Nicola Cornick - One Night Of Scandal

Mrs Aintree wrote that she had passed the matter off as best she could by claiming that Deb was staying at Midwinter Marney with her sister. Mr Chance had accepted her excuses on Deb’s behalf very smoothly. But the truth was out.

Olivia put the note down slowly. She did not think that Owen Chance would be unchivalrous enough to challenge Mrs Aintree’s claim of Deb’s whereabouts even though he might believe it was not true. But the servants at Mallow knew that Deb was not there, and the servants at Marney knew she was not staying there…And servants talked. Olivia remembered Lady Benedict’s malice with a shiver. The scandal was out and it would ripple through the neighbourhood like a breeze across the river. It would not be long before the whole of Woodbridge would know that Mrs Deborah Stratton had been missing when a muster was called at Mallow in the middle of the night. Soon after that, someone-Lady Benedict, no doubt-would observe that had not both Lord Richard Kestrel and Mrs Stratton been missing from the dinner at Saltires, and how piquant it would be if they had been together…Engagement or no engagement, Deb’s reputation would be in tatters.

Olivia glanced at the clock. It was almost two in the morning and Ross had been gone a half-hour.

‘Where is Lord Marney?’ Olivia demanded, suddenly furious that Ross was not there to help her decide what to do at a time like this.

Jenny looked startled. ‘I believe that he is still down in the farmyard, milady. Should I ask Ford to send for him?’

Olivia made an exasperated sound. ‘I shall find him myself! Jenny, a pen and paper…’ She scribbled a note and thrust it at the maid. ‘Give this to the boy from Mallow.’ She pulled the remaining pins from her hair with impatient fingers, shook out her curls and thrust her feet into her slippers. Grabbing Mrs Aintree’s note, she made for the door.

‘I am off to find Lord Marney,’ she said, over her shoulder.

The maid looked astonished. ‘But, madam, your hair!’ she wailed. ‘Your slippers! The farmyard!’

But Olivia was gone.

It took Olivia ten minutes to walk from the main house to the home farm, which was close by. During that time she barely thought about what she was doing. She was fuelled by her anger with Ross and her concern over Deb’s situation, and for once she had thoroughly lost her composure. She arrived in the farmyard, panting slightly, and looked around for her husband.

He was not difficult to find. The door of the second pig pen was open and Olivia could see Ross leaning on the wooden rail of the stall. One lantern burned on the windowsill. Olivia did not normally enter the farmyard, for it was not only dirty but prodigiously smelly as well and the pigs were the worst offenders. Tonight, however, she had no thought for either the dirt or the smell. She erupted through the door, waving Clarissa Aintree’s letter agitatedly.

‘Ross, the most dreadful thing has happened-’

She stopped dead. The air was full of the scent of roses and two of Ross’s prize Gloucester Great Spot pigs were enthusiastically mating in the pen in front of her. Olivia gave a little squeak and covered her eyes with the letter.

‘Ross! Are you so depraved that you come down here deliberately to watch your pigs at sport-?’ she began wrathfully, only to break off as she heard her husband give a guffaw of derision.

‘Of course I do not, Olivia. What a ridiculous notion!’ Ross ran his hand through his hair. He was frowning. ‘To tell the truth, I have been worried about their recent enthusiasm for procreation.’ He nodded towards the jar that Olivia could dimly see on the windowsill. ‘Ever since you gave me Rachel Newlyn’s potion to help them with their skin complaint they have not been able to keep away from each other. I fear that they will be quite exhausted.’

Olivia stared at the frolicking pigs and then at the pot of ointment. She sniffed the air delicately.

‘The liniment does seem to have a very sweet aroma,’ she said faintly. ‘Has it worked to cure their skin ailment?’

‘I have not been able to keep them still for long enough to check properly,’ Ross said ruefully. ‘When they are not mating they are skipping around full of vigour. Betty used to be the most slothful of animals. I cannot explain it at all.’

Olivia rather thought that she could. She stared at the pot again whilst the heat came into her cheeks and the smell of goose fat on her own face seemed to overwhelm the sweet scent of the roses. There was no denying that Rachel’s potion was exceptionally good for the complexion. Her skin felt as smooth as silk.

‘Oh, no…’ she said faintly.

Ross had come across to her and taken her gently by the arm, steering her away from the pen and its happily cavorting animals.

‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘Is there something the matter, Olivia?’ His gaze travelled over her, from the dishevelled tumble of her fair hair to the slippers that were now somewhat the worse for wear. His eyes lingered thoughtfully on the diaphanous dressing robe and the petticoats beneath, before he seemed to drag his thoughts away and focus abruptly on her face.

‘Olivia?’ he said again. He was holding her gently by the elbow. ‘There must be some reason that brought you down here in your slippers. Is something wrong?’

Olivia dragged her thoughts away from aphrodisiacs for pigs and goose-grease face cream.

‘Oh, yes, the most dreadful news!’ She waved the letter again. ‘Deb has been missing all night and I dare swear that she is with Lord Richard Kestrel!’

Ross grinned. ‘So that is how he thought to persuade her into marriage!’

Olivia slapped his arm. ‘It is not funny, Ross! There has been a muster at Mallow House to try and catch the smugglers and everyone was hauled from their beds and Deb was not there! Now everyone will know where she has been and who she was with!’

Ross’s face stilled. ‘That is unfortunate,’ he said, ‘but it is Deborah’s choice to behave in this manner and therefore her difficulty, not yours, my love.’

In her distress Olivia missed the endearment. She was almost in tears.

‘But Deb is ruined! Do you not understand? She is spending the night with Lord Richard and now everyone will know and her reputation will be in tatters.’

‘Deb will be quite safe,’ Ross said soothingly. ‘Come back inside or you will be frozen.’

Olivia abruptly became aware of her flimsy robe and chilled feet. She waited whilst Ross blew out the lantern and bolted the door on the still-snuffling pigs. Then, to her great surprise, Ross swept her up off her feet.

‘Keep still,’ he instructed softly, as she made a faint protest. ‘If you struggle, you may fall in the slurry.’

It was enough of a threat to keep Olivia still as a mouse all the way back to the Hall. It was also inevitable that during the course of the journey she should become aware of the warmth and strength of her husband’s hands through the slippery silk of the dressing robe. Sliding her arms around Ross’s neck purely in order to hold on, Olivia felt a traitorous and unexpected little shiver of desire run through her.

‘I told you that you would catch cold.’ Ross sounded briskly practical.

‘Yes,’ Olivia said faintly. ‘I think you might need to take me to my bedroom…’

She felt rather than saw the look that Ross slanted down to her. Her heart was suddenly beating very swiftly as Ross carried her into the house and up to her room. But when he placed her very gently on her bed and straightened up, he said stiffly, ‘I will send your maid to you.’

His obtuseness was the last straw for Olivia. Would they never, ever be able to reach some sort of understanding? She felt quite hopeless and furiously angry. She moved quickly, dashing over to the dressing table and grabbing the pot of ointment that had been sitting there.