The Blackmailed Bride

by Mandy Goff

  And apparently whether the Marquess of Huntsford would melt Ice Queen Olivia.

  The man named George laughed at the foolishness of the second man. “It was stupid to bet against Huntsford. He seemed rather sure of himself when we talked at White’s.”

  “Well, I’m not bidding my blunt goodbye yet. He’s got to prove she’s fallen for him. And I haven’t seen evidence of that.”

  “Oh, you will,” George gloated. “A gambling man knows not to bet against the marquess where the ladies are concerned.”

  Olivia stopped listening. She made the conscious decision to direct her attention and ears everywhere but at the two men on the other side of the plant. Her pride wouldn’t withstand much more of their commentary.

  She was a fool to allow herself to think Nick was her friend.

  If he were, he certainly wouldn’t have proposed a wager against her ability to resist him. Oh, she knew men made such petty foolish bets as a way to pass the time, but in her eyes, that didn’t excuse the crime or mitigate it.

  And she supposed it was no wonder he’d been following her about London, always whispering compliments and making her light-headed with his nearness.

  Beneath the anger was hurt as well. Nick was supposed to be her friend, but…it appeared he’d been doing nothing but playing games with her. Not that she thought she’d ever have anything with Nick—Finley had won her through dishonorable means, but she was still committed to be his wife—but she’d trusted the marquess.

  And he’d been using her.

  Well, unnamed gentleman number two was about to get lucky.

  Olivia decided there was no way Nick would get through the frosty barrier she was going to erect.

  He’d most likely freeze to death first.

  Olivia discarded her plans to go back and join Lord Huntsford inside. She had a servant send a message to him, explaining she was no longer in need of his escort. Then, she paid a footman to hail a hack for her. A hired carriage was certainly not the fashionable way to slink home, but it was better than commandeering the duchess’s conveyance. She just hoped the vehicle would arrive before Lord Huntsford discovered what she’d done.

  She tapped her foot impatiently and wished she had told the footman to wait several moments before delivering the message. With her unenviable luck, the marquess would find her on her way out of the house and demand an explanation.

  Her audible sigh of relief once she saw the hack rumble in front of the door could probably have been heard back to where the musicale goers were. Olivia didn’t waste any time descending the stairs, hoping to jump in the carriage and take off. Quickly, hardly breaking stride as she did so, Olivia passed a banknote up to the driver’s hand.

  “Please hurry,” she begged.

  “Lady Olivia!” Lord Huntsford called as she was preparing to close the door.

  She could tell the coachman was hesitating, uncertain whether to leave or wait for the strange man running full charge at them.

  She leaned up and rapped on the ceiling of the conveyance. “Go on!” she shouted.

  Still another moment of indecision, and Lord Huntsford was almost close enough to reach the door.

  She banged—in a very unladylike manner—on the roof, and finally, the coachman flicked the reins. They swayed and rumbled down the cobblestone drive, and Olivia told herself not to look back at the marquess. She didn’t want to know if he was standing there, watching them drive away. She was better off without that image in her mind. She didn’t want to think he was watching for her, waiting until nothing could be seen of the carriage against the darkness of the night.

  But her resolve lasted mere seconds. She pulled back the small curtain in front of the window and peered around to where they’d just been.

  Lord Huntsford stood, his arms crossed over his chest. She didn’t need to see his expression to know it ranged somewhere between confusion and anger.

  Warring with the two emotions herself, Olivia let the curtain fall. And even though he could no longer see her, she turned her back to him.

  The ride was quiet and too long. She didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts for longer than necessary. She needed something to occupy her mind from thinking about her hurt. Finally, her home came into view, and she could have collapsed with relief, knowing she’d be safely inside and among myriad distractions.

  But as angry as she was with the marquess, Olivia couldn’t stop thinking about his expression as she drove away.

  Well, my sin against him wasn’t near as grave as his against me.

  Funny, but that didn’t make her feel much better.

  She was dismounting from the carriage when a figure shrouded in shadows stepped forward. The illumination from the oil lamps on the streets fell on Baron Finley’s face, making his expression starker.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  Not now. Was she not dealing with enough already?

  “The Sutton musicale,” she answered, “although I wasn’t aware I needed to have you approve my schedule of outings.”

  He ignored the last part. “Who were you with?”

  “The Duchess of Leith,” she hedged.

  Finley wasn’t fooled. “Who else?”

  Obviously he already knew, or else he wouldn’t be pressing her. “Lord Huntsford.”

  Olivia watched as Finley clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I believe we have already had a conversation about how I feel about you being in his company.”

  “And I believe I told you his company was unavoidable. As Marcus’s friend, he has become an integral part of my life since his return.” She moved another couple of steps closer to the front stairs. Soon Gibbons would hear the noise—if he were still awake—and open the door for her. Then she could sprint inside and leave all memories of the furious marquess and the angry baron on the steps.

  In three strides, Finley was beside her, gripping her arm painfully. “My coach is down the road. Come.”

  “Are you daft? My brother will be expecting me home.” And if Marcus noticed anything was amiss when she returned, he might very well schedule an early morning meeting with Finley.

  “If you had not left the musicale early, you wouldn’t be home for many hours yet,” Finley returned, using his bruising hold to steer her down the street.

  Olivia looked back to the coachman for help, but he must have missed the shadowy figure approaching and driven off.

  Sometimes, she had the worst luck.

  “I’ll be ruined if someone sees the two of us together,” she tried. “You’d not like your future wife to be the subject of vicious gossip, would you?”

  “You’ll be safe enough where we’re going.” His confidence was highly aggravating.

  He shoved her into his coach and barely gave her enough time to fix her skirts before he climbed in after her. As though at some unspoken command, the driver flicked his lines, and the carriage rocked into motion.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Why, to see the fireworks.” He spoke as though they had longstanding plans to do so and she’d simply forgotten.

  “The fireworks at Vauxhall?” Olivia knew her face showed her surprise. She also knew that appearing at the gardens of Vauxhall—a place the demimonde adored—alone, with Finley would certainly culminate in her ruination if it were discovered. She glanced out the carriage window before pulling the curtain closed. She’d soon be in enough trouble without being seen beforehand.

  Finley turned his face away from her, and for the second time that evening, Olivia felt her temper flaring to unmanageable heights. He meant for her to walk alongside married men and their mistresses, with actresses and their latest admirers. Surely some there would recognize her. He meant to punish her for going out with Huntsford by making her the subject of speculation and rumor.

  And, of course, it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t want her reputation truly ruined—if it was, she’d have no reason left to give in to his blackmail. But it seemed unlikely th
at he’d mind if she was the target of whispers and speculation from those who might catch a glimpse of her in such a scandalous location.

  Finley escorted her from the carriage after a tense and silent ride, and Olivia kept her face down. She stared at the ground in the hopes no one would be able to get a clear look at her face.

  “This way, dear.” Finley took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

  Olivia fought the immediate urge to pull away. The most important thing she could do was avoid a scene—of any size—in order to protect her anonymity.

  “I’m afraid we will have to meander along with the common crowds,” he told her with an apologetic shrug. “I’ve loaned my box here out to some friends.”

  Olivia recognized the statement for the lie it was. She’d eat her gloves if he could afford a box here.

  “Would you care for some refreshment?” he asked her.

  “Don’t bother playing the dashing gentleman with me. We both know what you are. There’s no need to pretend otherwise.” She kept her voice low, but she knew he heard every word because he stiffened at her side.

  “As you wish.” He dropped her hand and swept a ridiculous little bow.

  “Stop,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him upright. Avoiding attention would be impossible if he kept this up.

  They stood there, with couples and people flowing around them on all sides. He eyed her speculatively, knowing precisely what she wished to avoid. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves around?” he asked.

  “No,” she whispered. With a frantic jerk of the head, she looked around to make certain there was no one nearby who might recognize them.

  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.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nick 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?”<
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  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.