Chapter 19
“Bloody hell, Robertson. Just tell her you love her,” Noah said as he plopped down in a wingchair at the club.
Robertson looked at his friend. “What?”
“You’ve been moping around for the past fortnight, and as far as I can tell, there’s only one reason why that would be so. You’re in love with Lady Armstrong.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I admire the lady, of course, but that’s all.” That night in the garden his anger had been so strong that he would have killed Armstrong if he weren’t dead already… maybe even her father too for putting her into Armstrong’s hands. When she had asked him how he felt, his primary emotion at the moment had been admiration… at her ability to keep going, keep facing the world despite what had been done to her. He wanted to support her and be her protector against people like Armstrong and Pressley. He wasn’t even certain he knew how to do anything different… but he’d hoped he’d made himself clear about his feelings for her.
“Robertson, you might as well face the facts,” Miles chimed in. “I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you like this, not even when you were courting Miss Grandier.”
“My previous courtship has nothing to do with this.”
“Exactly,” Noah said. “You were merely disappointed when Miss Grandier passed you over for Evans. This situation is entirely different. It’s a fiasco of your own making. So stop being a bloody fool and go tell the lady you love her.”
He looked between Noah and Miles. Were his friends correct? He never betrayed Olivia’s confidence about what had occurred, but his friends knew something awful had happened in the garden. They didn’t know exactly what beyond it involved Pressley. His friends were smart enough to put two and two together. He thought he’d been supportive of Olivia. Obviously, he was wrong if she’d leave without a word or even a note.
He picked up his whiskey and downed it in one gulp, letting the fiery liquid burn down his throat. When he made himself seriously consider what his friends had said, the truth knocked him for a loop. They were right.
He was such an idiot.
Slamming the glass down on the table, Robertson stood. “I have to go.”
“Hmmm…going anywhere in particular?” Noah asked with a chuckle.
“You really are a bloody arse, you know that?” he said.
“Oh, I know. It’s my specialty. Good luck with Lady Armstrong,” Noah said with a chuckle.
Without wasting a moment, Robertson raced back to the townhome. His friends were right—he was in love with Olivia. But had he ruined everything by not declaring his love that night in the garden when she needed to hear it the most?
It was too late to leave for Armstrong Manor this evening, but he’d get an early start tomorrow. When he walked into his bedchamber, Bryer was there.
“My lord, you’re home early. May I help you with something?”
“Yes. Pack a valise. I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”
“Very good, sir. Shall I accompany you?” Bryer asked.
“No. I don’t plan on being gone long.”
His loyal valet nodded and bustled around the room, packing a few things for him to take on the road.
There would be no sleeping tonight. His nerves were on edge. How could he have been so foolish? No wonder Olivia had left. He wasn’t there for her when she needed him most. He understood now what his rage had hidden from him then. She didn’t need his admiration. She needed his love. A love full of promise of the future, a love that could not be denied any longer.
When the first rays of the sun were visible, he dressed, grabbed the valise, and went down to the stables.
“Good morning, my lord. Perses is saddled and waiting for you,” the stablemaster said, taking his valise and attaching it to the saddle.
“Good,” Robertson said, vaulting into the saddle. He stroked the stallion’s neck. “Come on, boy, we have a lady to call upon, and there’s no time to waste.”
This early in the morning, it wasn’t too much of a hardship to get out of London. Soon, he was on the road to Armstrong Manor and on a pace to be there before nightfall. He wanted to gallop the whole way, but he had to be mindful of his stallion. The horse did not deserve any ill-treatment because he’d been a fool.
It was mid-day when he stopped at the White Swan Inn, not that he wanted to, but he had to give Perses a bit of a rest. He’d been riding steadily for hours and didn’t want to lame his stallion or suffer a lung attack. He made himself take a few bites to eat despite having no appetite, but it forced him to give his horse a bit of a rest before getting back on the road. The urgency he felt to see Olivia again would not quiet.
He was such a fool.
Why hadn’t he told her that he loved her their last night in the garden? His admiration meant nothing to her—he could see that now. She was looking for love and would settle for nothing less. The change in her during the house party had astounded him. She’d gone from a meek and timid young woman to someone who knew what she wanted and needed in her life and wasn’t afraid to insist upon having it.
He’d been too blind at the time to realize what a hold she had on his heart. The last person he’d loved was his brother, and when Grayson died, he’d thought it better to live a life without love rather than endure such heartache again. How wrong he was.
Love was worth every heartache, and he didn’t want to hold back any longer. He wolfed down the stew the innkeeper’s wife had made without even tasting it and left a generous tip behind before racing to the stables.
“He’s been fed and watered, my lord. Will there be anything else?” the stableboy asked.
“No,” Robertson said, taking hold of the reins and dropping a few coins in the boy’s hand.
“My lord, this is too much.”
“Nonsense, I’m sure your family can use the coin,” Robertson said, vaulting into his stallion’s saddle and racing away.
The sky looked ominous, and Robertson hoped he could make it to the Armstrong estate before the skies opened up. A crack of thunder momentarily startled his horse, but a soothing hand upon his neck got Perses back on track again.
“That’s a good boy. Come on. I’ve got a woman to woo.”
He’d only gone a few more miles when the skies opened up with torrential rain and howling wind. Robertson pulled his hat down low on his head and kept going at a much slower pace. The roads were slippery and he didn’t want Perses to lose his footing. There was no way he was going to let a little rain—well, maybe a lot of rain—stop him from reaching Olivia and confessing his feelings to her.
By the time Armstrong Manor came into view, Robertson was soaked to the skin and his chest felt tight constricted. He needed to take a few deep breaths to calm his rapid breathing. Perses was also blowing hard. He’d pushed his stallion hard, trying to reach the woman he loved. He rode up the front drive and jumped off his horse. Striding to the door, he let the knocker bang down.
It took a few moments before an older butler with gray steaks in his brown hair opened the door. “May I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for Lady Armstrong.”
“Lady Armstrong?”
“Yes. I must speak with her most urgently,” he said, wiping rainwater out of his eyes.
He must have looked like a drowned rat because the butler stared at him a moment longer before he said, “Lady Armstrong no longer resides here.”
That was the last thing Robertson expected to hear. Olivia no longer lived here? Had he missed his chance to build a new life with the one person who could heal his wounded soul? “What do you mean? Where did she go?”
“Sir, I’m not at liberty to say.”
Robertson was out of patience. He was so close to confessing his love. He had to find her. “Not at liberty to say or won’t say?” he growled.
“I hardly think that matters, sir,” the butler said, standing his ground.
Robertson took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. If he wanted to get any information out of Olivia’s loyal staff, who clearly wanted nothing more than to protect her, he’d have to appeal to their belief in love. “I understand your loyalty to your mistress and the need to protect her, and I find it most commendable, but I’m desperate to find her. I also want to protect her, but it’s more than that. She means everything to me, and there’s something I need to tell her with utmost urgency.”
This wasn’t going well.
The butler stood assessing him. Was he trying to decide if Robertson was worthy of Olivia? If so, he couldn’t fault the man for protecting her, but he wanted that to be his job; of course, that all depended on whether or not she accepted his offer of marriage.
He had to try a different tack…maybe just state his intentions. “I’m the Earl of Robertson and the man who’s going to marry Lady Armstrong.”
“Harris,” the woman said, walking up behind the butler and stepping around him. “Lord Robertson, I’m Mrs. Elliott, the housekeeper here at Armstrong Manor, and this is Harris. As you can see, we’re quite protective of Lady Armstrong. She’s had enough heartache in her young life to last a lifetime, and we don’t wish to see her hurt again.”
Robertson nodded. “I understand, Mrs. Elliott, your need to protect Lady Armstrong, but I must find her. Please tell me where she has gone?”
“How do we know you can be trusted?” Harris asked.
“What do you need me to do?” Robertson pleaded. “Get down on my knees and beg? I will certainly do that and whatever else to convince you of my true feelings for the lady.”
Mrs. Elliott patted the butler’s arm. “No need to worry, my dear. I know a man in love when I see one.” She turned to Robertson. “She should be at dower house, my lord. I received a note saying she was returning today. It’s to the left of the manor, past the formal gardens.”
“Mrs. Elliott, I can’t thank you enough.” He didn’t wait to see the butler’s response to the housekeeper’s revelation and turned to leave. “One more thing if I may trouble you. Please have a groom take care of my horse. He’s in dire need of food and rest.”
“Of course, my lord,” Harris said. “I’ll see to it right away.”
“Thank you,” Robertson said, striding away in the direction of the dower house.
It was only a matter of minutes before the smaller stone house came into view. It appeared well-tended, and there was smoke coming out of the chimney. That was a good sign that someone was home, but the sprint to find Olivia was taking a toll on him. His lungs already felt tight after the long day of riding, and the added quick walk to the house was squeezing his chest, making it hard to breathe. He doubled over and rested his hands on his knees. He needed to calm down before he collapsed on her doorstep. It took several minutes before Robertson could walk to the front door. His chest was still tight, but at least he could draw a breath.
He banged on the door with his fist. “Olivia, it’s Everett. Please open the door.”
Only silence greeted him.
Where is she?
He ran around the back of the house, hoping for a better outcome. Perhaps a servant was about somewhere, but no one appeared to be home.
Now what was he going to do?
Had the housekeeper misled him?
He didn’t think so. Mrs. Elliott had seemed quite sincere. Why was Olivia at the dower house in the first place? Had the new Viscount of Armstrong finally decided to adjourn to the country for the summer? While the dower house appeared lovely, Olivia deserved so much more. She should be the mistress of a grand estate, and if he had his way, she would be.
First, he had to find her.
“Liv, you must stay thenight. The storm appears to be getting worse, and I worry that you won’t arrive home safely,” Bett said.
Olivia had been staying with her friend for the last couple of weeks, nursing her broken heart. How could she have let herself fall in love? While at Betts, she had read every gossip sheet that she could and found out that the ton called Robertson the Earl of Ice. Unfortunately, they weren’t wrong.
She guessed something had happened in his childhood, and it had apparently scarred him more than he wanted to admit. After Pressley had attacked her, he’d confessed that he merely admired her. The burgeoning hopes of a love match she’d dared to allow herself had been dashed in an instant. She had wanted more than mere admiration, and she had no choice but to leave the Fleming house party as quickly as possible. It had been cowardly to run away before dawn without speaking with him one last time, but her heart was crushed, and she couldn’t face him.
She had to face the facts—she loved Lord Robertson, but he did not love her in return. While she knew that Robertson was no monster and thus a marriage with him wouldn’t entail physical or mental abuse, she was in a position where she did not have to marry. Thus, she would not settle for a marriage that was just not abusive, instead wanting a marriage that was actually based on love. If she couldn’t have that, she was resolved never to marry again.
When she had returned to the estate, she asked the servants to bring her things to the dower house. She’d only spent one night at the dower house before accepting Bett’s invitation to stay with her a while, but it was long enough to know she preferred the dower house to living the main house. She’d needed the time with Bett to recover from her broken heart. Being alone, even that one night, had been miserable. However, it was now time to go home and figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
“No. I really must be going. I sent a note to my housekeeper that I’d be returning today, and my coachman informed me that there has been a break in the rain so it’s the perfect time to leave.”
“Oh, if you’re sure. Please know you’re welcome to stay as long as you wish.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without your support this past fortnight. Thank you for being my friend.”
Bett hugged her. “Oh, Liv. I wish with all my heart for you to be happy again. You deserve nothing less.”
“I know, and I love you for it,” she said, thinking that sometimes wishes just don’t come true. “I’ll see you soon,” she added, bussing her friend’s cheek before getting into her carriage.
It was only an hour back to the dower house, and she longed for the solitude of her new home. While the new viscount seemed amenable enough, she didn’t know if she wanted to stay on the estate for the rest of her life. Perhaps a small cottage on the coast would suit her better. She didn’t know. She’d done the one thing she hadn’t wanted to do—she’d fallen in love with the Earl of Robertson—the Earl of Ice—an appropriate moniker as far as she was concerned.
She never should have gone to Lord Fleming’s house party. However, if she hadn’t, she would have never known true desire and love. Lord Robertson had opened her eyes to a world full of wonder, and she was grateful for that, but now she’d have to learn to live without it.
Silent tears fell down her cheeks as the carriage drove on.