Page 70 of A Season for Scandal

I beamed. “That is precisely what it is. If you ask me, doctors should be prescribing it. And you’re so lucky, Lockhart … all thisspace. Where I live there is no space like this. I know you have difficult feelings about the house, but for what it’s worth, I think that if you wanted to you could make it something better than the story of its past. I think your garden could be part of that.”

He was silent at that, but I saw the muscle in his jaw tic. The music swelled.

“I think perhaps you have already found a way to use your gift,” he said finally, roughly, “to make the world a better place.”

We looked at one another for a long moment, the air between us crackling with something that I was trying so hard to deny. Our feet had stopped moving. I pulled my hands away from him.

“Thank you for the dance,” I said, though the words came out in a whisper. I had to stop this at once. All thistingling. It wasn’t appropriate. It wasn’t why I was here. “We should go back. You need to make your big announcement.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I suppose so, though standing up in front of that crowd and making a speech is far from my ideal way to spend the evening.”

“I will be right there next to you,” I said, and the words drew a small smile.

“Thank you, Bloom,” Oliver murmured. “After you brutally accosted me the first time we met, I never dreamed those words would be so reassuring.”

“I did notbrutally accostyou!” I exclaimed, taking his proffered arm as we turned and headed back to the house. “It was an accident, and actually I think you have been a tremendous baby about the whole thing…”

“Ababy!” Oliver interrupted, clearly insulted. And the two of us bickered all the way inside.

I tried not to enjoy it too much.

Minutes later Oliver and I stood up at the front of the ballroom, everyone’s eyes on us. Beside me, I could feel him almost vibrating with tension, could see the way he gripped his glass of champagne so tightly it looked as though it might shatter, and yet to the rest of the guests I knew he seemed the picture of commanding elegance. I felt my own spine stiffen with determination. If he could do this, then so could I.

“I would like to thank you all for being here on this happy occasion,” Oliver said. “I had no idea that I had so many friends who could drop in at a moment’s notice,” he added dryly. “This is in fact a double celebration for my family. First of all, we are here to celebrate the franklyunbelievablefact that Miss Marigold Bloom has agreed to become my wife.” Here, he looked at me, and I saw the glint of humour in his eyes.

“She is – as I’m sure you are all aware by now – not only beautiful but clever, determined and far too good for the likes of me.”

The audience tittered good-naturedly, though none of the humour remained in Oliver’s face. He looked at me for a long moment, his expression serious, and I felt something pass between us again, a throbbing echo of the feelings that had fluttered through me in the flower room. He cleared his throat and continued.

“The other reason we are here, of course, is because – as many of you may have heard whispers of – my sister, Ellen, has been returned to Lockhart Hall, thanks to the intervention of her adoptive parents, Mr and Mrs Lavigne.” Now, all the attention moved to the Lavignes, where they stood near us, smiling and looking the picture of innocent delight. Helene, in contrast, appeared to be quite uncomfortable.

A murmur went round the room. Of course the news of Helene’s arrival had become the juiciest piece of gossip in town days ago, but now that people could actually see her with their own eyes, there was a feverish edge to their interest. This was not so surprising given the wildly romantic story.

“In fact,” Oliver continued, and I felt my heartbeat pick up, knowing what was about to happen, but not how it would play out, “my fiancée and I have organized a surprise for our honoured guests.”

I was watching closely, so I noticed that there was a flicker of wariness in Mr Lavigne’s face, but his wife betrayed no such emotion, only clasping her hands together, a greedy light in her eyes.

“Oh, Mr Lockhart,” she demurred. “You have already given us the greatest gift imaginable, completing our Helene’s happiness.”

The smile Oliver gave then got nowhere near his eyes. “It is I who am indebted to you, and to that end I have arranged a trip to Paris for us all. We leave tomorrow.”

The pleased smile dropped from Mrs Lavigne’s face, but Mr Lavigne beamed broadly. “Paris, sir? Tomorrow? What a spontaneous adventure.”

Oliver turned his attention back to the crowd, who were hanging on his every word. “I found that hearing tales of my sister’s life in France made me want to visit for myself, to see where she grew up, safe and happy though we were apart.” A murmur went through the room at this, at the emotion that had broken through Oliver’s words. I knew that in that moment he was thinking of his sister, worrying about her, wondering if she really was standing in this room with him.

I moved so that the back of my hand brushed his own. So that he knew, as I had promised, that I stood there beside him.

He exhaled. “I have missed so much time with Helene,” he said, steadier now, “and I think it is about time we started making some new memories together.”

The Lavignes’ smiles had a frozen edge; Helene’s face was bleached of colour. I looked into her eyes and could not begin to read the storm of emotions there, but she dipped her head in a nod, as though accepting Oliver’s words.

“To new memories,” Mrs Finch’s voice cried out, and she lifted her glass.

“To new memories,” the room chorused, and as the wave of chatter crashed over the room, and as both we and the Lavignes were swamped by well-wishers, my eyes met Oliver’s.

It was time for us to solve this mystery … once and for all.

PART FOUR