Page 68 of Lady Audacious
The old gentleman chuckled again. ‘I have known you for less than a minute but can already state quite categorically that anybody who mistakes you as a helpless female is making a serious miscalculation. There is absolutely nothing helpless about you.’
Odile folded her arms. ‘I am also not easily appeased.’
‘Lend an old man your arm, my dear, and offer him a cup of tea. I have come a long way to find you and hopefully to make amends.’
It seemed a reasonable enough request, even if Odile still doubted his motives, but good manners forbade her from denying him. Besides, she was curious to know what he meant by amends. She offered him the arm he’d requested and he leaned heavily on it.
‘Not as agile as I used to be,’ he complained. ‘I am a slave to arthritis.’
‘Your son would have had an ointment for it, had you remained on speaking terms.’ Odile thought of the goldenrod and saffron that was now thriving in her garden. The combination could make a very good antidote for his malady but she refrained from voicing the suggestion. She was not yet sure that she was ready to forgive. She would certainly never forget, thinking that he and Miss Farquhar would likely get along very well, being likeminded when it came to a fear of denigrating family names by permitting commoners to infiltrate their ranks.
‘Mrs Blaine,’ she said, leading the gentleman into the kitchen, smiling as she wondered if a person of his elevated rank had ever set foot in a kitchen before. ‘This gentleman claims to be my grandfather. I am not sure if he is or not, but he has made a long journey and the least we can do is offer him some refreshment. Is the fire alight in the drawing room?’
‘It is, lamb.’
‘Then that is where we shall be.’
She led the bemused-looking gentleman into that room, which was now pristine and comfortable. Odile was very proud of it, thinking that even a man of his stature would find little to criticise, other than its modest size. Well, modest to a man who was likely accustomed to something much grander.
‘I do not ordinarily sit in here,’ she explained, as the gentleman lowered himself into a chair beside the roaring fire and let out a small groan of relief. ‘It’s a little too large for one person,’ she added, ‘but since you are here…’
‘You are an oddity,’ he said, peering at her.
‘Is that a good thing?’ she asked, bending to stroke Willow, who had followed her into the room and now lay in front of the fire toasting her belly.
‘Lovely dog. Was it one of Amberley’s brood? He’s told me something of your history.’
‘Lord Amberley?’ Odile sat a little straighter. ‘What is this to do with him? I was not aware that you and he were acquainted.’
‘We are not. Or were not, but we are now. He is offering me his hospitality while I am in the area, which is dashed civil of him.’
‘Why areyou here? It’s a long way from Scotland.’
The tea arrived along with generous slices of Mrs Blaine’s lemon cake, hot from the oven. Odile poured for them both and distributed the cake. Her grandfather, since that was how she must think of him, declared the cake delicious and accepted a second slice. Odile was too agitated to touch her own portion.
‘Lord Amberley wrote to me. Told me a little about your situation. Probably not everything, he is a gentleman and was respecting your confidence.’
‘Did he indeed?’ Odile’s insides curdled as she absorbed that information. Far from having forgotten all about her, Reuben appeared to be attempting to effect a family reunion. Part of her couldn’t help but feel flattered. Another part of her felt irritated at his machinations, which made her feel manipulated. ‘I’m not sure he had the right. He might have asked me first—or at least warned me to expect your visit.’
Her grandfather chuckled. ‘He said you would likely forbid it if he consulted you.’
‘Perhaps I would have. Excuse me, sir, but you did not treat your son well.’
The old gentleman sighed. ‘No, I did not. I have always regretted my pomposity. Put it down to my dour Scottish heritage and my determination to keep the bloodline pure.’
Odile smiled, looking down at her stained gardening clothes and belatedly realising the effect they may have not only upon her new furniture but also on her guest’s first impression of her. ‘In which case, I must be a grave disappointment. And you have come all this way too.’
‘Nothing I have seen to date has disappointed me, I can assure you.’
‘Really?’ Odile flexed a brow. ‘Goodness. I’m not sure what to say about that.’
‘Your dear grandmother used to enjoy gardening, and us Scots are by necessity immune to inclement weather and a little mud. Her attitudes were…refreshing. My father and elder brother, on the other hand, adhered more strongly to their stubborn principles and refused to accept any commoners into our family. By the time I realised what an idiot I had been to follow their example it was too late. The damage was done and I had lost contact with my second son—my favourite son, for what it’s worth.’ He paused and Odile noticed that his eyes were moist. Either he was the best actor never to have trodden the boards or he was entirely genuine. ‘By the time I’d managed to track him down…well, he was dead and I have had to live with the guilt of the part I played in driving him to his death. I had absolutely no idea that you or your brother existed, otherwise I would have tried to find you far sooner than this. Please believe it.’
Oddly enough, Odile did. She leaned forward and touched his hand. ‘Thank you, Grandpapa,’ she said, running the name tentatively across her tongue. She noticed a tear trickle down his wrinkled face. ‘For coming to see me and for making an admission that must have been very difficult for a man with such a high opinion of his bloodline.’
‘I deserve such an observation, I am sure.’
‘I make no apology if I sounded impolite. You have already remarked upon my frankness of expression. I was landed at Miss Mackenzie’s Academy for Young Ladies at the age of ten, with complete memory loss, alone and bewildered.’
