Chapter Eleven
Kitty and Oliver walked most of the way across the far side of the garden before he finally replied to her question.
“I still sleep in the bedchamber I have occupied since leaving the nursery.” He let out a deep breath before continuing.
“My mother believes it is time for me to take over the master’s chambers, and is removing herself as an excuse by vacating the mistress’s rooms she’s occupied my entire life. ”
Several conversations suddenly clicked into place.
In the circulating library in Whickfield, Oliver had said, “Blackthorne Park tenants,” rather than “my tenants.” His choice of words had been part of the reason she’d assumed him to be his brother.
Just a few minutes earlier, he’d said that “the estate would recover.”
As she thought through all of their conversations about Blackthorne Park, she could not recall a single time when he’d used possessive language. The estate, never his estate. He did not speak as though he believed himself to be the true master of his estate.
“Oliver.” She’d thought the name countless times over the previous days, but it was the first time she’d addressed him as such.
He stopped short and then turned slowly towards her, his shoulders slumped. “Yes?”
Kitty held his eyes, praying he understood and believed her words. “Whether you believe it or not, you are the master of Blackthorne Park. And you have every right to move into those rooms.”
“But I shouldn’t be…” Oliver’s voice broke with emotion. “Not for many years to come.”
Not able to stop herself, Kitty slipped her arms around his back.
Perhaps she could return some of the comfort he’d given her the day of the cricket match.
“Life isn’t fair sometimes. Believe me, I know.
” She thought of her own father, gone too soon.
“But you are a wonderful master. Masters aren’t supposed to be tyrants.
They are supposed to be protectors who care for those who rely on them.
And that is exactly what you did when you put your own financial security on the line to see people fed. ”
Oliver stiffened for a brief heartbeat before flexing his arms just enough to pull her more tightly against his chest.
Though petite, Kitty felt perfect in Oliver’s arms, as if she’d been designed just for him to hold.
And her words hung heavily in his mind. Every single member of his family had told him over the past three years that he was the rightful master of Blackthorne Park.
But coming from Kitty, he could almost believe it.
After far longer than was proper, Oliver dropped his arms and stepped away. Though he immediately missed the feeling of having her in his arms. “We should probably return before someone comes looking for us.”
“Unfortunately, you are correct.” Kitty shifted to his side before slipping her arm around his elbow. They walked arm-in-arm back across the garden, through the gate, and back around the corner, only breaking contact for a brief moment while Kitty re-locked the gate.
As they approached her townhouse, with Kitty’s maid following at a respectful distance, Oliver asked a question that had been bothering him.“Why did the rumors of my financial ruin trouble you?”
“I’ve spent several years being treated as though I only mattered for my dowry,” Kitty admitted as they reached her door. “I needed to know that you did not have any ulterior motives.”
Two thoughts struck Oliver with nearly equal force.
The first was that Kitty would only be concerned about his motives if she saw something in their interactions beyond a scheme to quiet whispers.
An idea that made his heart flip. His second thought was that he had a simple way to prove his sincerity.
It was even close at hand because he’d come directly from his meeting.
“May I show you something before I leave?”
“Of course,” Kitty agreed as they walked through the open door and into the townhouse.
Oliver quickly retrieved his satchel from the footman before following her into a small sitting room.
Leaving the door open for propriety, he joined her on a green settee.
Once they were situated, he opened his satchel and removed a thin leather book.
After flipping through to find the correct page, he held it out to her.
“You wish me to read it?” Kitty asked, her brow furrowed.
“Please.”
Oliver watched as her intelligent chocolate-brown eyes ran back and forth across the page. Just as he expected, she knew how to read a ledger. Household management was part of the education of most women in genteel families.
After several minutes, Kitty closed the book and handed it back. “The accounts for your estate?”
“Yes,” Oliver confirmed as he returned the slim book to the satchel.
“They are not ideal,” Kitty confirmed what he already knew, “but I concur that the estate is not facing financial ruin. At least not without a significant amount of poor luck.”
Oliver nodded as he retrieved the second, more crucial, ledger book. With a question in her eyes, she accepted it. “Another financial ledger?”
“Please read it,” he all but whispered.
He forced himself to breathe as she skimmed down the page once, and then a second time. Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Your investment portfolio?”
He could only guess what she was thinking, but shock must have been among her emotions. Oliver himself often felt disbelief at the value of his investments. For someone who had only heard that he was nearly insolvent, it must have been astonishing.
“When Nat married Sarah over a decade ago,” Oliver explained, “he convinced my father to invest the profits from the estate. Not speculation, solid business deals. There were no guarantees, of course, and a few ventures have failed. But more often than not, he made money.”
“And you’ve continued to follow your brother-in-law’s advice,” Kitty interjected.
“I have,” Oliver confirmed. “Blackthorne Park may be my heritage, but it is not the primary source of my income.”
Kitty closed the book, but kept it in her lap. “The London gossips have it all wrong,” she said almost to herself.
Oliver leaned in closer. “And I would prefer to keep it that way.”
“Then why show me?” She asked in a soft voice.
“Because I trust you.” He reached out and placed a hand on top of hers and then summoned all of his courage. “And because when I ask to court you for real, I want you to have the utmost confidence in my motives.”
Kitty ducked her head before returning her eyes to his. “You wish to court me for real?”
He picked up her hand and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “If you’ll allow it.”
She teased her lower lip in a most distracting fashion. “I think I would like that.”
The sound of a carriage pulling up in front of the townhouse caused them both to sit up straight. “My mother is home,” Kitty muttered.
Sure enough, the familiar figure of Mrs. Childs alighted from the carriage and approached the front door.
Oliver knew she’d been shopping with Lady Sampson, because he’d asked it of the baroness.
He was not sure how he could thank the kind woman for all her help over the previous fortnight.
But he would need to think of something beyond just fulfilling her request for that evening.
“I should go. But I assume I will see you at Lady Sampson’s dinner tonight?” Oliver did his best to suppress his smile as he stood.
Kitty studied his face for a long moment. “There is so much mischief in your eyes, I could almost mistake you for your brother.”
“I should hope not.” Oliver gave her one more kiss on the hand before bidding her farewell. After exchanging the necessary pleasantries with Mrs. Childs, he set off down the sidewalk, lighter than he’d felt in years.
The townhouses of Mayfair inched by as Kitty listened to her mother prattle on about their invitation to Lady Sampson’s dinner party.
Being included in an intimate dinner party hosted by a baroness was a fulfillment of Mrs. Childs’ lifelong ambitions.
Though she would never dream of bringing it up, Kitty knew their invitation had nothing to do with her mother, and everything to do with her own connection to Oliver Linfield.
Feigned connection? No longer feigned connection?
Though it had been constantly on her mind, Kitty had not mentioned their conversation in the front parlor to another soul.
Not that she could mention it to her mother without explaining everything about the past fortnight.
But she did not know who Oliver had told.
Did his mother know that he intended to court her for real?
Her stomach did a flip at the memory of him pressing a soft kiss to her hand.
Somehow, through all the ups and downs of the last few weeks, Kitty had developed tender feelings for the master of Blackthorne Park—not because of his beautiful estate, connections to his uncle, or rather impressive investment portfolio.
Though she still could not believe he’d managed to keep the last bit from London gossips.
No, she felt drawn to Oliver Linfield because he was deeply kind and treated her as though her thoughts and feelings mattered.
That he was handsome did not hurt either.
At long last, Kitty found herself entering Lady Sampson’s drawing room as a footman announced their names.
A dozen faces turned to look at them, some familiar, some not.
Lady Diana sat with Lady Fulbourn on one side and Arabella on the other, with several other women facing them on another sofa.
Of the gentlemen standing in the corner, only Lord Sampson’s sons, Mr. Mitchell Aldridge and Mr. Joseph Aldridge, appeared to be under the age of forty. Where were Oliver and Tim?
Lady Sampson appeared at her side and looped her arm through Kitty’s elbow. “Come, I have an introduction to make.”