The Forsaken Love of a Lord (3 page)

“Alaina who?” Curtis replied breathlessly. “I need an introduction — damn it all. You can’t do that. Hmm.” His gaze darted about the room.

“Nice to know I have your unyielding loyalty,” Edward remarked.

“You know you do! I’ve been here from the beginning… but just because her sister was Delilah — from the Bible. You know, Samson and Delilah—?“

“I bloody hell well know what you’re talking about, Curtis,” Edward ground out.

“Splendid. Just making sure. But what I was saying—“

“Yes, I get it, just because her sister was a miserable excuse for a human being, doesn’t mean that she will be.”

“Exactly.”

“But I’m not going to find out,” Edward asserted.

Curtis paused, watching him. His gaze shifted to Olivia then back to Edward. “Fine, but I sure as hell am.”

“You are certainly free to do as you wish, but you will
not
involve me in any way. Understood?” Edward turned to face his friend. Waiting for a response, he held his gaze.

“Very well.” Curtis bowed and sauntered way, circling the ballroom, though Edward noticed his gaze continued to stray to where Olivia was practically holding court with several anxious young bucks all vying for her attention. Anger swirled in his chest, constricting his lungs and stealing his breath.

It was too alike, too close. Hadn’t it been the same with Marybelle? Wasn’t
he
one of the lovesick swains who had surrounded her like a bee to honey?

And he’d been stung.

Over and over, till he didn’t feel the pain any longer.

Till the pain became his normal; till the day the stinging stopped, and he was too overjoyed to mourn his own wife’s demise.

Curtis had manipulated some poor chap into giving him an introduction to Miss Olivia. He bowed sharply; Olivia curtseyed and extended her slender hand for him to take. From here, Edward could see her enchanting grin, far different than her sister’s.

Which was a blessing.

He didn’t think he could stomach any other similarities.

Curtis tipped his head and gestured to the dance floor, and she nodded, following him on the floor as the music shifted to a waltz.

Unable to stand it any longer, Edward turned and headed to the door, only nodding twice to a few gentlemen who were arriving late. Once out the door and in his carriage, he demanded his coachmen take him to White’s. Halfway there, he changed his mind and headed home instead.

Drinking only made the memories sharper.

And, more than anything, tonight he wanted everything completely dull.

He
is
here!
Olivia thought excitedly as she tried to keep her gaze from continuously straying to his person. He was even more handsome than she remembered. His coal-colored hair was swept back immaculately, accentuating the light blue of his eyes — that she couldn’t quite see but most assuredly remembered — and the olive tone of his skin. Her heart thumped in her chest at the sight of him. How she wished there was some way to at least approach him, but it was impossible.

Drat.

Her attention strayed to the gentleman beside him. They seemed to be in easy conversation. Was he perhaps a friend?

Interesting.

A friend wouldn’t be off limits to converse with. Now, if only she could somehow secure an introduction.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lord Langley’s gaze shifted toward her. Quickly she glanced away and tried to focus on one of the gentleman who had come near to secure an introduction.

After curtseying and promising him a dance later, she risked a glance back toward Lord Langley.

But no sooner had she focused on his person did she notice that the friend was making his way toward her, as if in efforts to secure an introduction as well.

What luck!

Olivia met his gaze and gave him what she hoped was a welcoming smile. He was in the company of one of her mother’s friends, no doubt with the intention of presenting him.

“Ah, Miss Olivia, may I introduce Mr. Sheppard? He’s a long acquaintance of our family.” Lady Maxwell simpered, her eyes dancing as she ran her gaze up Mr. Sheppard’s body.

Olivia resisted the urge to shudder.

“A delight, Miss Olivia.” The gentleman bowed.

“A pleasure, Mr. Sheppard.”

“A beautiful lady such as yourself should not be forced to endure so many introductions without a chance to escape to the dance floor. May I have the honor of the next set?” he asked, his tone light and his eyes twinkling.

“Of course,” Olivia replied immediately, not willing to risk missing out on what could be her only chance to uncover some of the mystery behind Lord Langley.

And as luck would have it, the first strains of a waltz began just as he extended his hand.

“So, Miss Olivia, tell me, why I haven’t had the pleasure of dancing with you before?” Mr. Sheppard asked smoothly.

Olivia was quite sure he was a charmer, a rogue of the finest variety, but also utterly harmless. His eyes were too joyful, too full of fun. If he were a serious rake, he’d be far more… direct.

Or so she assumed.

“Well, Mr. Sheppard, we only just arrived in London this week,” she answered.

“Then I’m most fortunate to have found you so near to your arrival.” He winked in a playful manner, his caramel-colored eyes dancing with amusement. His light brown hair hung in carefree waves that brushed his forehead. He was broad-shouldered, the fact accentuated by the nip and tuck of his evening kit.

“Ah, what a flatterer, but I suppose it’s all part of the game.” She shrugged lightly.

“Game?” he asked as his eyebrows rose.

“Yes. I must admit that I’m quite frank, Mr. Sheppard. Which brings me to my point.”

“Point?” He blinked, as if uncertain to be dubious or impressed.

“Yes. Now, I noticed that you were speaking with a particular gentleman earlier,” Olivia hedged, her heartbeat increasing in cadence as she said the words. Immediately, a vision of Edward, Lord Langley, flashed in her mind’s eye. His jet-black hair and olive-colored skin were unmistakable; however, what she had found most changed was his expression. Even from a distance, she could easily decipher a frown as he glanced in her direction. Her study of him had been quick, hopefully unnoticed. But necessary.

“I talked with quite a few gentlemen tonight, Lady Olivia,” Mr. Shepphard replied carefully.

“Unless I’m underestimating your intelligence, which I highly doubt, I’m quite certain you’re aware of which gentleman I’m referring to.”

“My, you
are
frank.”

“It’s a curse, or so my mother says. I’d rather think of it as a blessing myself,” she added, a slight teasing grin tipping her lips.

“You know…” Mr. Sheppard leaned forward slightly. “…I rather agree with you.”

“Thank you.” She felt a blush accent her cheeks.

“To answer your question, I was speaking with Lord Langley. I arrived with him actually.” Mr. Sheppard was watching her closely; his smiling eyes now clear with a keen intelligence.

“Oh?” Olivia replied, struggling to keep her raging curiosity in check.

“Yes, and I must say, Miss Olivia, as much as your curiosity is surprising, it is also unwise. Lord Langley is not one you should be concerned about. Any suspicions, any… curiosities…” He paused, his gaze piercing and undeviating, as if trying to communicate something unspoken. “…are best left unexplored.”

The music stopped and he bowed. When he rose, his face held a polite grin, though his gaze was still startlingly direct.

“I bid you goodnight, Miss Olivia.” And he turned and left.

Olivia watched as he wove around the people and made his way to the exit. He didn’t pause or search for another partner for the upcoming quadrille; rather, he disappeared into the night.

Odd.

But before Olivia could think further on the subject, her next dance partner approached.

Later.

After all, she was in London… and while her mother might have different plans for her, Olivia knew her course… and all she had was time.

CHAPTER THREE

E
DWARD SWIRLED THE
F
RENCH
brandy in his glass, the heady aroma comforting him. He wasn’t drunk, or even close, but he was… relaxed.

Thank the Lord.

Heaven only knew how much he needed to be sedated in some form.

Taking a calming breath, he closed his eyes and took a long, soothing drink.

“Crafty like Aphrodite, that’s what she is!” Curtis swore as he entered the library.

The brandy he had been in the process of swallowing, reared back, causing him to choke. He coughed, sputtering as the brandy forced its way down his throat once more, only this time as if it were a fiery poker.

“Damn and blast, Curtis! What is wrong with you! You almost killed me!” Edward sputtered between coughs.

“I didn’t know swallowing brandy took so much skill,” Curtis shot back even as he poured himself a glass as well. Without hesitation, he knocked it back and refilled the glass.

“You
do
realize that’s French Brandy… illegal, rare, and
very
expensive.” Edward furrowed his brow as he watched his friend raise his glass to salute him.

Mockingly of course.

“Well aware, thank you.”

“I take it Alaina refused your… pursuit?” Edward asked, clearing his throat from the dull burn that still remained.

“Damn it all, I forgot all about the chit.” Curtis twisted his lips. “Blast the girl for making me forget. Speaking of her, you’ll never guess what happened after you left.” He shook his head, a disbelieving grin overtaking his expression.

“I’m going to make a wild assumption and say you danced?”

“Your responses are like light to humanity,” Curtis replied sarcastically. Heaving a sigh of irritation, he answered, “Yes, but with Lady Olivia… and do you know what she said?”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Edward replied.

“I’m sure you’ll want to know this…” Curtis nodded and drank the rest of his brandy. “The bloody woman wanted to know about
you.”

“Me?”
Edward asked, his brow furrowed. “Why in the hell?”

“Indeed! And it wasn’t a… I don’t know… that expression that women get…” Curtis waved his hand around. “…you know, when they are being petty, or asking for their own morbid interest. You know the look.” Curtis shivered in disgust.

“Yes. I’m quite aware of
that
look,” Edward replied. Heaven only knew how many times he’d dealt with it when some overconfident dowager or dimwitted woman gave
condolences
for the loss of his wife.

“It wasn’t one of those looks.
That
I would have expected. No, she seemed… concerned. And, blast it all, her eyes were so blue! And guileless. I don’t think I’ve seen anything that compares! Heaven knows, I’ll not be able to get her out of my mind, and all she bloody wanted was to use me to find out information about you. I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Well… what did you tell her?” Edward sat back in his chair, his heart beating with more force than necessary as he awaited the answer. Though it wasn’t completely unexpected that she’d try to find out information on her former brother-in-law, it
was
surprising that she was so quick about it, and that she seemed concerned.

About him.

No one was concerned about him.

Except for, perhaps, Curtis. And he didn’t count.

Well, maybe he did, but that was beside the point.

She didn’t
need
to be concerned.

“I didn’t say anything. Do you think I’m daft? You’d have me naming seconds!”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Must you be so dramatic?”

“Me, dramatic?” Curtis scoffed

“Indeed,” Edward drawled. “Well… what did you do after she asked? I assume you didn’t just leave her in the middle of the dance floor.” Edward shifted in his seat, then stood.

“I simply told her to keep her curiosities to herself. And when the music was over, I left.”

“To find me.”

“Precisely.”

“How… kind of you.”

“I thought it was quite selfless,” Curtis replied, then focused on his gloves. After inspecting, he removed them and proceeded to slap them on his knee.

“Do… do you think she’ll ask others?” Edward asked after a moment. It was a lucky happenstance for her to ask Curtis. Others might not have been so kind… or as selective in what they said. Perhaps she
was
seeking the more sordid details.

Not that anyone knew them.

But that hadn’t stopped anyone from speculating.

“I’m not sure. She did mention that she had seen me speaking with you. Hmm...” Curtis’ lips twitched. “…apparently
that
was the reason she accepted my dancing invitation so quickly.”

“You must be losing your touch,” Edward jested, though he certainly wasn’t feeling the humor.

Curtis cast him a dark look.

“The chit shouldn’t be asking about me. It’s part of the agreement—“

“No, no it’s not. At least not what you’ve told me about the agreement. You said they weren’t to
speak
to you, and, in return, you’d not speak about them… not the other way around.”