Free Lady Farquhar's Butterfly by Beverley Eikli Page B

was
pointless trying to communicate her feelings through her eyes. It
was pointless trying to communicate her feelings through any medium
when there could be no future between them.
    After being
told that Julian had been taken to the dower house where he was
being greeted by his great aunts, Nathaniel, with a proprietary
air, said smoothly, ‘Lady Farquhar is a conscientious mother, Mr
Atherton. You will recall from my letter that I have known her for
the duration of her marriage and can vouch for her’ – he hesitated,
as if imbuing the word with meaning – ‘softer side.’
    Max glanced
sharply between the two before focusing his stony gaze upon Olivia.
‘It causes me great pain to part with the lad,’ he said, adding
with heavy irony, ‘However only the cruellest of men would
deny a child his mother’s love.’
    Focusing on
the door at the top of the landing through which she wished she
could simply disappear, Olivia nodded.
    Max drew
himself up. ‘I was more than prepared to lend a sympathetic ear,
Lady Farquhar, if you had chosen to petition me personally,’ He
paused. ‘Instead, I see you are acceding, to the letter, the
conditions laid out in my cousin’s will.’
    ‘I did write
to petition you for Julian,’ Olivia said faintly. She could not
look at him. Could not bear his disgust.
    ‘I seem to
recall I suggested we meet in person.’
    She could
hardly say that Nathaniel had decided his course was the better
one.
    ‘Lady Farquhar
and I shall be married just over the twelve months’ mourning
period.’ Nathaniel’s voice sounded overloud and pompous.
    ‘I have known
her, did I tell you, since her marriage to the late Lord Farquhar
being as I was, in a manner of speaking, his religious adviser.’
Max nodded, still looking at Olivia. ‘You mentioned it, sir.’
    ‘Marriage is
not an institution into which one enters lightly, as Lady Farquhar
well knows.’ Nathaniel patted Olivia’s hand as colour burned her
cheeks.
    How she hated
his cloying condescension.
    Raising her
head she saw Max’s lips curl into a bleak smile. ‘You are a
fortunate man, Reverend.’
    ‘Indeed, I am,
and I wish you similar good luck.’
    ‘I am in no
hurry.’
    ‘The marital
state has much to recommend it.’
    Max
transferred his look from Olivia’s blushing countenance to offer a
nod. ‘I’m sure you are right, though smarting after a recent
rejection I am in no hurry to pursue it.’
    The silence
seemed endless. Striving for courage, Olivia interjected, ‘You will
recover. Perhaps it is your pride rather than your heart which
suffered the injury, sir.’ She strove for sympathy and hoped
Nathaniel did not notice the trembling of her voice. ‘Perhaps the
lady had her reasons’ – Olivia drew in a breath – ‘and they had
nothing to do with you. Perhaps she had already promised herself to
another.’ She forced the emotion from her tone and exchanged a
smile with Nathaniel, as if she too felt no more than a distracted,
passing interest in Mr Atherton’s admission. Turning back to Max
she added, ‘Having shown such kindness and care towards your ward I
cannot believe a disinclination towards your character was behind
the lady’s rejection.’ How could she sound so distant, as if she
were indeed consoling a stranger on a matter of the heart? A matter
which was of no concern to her?
    Max gave an
eloquent shrug as he matched his pace with theirs in the direction
of the front door. ‘It no longer signifies.’ This was more painful
than anything.
    ‘You must
accompany us for lunch,’ Nathaniel pressed him. ‘The dower house,
where Olivia resides with her aunts, is just up the hill.’ He
smiled. ‘Might I offer you accommodation at the manse? I know
you’ve travelled many hours.’
    Max inclined
his head. ‘That is most kind of you, Mr Kirkman, however for the
boy’s sake I will not linger. Lady Farquhar will be anxious to be
reunited with her son and I would hate to’ – he transferred his
gaze from