Olivia was relieved that the afternoon of the party arrived without further mischief from the ghost. Perhaps the vile creature felt a dash of remorse for abandoning a child in peril.
Remorseful or not, she would gladly throttle whoever had left her son in the river.
Thankfully fearful employees had stopped fleeing their jobs.
The only dampener on the party was the weather. It was damp. The damp weather was a dampener. The humour of it nearly made Olivia chuckle in spite of the wind-driven rain tapping at the windows.
London was a rainy place—the Lake District was more so. Parts of it, she had been told, were even wetter than Haversmere.
Luckily, she found rain rather pleasant, but that was only a small part of what she found pleasant. Lately, she found life exceptionally agreeable in spite of the haunting nonsense.
Victor was, well, happy to be his cowboy’s sidekick—yes, sidekick was the word her son was now fond of using.
But cowboy’s son would be better.
Cowboy’s wife—Baroness Haversmere—would be...well, she could scarcely imagine how wonderful it would be.
And suddenly, standing here among a throng of people, chatting, eating and drinking, she knew, beyond any doubt, she wanted to marry Joe.
What a fool she had been to allow hurt and fear be her guiding star. Just because she had rushed into marriage with Henry did not mean she needed to drag her feet with Joe. What idiocy had made her think so? Joe would be no less wonderful for her waiting to accept his proposal. He was who he had always been and who he would continue to be.
She loved Joe. She adored him for the man he was, not because he could fulfil her fairy-tale dreams of happily ever after. All right, he actually could do that, but she no longer had an innocent, untried heart. She knew what love was and what it was not. What a fickle-minded, stubborn-hearted woman she had been!
But no more. She had squandered too much precious time as it was. She glanced about. Where was her Baron?
Oh, just there, all the way on the other side of the room, speaking to the estate manager. It was hard to miss the troubled look shadowing his face.
Mr Smythe was scowling, shaking his head while he passed by vase after vase of spring flowers on his way out of the room.
The next person to approach Joe was smiling, gesturing with her hand at the decorations she, Esmeralda and Roselina had taken such care in planning.
It was a relief to see Joe returning her smile. Perhaps the matter with Mr Smythe had not been so urgent after all.
In a moment she would know for certain. She walked across the room towards Joe, but in her mind she was waltzing the distance to the tune of ‘Sleeping Beauty’. Not a true waltz, but the more intimate one Joe had taught her.
Thought of in the right way, she had been Princess Aurora—asleep to joy until a cowboy baron’s kiss woke her to life.
One thing she knew for certain, she was no longer cursed by the memory of a dead man. Now that she had woken, no one would be able to put her back in the miserable trunk she had created.
She was only steps away when Lord Grantly and his Countess waylaid her.
‘How lovely to see you again, Lady Olivia,’ the Countess greeted her with a bright smile. ‘It seems ages since we encountered each other at the opera—but it has not been, not really. Time just goes by so frightfully quickly, does it not?’
‘Frightfully.’ Unless one was waylaid in conversation. In that case it ticked by slowly. ‘And what a pleasure to see you, as well.’
If they had not been previously acquainted it would have been easier to keep the conversation short, thrifty. But, no, they had mutual friends who must be mentioned, them and their lovely children—their prosperous estates. And of course there was the happy betrothed couple to be rejoiced over.
By the time she was able to gracefully end the conversation, Joe was no longer in the room.
Olivia ducked into the hall before anyone else could engage her attention.
Since Joe had been discussing something with the estate manager, she suspected he might have gone to one of the barns.
It would be wise to go upstairs and get her coat. At that moment she did not feel like being wise, only following her heart—claiming her man.
Halfway to the sheep barn, she thought that might have been a mistake. She was drenched. Not shivering, though, she was too merry of spirit to feel the cold.
Once inside, she stood for a moment, sluicing water off her face and sleeves. No one was about, but the lamps were burning low. Mr Smythe must be close by, perhaps in his quarters at the far end of the barn.
Hurrying that way, she spotted something odd. Far back in one of the stalls it glinted under a short pile of straw. By the looks of it the thing had been hidden and in a hurry.
She bent down, brushed the straw away. My word—it was a woman’s gown, brown and plain, but with the most unusually shaped buttons.
One of them was missing.
The phantom was here! The wicked person who had left Victor in the river was close by and no doubt planning to cause a scene at the party.
She nearly shouted for Joe, but thought better of it. She wanted the person to be caught, not alerted.
Olivia picked up the gown, tucking it under her arm. She dashed the length of the barn, carefully checking each stall.
Convinced the wretch was not in this barn, she went out the back door, ran the short distance to the horse barn.
Before she drew the door open she heard voices, indistinct, but clearly male and female.
Luckily, the door made no noise when she stepped inside, then closed it behind her. Even luckier, she did not scream, probably because she suddenly felt cast in stone, watching Mrs Lapperton walk towards an open stall. She heard Joe’s voice, but whatever he said was spoken so softly she could not hear distinct words.
The hussy wore nothing but a shift. Hands on her round hips, she swayed into the stall.
Olivia could see nothing of what went on. Oh, but her mind supplied dozens of images of Henry tangled with various lovers—in sweaty sheets, on carriage seats and rugs in front of blazing hearths.
If she could move, she would vomit on the floor—weep and fall to her knees. Rip her gown and lament her situation. How could she have fallen for Henry’s trickery again? She would shake her head to clear her brain, but her neck was stiff. She could not move.
‘Not Henry,’ whispered a still small voice in her heart, struggling to make it to the surface of reason.
Joe. She knew him, believed in him. This was her Joe.
The woman chuckled deep in her throat. Straw shuffled, indicating that she was taking short, slow steps, no doubt to make her hips sway seductively.
‘You and I,’ the voice crooned, sickly sweet. ‘Imagine it—picture it, my handsome lord, the pair of us together—right here in the straw—’
This was enough! There had been a time when Olivia gathered her misery about her, huddled in a corner hiding from truth like—she did not know what like for sure, but something weak and unworthy of womanhood. She began to feel herself again—arms, legs and heart began to rally.
Spirit rising, she curled her fists, muttered under her breath, ‘Thank you, Henry’. His betrayal had given her backbone, strength forged in heartache. How had she not recognised the bitter gift for what it was? Now that she did, she would use it.
Joe would never succumb to that woman’s treachery. She knew who he was—principled, reliable. He was hers! And he was waiting for an answer to his proposal. Oh, but he was about to get it.
As good fortune would have it, a bucket of water was within reach—it was a wonder she had not stumbled on it when she came in. She swirled the water with her fingertips. Good, it was nice and cold.
Mrs Lapperton was purring when Olivia stepped up behind her.
When the water hit her back, the wicked creature screeched. As far as Olivia was concerned, the outrage sounded akin to music.
It was as if the bucket of water had been dumped on every woman who had ever wronged her by dallying with Henry. Vindication made her feel like laughing out loud. So did seeing Joe backed up against the wall, brandishing a shovel in front of him.
Mrs Lapperton spun about, breathing through her teeth. She appeared good and stunned.
Fine, then. Olivia tossed the dress at her. ‘You are missing a button.’
Joe dropped the shovel, cursing under his breath. ‘You—!’ He cursed again, using a worse word, but of course it was not foul enough.
Olivia planted herself between him and the widow. ‘I will marry you, Joe.’
‘You will do what?’ He had to have misheard. His ears failed to recognise the not part of the phrase.
‘I will become your wife—tonight.’
He leapt, wrapping her up tight to make certain this was real and not a figment of his desire. Real! As soon as he kissed her, felt her give his love back, he knew it. She clung to him as tightly as he held on to her.
‘This is not how it looks,’ he said when he found his breath. ‘I promise it is not.’
‘It looks rather like you were about to clobber the strumpet with the shovel.’
‘She did have me cornered. Lucky thing you rescued me before I had to fight my way out of the stall.’
‘In the future, you can count on me to douse anyone trying to corner you.’
They laughed, kissed again.
Prudence Lapperton gasped, a reminder that, regrettably, they were not alone in the barn.
‘I hardly find having water dumped on me a matter of humour. I’ll catch my death of a chill.’
Olivia went suddenly rigid. She did not step away from him, but pivoted in the circle of his arms.
Lapperton yanked her dress over her hips, scowling as if she had just cause. The woman was about to discover the error of her thinking.
‘Did you give my son a thought after you left him in the river? How chilled he would be if he even survived drowning?’
‘I’m certain I do not know what you mean. And it is rather unbecoming of you to call me names.’
‘You fear names are the only weapon I can use against you that will not end up with you lying unconscious on the floor? But since I am to be married tonight, I would rather it be you in jail tonight and not me.’
Lapperton’s fingers trembled over buttoning her dress, snagged on the empty buttonhole. He couldn’t say it was not a gratifying sight.
It was a fortunate thing he had decided to keep the brass button with him. He had not known the moment proof would be required, only that it would be.
‘We found this near the lake where you left the lambs.’
‘Once again, I have no idea what you are talking about.’
The door at the end of the barn crashed open.
‘I found it, my lord—just like you—’ Mr Smythe stood in the doorway gripping a white sheet with holes cut out for eyes. ‘It is her—ach, good deduction, Lord Haversmere.’
‘The lot of you have lost your minds!’
‘Darlin’?’ Joe said and could not resist giving Olivia a quick kiss with the asking. ‘Is Constable Rollins still in attendance?’
‘I believe so. When I left he was bringing your mother a glass of punch.’
‘Shall we see what the lawman has to say about it, Mrs Lapperton?’
‘Say about what? You can hardly keep your people from fleeing a ghost by blaming it on me.’
‘You are, by and far, the most despicable woman I have had the misfortune to meet.’ Olivia stepped nearly nose to nose with her, clenching her skirt in her fists. Clearly she was within an inch of punching the woman. He would not try to stop her if she did it. ‘And you can be assured, I have met some of the worst. If you think this is about simple trickery, you truly are the fool you appear to be. The crime which we will present to the constable is attempted murder. Everyone here tonight will learn how you walked away from a little boy, left him to nearly drown in the Rothay.’
‘Mr Smythe, please escort this person back to the house. We will join you there in a moment.’
As soon as the door closed behind them, Joe cupped Olivia’s cheeks, turning her face so that he could better see what was in her eyes.
‘Say it again.’
‘She is the most despicable woman I have ever met—or exposing her wicked treatment of Victor—and how did you put it all together?’
‘Neither one of those.’ He kissed her. ‘The other.’
‘I will marry you, Joe.’
‘Tonight—you said that, too.’
‘Have the carriage readied. It is not so far to Gretna Green. We can be married before breakfast.’
He hugged her tight, then held her at arm’s length to better judge the answer to the question he had to ask.
‘Have you taken the time you need to decide this, darlin’? It was not coming upon the widow and me like you did that forced your choice?’
‘Firstly, I have wasted enough good time as it is.’ She tipped her head, smiling at him in the way that made her eyes slant. ‘Secondly, I was on my way to find you, to tell you how desperately I do want to marry you. So, no, my decision had nothing to do with that.’
‘I’m relieved—but blame it—you must have felt betrayed all over again.’
‘Oh, I did—but not betrayed by you. It was the oddest thing, it felt as though Henry sprung out of his grave to wound me again. But, Joe, he no longer can. And that is because of you. Even when I saw her trying to seduce you, I knew you would not succumb.’
‘Never—there is no one else but you, darlin’. There never will be.’
‘I know—and I feel the same—but why was she trying to seduce you?’
‘I’ll tell you about it on the way back to the house.’
He lifted his coat over their heads. While they hurried from the horse barn, rain beat on it. It reminded him of the time he had kissed her in the alley beside the opera house.
Stopping, he kissed her again. ‘Do you remember?’
She nodded, grinned. ‘I was falling in love with you, even then.’
There was no better place than this to go down on his knee, so he did. When he opened the velvet box, withdrew the ring and proposed again, she held out her hand, waggling her finger at him.
He stood up, eager to call for the coach. ‘Tonight—Gretna Green.’ It was what she had said and he would hold her to it.
‘Tonight.’ She hugged him tight. ‘Let’s get to the house, Joe. On the way you can tell me what Mrs Lapperton hoped to get out of all this.’
They dashed through the sheep barn to avoid some of the rain.
‘What she wanted was Haversmere. I think she planned to turn it into an inn. I’m pretty sure she did this haunting business once before to a fellow who owned an inn in Grasmere. She did try to purchase Haversmere from Pa, but he refused, she told me that much.’
Coming out of the sheep barn, they were hit by rain again—not that he minded, not as long as he could hug his betrothed close beside him.
‘So when your father would not,’ Olivia said, holding tight to him, ‘she began haunting Haversmere the same as she had the inn?’
‘It appears so. I can only wonder how she did not get caught.’
‘Slippery ghoul. But you and Mr Smythe did catch her.’
‘It was because of him that we did. He came to me because he spotted Lapperton in an area she had no business being in. Since she had expressed that interest in buying Haversmere, to me and to Pa both, and been turned down, I wondered if she might try to entrap me—force a marriage to get it.’
‘She did act forwardly around you. She must have thought it a surer way to get her hands on the estate than haunting it.’
‘I said as much to Smythe and he agreed. That is why I made a show of going out alone, just to see if she would spot me and follow. It gave Smythe time to look about for anything that might be amiss, any small odd thing that might give her away.’
‘What luck that he found her costume! You will increase his salary?’
‘By however much you instruct me to, Lady Haversmere.’
Crossing the bridge, Olivia stopped to stare at the Rothay rushing swiftly away towards Grasmere.
‘I think she is all the more wicked for wanting to help Victor and then choosing not to. More, perhaps, than if she had outright meant him harm.’
‘Come, let’s go inside and see her come to justice. Further justice, by sugar.’ Taking her hand, he squeezed it. ‘I cannot recall ever seeing anything so gratifying as when you doused her with water. You, my avenging angel, were impressive.’
They came into the house, their clothes dripping on the floor. They were barely noticed, though. Conversation buzzed since Prudence Lapperton’s entrance a few moments ago would have given everyone a great deal to gossip about.
‘Rest assured, Joe, the next time a woman tries to compromise you, or hurt our children...’ she used the plural casually, but to Joe the word was a miracle. He could think of nothing more wonderful than giving his son sisters and brothers ‘... I will be impressive again. Society will quake at my wrath.’
Baroness Haversmere snuggled into the plush coach cushions, feeling utterly content to simply sit and listen to the wind whistle about the conveyance.
A shaft of moonlight washed the interior in a soft glow. Outside trees lashed, branches cracked, but here inside? She could not recall ever feeling so peaceful—so blessed.
Joe had tried to give the driver extra pay for sitting on top in the elements, but he had refused it, adamant that he was that grateful to the Baron for ferreting out the ghost—even more grateful that he had given up America for Haversmere.
Everyone was pleased Joe had chosen to make the estate his home, grateful to call him Baron.
Olivia yawned, but did not bother to cover her mouth, the only people in the cab to see her were her husband and her son and they were sound asleep, snuggled together and exhausted.
It had been twenty-four hours since they had left Haversmere for Gretna Green and she did not expect to make it home until dawn. She did not mind, of course. Not as long as she could watch her cowboys, see how Joe wrapped his new son up in his arms, how his breath stirred Victor’s hair while they slept.
She tried to preserve the sight to memory because she was certain nothing had ever touched her in quite the same way.
Having Joe as her husband was beyond joy—a dream she hadn’t hoped for—but perhaps not as much of a joy as seeing her baby with a father. As incredible as it seemed, they were a family.
Victor had wasted no time after the vows had been uttered to remind her to thank Uncle Oliver for all of it.
Even now she did not believe her brother had any more to do with it than that it had been his grave they were visiting when Joe rescued Victor.
Clearly it did no good to say so to her son. He believed it more now than he had then.
It was understandable, she did have to admit it was, given he did have the cowboy he expected to have.
Whereas she married the gentleman she never expected to. Indeed, she had not believed such a man existed. Lord Haversmere was not the façade of a gentleman—no, he was honourable to his core and she completely adored him.
She closed her eyes to look back on the past day. So many visions came to her mind.
The first was hearing Constable Rollins declare that although he could not arrest Prudence Lapperton for portraying a ghost and scaring everyone, nor was there enough evidence to prove she had neglected to rescue Victor when she could have, he stated quite clearly that what she had done was reprehensible.
He also gave his opinion that it would be well for her to seek another town to live in because no one would welcome her in Grasmere. Further, it was the opinion of nearly everyone that she ought to give the hotel back to Mr Miller since she had all but stolen it from him.
Of course, it remained to be seen what did become of the woman. Public opinion might not be a thing that influenced Lapperton overmuch.
At the end of it, Olivia was done with the widow, whether she remained in Grasmere or went somewhere else. Because Joe loved her, and she trusted in that love, Prudence Lapperton had no power to haunt her.
Oh—my word! She sat up straighter on the cushion, grinning because she realised Henry’s awful women no longer haunted her either. She could think of them without a twinge of pain, or anger even.
Love had freed her.
She would have reached across and touched her husband, but decided it was just too wonderful to look at him, enjoy the sweep of his lashes, the crinkle lines at the corners of his eyes.
After a few moments her eyes grew heavy and slowly closed.
She saw him still in her half-dreamy state—how handsome her groom had been, gazing at her during the vows. There had been a lifetime of promise in his kiss. It had lingered a bit long given that his mother, sister, Freddie, and even Victor were present. None of them seemed to mind if their grins and Freddie’s slap on the back were any judge of it.
She drifted towards sleep, watching it all again while the carriage rocked through the wee hours of night.
‘Lady Haversmere.’ She felt heat skim her ear, then a tender nip on her lobe. No dream but this, but a promise.
Settling beside her, Joe drew her tightly to his wonderfully firm chest. He touched her throat, gently stroking a path from her collarbone to her hip before he kissed her.
‘I’ll be glad when we reach home and you no longer have to treat me with respect.’ How many more hours would it be?
Too many. Perhaps she ought to have accepted Esmeralda’s offer to have Victor ride home in their carriage. But at that moment, the three of them had just become a family. It only felt right to be together.
However, in this moment with her groom’s hands and mouth giving a preview of what was to come—well, she might have made another choice.
‘Ah, Olivia, my beautiful, sweet wife. I do intend to respect you. I am going to respect every...’ he lightly skimmed the bodice of her gown, tapped each button from neck to waist ‘...lovely line and curve of your exquisite body for the rest of my life.’
‘Are you certain you feel up to going to the Duchess of Guthrie’s ball?’ Joe asked while they waited in the Fencroft hall for the rest of the family to come down.
No doubt it was her husband not feeling up to it. He was making his first public appearance as Baron Haversmere. The results of her training were to be put on view for everyone to witness.
Given his last reception at the Duchess’s home, it was no wonder he felt ill at ease.
‘I feel wonderful.’ She went up on her toes to kiss him. In truth, she did not feel wonderful, but not as wicked as she had early today. ‘If you would like to draw back my hair each morning while our child makes its presence known, you may.’
Light footsteps tapped down the stairs. ‘Is Freddie here yet?’
One could only call Roselina joy incarnate—from her smile to the rose-coloured gown which seemed to float about her, she sparkled. And why would she not? For the first time, she and Lord Mansfield were to appear in public as an engaged couple.
The front door flew open wide and the young man rushed in.
‘Lord Mansfield,’ the butler announced, rolling his eyes and closing the door on the warm summer evening.
Roselina hurried forward, laughing and hugging him tight.
‘Thank you, Mr Ramsfield,’ she said. ‘You may tell him we are at home.’
‘Ah, just in time.’ Esmeralda hurried into the hall.
Olivia thought her mother-in-law looked grandly elegant. She, too, was to be introduced to society as Dowager Baroness Haversmere.
This was going to be an outstanding night. With any luck, baby Steton would not send Olivia rushing for the nearest convenience.
‘The coach has arrived, my lord,’ the butler announced, opening the door.
Mr Ramsfield reached for the coat rack, handed each lady her cape along with a smile. When it came to Joe, he handed over his formal coat along with the top hat. The butler arched a brow, then handed him the Stetson also.
‘I am so proud of you, Joe,’ Esmeralda said, beaming at her son while he went down the front steps. ‘Given that you spent your youth running free on the open range, not knowing an earl from a viscount, you have cleaned up rather well.’
Olivia did have to admit it was true—and yet—in the privacy of the bedroom her cowboy was not a bit refined, but wild and quite wonderful.
‘But I am even more proud of you, Olivia. I would not have thought my son could be so transformed.’
‘Until he wears the top hat the job is not complete,’ she pointed out.
Joe tucked one hat under each arm and still managed to hand her into the carriage.
He helped his mother in, then came in and sat between them. Freddie helped Roselina up the steps. The pair of them rather resembled sunshine they were so aglow with their young love.
It was a heart-warming thing to see, but all things considered, Olivia would not change the fact that she had met Joe later. It did not mean she did not feel as aglow as the youngsters did, she was completely aglow. But she also felt grounded in the very best way.
‘Should we not bring Sir Bristle in case Lord Waverly is attending the ball?’ Roselina asked.
‘Have you not heard?’ Esmeralda smiled, clearly happy to impart some news about the low-down Marquess. Although she had never had the misfortune to cross his path, she had heard him spoken of.
‘What news?’ Olivia asked, hoping whatever it was would prevent him from being there tonight.
Now that she was married she was safe from his lecherous attentions, but the evening would be better if she did not have to look at him.
‘It seems that his wife has had quite enough of him. She sent him away and did it while in the company of others. They say she collected his secret portraits, displaying them for all to see. What could he do but flee in shame? He is quite cut—is that what it is called when one is banished?’
‘Cut or banished—either will suit nicely just as long as he is gone,’ she said.
‘Perhaps he will go to America,’ Freddie said. ‘Is not that where it is rumoured that Prudence Lapperton went? They might well meet, she being a widow. I can’t imagine a change of location will cause him to change his ways.’
‘America is vast and it is unlikely,’ Roselina pointed out. ‘But one never knows. It is rather lovely to think of justice being served in that way. The pair of them would make each other miserable.’
‘I don’t know,’ Joe said. ‘I think if it did happen our sympathy ought to go to the town they settle in.’
The ride to the Duchess’s was a short one. The driver opened the door before the subject was exhausted.
It was just as well. Olivia had no wish to think of the man ever again. She tossed his memory on the rubbish heap along with Henry’s and his mistresses’.
Esmeralda, Roselina and Freddie went in ahead of them. The butler’s voice announcing them carried down the front steps of the mansion.
‘Are you ready, Lord Haversmere?’ Truly, she was so proud of him. There was not a more polished gentleman in all of Mayfair.
He glanced at the door where the butler waited.
Then he smiled, kissed her quickly and shoved the top hat on his head and held the Stetson behind his back.
He took her arm to lead her up the stairs.
‘Wait!’
She snatched the top hat off his head, tossed it back at the street, where a breeze caught it and sent it into the path of a passing cart.
‘It never did look right on you.’ She took the Stetson, placing it on his head.
‘I love you, darlin’,’ he said while they went up the steps, arm in arm.
‘Baron Haversmere and Baroness Haversmere,’ the butler announced in his full deep voice.
All of a sudden Joe stopped, glancing at her in surprise.
‘Did you just hear a laugh? From behind us? Directly behind us?’
‘Don’t worry, Joe. It is only Oliver.’
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