A Love So Dark (The Dark Regency Series Book 4) (14 page)

M
y Lord Darke
,

P
lease forgive
me for being absent so long from Darkwood Hall. I am sure you are quite curious as to why it has taken so long for me to complete the business matters in London as you requested. In short, my lord, I am a coward and am avoiding facing certain dismissal as a result of disobeying your orders.

My only defense, my lord, is that I have worked for your family for many years. Before your mother passed away, she requested that I look after you. In disobeying your orders, I am fulfilling my promise to her. Rather than procuring the bride you requested, I attempted to procure the bride that I felt would suit you best.

If I have succeeded in doing so, I will happily await your instruction as to any further business inquiries I should make for you in London. If I have not succeeded, than this letter will serve as my resignation.

My apologies if I have overstepped, my lord. But in all fairness, I must state that Lady Darke, formerly Miss Olympia Daventry, appears very much to be a damsel in distress and though she would hardly appreciate the description, I do hope that you will provide whatever assistance she may need should you deem to terminate the union I have forced upon you.

Y
our humble and loyal
, but far from obedient servant,

Hon. Jasper Swindon, Esquire

G
riffin read the letter again
. Mr. Swindon’s apologies for disobeying a direct order were quite eloquent. They had also come late enough that the wily old fox knew full well that annulment would no longer be an option.

Still, try as he might, Griffin could not be angry at him. He should be, by all rights, but it would be disingenuous. Any anger he might once have had was overwhelmed by gratitude and by the relief of knowing that Olympia was his.

Sitting at his desk, Griffin penned a brief list of instructions regarding investments he wished to have made on his behalf. He also gave specific instructions as to a gift he wished to obtain for Olympia. If that didn’t allay the old man’s fears of having chosen poorly, nothing would, Griffin though.

With that done, he rose and headed toward the breakfast room. Olympia would be up and he found that he was eager for the sight of her, but that was not a new occurrence.

***

Entering the breakfast room, Olympia paused just inside the door. Griffin was there, but so was Lady Florence. They appeared to have been in quite a heated exchange when she entered, if the broken crockery and wide-eyed footmen were any indication. The tension in the air was palpable.

“I would wish you a good morning,” Griffin said softly, “But I fear it isn’t a possibility anymore.”

“I should go. I’ll have a tray sent up,” she offered.

“Don’t rush off, darling girl!” Lady Florence cooed. Her voice was deceptively sweet but there was murder in her eyes. “We’ve ever so much to talk about. Dear Griffin was just telling me that I’m to be banished. Strange that I should be tossed from my home only after you’ve arrived to occupy it!”

“Enough,” Griffin said. Though he spoke softly, there was a wealth of warning infused into that single word.

“Fine,” Lady Florence relented. “I’ll behave. You may enjoy your breakfast in relative peace and quiet!”

When she made no move to leave, Olympia asked, “Are you remaining here then?”

“I did say relative peace and quiet,” Lady Florence replied snarkily. “Is my presence so disturbing to you that you cannot even bear it when I sit quietly in the same room?”

“Not at all,” Olympia replied as she moved to the sideboard and began to fill her plate. “I simply wasn’t aware that you were capable of sitting quietly.”

Griffin coughed softly, camouflaging a laugh. Taking a seat at the table to his right, Olympia offered him a conspiratorial smile.

“You received a letter yesterday,” he said. “I meant to tell you last night but I forgot.”

“Who is it from? Mr. Swindon?”

“No,” Griffin replied, retrieving the envelope from the pocket of his waistcoat. “It was enclosed with correspondence from Mr. Swindon to me. Apparently, your aunt sought him out and asked him to see that you received it.”

Olympia felt the blood rain from her face. She clutched the edge of the table and willed herself not to faint. “I see,” she finally managed and took the letter from his outstretched hand. Ignoring his look of concern, she tucked it into the pocket of her morning gown.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, darling!” Lady Florence cooed. “Tell us what news you’ve had from home!”

Turning to Griffin, Lady Florence continued in a smug tone, “You know, Lady Darke and I were having the most interesting conversation yesterday! I asked her what sort of life she’d been living in London that would make her amenable to the idea of marrying a complete stranger and traveling off to some isolated house in the middle of nowhere. I suppose it’s true what they say… speak of the devil, and he shall appear… or in this case just send a note.”

“Are you all right?” he asked her softly.

“I’m quite fine. Just concerned that it might be a bit of bad news. My uncle had taken ill before I left,” she offered the too pat explanation and hoped that both Griffin and Lady Florence would accept it.

“Then open your letter, dear, and let us all know the poor man’s fate!”

Olympia glared across the table at Lady Florence, annoyed by her insistence and the sing-song tone she seemed to prefer when goading her. With hands that trembled, she opened the letter and scanned the first paragraph. Cold dread washed through her.

It was even worse than she’d expected. Her uncle hadn’t died, after all. Rather, he’d made a miraculous recovery. While he couldn’t yet speak clearly, her aunt stated, he was struggling to regain full function and would undoubtedly be able to tell them everything that had happened the night of his accident.

There was no mistaking the tone of the letter. Her aunt knew something. She suspected that Olympia must have had something to do with her husband’s accident. With her palms sweating and her heart racing, Olympia replaced the letter in her pocket. Collins would have to be told.

“It appears my uncle has made a miraculous recovery… I fear I’m quite overwhelmed by the news. If you’ll excuse me,” she said and rose on knees that trembled.

***

Griffin watched with growing concern as Olympia fled the small dining room. Whatever had been in that letter had upset her terribly.

“Secrets are such ugly things,” Florence said, her voice grating on him.

“Don’t you have a footman to bed?” he asked pointedly.

“I’ve worn him out, I’m afraid,” she said with a smile. “He’s lovely, but he lacks stamina.”

Griffin closed his eyes, disgusted by her and by the forced cohabitation. “Calling you a lady is an insult to the rest of them,” he said, and rose from the table.

“And is your lovely bride a lady?” she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut like glass. “Or is she a wildcat in your bed? So demure and yet she cries out so lustily for you in the night… I daresay her screams might even drown out Cassandra’s! But then you always were impressive. You look every inch the gentleman but fuck like a field hand.”

“You’re leaving this house,” he said. “Today. I won’t have you tormenting us any further!”

“I can’t. I’ve nowhere to go,” she said. “Alas, Lady Jane Darlington was my only remaining friend in Liverpool and she’s gotten herself into a bit of a pickle. Her husband has taken her off to the wilds of Scotland and hired a house filled with only female servants and ugly old men. Poor dear. Such a sad fate.”

“Then I’ll be sending for workman to begin repairs on the dower house immediately… even if it is the dead of winter. I can’t abide your presence here a moment longer.”

Lady Florence sipped her tea, her manners perfect and her face a mien of loveliness. “I do wonder what was in that letter,” she said, as she lowered her cup. “She didn’t look to be overwhelmed with relief or joy at the notion that her uncle had recovered… I would actually say that her expression appeared to be one of sheer terror. Why do you think that is?”

He meant to find out, Griffin thought. And whatever it was, he meant to be certain that information never fell into Florence’s hands. “Do not think to press her, to question her, or to vex her in anyway. I’ve allowed you free rein in this house, you and that termagant, Mrs. Webster. But I won’t see her harmed by either of you. If that means tossing you both out and damn the consequences, then so be it. Tread carefully, Florence.”

***

In her chamber, Olympia waited for Collins. She’d rung for the girl only moments earlier but it felt like ages. As she read through the letter again, she wondered if it truly was a veiled threat or if she were simply as paranoid as Mrs. Webster.

When Collins finally entered, Olympia couldn’t even speak. Instead, she just thrust the letter at the maid. Collins dutifully took it. As she read the words, her hands began to tremble.

“Do you think she knows, m’lady?” the younger woman asked, her voice a terrified whisper.

“I think she suspects. She can’t
know
for certain, but if he regains his ability to speak, she certainly will. We both know he’ll tell. And it won’t be the true version of events, either! It’ll be us plotting against him instead of—.” Olympia broke off, unable to say aloud what he’d meant to do, what he’d try to do half a dozen times before that night.

In the year and a half since her parents’ deaths, she’d narrowly avoided ruin at his hands on more occasions than she cared to admit. It was always worse when he’d been drinking. He’d groped her, tried to kiss her, but when he was drinking, there was a meanness in him that wouldn’t be stopped.

She’d made it a point to never be alone, but that night, she’d been careless. No, she corrected, not careless—just exhausted. Her aunt had set her to beating the rugs until her neck and shoulders had ached horribly. She’d gone to the kitchen to fetch the liniment that cook made for just such reasons. He’d tried to corner her there, but she’d escaped, running to the drawing room, where there was only one escape.

Realizing she’d been trapped like a rat, she’d grabbed up a bust of Julius Caesar and when he’d cornered her again, tearing at her clothes and spewing obscene things from his lips, she’d brought it crashing down on his head. The sickening thud it had made was a sound she’d never forget. The sight of blood welling from his scalp and pouring over his face as he collapsed was also permanently burned into her mind.

“What will do, m’lady? If he talks and she goes to Bow Street we’re done for!”

“If who talks?”

At the sound of Griffin’s voice, Olympia glanced up and felt her heart jump into her throat. How much had he heard? She tried to speak, but no sound emerged. Instead, she simply gaped at him before finally managing to close her mouth entirely and shaking her head.

“Collins, leave us,” he instructed.

The maid passed the letter back to Olympia and then scurried away quickly. She was clearly terrified and rightly so. Would he send them away? When he learned what she had done would he deliver her to the magistrates himself? It wasn't simply the fear that he would send them away, or even fear of the legal consequences of their crimes. Something in her had awakened at his touch, something more than the passion he spoke of so easily. Since her parents’ deaths in that horrible carriage accident, she’d tamped down her emotions, locking them away ruthlessly in self preservation. And yet, when in his presence, she felt giddy almost, giddy and hopeful. She was no longer so all alone in the world, and she very much feared that if he were to spurn her, she would never recover from it. She didn't want him to know the violence she was capable of, for fear that it would alter the way he looked at her. And yet, she did not wish to lie to him.

“Tell me,” he implored. “Whatever it is, tell me and I will help you.”

“You won’t. You can’t. You certainly shouldn’t. There’s no help for what I’ve done,” she admitted grudgingly.

He knelt in front of her, covering her cold and trembling hands with his. “Let me be the judge of that.”

When he pried the letter from her fingers, she didn’t resist. But she did watch his face as he read the brief missive. At the end, he simply frowned.

“There is nothing in this letter to account for your sudden change in disposition… and yet, I know this is the cause. So why don’t you explain to me what all of this really means?”

“I tried to murder my uncle,” she said abruptly.

I
t was not wholly unexpected
, her admission. Not the nature of it, at any rate, but she was clearly surprised to have made a confession at all. Her eyes widened and he could see the panic settling in.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I’m a horrible person,” she said. “Why does anyone commit murder? Because they lack morality!”

Griffin would have laughed at that, but she seemed to be completely sincere in her belief. “You are not a horrible person. Not in the least. You are kind and understanding, and I cannot believe that you would attempt bodily injury to someone who had done nothing to provoke you. So tell me, Olympia, what did your uncle do to you that preceded your attempt to end his life?”

Griffin watched her expression closely. He had a very good idea what might have prompted it. As she blushed and looked away, her eyes downcast and her lower lip trembling slightly, he knew that he was correct.

“I wish you had succeeded,” he said softly. “Any man who would abuse a woman, a relative, in his care, doesn’t deserve to live.”

“You don’t know… I wasn’t just defending myself!” she protested.

“I do not know. And that is why you should tell me,” he said. “Tell me, so that if the time comes that I need to help you with this, I have the information I need to do so.”

“I was in the drawing room… I had run there to get away from him, not thinking that there was only one way in or out,” she said haltingly. “And when he came close to me, within reach, I picked up a marble bust from the table and I hit him as hard as I could. There was blood… so much blood.”

“Then it was an accident,” he said. “You were defending yourself, as is your right.”

She looked up then, their gazes locking as her expression grew even bleaker by the second. “No. Once was an accident. Once was self-defense. But then I hit him again. And when he fell to the floor, bleeding and unconscious, I struck him twice more. I wanted him to die. I wanted to never again feel cornered or threatened, or to wonder if the ancient, rickety chair I’d wedged beneath the doorknob would hold through one more night. That is why I am a horrible person… that is why I am morally compromised.”

“Do you expect me to judge you for this?” he asked incredulously. “Do you think that it would somehow change my opinion of you to know that you harbored rage for a man who forced you to live in fear? It does not. It will not. You could have struck him a dozen times and shot him for good measure, and I would still say he was deserving.”

She blinked at him then. “Then you are a rare man my lord. Most men, while they would be scandalized by his actions, by his inappropriate attraction to his own niece, would never dare to question his behavior… but they would be very quick to judge mine.”

“I am not most men… and I don’t find his behavior scandalous. I find it reprehensible. Criminal, or at least it should be. Now tell me what part your mouse of a maid played in this.”

Olympia glared at him. “She is not a mouse!”

“She’s as timid as one when I’m around!”

“Collins helped me move him. To cover up my crime, we tried to make it look as if he fell down the stairs, so we carried him to the foot of the staircase and then cleaned up the blood in the drawing room, though I daresay we didn’t get all of it… in fact, I know we didn't. Collins slipped on the wet floor and turned her ankle badly. That was why I had to walk to Darkwood alone that first day.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It was dark. We were both terrified,” she said, throwing her hands up. “How else would my aunt know?”

“She doesn’t know. From the tone of her letter, she may suspect… but you must remember one thing, Olympia.”

“What is that?”

“You are now the wife of a Viscount… and whether it is fair or not, in a court of law, if it were to even go that far, my title would count for something,” he explained.

“But the scandal—.”

“I don’t care.”

“I could hang for this, Griffin. My aunt and uncle are the type of people who would pursue this to the ends of the earth!”

He rose and pulled her up with him, folding his arms around her. “It will not happen. Whatever it takes, Olympia, I will keep you safe… I promised you that the first day I brought you here and I mean to keep that promise. Trust me?”

“I do,” she said. “I do trust you… Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

She leaned into his chest, pressing her face against him. “For believing me, for not judging me, for standing with me regardless of my wrongdoing. I’ve been so alone, Griffin… no one has believed in me, cared for me in this way, since my parents died. I didn’t think anyone would ever again.” She paused then, lifted her head and looked up at him with a slight smile. He could see the hint of tears in her dark eyes. “It was the very next morning that I saw the advertisement Mr. Swindon had placed in the paper. I’d never believed in fate… until now. It feels like fate brought me here to you.”

He kissed her then, unable to do anything else. He didn’t believe in fate, but whatever had brought her to him, he was grateful.

“Mr. Swindon should be arriving in a few days. He will offer your aunt and uncle a settlement… a gesture of goodwill on my part, but it will be made clear to them that my goodwill is contingent upon them never bothering you again.”

***

In the dressing room, with her ear pressed to the door, Mrs. Webster listened. Initially, she’d been thrilled at the confession, but Lord Darke’s response chiseled away at her glee until only bitterness remained. The girl was, by her own admission, a murderess, if an incompetent one. Yet still he protected her, vowed to eradicate any consequences of her misdeeds out of some misguided sense of chivalry.

She thought of Lady Florence’s suggestion, to use Cassandra to rid them of the interloper. As wrong as it seemed to exploit that poor damaged child, it was even more wrong to let that woman take control of Darkwood Hall, to steal control of the one place she’d always called home.

“I won’t have it,” she whispered. “I will not allow her to take this from me!”

Using the servant’s passageways, she slipped from one dressing chamber to the other and then exited into the hallway through the master chamber. In the hallway, she came face to face with Lady Florence who waited eagerly for news.

“She’s told him her secrets and he’d vowed to do whatever is necessary to protect the worthless chit,” Mrs. Webster said.

“I see. So we revert to my original plan,” Lady Florence said briskly. “If he will not throw her off because of scandal, we will simply have to find a more permanent way of ridding ourselves of her. You will do what is necessary, Mrs. Webster?”

The housekeeper nodded. “I will, my lady, whatever is necessary.”