The next morning they left for Gretna Green at dawn.
By noon, the minister declared Joseph to be Olive’s husband, and Olive to be his wife.
He pledged his love and fidelity to her and wondered if, in spite of the circumstances of their marriage, she had any sense of how deeply he meant that promise.
Standing in this quaint church, his marriage only seconds old, he had the same sense of coming home as he had when he first rode up the drive to Falcon’s Steep.
He wished he could tell Olive that he did not regret marrying her, that there was a sense of wonderment to the morning, but he held this tongue.
She would not appreciate knowing...not if she did not feel the same way.
The ceremony ended quickly. It was time to go home.
As they walked down the front steps of the church, a dragonfly buzzed over a silk flower on Olive’s hat.
A sign of good days to come? What wouldn’t he give to regain the easy way that used to be between them?
Something had happened to change it. Perhaps being the husband she wanted would get it back.
Dash it, though. The husband she seemed to want, which was no proper husband at all, was not the one he wanted to be.
It was a fine line he would walk with Olive Billings, but he would choose no other.
‘Olive Billings,’ he said, taking his bride’s arm and leading her toward their waiting carriage.
‘Yes?’ She glanced up at him, her expression neutral.
It cut him to see it, because brides were not supposed to be neutral. Typically, they were blushing with joy.
The dragonfly still hovered about. Its wings glistened blue and green in the sunshine. There had not been time for either of them to procure more elegant clothing. The flowers she carried were purchased from a street seller.
The dragonfly, though—to him, it added a little magic to the moment, rescuing it from neutrality.
‘I’m just trying out your name, now that it’s real.’
‘Mrs Billings,’ she repeated after him. To his great relief, she smiled and seemed more herself. ‘It sounds honest, at least.’
Perhaps now, with the vows spoken and their futures secured, they could once again be the friends they had been.
What he must not do was press her for any more than she was willing to give him. Which was her whole life.
While he could not give her everything he wished to as a husband, he could at least give her his restraint.
The dragonfly alighted on the bodice of Olive’s travelling gown. It flexed its wings on a shiny button. Lucky insect.
To his way of seeing it, the insect was a messenger reminding him to be patient, and one day he and Olive would find their way to a true marriage.
She nudged the insect with her finger, but instead of flying off, it crawled on her fingertip. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’
‘Oh, aye. Quite a splendid insect.’
She blew on its wings. It took flight, circled their heads, and then off it went.
‘Well, something advantageous has come of the morning,’ she said.
‘The dragonfly, you mean? A portent of good things to come?’
‘A lovely sentiment, of course, but what I mean is that we no longer need to think of a way to end our marriage,’ she said.
Ach, no. It was now more about finding a way of carrying on with it.
Home by teatime, Olive sat with Joseph and his parents, eating small sandwiches as if this was a day like any other.
The only difference was that Hortencia was absent. Since Joseph was safely beside her, Olive did not worry over where Hortencia was or what she was doing. It was pleasant not to have to feel anxious about the woman’s scheming for an hour.
The rest of the afternoon and evening went much as they always had, each of them doing what they always did. As far as Olive could tell, no one even wondered where they been together this morning.
When it was time to retire, Olive was exhausted. The steps to her chamber seemed a mile high.
Then Joseph looped his arm about her waist, helping her up.
She tried not to lean into his strength. Yes, he was her husband now, but not much had changed except having a piece of paper to say so.
The truth was, she had gone from having a pretend husband to a husband in name only.
It was simply more of the same. To let herself believe otherwise was folly.
Had it not been for the fear of being discovered, she would never have demanded he marry her, and he would not have gone on his knee to propose.
They had spoken the vows required to secure the marriage certificate...no more, no less.
Now they needed to speak of what came next.
This was their wedding night. What would Joseph wish to do with it?
She knew what she wished for, but the last thing she would do was seduce him into her bed. Just because a woman offered her body did not mean she would be loved in return.
Now here they were in front of her chamber. She opened the door to her room, but closed the imaginary one on the pining and sighing from her heart.
Joseph stepped in behind her like he always did in case anyone was watching, and closed the door behind him, like he always had.
The bed was ten feet away, like it always was.
And yet it loomed so much larger tonight, occupying far too much of her attention.
Her tricky imaginary door must still be cracked open an inch, because the bed seemed to pulse with temptation.
She really must grab hold of her emotions...focus on the fact that conjugal bliss was not going to be a part of her marriage.
She knew very well why they had married, and so did he.
‘Are you worried that now I’m your husband, I will press you for my rights?’
Glory fire, not that. It was more that she would demand what he was not willing to give!
An honest answer to his question would be that she feared offering her heart only to have it rejected.
Better to keep what was between them as it was...friendly, amicable. Going through life as allies.
‘No, Joseph. It is not what we agreed to. I trust you to...to refrain.’
‘Good, then, we have that settled. It is late, and I am tired. May I just sit on your bed for a while?’
In the past he had done so without asking...when he was instructing her on how to act like a lady.
‘This is your home. You may sit anywhere that suits you.’
With a sigh, he sat on the bed, then flopped onto his back with his knees hanging over the edge.
He waved his fingers for her to join him on the mattress.
When she hesitated, he sat up, then rose from the bed and came to lead her by the hand.
‘It is difficult to speak to you when you are standing over there.’
It was not the speaking which concerned her; after all, they had done it many times before. The difference between now and then was that a marriage licence lay between them.
Things that used to be forbidden no longer were...except for the boundaries they set for themselves.
Joseph’s boundary was that he would not press his marital rights.
Although he did not know it, her boundary was the same.
He drew her down onto the mattress. Together they lay back. Like before, his legs dangled over the edge. Hers did, too, only his feet were closer to the floor.
‘What do you wish to talk about?’ she asked quietly.
‘Our friendship. I wish to have it back, like it was before we wed.’
‘I do not think it has suffered.’
‘Good, then may I hold your hand as we have done in the past?’
‘Of course.’ He caught her hand, drew it to his chest.
She felt his heart beat hard against her fingers. Odd since they were supposed to be relaxing from their long, weary day.
He turned on his side so that they faced one another. He arched his brows, then grinned.
Instinct warned her that he was about to break their rules. She must be the firm one, then. If she was not, she might admit that she loved him.
Folly, folly, folly! She must not be reckless.
‘I’ve kissed you before, too.’ He drew her hand to his mouth, lingered over the kiss he placed on her knuckles.
‘Only when people were watching.’
‘No...there was the time when they were not.’ He moved closer. The mattress squeaked with his weight shifting. ‘I think you recall it?’
‘We have agreed to a friendly marriage.’
‘Kissing is friendly, aye?’
Too friendly and yet... ‘Would you want kissing in our marriage? Since we are setting our boundaries, we ought to know what they are.’
‘We must try one or two in order to know.’
‘Don’t we know from before?’
Then, kissing had been nearly more than she could resist. Now that he was her husband, he could take things further if he wished to.
His breath came quick, warm on her cheek. His open palm pressed her closer toward him on the mattress.
‘My Olive.’ Her name, so softly whispered, branded her heart. The sizzle of the burn went all through her body. It cindered her resolve and blew the ashes of her good sense all over the mattress.
And that was even before he kissed her.
When he did, well...she had no argument. She loved him and would show him with every sigh and moan he drew from her, with every stroke, every touch of every part of her that had been forbidden.
Her brain was fuzzy. Her body was not.
It knew what she wanted and insisted on having its way.
She gave herself over to her husband because surely it was impossible for him to touch her with such loving tenderness unless he did, in fact, love her.
This was right. Joy hummed through her at every kiss. The small sighs and noises his touch drew from her was a love song.
All at once his hands fell away from her. He rolled off her with a muffled curse, then all but leapt from the bed.
‘I never meant to...’ He backed toward the chamber door, jerking his hand through his hair as he did when he was agitated. ‘I got carried away, Olive. Forgive me, it will not happen again.’
Within seconds, she was alone in the room.
There was no mistaking what he’d meant.
Joseph had never meant for her to believe he was in love with her.
Her ‘love song’ must have shocked him out of the trance that had led him off course. He’d only wanted their friendship back as it was.
She lay down on the bed again, not a button undone on her gown, not a stocking rolled down, silently weeping.
And alone in her love.
The next afternoon, Olive stood in the centre of the entrance hall of Falcon’s Steep. Absently, she plucked a dried frond off a potted fern.
What she ought to do was go home. She could not, of course. This was her new life now. She had chosen it, and there was no going back. It was not as if going home would help with her heartache anyway.
Looking back on events, which was all she was doing, it was fair to admit last night was not completely Joseph’s fault. There had been two them sharing embraces on the bed.
She had known better and yet still set good judgement aside. Had she been firm in what she knew to be right, none of it might have happened.
When next she saw him, she would not act as if she resented him.
To resent someone because they did not love you as you loved them would only lead to further heartache. Last night she had shed hours of tears, feeling sorry for herself. She was done with it.
As far as she was concerned, she and Joseph were friends and would continue to be. Only, next time he asked to sit on her bed, she would point him to the chair.
Looking about the grand beauty of her new home, she knew there was only one thing to do, and that was to move on.
The question was, how?
No longer was she acting the part of Lady of Falcon’s Steep. She was its true mistress now.
In the past, she had managed by drawing on her fictional self. Acting, though, was quite a different thing from reality.
This sudden turnabout in her life would be challenging. Which was probably what she needed right then. Discovering how to remain who she had been, while becoming who she was required to be, ought to keep her mind busy enough.
No longer was she responsible for a goat herd, whose only requirements were to be fed, milked and sung to. Now she was accountable for a household and the well-being of all those who worked here.
And she was to do all this without pressing Joseph for affections he did not feel for her.
Oh, yes, during their wedding vows, he had promised to love her, but everyone said that. It was a requirement.
In this moment, all she hoped for was to regain the friendship which had blossomed so naturally between them.
Footsteps strode across the tile floor from behind. She recognized whose they were straight away.
She had not seen Joseph since he left her chamber last night and had been nervous about what their first encounter would be like.
Distant? Friendly? Resentful? Forgiving?
He did not speak, but plucked the dried frond from her fingers and placed it back in the pot. He managed to do so without his fingers even grazing hers.
‘No need to trim the plants. We have servants to do it.’
As far as she could tell, he was neither distant nor friendly. Not resentful, nor forgiving, either. The best she could figure was that he was as confused as she was.
‘You have staff to do everything. Really, Joseph, no one is going to believe I am a baron’s daughter.’
‘Olive.’ He reached for her hand, but at the last moment drew it back. ‘Last night I overstepped. Please do not hate me. I have no excuse except for bad judgement.’
‘Mine was as bad. We shall go on as if it did not happen and consider it a lesson learned.’
‘Aye,’ he said, his expression sombre. ‘A lesson learned. I hope you will not hate me for the teaching.’
‘I’ve too much on my mind to cling to misplaced resentment. Going forward we shall respect the boundaries of our marriage.’
‘Agreed. Now, tell me what is pressing on your mind?’
‘How am I to go from being a goatherd to Lady of Falcon’s Steep?’
‘You have been doing it already.’
‘Acting it.’ The same as she was acting as if she was not in love with him.
When she thought about it, she had been acting in one way or another since before she met Joseph. At last she was free to be herself.
The last deception must be settled today, this very hour. It was going to come out at some point if Hortencia kept digging for gossip. Better if it was by confession than discovery.
‘We must tell your parents who I am at once.’
‘It’s true. Even if she found out, Hortencia would have nothing to hold over us then.’
‘Let’s do it now before we lose our courage.’
He extended his hand to her. ‘This is acceptable?’
For her, touching this man in any way was risky. And yet they had done so as friends, and she did wish to have a friendly marriage.
‘This will have to be said just right. Once they recover from the surprise, I am sure they will want nothing but our happiness,’ Joseph said.
‘Will we be happy?’ she asked. It was blunt, but she did not regret the asking.
‘We were, I think...before.’ An endearing frown crossed his brow. ‘Olive, I was not the husband I ought to have been last night. From now on I will be.’
Fine, except that the husband he thought she wanted was not the one who’d walked out of her chamber.
It was the other husband, the one who’d kissed away all her good judgement.
There was nothing in Hortencia’s attitude to indicate that she had so recently threatened him and Olive. Yet Joseph was not fooled by her pretence of congeniality.
The cheerier the woman seemed, the more it worried him. He had given her three days to make arrangements to leave his home.
This was the morning of that third day. She gave no indication of being ready to travel. But he was still not of a mind to bring out their marriage certificate since the ink was still fresh and the date was proof that she had been correct when she claimed they were not wed.
While she chatted with Mama, he did not get the sense she was saying goodbye.
More than ever, he would need to keep a watchful eye on her, because not only was this her day to leave, but it was the day she had given them to produce proof of their marriage.
He had tried a few times to get his parents alone so that he and Olive could tell them who she really was, but aside from Hortencia clinging to them, they’d spent most of yesterday and this morning visiting friends.
The longer the moments ticked by, the more urgent he felt it was to reveal the truth. Something was not right here, although he could not quite put a finger on it. Except that Hortencia was acting far too congenially.
‘There is something different about you, son.’ Joseph’s father stroked his chin in thought.
Quite a bit more than his father knew. He was not aware that being in love and having to act like he was not, showed!
‘Something is different about you, too, Father.’
His father laughed joyously. Mama tapped his arm in clear affection.
He had never seen this loving, playful part of his parents’ marriage.
It must be that spending time away from London and society had made them look at one another in a new way...or perhaps an old way.
Whichever it was, it seemed that they had revived their first love. Joseph could not have been happier to see it.
Hortencia stopped conversing with Mama, then went to the window and stared silently out.
Probably she was knocked off centre by Cupid’s arrow darting between his parents. With luck she would not notice it going off target where he and Olive were concerned.
All at once, she turned away from the window. She smiled that cat smile she had.
‘Lady Amelia, I have invited a guest to join us. I hope you do not mind.’
His mother raised her brows, but Father spoke up. ‘Have you met a young man, Hortencia?’
‘I have met a man. I didn’t realize exactly who he was at first, but now I do. I’m sure he’s someone you will be most anxious to meet.’
Hortencia slid a look at Olive, sending her a slow, malicious grin.
Olive’s face drained of colour.
Joseph stood.
‘What have you done?’ he asked with a scowl.
‘I have merely invited a charming gentleman for tea.’
Footsteps clicked in the hallway.
‘Mr Cedric Augustmore has come to call, sir.’ The butler sniffed, bowed at the viscount and then backed out of the parlor.
Olive rose from the couch, she had recovered nicely. She did not appear to be distressed, and he admired her for it. No, he loved her for it.
‘Good afternoon, Father.’ Olive hurried across the parlor, then gave him a hug.
There was nothing to do but introduce him. This meeting had come before she’d hoped for it to, but now that it was upon her, she must push through.
What a blessing that she did not smell alcohol on her father’s breath. The situation might be far worse.
‘Lord and Lady Claymore, I would like to introduce you to my father.’
Neither of them spoke. Apparently they were struck dumb, wondering how this man could be the baron they had been told he was. Although Father had worn his best suit for the occasion, it was still patched and out of fashion.
To complete his look of cottage farmer, he held a pair of small bleating goats, one under each arm.
‘A gift for you, my lord, my lady.’ He extended the kids, adorably speckled, one with brown splotches and one with black. In Father’s estimation, this was a grand gift which anyone would appreciate.
Her mother-in-law gave a great blink. What, Olive wondered, was the biggest surprise? The goats or the man she had greeted as her father? He did not resemble a baron in any way.
To her credit, Lady Claymore recovered quickly, hiding her surprise behind a gracious smile.
The viscount took the kids, awkwardly cuddling one in each elbow. ‘We haven’t owned goats before. Thank you, sir. They are interesting little fellows.’
Interesting and nibbling the shiny buttons on Lord Claymore’s sleeve.
‘It was kind of you to come all this way to pay us a visit, Mr Augustmore.’
‘Oh, but it was not all that far, Lady Amelia,’ Hortencia announced. ‘Mr Augustmore lives only down the hill...the first cottage you come to on the path. I met him again by happy circumstance when I was out walking earlier today. Once I knew who he was, it only seemed appropriate to invite him to tea.’
Olive uttered a mental curse. She and Joseph had missed their chance to tell his parents who she was and introduce her father to them on their own terms. Now it was Hortencia steering the moment as she wished to.
‘I did want to give my best wishes to my daughter and my new son-in-law. And to make your acquaintances.’ Father gave a polite nod to each of them. ‘I am pleased to be able to call you family.’
‘It is a great pleasure to meet you, Mr Augustmore.’ Lady Claymore indicated the tea tray with its assortment of delicate sandwiches. ‘We are delighted that you are able to join us.’
Hortencia gasped, probably horrified seeing her scheme turn against her. ‘Oh, but I do not think—’
The viscount interrupted her to say, ‘Please do stay, Cedric. I hope I may call you that? As you say, we are family now.’
‘I thank you kindly, my lord.’
‘No more “my lord”. We shall be Marshall and Amelia.’ Her father-in-law’s smile looked so like Joseph’s it took her breath for an instant. ‘Until we are called Grandfather.’
‘And Grandmama!’ Lady Claymore exclaimed. ‘Hortencia, will you serve tea?’
Knowing she would not be giving these dear people grandchildren made Olive want to weep on the spot.
Hortencia flinched. ‘All of a sudden, I do not feel—’
‘A word, my dear.’ This was not a request but an order given by a viscountess. Hortencia did not dare ignore it.
Lady Claymore walked towards the corner of the room, where she was sure to be out of earshot of the men who chatted easily with one another despite the difference in their social stations.
The conversation was not out of Olive’s earshot.
‘Hortencia, you have invited a guest. You will now have the courtesy to serve him tea.’
‘Of course, Lady Amelia. Forgive me. I do not know what came over me. I feel recovered now.’
Hortencia’s words were certainly not genuine, but uttered in order to save face with Viscountess Claymore. It would not do to make an enemy of such a lady of wealth and influence, one whose son she had designs on.
Clearly, she still did not wish to burn the bridge she believed she must cross to get to Joseph.
Once again, the trickster was all gracious smiles, especially to Olive’s father.
Olive doubted that her father was aware of what Hortencia was about. Papa would be feeling grand having such a beautiful lady treating him so attentively.
Flirting was what the hussy was doing. To see her father being so used made her sizzle to the tips of her hair.
She was saved from visions of mayhem by Joseph, who finished his conversation with the men and joined her. He led her to the bay of the window, where he could speak and have it appear to be a tender whisper.
‘I knew my parents would not change how they felt about you. You may feel more at ease now, aye?’
‘Not aye. We are not free of her scheming yet. The wicked besom might still demand to see our certificate of marriage. There is the date to worry about. Your parents are still coming to terms with my low birth. Now to discover we are only recently wed? They would not easily overlook that scandal, I’m sure.’
Joseph nodded, his mouth set and his frown square on Hortencia’s back.
‘I suppose not.’