The Blackmailed Bride (12 page)

He laughed. “Calm yourself. Desperation isn’t a look you wear well.”

Olivia could have slapped him…
wanted
to slap him and take her chances with whatever the consequences would be.

“Why are we here?” she asked again, allowing him to lead her to a nearby bench.

“To allow me to spend time in your company, of course.”

“Surely you don’t think I believe that,” she retorted. “You couldn’t care less about my company. My money, perhaps…”

“You have a point,” he said with a shrug. “And speaking of business arrangements, have you spoken to your brother yet? I am a patient man, but you are trying my limits.”

Olivia thought it interesting he could threaten in such a mild
voice. “He isn’t well disposed to you.”
For good reason.
“So it’s been rather sensitive bringing up the subject.”

Finley leered at a passing woman, whose dress was showing entirely too much, and Olivia was grateful his attention was momentarily turned.

It didn’t last, however.

“I don’t care what your brother thinks,” he said as he re turned his attention to her. “I am not allowing you time to change his mind. You asked for time so that our union wouldn’t seem rushed and your brother wouldn’t be suspicious.”

“My brother isn’t someone you would wish to make an enemy of,” she said, pitching her voice low to match his.

With a beaming smile, he patted her hand and said through gritted teeth, “I’m the one he does not want for an enemy. Always remember that, dear.”

N
ick thought if his driver didn’t speed the pace, he was going to jump from the carriage and make the trek to Olivia’s house on foot.

Once there, he planned on barreling past Gibbons, storming up to Olivia’s chamber and demanding to know what her problem was. He’d left his aunt at the musicale, assuming she would be happy to chat with her friends while he came on his reconnaissance mission.

He watched from the window of his carriage as another vehicle went in the opposite direction. Nick happened to notice a pale, worried face looking out of the window as the two conveyances passed each other.

Olivia.

Olivia?

What is the foolish girl doing?

He recognized the crest on the other coach after a moment’s reflection—Finley’s.

He banged on the roof of his coach and bellowed a command to the driver to follow the other carriage. But it took longer to turn around than he liked.

Had Olivia planned this? Had she spent the evening with him while planning to sneak off to Lord Finley?

What was it about the scoundrel that was so irresistible for her? Why would she choose Finley’s company over his own?

He stopped the thought.

This wasn’t a competition.

It was a job…nothing more. He was
not
competing with Finley to win Olivia. Oh, sure, she was exceedingly lovely, and bright, and witty, and…

And, well, she was in need of a good lecture. What could she have been thinking? If she were seen by some members of the peerage—alone with a man late in the evening without a proper escort—her name would be splashed all over the gossip rags in the morning.

The entrance to Vauxhall Gardens eventually came into view. Finley’s carriage was there. Nick hopped from the still-moving coach, looking around to try and catch a glimpse of Olivia.

Lord, let me find her,
he prayed.
Quickly,
he added in case that part wasn’t clear.

He made his way through the crush of people. Men walked and whispered playfully into the ears of women who were not their wives. Some gentlemen, probably on holiday from their schooling, weaved through the crowds, calling at attractive women. They were obviously drunk.

And somewhere in the midst of the melee was Olivia. Would Finley have her secreted into a secluded nook? Was she okay? What means of persuasion had Finley used to trick her into coming here? Was she happy with the baron?

The last question gnawed at his insides.

“Hey, love,” a woman cooed from beside him.

Nick turned and acknowledged the woman with the barest nod.

“What’s a handsome man like you doing alone?” she persisted, nearly running to keep pace with his long stride.

“Looking for someone.” He scanned the crowds.

“I’m looking for someone, too,” the woman murmured, taking her ungloved hand and running it along his shoulder.

“Best of luck to you, then.” He picked her hand off his coat, freeing himself from her touch.

The woman hmphed.

Nick turned around, seized by a crazy thought. “Maybe you
can
help me,” he said.

She smiled, the seductive intent marred by her missing teeth. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

He ignored her comment. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. She’s young, brown hair…well, it’s brown with amber threaded through it…her face…she’s beautiful. Amazingly so.” Nick could think of no other way to describe Olivia.

“She might be with a gentleman,” Nick continued. “Blond. Some would probably call him handsome.” The last part was said very reluctantly.

The woman was looking off behind Nick’s shoulder. “You mean like that pair?” she asked, pointing out a man walking with a lady who was most definitely Olivia.

He could have kissed the woman.

“Thank you!” he called as he turned and ran toward the pair.

“Olivia,” he barked as he came to stand before her.

“Nick?” she gasped.

He wondered if she realized it was the first time she’d used his given name. And he wondered why that was his first thought.

Finley had also turned at the intrusion. But rather than looking angry, Finley merely looked annoyed. “Why must you show up everywhere?” he asked Nick.

Nick ignored the baron. “What were you thinking?” he asked Olivia. “Do you not know the damage your reputation could sustain coming out here with—” he gave Finley a pointed look “—
him?
”

Nick couldn’t decipher the look on her face. Was it relief? Annoyance?

“We were just about to leave, were we not, Lord Finley?” she asked her accomplice.

Finley’s brows lowered, but he nodded. “Of course, sweetling. Shall we go to the carriage, and I will see you home?”

There was no way Nick was going to let the two of them get in a carriage alone together. “Olivia, you will come with me,” he said, and laid his hand atop her own.

She drew back as though burned by his touch. “No. I will not. Lord Finley will see me safely home.”

Why was she so angry with him? What had he done?

Other than ruin her planned night out with Finley.

“Finley?” Nick said, addressing the baron for the first time in the conversation.

“What?” the other man barked.

“Can I assume the ride to the Gardens was comfort able?”

If Finley sensed a trap, he was powerless to avoid it. “Yes.”

“Excellent, there should be room for one more then.” Nick stopped a passing worker and paid him a quid to tell his coachman to await him at the Fairfax home.

Finley looked ready to argue, and Olivia had her back to him. Well, he’d have no allies here. But he wasn’t going to let Finley spend any more time alone with Olivia. Not when he was anywhere nearby.

A bright, loud burst of fireworks exploded overhead. The shimmering shoots of lights bathed everyone in a multicolored glow. And while he knew he was supposed to be upset with Olivia because of the danger she’d put herself in, he found much contentment in watching her awe and surprise at the show.

“Lead on to the carriage, Finley,” Nick said imperiously after the lights had fizzled in the night sky. He reached to take Olivia’s arm, and to his surprise, she didn’t fight him.

Finley’s eyes narrowed, and Nick could tell he was trying to think of a way to disinvite him.

Obviously, he could think of no good excuse.

“This way.” The baron stomped ahead through the crowd to lead them back to the entrance of Vauxhall.

Nick didn’t relinquish his hold on Olivia, nor did he allow her to come too close to Finley.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

Nick had his own share of anger at Olivia, which bubbled so close to the surface, he had to force himself not to yell at her. “I’m keeping you out of trouble, you little fool,” he hissed.

The set of her mouth was mutinous. “I’m in no trouble here. I’m surrounded by people.”

Nick stopped, and his hold on Olivia’s arm forced her to pull short as well. “Look around you, Lady Olivia. Do you think any of these people would give a farthing if you were in trouble?”

She didn’t look around, nor did she meet his gaze.

Nick began walking again before Finley turned and noticed they were no longer behind him. “Why did you leave me?” he asked her quietly.

“I’m not speaking to you,” she informed him rather than answering his question.

He snorted at her childishness. “Fine.”

They’d made it to Finley’s coach, and the baron had already seated himself inside. Nick handed Olivia in, and she took the seat opposite Finley. Nick didn’t hesitate a moment before sitting beside her.

“I trust you had a good time?” Finley asked Olivia, clearly intending to ignore Nick for the duration of the ride.

“I did, thank you,” Nick answered.

Both Finley and Olivia looked at him. Finley in annoyance, and Olivia—well, who ever knew what a woman was thinking?

“Although I do wish you had chosen a warmer evening for the outing,” Nick continued. “It’s a bit chilly.”

Finley looked at Olivia, seizing an opportunity to be gallant. “Would you care for my coat?” he asked her.

“No, I have my own,” Nick said.

“He wasn’t speaking to you,” Olivia snapped.

Nick arched an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, you aren’t supposed to be, either.”

The pretty brunette beside him crossed her arms over her chest.

Nick knew he’d have to repent later, but he found too much enjoyment in agitating the baron to stop. “I daresay the next time we go out, we should try the ices at Gunter’s. I’ve not had an opportunity to stop there yet.”

“
We
will not be going anywhere else in the future,” Finley said between gritted teeth.

Nick, hoping he wasn’t overdramatizing his hand, reached over to put his arm around Olivia. “I’m sorry, darling,” he said to her in soothing tones. “Perhaps Marcus will go with us instead.”

Olivia, apparently, had had enough. She threw her arms in the air, nearly knocking Nick in the nose with the back of her hand. “What are you doing?” she yelled.

Nick was saved from having to answer when the coach pulled to a stop in front of Olivia’s home. Nick, who was quicker than Finley, disembarked and handed her down from the conveyance. She didn’t bid either of the gentlemen good-night before she marched up the stairs and inside her house. Nick looked around and found his own coachman waiting for him across the street.

Nick stepped back into Finley’s carriage before the baron could signal his driver to go on.

“What are you doing back?” Finley asked. The hostility that was barely masked earlier was now evident…and ugly.

“Explaining something to you.” Nick didn’t speak loudly. He didn’t have to. The menace in his voice was clear.

“Which would be what?” Finley’s own voice wavered. Just the slightest—almost unnoticeable—bit.

“I know what your game is. You will never have Olivia.”

Finley laughed. “That’s not your decision. Or choice.”

Nick leaned forward. “Know this. I’m smarter than you. You try and take her, I’ll follow you to the depths of Cheapside to get her back. If you think Olivia will come to you without anyone putting up a fight, you’re wrong.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Finley said. His voice shook, however, revealing the lie.

“Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought,” Nick said as he left the carriage.

O
livia had forgotten Henrietta’s invitation to her monthly literary evening until the morning of. The very last thing she wished to do was put herself anywhere near where the marquess might be. But when she gave serious consideration to canceling her plans, she decided it wasn’t fair to punish her new friend simply because Lord Huntsford was a cad. Besides, it had been two days since she’d discovered his duplicity.

She was past it.

Hmph.

She dressed with particular care. Although she’d never admit it to anyone, least of all herself, she wanted to make sure she looked stunning. In case the marquess was there.

Not that she was trying to impress him, of course.

She had a fiancé, after all.

But Olivia didn’t want Lord Huntsford to think she’d spent her time weeping into her soup because she’d discovered his deceit. No, she was going to be stunning and never let on she’d drenched her pillow the past two nights before she finally fell asleep.

He didn’t have to know how much it wounded her to discover his friendship was not genuine, was only a means to more money for him, and bragging rights to bolster his pride.

Olivia was going to make sure he lost the bet…and some of that pride.

Her dress was a soft blue, so pale that in the right light it might have looked silver or white. The gown was simple, with no adornments at all, but Olivia brought out the family sapphires to wear with it. Nothing like a bit of jewelry to arm oneself.

The right set of jewels could be as effective as chain mail.

Olivia went alone.

Marcus had isolated himself in his study, preparing his arguments for the reform bills. The moment she walked in the door of the townhome across Mayfair, the duchess abandoned her companions and embraced Olivia warmly.

“You manage to look lovelier each time I see you,” the woman said with a motherly smile. “I like to think if I’d had a daughter, she would have been just as beautiful as you.”

Olivia thanked her, grateful for the kind words.

“I believe I have a nephew in attendance who would agree with my assessment,” Henri said with a sly smile.

Olivia’s mouth went dry, and she scanned the room.

Of course.

Lord Huntsford was there. He was leaning against the wall by the fireplace, watching her intently. Had he been waiting for her?

“Shall I introduce you around, dear?” Henrietta asked, taking Olivia’s arm and leading her to the first couple without giving her the time to agree or protest. The woman could be an unstoppable force of nature, and Olivia was swept away in the tide.

Olivia smiled and chatted, answering the endless barrage of questions the guests had for her.

Many of the elderly ladies seemed to be unspoken members in a secret club. They whispered and chatted behind their fans, and when they thought Olivia was too far away to hear, they
began to run down a list of eligible suitors they might throw at her feet.

Olivia found herself alone, laughing at the not-so-subtle glances and furiously whispered plans taking place all around her. She saw Lord Huntsford approaching and tried to look anywhere but at him.

“Why are you laughing?” Nick asked, standing right in front of her.

“It’s nothing, really.” She smiled—the expression patently false—to let him know she wasn’t hurt by his ungentlemanly behavior. Not in the least.

“I like it when you laugh,” he said, and then grimaced. “But not when you smile like that.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” she chided him as her frown settled fully into place.

“You looked like you were in pain.”

“Who’s to say I’m not?”

Lord Huntsford appeared to consider whether he’d been insulted and seemed to settle on the obvious truth that he had. “So you’re speaking to me now?”

“Only out of necessity. I’ve no wish to upset your aunt,” she told him.

“What have I done to anger you?” he asked.

She still didn’t answer him.

“Please tell me,” he said, bending down and whispering the words in her ear.

A servant appeared announcing a light dinner was to be served before she could say anything.

Nick offered her his arm, and Olivia wrapped her hand around it before remembering she was mad at him.

He didn’t release her until he guided her to her place at the table. Considering Henri’s machinations, Olivia wasn’t surprised that she was positioned beside the marquess.

What she had not counted on—but was an unexpected
pleasure nonetheless—was that the gentleman on Lord Huntsford’s other side had some investment matters he wished to discuss with the marquess. Each time Lord Huntsford turned to her, his other table partner launched into a litany on the benefits of American cotton or Indian silk. Olivia enjoyed his frustration more than she would have ever admitted.

But under the table, where no one could see, Lord Huntsford slipped his hand down to hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. She didn’t know if he meant to maintain the contact and would probably never know because she snatched her hand away and settled it firmly into her lap.

After dinner, the gentlemen and ladies separated for a few moments before the planned gathering in the large salon. Olivia thought they were going to be reading one of Shakespeare’s plays. One of the Henrys…or maybe Richard. Perhaps, if she were lucky, they’d read one of the ancient tragedies where everyone ended up in a bloody heap, or cooked into soup.

It would suit her mood.

The men went into the duke’s library to discuss all manner of interesting masculine pursuits: horses, property, saddles for the horses and improvements to their properties.

The ladies didn’t fare much better. Olivia noticed with a bit of dismay she was the youngest, and probably the only single lady in attendance. She avoided the other women in an attempt to spare herself a lecture on why she needed to marry. And quickly. Waiting until all of Henri’s guests were immersed in their conversations, she snuck out of the room.

Once in the hallway, she sagged against the wall in relief.

“Aren’t you worried the guests will wonder where you are?” Nick’s low voice, husky with the effort to keep it quiet, made her heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. Or perhaps that was from the shock of his sudden appearance. “Why did you leave?” he continued.

“I needed a moment.”

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“Of course not.” She smiled and knew it looked false, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Good.” He was still staring at her.

“Is something wrong with
you?
” Before her lips finished forming the words, Olivia wished she’d not asked. Why should she care?

“Me?” he asked distractedly. He ran his hand through his hair, disheveling it. “Lady Olivia,” he began but stopped immediately. His unspoken words hung in the air, making her wonder what he could possibly have to say.

“Yes?” she prompted.

“I have to tell you…something has been vexing me…”

He paced the length of the room, seeming to war with himself over how to break the news to her. He stopped abruptly, turning to look at her. His eyes were bleak.

“You have been hurt enough,” he began again. “And it was never my intention to add to your pain.” Another pause.

She couldn’t bear to see him this way. Lord Huntsford was supposed to be charming and affable—not anguished and at a loss for words.

“Please stop,” she said, halting his forward steps immediately. “I already know.”

“What? You do?”

She nodded. And fought the clawing she felt in her throat and the tears threatening to spring to her eyes. “How?”

“I heard…”

“You…” he trailed off, moving quickly to stand in front of her. “You should have heard it from me. I doubt it would have hurt less, but it was my responsibility.”

“It’s all right.” She wouldn’t let him know how much her heart was breaking. And she tried to remind herself that he
had done the decent thing by approaching her to tell her the truth.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered.

“I already have.”

“Just like that?” he asked, with the ghost of a smile, echoing her earlier words.

“Just like that,” she affirmed but couldn’t bring herself to return his smile. He’d easily see the pain in the expression.

“You are a remarkable woman, Lady Olivia Fairfax.”

Not remarkable enough, apparently.
If he truly thought so, his interest in her would have been more serious than winning a silly wager. But she banished the thought before it could take hold. She didn’t want Lord Huntsford anyway. He wasn’t right for her. Marriage to someone he loved was his fate.

It wasn’t hers.

“I would like to ask a question, though,” she said into the ensuing silence.

“Ask me anything.”

“What made you decide to tell me?” She held her breath, unsure of exactly what she wanted him to say.

“I couldn’t pretend anymore.”

Couldn’t pretend anymore?
Was the charade of being interested in her too much to handle? The feel of a lone tear slipping down her cheek was the first realization she was actually crying. She turned her head, hoping to hide the fact. She couldn’t very well pretend she was fine if she were weeping.

Lord Huntsford had already noticed her distress, how ever.

“Come here.” The words were commanding, but his gentle tone was more a coax than a demand.

Her feet obeyed before she could refuse.

“I
have
hurt you,” he insisted.

She shook her head.

He wrapped her in his arms, ignoring her denials. Ignoring the fact they were in a hallway someone might enter at any
moment. As he pulled her into a tight embrace, he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

“Please don’t cry,” he said into her hair.

The minutes crept by, and Olivia, in spite of her efforts, couldn’t stem the flow of her tears. His waistcoat would be drenched with her sorrow. How funny, she thought, that she should be so worried over his attire. She might ruin his wardrobe, but he had broken her heart.

Not that she loved him, of course.

Or even liked him more than was proper.

But she had trusted him.

Trusted that, while he had been a spy, he wouldn’t be the kind of person to cloak his actions in secrecy…not where his friends were concerned. And while she had never encouraged his attentions, he had certainly paid them. And all the while, he had been counting on her naivete and his powers of persuasion.

She may have forgiven him. But it still hurt.

“Olivia?” Nick queried after what seemed an eternity.

She nodded, wiping more tears on him.

Gripping her shoulders, he pushed her away, and Olivia had to bite back her protest.

“I truly am sorry. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.” He stared at her. Shame and remorse were evident in the lines on his face. It seemed he had anguished over this as much as she had.

She tried for a smile. It was wobbly, but it made him offer his own tentative grin.

“I care about you,” he said into the silence.

And while the look she gave him wasn’t necessarily one of utter disbelief, it was clearly skeptical. “I
do,
” he insisted.

She stared at him, finding herself wishing yet again they
were two different people, or perhaps the same people in very different situations.

She was too close to him. The nearness seemed to cloud her judgment and perception because clearly he couldn’t be doing what she thought he was. Her mind was playing some rather funny tricks on her.

For instance, Nick appeared to be shifting nearer. She blinked several times, thinking if she did so his face wouldn’t appear to be so close to hers.

Olivia was wrong. Before she had time to protest, or to think about whether she
wanted
to protest, his lips were on hers. She sighed a bit, melting into his embrace.

His arms around her tightened, and she leaned farther into him. She was so lost in the moment that forming a comprehensible thought was impossible. This was everything she’d imagined a kiss would be—what she’d hoped to find with someone eventually.

What she’d never have with Finley.

She wondered if Nick felt as lost in the moment as she…. Olivia stiffened.

Of course he didn’t.

This had been Nick’s plan all along. He wanted to prove, to himself and everyone else, she could be swayed by his attractions and pretty words. And she’d been more than willing to help him win his wager.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he pulled away, fear coloring his voice.

“Get out,” she said quietly. She didn’t know with whom she was most upset, herself or him.

“What?” His tone reflected his confusion.

“I said, ‘get out!’” she repeated with more force and volume.

“This is my aunt’s home,” he reminded her, still looking bewildered.

“Shall we ask her if you should stay or go?” She was shaking with anger.

Lord Huntsford stepped back from her but moved no farther. Truly, was her embarrassment not enough? Now he was humiliating her by acting as though she were being irrational.

“If you don’t go, I shall…I shall…hit you.” She grabbed the closest thing off a nearby table. “With this,” she said holding up her makeshift weapon.

“A volume of poetry?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s Lord Byron,” she defended, looking at the spine. But really, who kept a collection of Bryon’s poetry in the hall? A candelabra would have been much more intimidating.

“Is this a joke?”

She knew her expression clearly said it wasn’t.

“Well, I believe I shall take my leave then,” he said tightly. And before she could call him back—not that she wanted to—he had vanished.