the flames began to

  shoot up the chimney, throwing some warmth into the room at last.

  'That is very much better,' Beatrice said with some satisfaction. She got to her feet, dusting her

  hands and brushing at her skirt. 'I think you should accept Lord Ravensden's apology, Olivia. Then

  he may go back to London and be at peace with himself.'

  'Yes, of course,' Olivia said and smiled at him. She really was remarkably pretty when she

  smiled. 'I believe that you may have been misquoted—but it makes not the slightest difference...'

  He moved towards her, reaching out to take her hand, but she stepped back, hiding her hands

  behind her back.

  'Will you not at least try to forgive me?' Harry asked. 'Lord Burton has told me he will not relent

  towards you unless we marry... I never wished to bring you harm, Olivia.'

  'But you have done so,' Beatrice said when Olivia was silent. 'My sister is too distressed to think

  clearly now. I pray you, sir, let her be. You have put your case, give her time to consider. If she

  should change her mind, she may write to you.'

  'No,' Olivia said, her manner nervous but determined. 'I shall not deceive you, sir. I have

  discovered that we shall not suit. I was mistaken in my feelings.

  Time will not make me change-my mind. My answer will always be the same.'

  'At least let me...' Harry sneezed three times in quick succession. 'Damn! Excuse me, ladies, but I

  fear I may have taken a chill.' He glared at Beatrice as though it were her fault. 'It must have been

  that wretched mist earlier. It was damp and chilled me to the bone.'

  She stared him down. 'I shall make you a hot posset and then you may be on your way. If you leave

  at once, I dare say you might be home in time to sleep in your own bed.'

  'Leaving? Surely not,' said Mr Roade, entering the room at that moment. 'Beatrice, what can you be

  thinking of? Ravensden has come to visit me. Asked him meself. Wanted you to see, Ravensden—

  I've started on the new drawings we discussed earlier. Come and have a look, give me your

  opinion, there's a good fellow.'

  'Yes, of course, sir, delighted.' Harry inclined his head to the frustrated Beatrice. 'Excuse me,

  Miss Roade, Miss Olivia.' An odd smile flickered about his lips as he followed his host from the

  parlour'.

&
nbsp; Olivia looked at her sister in exasperation. 'You see—he won't go. He will keep on and on asking

  me to marry him until I say yes.'

  'Is that what he did before?'

  'Yes...though just in a teasing way so that I was not always sure he really meant it. I believe he

  thought I would keep on saying no. He was surprised when I finally accepted him.'

  'Surely not?' Beatrice frowned. 'I would not have thought it of him. He seems genuinely to regret

  what happened. Do you not think you might reconsider...?'

  'Please do not try to change my mind. You promised you would not, Beatrice.'

  'And I shall not—if you are certain? You do realise that you may never get another chance to

  marry well? If you stay here with us, you may never marry at all.'

  Olivia lifted her chin proudly. 'I do not wish to marry without love. I would rather take a post as a

  governess!'

  Beatrice hid her smile. There was little chance of Olivia finding such a situation. She was far too

  pretty. Very few women would want to take her into their households in any position.

  'Well, I dare say it will not come to that,' she said, and glanced out of the parlour window. 'It

  looks as if the fog has come down again. We cannot force Lord Ravensden to leave until that

  clears, which, by the look of it, will not be before the morning.'

  Olivia glanced out of the window and pulled a face. 'Let us hope it has cleared by the morning.

  Perhaps he will realise the situation is hopeless and leave by then.'

  'I am sure one night in our guest room will make Lord Ravensden eager to be on his way,' Beatrice

  said, a quiver of laughter about her mouth. 'I believe I did tell you that the bed has a broken

  support...'

  Chapter Four

  Harry heard the mattress strain ominously beneath him as he turned restlessly. The damned thing

  sagged in the middle! He had never been so uncomfortable in his life. If this was another of Miss

  Roade's stratagems to get rid of him... He groaned as he felt the ache in his limbs. It was not just

  the bed. He could not remember ever having felt this ill in his life. He was hot and cold by turns,

  his head going round and round.

  'Mad...must be mad...mad to come to such a place...'

  And still his feverish thoughts would not let him be! Having seen the obvious poverty in which the

  Roade family lived, Harry knew his conscience would never let him abandon Olivia to her fate.

  Somehow he must persuade her to marry him, and if he could not...it was a thorny problem, made

  more difficult by the fact that both the Roade sisters were damnably proud!

  Yet he had brought this situation about, and somehow he must resolve it. He did not know why the

  look of accusation in Miss Roade's eyes pricked at him so much, but he could not seem to get her

  face out of his mind.

  'Go away, woman,' he muttered feverishly. 'Let me be, will you?'

  He would think of something...something that would ensure Olivia and her family did not suffer for

  his carelessness. If only the room would stay still for long enough for him to think properly! He

  groaned, searching for a comfortable spot in the bed and finding none.

  He was ill, and must fetch help. Harry tried to struggle from the bed but found it too much for his

  spinning head, and fell back against the pillows with yet another groan.

  Next door in her own room, Beatrice heard the moaning and frowned. Really, there was no need

  to make such a fuss! She imagined that the bed was a little uncomfortable, but it was his own fault.

  If he had not been so careless... anyone can speak thoughtlessly. The thought flashed into her mind

  unbidden.

  Beatrice had soon realised that Lord Ravensden was not the monster she had imagined him on

  reading her sister's letter. He had been thoughtless and a little cruel, but perhaps he had not meant

  to be. She believed he was sincere in his wish to make amends.

  Olivia seemed adamant that she would not have him, but only a few days had passed since Lord

  Burton had thrown her out. How would she feel when she began to miss her friends, and the balls

  she had found so delightful? She was trying to be brave, but Beatrice believed she must cry

  sometimes when she was alone. How could it be otherwise?

  Hearing more groans, Beatrice frowned and put her pillow over her head. The man was

  impossible! Had he no consideration for other people? This was a small house, the bedrooms

  close to one another. If he kept this up, she would never sleep. She only hoped that one night in

  their guest room would ensure his early departure in the morning.

  'Oh, Beatrice,' Nan said, coming in before she was properly awake the next morning. 'I am so

  sorry to disturb you, my love—but I think we shall have to send for Dr Pettifer. Lily went in to

  take Lord Ravensden's hot water this morning, and she says he was raving, quite out of his mind. I

  went at once to see for myself, and I fear she is right. The poor man has a nasty fever.'

  'A fever—you mean he is ill?' Beatrice's conscience smote her. If their guest was ill, it was her

  fault. She had sent him out of his way in the mist, then he had been left in an icy parlour—and the

  guest room had not been used in years! Lily had lit the fire and put a warming pan to the mattress,

  of course, but it could not have been properly aired. 'I shall come at once.'

  She slipped a dressing-robe over her nightgown, ran out into the hall and entered the next room

  without knocking. One look at Lord Ravensden's flushed face told her that Nan was right. He was

  ill. Very ill, by the way he tossed and turned restlessly. She walked over to him, laying her hand

  on his forehead.

  'You poor man,' she said, as she found it hot and damp. 'What an unfeeling wretch I am to have let

  you suffer.' She looked at Nan with remorse. 'I heard him groaning during the night and imagined it

  was because of the bed. You must send Bellows for Dr Pettifer immediately.'

  'Yes, I shall do so at once.'

  Nan hurried away. Beatrice gazed down at the sick man. There was no question of his leaving

  them now, not for several days. She had an obvious duty to care for him while he was ill.

  'You provoking creature,' she said in the scolding but teasing tone she would have used had her

  dear papa been ill. 'If I was not certain that you are ill, I would think you had done this

  deliberately.'

  'Don't cry, Mama,' Harry muttered, tossing restlessly on the pillows. 'Poor Lillibet's gone...still got

  me. She's gone to Heaven where all the angels... should have been me! Little angel...gone to be

  with...' A shudder took him and he started up, clutching at Beatrice's arm. 'It should have been me.

  Damn it! Do you hear?'

  He was clearly wandering in his mind. Beatrice stroked the dark hair from his forehead. He was

  very hot!

  'Yes, of course I hear, you foolish man. I dare say it should have been you if you are so certain of

  it,' said Beatrice in a soothing tone, wondering who Lillibet was. 'Rest now, my dear sir, or you

  will be with the angels yourself very shortly.'

  He seemed to relax as he heard the scolding note in her voice.

  'Yes, Merry sweetheart. Always do as you say...'

  He was delirious, and thought himself elsewhere. Beatrice went to fetch a cloth and a basin of

  cool water. She soaked her cloth, then returned to the bed and began to bathe his head, face and

  neck. As she pushed the covers back, she sa
w that he was not wearing a nightgown. He must be

  completely naked beneath the sheets! She recoiled in shock. What ought she to do now? She had

  never in her life been near a naked man before this.

  Beatrice's thoughts raced as she took stock of her situation. What was she doing here alone in Lord

  Ravensden's bedchamber? She must be mad indeed! She ought not to be here—'but who else

  would nurse him? Lily could not be trusted, and her aunt had too much to do. There was no choice.

  Beatrice could not turn her back on a guest when he was in need of help, particularly as she felt

  partially responsible for his illness. Besides, he was in no case to ravish her at this moment.

  'Do you know the trouble you are causing me, you wretch? I dare say it matters not a jot to you that

  my reputation will be ruined if anyone ever learns of this?' Beatrice chuckled as she realised that

  in truth it did not much matter. She, almost never went into society, and she did not wish to marry

  —or at least, she did not wish to marry anyone who had ever asked her. 'The least you can do is to

  get better. I refuse to be compromised by a man who gives up without a fight. Do you hear me, sir?

  Die on me, and you will lie uneasy in your grave, I promise you.'

  'What are you doing?' Olivia had come to the door in her dressing-robe. She entered cautiously. 'Is

  he really ill? Not simply pretending so that he may stay here longer?'

  'Yes, I am afraid he is very ill,' Beatrice replied. 'I thought he was making a fuss last evening—for

  if you remember, he sneezed several times during dinner. However, I was wrong. He has a fever

  and will not be able to leave us for a while, dearest.'

  'Well, I suppose it does not matter if he cannot leave at once.' Olivia sighed. 'He is not really so

  very bad, Beatrice. I liked him more than any other of my suitors, which is why I took him in the

  end. I thought I might come to love him, but I know now that I never could. He has no real

  sensitivity, no depth of soul. Ravensden finds everything amusing, and I did not always see the

  point of his humour, which was annoying. I would rather he didn't die, though.' She looked upset

  suddenly. 'Do you think this is my fault? Is he dying of a broken heart because I jilted him?'

  'I very much doubt it,' Beatrice said. 'He has caught a chill, and it has turned to fever. I dare say