Counterfeit Earl

Olivia had been impressed by the heroics of the men who had fought and won such victories. In her heart, she longed for adventure. How wonderful it must be to fight and win for the sake of glory and of England!

She sighed as she reached Roade House, knowing there was little likelihood of her ever leaving the shores of her homeland. The best she could hope for was to visit her sister and Lord Ravensden occasionally, and spend the rest of her time as usefully as she could at home with Papa and Nan.

“It seems unfair of us both to go and leave you here alone,” Olivia said as she kissed Nan’s cheek just over a week later. “Are you sure you will not change your mind and come with us? You know that Beatrice would be happy to see you.”

“I stayed with Beatrice for a few days at Easter,” Nan said. “I am quite content here, Olivia. I shall begin preserving the soft fruits as soon as you and Bertram have gone.”

“And I shall be home within a week,” said Mr Roade, “unless Ravensden wishes me to begin work on our project, of course—but I shall write and let you know. You will be comfortable here, sister. Besides, Olivia could not be expected to travel alone, even though Ravensden has sent his carriage and servants to fetch her.”

Olivia smiled at her father’s thoughtfulness. After Lord Burton had thrown her out, she had travelled from London to Northampton by public coach, and from Northampton to Abbot Giles on a carter’s wagon. No harm had come to her then, though she had been shaken until her body was aching all over, and her heart had felt as though it were breaking. However, her sister’s kindness had soon restored her, and she was grateful now for her family’s care of her.

“You spoil me, Papa,” she said, allowing Lord Ravensden’s groom to hand her into the carriage. “Perhaps we should go? Coachman will not want to keep his horses standing.”

“Yes, yes, no sense in waiting.” Mr Roade beamed at her. “Au revoir, Nan. I dare say I shall be back before you have had time to miss me.” He climbed inside the carriage to sit opposite his daughter. “I must admit I am looking forward to seeing Beatrice and Ravensden. He tells me he has found the diagrams relating to the flying machine of which he wrote some months back. Yes, indeed. It should prove a most interesting visit!”

Olivia waved to her aunt from the carriage window. She found her father’s preoccupation with his rather odd inventions a little disturbing. He had not yet installed another of his stoves at Roade House, though he had told her he was certain that the local blacksmith had not followed his instructions in making the previous design.

“It was the fault of inferior workmanship,” he said now. “I told Ravensden I suspected it, and he agreed. If he thinks it worth his while to let me experiment with my new designs, which I believe he must think exciting…we shall have the stoves for Camberwell forged at one of the new iron foundries. Then perhaps the workmanship will not let my designs down. I am sure that the principle is entirely sound.”

“Yes, Papa, I am sure you are right,” said Olivia, though she really did not comprehend more than a few words when he described his theories to her. “For myself, I am simply looking forward to seeing Beatrice. It seems an age since we were together.”

“At last!” Beatrice cried as Olivia and Papa were shown into the parlour where she was sitting at a small writing-desk. She got up at once and came towards them, arms outstretched to embrace them both in turn. “How glad I am to see you, Papa and my dear sister.”

“You look well, m’dear,” Mr Roade said. “Blooming, I may say. Where is Ravensden? I am eager to see the drawings he wrote of.”

“He was called out on some business…” Beatrice began, but the sound of footsteps in the hall announced Harry’s arrival. “Ah, he is here now…”

There was another flurry of greetings, during which Harry kissed Olivia’s cheek and shook hands with his father-in-law. After a few moments’ brief conversation, the two men withdrew to Harry’s library to study their papers, leaving Olivia and Beatrice together.

“Papa is right,” Olivia said. “You do look very well, dearest.”

“I am,” Beatrice replied and embraced her again. “Come and sit down with me, Olivia, and tell me all the news from home.”

“I told you in my last letter that Lady Sophia is engaged to be married, did I not? And about the terrible goings-on at the Abbey.”

“Yes.” Beatrice looked thoughtful. “I cannot pretend to feel sorry that Lord Sywell met such an unpleasant end; one cannot but think he must have had many enemies…if all the stories about his disgraceful behaviour with the wives of tradesmen were true. I imagine there must have been quite a few husbands and sweethearts who would have liked to see him dead.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Olivia said. “People are suggesting that Lady Sywell might have done it herself, but I cannot believe it.”

“No, indeed,” Beatrice agreed at once. “If she had wished to kill him, she would surely have done so when she ran away…if she did actually run away, that is.” She wrinkled her brow. “I have always regretted that we were not able to finish our search of the grounds.”

“That was impossible after Lord Sywell threatened to shoot first you and then Harry.”

“Yes…” Beatrice shook her head. “Enough of all this gloom and doom. It was really news of you I wanted to hear, Olivia. Have you made lots of new friends in the village? Are you happy and settled?”

“I have made friends,” Olivia said. “I visited Annabel Lett a few days ago, and I went to see Amy Rushmere only yesterday morning. They both sent their regards to you. I think you are much missed in the villages, Beatrice.”

“I write to as many as I can,” Beatrice replied, smiling. “But there is so little time. Harry and I travelled to Ravensden and to his estates in the north, and then we spent a few weeks in London… You ought to have come with us, Olivia. Several people inquired after you, dearest.”

Olivia blushed. “Yes, I was sure some people would remain my friends.”

“Oh, I believe you will find that most are prepared to be kind in the circumstances,” Beatrice replied, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. “I was told several times that Lord Burton was thought to be much at fault in his behaviour towards you. Indeed, Lady Burton has not been seen in town for months. I understand she has taken a house in Bath and sees only a few close friends.”

“Oh, poor Lady Burton,” cried Olivia, her sympathy aroused by this revelation. “Indeed, it was not her fault. She was ordered to cut the connection with me, and had no choice but to obey.”

“I believe she may be suffering,” Beatrice said. “If the chance arises, Olivia, you might want to try to heal the breach with her.”

“If…if she wishes it,” Olivia agreed. “But I shall not beg for forgiveness, Beatrice. I believe that what I did was right—and you must agree.”

“Yes, of course I do,” Beatrice said. “Harry says it was his fault entirely. He should have refused Lord Burton when he first suggested a marriage of convenience, but he was and is fond of you, dearest.”

“Yes, but he loves you,” Olivia said, and smiled at her. “Had I married him and you and he had met at the wedding…”

“It would have been very different,” Beatrice said, then laughed as she saw the challenge in her sister’s eyes. “Well, I suppose we might have felt the same, but we would not have allowed ourselves to give into our feelings.”

“Nevertheless, it was as well that I jilted Harry, and that he chose to follow me to Abbot Giles—was it not?”

“I cannot disagree with that,” Beatrice said. “Your bravery in standing firm against Lord Burton’s threats has given me such happiness, Olivia. I can never thank you enough.” She leaned forward to kiss her sister. “But now I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy to be here with you. I have missed you, Beatrice.”

“You know what I mean,” Beatrice said. “Oh, Olivia, do not tell me that you do not wish to be married. If you could but know the joy of being truly loved! I know you would wish for it.”

“Yes, perhaps I should,” Olivia admitted as she saw the way her sister’s eyes shone with happiness. “I fear I am too particular, Beatrice. Lord Ravensden was not the only gentleman to ask me to marry him. I did not like any of my suitors enough to contemplate marriage. Indeed, I would much prefer to continue as I am…”

“That is only because you have not met the right gentleman,” Beatrice said and smiled confidently. “Believe me, dearest, when you fall in love, you will know…you will know the moment you look into his eyes.”

Chapter Two

“Will you both forgive me if I do not accompany you to Brighton?” Harry looked from his wife to Olivia, an apologetic expression in his eyes. “Papa and I have much to discuss, and I promise faithfully to join you in a week’s time.”

“We can easily wait until you are ready to come with us,” Beatrice pointed out. “We do not mind putting off our journey for a week.”

“No, I see no reason for you to be deprived of your pleasures,” Harry said, smiling at her. “I had thought Papa and I would have settled our business by now, but there is so much to discuss. You will be quite safe, dearest. You will have servants enough to escort you on the road, and your maid, Beatrice. I am sure you and Olivia will find so many of your acquaintance in Brighton that you will hardly notice I am not there.”

“Was there ever such a provoking man?” Beatrice asked, and Olivia laughed. “Very well, my lord. It shall be as you please. I should not wish to spoil your or Papa’s fun. Olivia and I will go tomorrow as agreed, but we shall expect you early next week without fail—shall we not, Olivia?”

Olivia merely smiled at their banter. They were so obviously in love, but sometimes merciless in the way they teased each other. Olivia knew that such a relationship was not for her. She did not know precisely what she was searching for, but she believed the man she could love would be very different…more intense, heroic perhaps.

“Well, I shall leave you to tear my character to pieces in comfort,” Harry said with a wicked look for his wife. “Papa has come up with the most ingenious design for a system of gravity heating, and we are about to inspect the east wing to see how it could best be implemented. It is really very exciting.”

Olivia raised her fine brows at her sister as he went out, leaving them in the sunny parlour, which overlooked a pretty rose garden and was Beatrice’s favourite room in the house.

“How can you contemplate the idea of having your house disrupted, Beatrice?”

Beatrice smiled. “We never use the east wing because it is so very cold. Papa can do no harm there. Besides, I have seen the new drawings. They look as if they might actually work. It is the principle of water finding its own level, you see. Harry explained it all to me. The idea is very much that used in those charming waterfalls you admire in landscaped gardens, where you see all the water tumbling down into a pool and wonder how it returns to the top to start falling again. The pressure of water carries it round and…”

“Oh, pray do not go on,” Olivia begged. “I never understand more than a few words of Papa’s theories.”

“That is because you have not had the benefit of Harry’s explanations,” Beatrice replied, her eyes alight with laughter. “We often discuss such things for hours at a time.”

“Truly?” Olivia looked at her in awe. “How can you bear it?”

“I enjoy listening,” Beatrice explained. “I have always been fascinated by the way other people’s minds work. I suppose that is why I love to gossip.”

“Oh, gossip,” Olivia said and laughed. “Now that is a very different matter, of course. Sophia wrote to me from town. Have you heard the latest about Caroline Lamb and Lord Byron? Truly, she is shameless! Everyone is talking about it…”

Olivia was thoughtful as she changed for dinner that evening. After spending a week at Camberwell, she could not doubt her sister’s happiness. Beatrice no longer spent long hours in the kitchen cooking, nor did she clean, but her influence was everywhere in the house. It was evident that her servants respected her, and her household was impeccably run while retaining a warmth and charm that was often missing in large houses.

Olivia supposed that she might be happy in a house like Camberwell, which happened to be the smallest of Lord Ravensden’s houses. Or she would be if she were married to a man she could love and admire; but somehow her rebellious spirit still craved adventure.

There was a strange restlessness inside her. She had begun to realise that her careful upbringing had been against her true nature. Lady Burton was a nervous, fussy woman, who had raised Olivia in her own image, but as each day passed the girl had gradually found her perception of the world and herself changing.

As yet she did not truly know the real Olivia. The girl who had loved to dance until dawn and flirt with the gentlemen who paid her pretty compliments was still there, of course, but she suspected there was another Olivia waiting to emerge.

“If only something exciting would happen,” she murmured to herself as she prepared to go downstairs and join her family at supper. “If only I could fall in love the way Beatrice has…” She laughed at herself. At Brighton, she was likely to meet the same gentlemen she had known in London, none of whom had caught her interest.

“What are you waiting for, Olivia?” she asked her own reflection in the mirror. She shook her head at her own thoughts as the words of a poem came into her mind. A pale knight wandering lost and alone after the heat of battle…waiting to be brought back to life by a beautiful lady, who would take the shadows from his eyes… “Where are you, my pale knight?”

Her head was full of romantic nonsense! Why could she not settle for someone kind and generous? Why must she always look for something more?

Dismissing her own longings as ridiculous, Olivia picked up her silk shawl and went downstairs to join the others.

Olivia sighed as she glanced out of the carriage window. They had been travelling for three days, having broken their journey by staying two nights with Lord and Lady Dawlish, who were great friends of Harry and Beatrice, in their house near the lovely, ancient village of Bletchingley in Surrey. It was now nearly noon, and they had set out at half-past the hour of eight that morning. They would soon be stopping to take refreshments and change the horses at the posting stage.

“Whoa! Whoa there!”

“What is happening?” Beatrice said, looking surprised as their coachman pulled the horses to a rather sudden and juddering halt. “Can you see anything, Olivia?”

Olivia glanced out of the window. “I believe there is an obstruction on the road. It looks as if someone’s coach may have lost a wheel.”

“Oh, how unfortunate,” Beatrice said. She would have gone on, but her groom opened the carriage door and looked in. “Yes, Dorkins? Has there been an accident?”

“I’m afraid so, milady. It means a delay while we help the gentleman to clear the road.”

“Then we may as well get down and stretch our legs,” Olivia said, giving her hand to the groom. “Pray help me out, Dorkins. I need a little exercise.”

They had stopped on a quiet stretch of road, which was quite narrow and hemmed in by a thick wood to either side. One glance at the cumbersome coach ahead, which was tipped drunkenly forward, having lost its front nearside wheel, told Olivia that they would be delayed for several minutes while the grooms of both vehicles combined to move the coach off the road.

Beatrice looked out of the window as Olivia started to wander away. “Where are you going, dearest?”

“Just to stretch my legs. Do not worry. I shall not go far.”

Olivia left the road, entering the wood. Her purpose was an indelicate subject, and one that she was not prepared to discuss in full hearing of the grooms, but she had been waiting to answer the call of nature for some while. She had preferred not to ask coachman to stop, thinking that they would soon reach the posting inn, but now she had determined to seize her chance to relieve herself.

Not for the first time in her life, Olivia found herself wishing she were a man as she gathered the voluminous skirts of her stylish travelling gown and squatted awkwardly behind a bush, which was well out of sight of the road. A few moments later, she emerged feeling more comfortable and began to rearrange her clothing, peering round at the back to make sure she was decent. Reassured, she was about to return to the road when she heard a low growling noise and turned to find her way blocked by a huge black dog. Its top lip was curled back over vicious-looking teeth, and it was snarling, poised as if preparing to leap at her if she dared to try passing it.

Olivia froze, unable to move so much as a finger. Her heart was beating wildly. She was terrified of large dogs. Lord Burton kept a pack of fierce guard dogs at his country estate, and she had once been bitten by one of them. The scar on her arm had almost completely faded, but the mental scar was still there.

“Do not move, ma’am!” a male voice suddenly commanded from behind her. “He has been trained to attack intruders. Hold, Brutus! Lie down, sir!”

The dog seemed to hesitate, then it stopped growling and stretched down on the earth at Olivia’s feet, its head on its paws. She tried to make herself walk past, but found she was quite unable to move.

“He won’t hurt you now. It’s perfectly safe.”

Olivia’s mouth felt dry. “I—I cannot…”

“You need not be afraid,” a voice beside her said, and then she felt the gentle touch of a hand on her arm. “I shall not let him attack you. I give you my word.”

She turned her head to look at the man, her eyes widening in surprise. At first sight, he was a little unnerving himself. His features were long, the chin square, rather thin, as if he had recently lost weight, and his dark eyes were red-rimmed. His hair was longer than was fashionable, very thick, dark and slightly curling, blown by the wind into a tangle about his face. His right temple bore a deep purple scar, which had begun to heal.

“Oh…” Her hand went to her breast as her heart thudded suddenly. He was a very large man, lean, but wiry, and simply dressed. She took him for a gamekeeper. “Forgive me. I…”

“No, forgive us for frightening you,” Jack Denning said, his tone and manner seeming harsh though the words were kindly meant. “Brutus was my grandfather’s dog. Sir Joshua Chambers, the late owner of Briarwood—which is where you are. The dog was trained to keep gypsies from trespassing in the woods. He does not know that you are a lady, only that you are a stranger to him.”

“I—I am afraid I was trespassing,” Olivia said, finding her voice at last. So he was not the gamekeeper, but the grandson of a baronet! “It was very wrong of me.”

Jack smiled, his features losing some of their harshness, becoming more like the man he had once been. “I am Captain Jack Denning,” he said. “My man told me there had been an accident on the road and I was on my way to investigate. Was it perhaps your own carriage, ma’am?”

“I am Miss Olivia Roade Burton.” Her head went up a little as her natural spirit reasserted itself. “I am travelling to Brighton with my sister, Lady Ravensden, and our carriage has been delayed—the coach ahead of us has lost a wheel.”

“Yes, so I understand. I have already directed some of my men to assist in clearing the road. Perhaps by the time you reach your carriage, the way may be open.”

“Thank you. I shall go immediately.”

“You will allow me to accompany you.” Jack frowned. “Although I believe you to be safe enough for the moment, I would not recommend wandering alone in strange woods, Miss Roade Burton. Were the gypsies I spoke of still here, I could not have been certain of your safety. They are wild, fierce creatures…and you are too young and vulnerable to be here alone.”

Olivia did not answer. For some unaccountable reason her heart was racing and she was finding it difficult to get her breath. Captain Denning had been kind enough, but his manner was not encouraging. She sensed that he was not pleased to find her in his woods.

“I…” It was too embarrassing! She could not explain her reason for leaving the road. “I do not usually…”

He made no comment on her loss of words, merely cautioning the dog to stay before turning to lead her back towards the road. Olivia followed behind, feeling foolish.

She had never met anyone quite like him and she did wonder what had made that scar at his temple. He looked as though he might have been very ill quite recently, though she saw by his manner of striding through the woods that he had recovered his strength.

“Here we are, Miss Roade Burton. I believe your carriage is almost ready to leave.”

“Thank you.” Olivia glanced up as they both paused at the roadside, her eyes meeting his for one moment. Something seemed to flicker deep within his and for the briefest time she thought his expression seemed haunted, almost tortured. What could have caused him to look like that? Before she had time to think, the look had gone. “Goodbye, Captain Denning. I thank you for your courtesy.”

“Goodbye, Miss Roade Burton. I wish you a safe journey onwards.”

“That is kind.” She smiled at him. “Perhaps we shall meet if you come to Brighton.”

She blushed, wondering what had made her say such a thing. It would not be remarkable if he were to visit Brighton, since his estate was no more than twenty miles distant, yet her words were rather more familiar than Olivia would usually use in speaking to a stranger.

“I doubt that we shall,” Jack replied. His gaze narrowed, becoming colder to her way of thinking. “I have no plans to visit Brighton at the moment.”

Olivia lowered her eyes. She felt as if he had given her a setdown, and knew that she had deserved it. Perhaps he imagined that she was setting her cap at him! It was her own fault. She had been forward, almost impertinent.

She walked away from him, her back very straight. What did it matter? She was sure she did not care whether he had thought her forward or not!

Beatrice was gazing out of the carriage window, looking anxious. She waved at her as she saw her, clearly relieved.

“Oh, there you are! I was just beginning to wonder if I should send someone to search for you, dearest.”

“I am sorry if I made you anxious. I went into the wood to—to, well, you know. There was a fierce dog. It snarled at me and would not let me pass. I dare not move in case it attacked me. Then a man came and called it off. I imagined at first that he was the gamekeeper, but I believe he may own the estate. He…looked odd.”

“How?” Beatrice stared at her in surprise. “I am not sure what you mean by odd?”

“I am not sure either,” Olivia said and laughed. “Perhaps odd is the wrong word. Yes, interesting might be more appropriate. I think he had been ill. His face looked thin, almost gaunt, and his eyes…” She shook her head. It was his eyes that had affected her most. “What ails thee, pale knight…?”

“What was that you said?” Beatrice asked.

“Oh, I was thinking of a verse I once read,” Olivia said. “It was about a knight wandering in a daze from the field of battle…pale of face and red of eye…”

“Oh, poetry!” Beatrice said and smiled. “What was his name, dearest? This man you met…”

“Denning…Captain Jack Denning.”

“Perhaps he was a soldier,” Beatrice said. “He may have been wounded in the Peninsula, and sent home to recover.”

“Yes…” Olivia was much struck by this. She had been shaken by the incident with the dog, and then a little annoyed with her rescuer for implying that she was foolish to have wandered into the woods alone, and had not given his title much consideration. “Yes, I think you may be right, Beatrice. That would account for his brusque manner. He did not strike me as someone accustomed to mixing in society often.”

“Are you saying he was not a gentleman?”