by Mandy Goff
Her brother nearly took the door off its hinges as he slammed it shut. “Does it matter? Did you honestly think you could keep your foray a secret from me? That I wouldn’t hear as soon as I stepped inside the house?”
“Gibbons?” she gasped, bubbling with righteous indignation at the thought of the old man breaking her confidence.
“No. It wasn’t Gibbons,” he said tightly. “But I see I am to add him to the list of traitors in my own home.”
Olivia said nothing. She fingered the fringe on her shawl, unconsciously unraveling the threads in her anxiety.
“How could you?” The hurt was evident in his face. Olivia felt the stab of guilt—as sharp as any knife.
Marcus continued, “There will be no marriage. You might as well pack your belongings because we’ll be returning to Westin Park.”
Relief washed over her. If Marcus wasn’t going to force her to stay in London and marry Nick, then she could always find a way back from the country later, and devise an excuse to explain her departure to Lord Finley.
“What will you do?” she asked.
“Simple,” he said, striding toward the door. “Kill your fiancé.”
Olivia jumped to follow him. She doubted that Marcus would kill his best friend—even over her—but she didn’t want her brother rushing off in a fury and ruining his friendship with the marquess.
“Marcus!” she called as she trailed behind him in the hallway. “Stop! Nick and I meant no—”
He stopped his path toward the stairs but didn’t turn to face her. “Nick?” he asked. “Did you say Nick?”
His voice had dropped to a whisper, and Olivia was afraid to answer.
“Did I just hear you say Nick and you…?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she croaked, wondering if the revelation of the other person involved in her public shame would make it better or worse.
“So you weren’t caught in a compromising situation with Finley?” His back was still turned to her. “No.” Because of Nick’s intervention.
“Instead, you were found with my best friend?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But it isn’t what it seems—”
“Enough!” he roared. “Stay in your room. And don’t bother packing until I return from Huntsford’s.”
Olivia took a few steps forward, wanting to lessen the blow somehow. “Marcus, remember he’s your friend.”
“He was” was all the young earl said before descending the steps and leaving the house.
As Nick sat in his study, he attempted to make sense of his estate accounts, but every time he looked at the numbers, the figures melded together, jumbled or otherwise made themselves impossible to read. His heart wasn’t in his work. It was across Mayfair at Olivia’s house. In the days waiting for Marcus to return, he’d become a permanent fixture there. Her brother was due home today so Nick had forced himself to stay away.
Nothing in recent memory had been quite so difficult.
“I should shoot you,” Marcus bellowed as the door flung open. Nick’s butler Mathis was hot on the earl’s heels, breathing hard after the mad dash up the stairs.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I tried to stop him,” the butler panted as the younger man strode up to the desk.
“It’s all right, Mathis. He’s expected.”
The butler bowed stiffly and exited the room.
“Stand up,” Marcus growled.
“Why?” the marquess asked coolly.
“Because I can’t very well hit you if you’re sitting down.”
Nick sighed. “I have no wish to fight with you.”
“Then you shouldn’t have mauled my sister.” Marcus edged closer.
“Is that what she told you?”
“No. She tried to protect you in spite of your sins.”
That, Nick supposed, was slightly gratifying. Since she had extracted his promise that he wouldn’t tell Marcus what had occurred, she could have easily cast Nick to the lions and blamed everything on him, secure in the knowledge that having given his word, he would not contradict her. “All I can do is ask for your forgiveness.”
Marcus sat down heavily in a chair. “Well, you don’t have it. I trusted you with her. Thought she would be safe with you.” A mirthless laugh. “Apparently, I was throwing her to a hungrier wolf than Finley.”
Nick hated not being able to tell his friend the truth. Marcus would then abandon his lust for vengeance against him. But he would do nothing to break Olivia’s trust.
“I’ve offered for her,” Nick said instead, “and she has accepted. Everything is put to rights.”
“In society’s eyes perhaps,” Marcus allowed. “But not with us.”
“Given the circumstances, it was the best I could do.”
“So what am I to do?” Marcus asked. Some of his anger seemed to dissipate with his forceful exhale. “Allow my sister to marry you, and condemn her to a loveless union? Or do I forbid the marriage, and let the gossips eat her alive?”
“I hardly think marriage to me would be so disastrous.”
Marcus studied his old friend closely. “It would be for her. Olivia deserves to be with someone who loves her.”
Nick reached over and grabbed the decanter of water sitting on the edge of his desk and poured himself a drink. “I like and admire your sister a great deal.
“I will treat her well,” Nick added after Marcus remained silent.
There were several more beats of uncomfortable silence, and Nick sipped aimlessly at his water, trying to still his emotions. Would Marcus forbid the match?
Marcus stared at him before sighing in resigned defeat. “I guess there’s nothing to be had for it. The news is already circulating, and it would look worse for Olivia if I forbade the marriage.”
The iron fist gripping Nick’s heart eased.
“I’ve already procured the special license,” Nick said. “I think this business should be finished quickly.” Another sip. “Your sister and I discussed having the ceremony two weeks after your arrival.” Well, Nick had discussed…Olivia had listened in stony silence.
Marcus stiffened again. He seemed irked at being left out of the proceedings. “I suppose there’s really no choice in the matter.”
Marcus stood up to leave. “I’ll expect you to call on me tomorrow in order to finalize arrangements.” Nick nodded.
Marcus walked toward the door but before pulling it open, turned to face his old friend. “I hope you know this is the end of our friendship.”
“I was afraid it would be,” Nick said.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Marcus and Olivia rode home from church service in relative silence the following Sunday.
The minister’s words from the sermon about truthfulness rung in her ears, tormenting her for withholding the truth from Marcus about what had happened in the Ashburn garden. It was unbearable to see Marcus so needlessly angry with his friend.
“I enjoyed service this morning,” she began.
“I’m glad.”
“I guess I’d never thought of honesty quite that way.” The minister had explained, by using Colossians 3:9–10, that as a new believer she had to strive to live up to different standards.
Lie not to one another, seeing that ye have put off the old man with his deeds; and have put on the new man, which is renewed in knowledge after the image of him that created him.
By not telling Marcus the truth about what had really transpired in the garden, she was acting like the old Olivia would.
Marcus nodded as she was thinking. “I find God continuously reveals new things to me. I can take the same scripture, read it three times and come away with three different messages God wants to speak to me.”
“In the interest of being honest with you, I think I need to confess something.” Olivia stared at the passing scenery so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
He watched her expectantly. Olivia was loath to continue; Marcus was just beginning to look at her without growing angry. But she knew as soon as she told
him about Finley’s actions in the garden, his temper would ignite again. And while it would mean Nick would be free from the anger, Olivia would be bringing it fully on her own head.
There was nothing to be done for it, however. “I allowed you to think certain things about what happened when you were out of town the other evening.”
Marcus’s confusion was plainly written across his face. “Yes?”
“Lord Huntsford was in the garden with me the night of the Ashburn ball, but only after he found me there.”
“I have a feeling I’m not going to want to hear the rest of what you have to say,” Marcus murmured.
“Probably not. I know what I did was foolish, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“I still am not sure what you’re apologizing for.”
She breathed deeply. “Lord Finley was the one who brought me to the garden. Nick found the two of us and, once Finley left, Lord Huntsford was going to escort me home. That’s when the ladies came upon us.”
Marcus’s jaw clenched, but Olivia forced herself to continue.
“Obviously, the situation didn’t look at all proper. So Lord Huntsford decided to tell the women we were engaged in an effort to salvage my reputation.”
Finished with her story, Olivia folded her hands in her lap and waited for the impending explosion.
It wasn’t quite what she’d expected.
“Who are you?” Marcus asked sadly.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never known you to take foolish risks, and whether you would agree, being anywhere with Finley—especially a secluded garden in the middle of a ball—is extremely foolish.”
“I know. I wasn’t trying to be daring, or foolish, but Finley asked…”
Marcus’s jaw clenched. “So you would rather do what Finley asks than what I ask?”
Olivia’s exasperation began to show. “You don’t know anything. You’ll have to trust that I never wanted to cause trouble for anyone. Not for myself, and especially not for you and Nick.”
Marcus shook his head and slumped deep into his seat. “You realize what you’ve done, do you not?” Olivia nodded.
“Not only did you allow yourself to be compromised…by someone I’ve repeatedly told you I don’t want you around, but you also forced my closest friend to sacrifice his future to play the knight chevalier.”
Olivia fidgeted. “I didn’t ask him to announce a betrothal! He chose that course of action, not me.”
Marcus looked angry enough to throw something. “What else was he supposed to do, Olivia? Stand aside and allow your reputation and honor to be cast heedlessly into the ether?”
“Finley would have stood up with me.”
“Finley. Finley! I grow sick of the man’s name.” Marcus was yelling at her now, but Olivia wasn’t going to point out that fact. “What proof do you need?”
“Proof of what?”
“Of his disreputable character. Would you like me to scour the countryside and find a legion of young ladies like yourself who will attest to the heartache and pain he has caused them?”
“It’s not that way between us,” she defended, more for her own sake than Finley’s. Frankly, she agreed wholeheartedly with Marcus’s assessment of the baron’s character, but in order for him to stop with his endless attempts to dissuade her, she needed to try and convince him Finley was capable of making her happy.
The task before her appeared impossible.
“Is that so? Then, pray tell, what is it like?” Marcus asked.
“He wants to marry me.”
Marcus scoffed. “We’ve already discussed this,” he said. “You don’t need to be married to someone like him.”
“Well, you obviously felt you can’t trust me to make my own decisions, since you refused him on my behalf before you even permitted him to ask me.”
“I believe you’ve illustrated rather effortlessly why I distrusted your judgment,” Marcus snapped.
The barb hurt.
Marcus’s visible disappointment hurt worse. She’d undertaken this whole scheme to protect him. She hated that she was upsetting him all the same.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” Marcus said quietly after several moments of silence between them. “I don’t want to fight with you. I love you,” he added with a ghost of a smile.
“I know you do,” she said softly.
“Can we, for right now, put this business behind us? I’ll make my peace with Nick, and you’ll continue planning the wedding.”
Marcus’s face was so hopeful, Olivia didn’t have the heart to crush him. She nodded rather than speaking the truth he’d eventually have to hear—that Finley would be her groom, not Nick.
“I do believe you’ll be happy with him.” Marcus reached across the carriage and grabbed her hands. “If I thought you wouldn’t, the threat of scandal—no matter how large or destructive—wouldn’t be enough to convince me to allow the union. But, as it is, I don’t have to worry over that. The two of you will be content together.”
Too bad, Olivia thought, we’ll never get the chance.
Nick didn’t glance up from his paper when a shadow fell across his table at White’s.
“May I sit?” Marcus asked from above him.
At the voice, Nick lowered the paper enough to look at his once friend. He’d not spoken to Marcus beyond finalizing the wedding arrangements. Part of him wondered if his old friend was returning for round two or if he had another purpose in mind behind his arrival at their club.
“Of course,” Nick said, indicating the chair across from him. “I was about to order luncheon.”
Marcus nodded, looking as uncomfortable as Nick had ever seen him. But he pulled the chair out and seated himself without another word.
“How is everyone?” Nick asked to break the silence. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen both Marcus and Olivia the day or two previously.
“They are doing well. Your aunt is keeping Olivia quite busy with preparations.”
Nick chuckled. But at the same time, he felt the familiar knot of unease in his stomach. He doubted the tension would pass until he and Olivia were truly and unalterably wed. Until then, he feared his feisty betrothed would find some way to extricate herself from their agreement.
That was the last thing he wanted.
“Aunt Henri is beside herself with something worthwhile to do. I can only be grateful she realizes I am completely immune to her wedding detail excitement,” Nick said.
“Olivia told me what really happened.” Marcus’s announcement was abrupt and startling—at least for Nick.
He couldn’t find the words to ask his next question.
“I won’t be confronting Finley, if that’s what you fear,” Marcus said. “But I must also apologize to you for believing the worst.”
When he recovered from his surprise that Olivia had confessed, Nick waved off the words of apology with his hand. “What else were you to believe? Every shred of evidence incriminated me. I’m simply glad you know the truth. Keeping it from you was a burden.”
“I won’t force you to marry Olivia,” Marcus said quietly.
Nick’s breath caught. They both knew the impact of what Marcus was saying. If Nick was allowed to cry off the engagement—not that he was considering doing as much—Olivia would never be able to show her face in polite society again.
Marcus continued, “I can remove her to Westin Park. She doesn’t care much for town anyway. And while there is nothing I’d like more than to call you brother in a true sense, I can’t—won’t—ask you to atone for another man’s sin.”
“You don’t plan on accepting Finley’s suit for her then?” Nick asked, sure he already knew the answer, but needing to hear the words.
“I would sooner Olivia and I both bear the full brunt of the ton’s censure. Their disapproval will pass. Marriage to Finley would ruin the rest of her life.” Marcus looked at Nick, waiting for him to no doubt sigh in relief and run out of White’s rejoicing over h
is freedom.
Nick had absolutely no plans to seize the ready escape.
Marriage to Olivia was an idea that had grown increasingly appealing. And just thinking about not spending the rest of his life with her made his chest ache. He wanted to be the one to hold her when she was upset, protect her when she was in danger and rejoice with her when she was happy.
Which was, of course, why the next words came out of his mouth. “I want to marry your sister.”
Marcus looked surprisingly hopeful, as though he’d not allowed himself to believe Nick’s feelings for Olivia could be real. But something in his friend must have pressed him to be sure. “I won’t think badly of you. It is my fault you and Olivia were in a position to be found that way, and I owe you a grave debt. I’ll not pay it by taking away your freedom.”
“Marcus, perhaps you didn’t hear me. I wish to proceed with this marriage to your sister. I will treat her well, and I certainly am not bitter about the event in front of me. Can you not agree it must be God’s hand leading this?”
Marcus nodded. “I could think of no one I would rather entrust my sister to, and I’m sorry there was a misunderstanding between us.”
“Now that all is well between us, I can actually look forward to whatever ceremonial pomp my aunt and future wife have waiting for us.” Nick liked far too much the way the word wife rolled off the tongue.
If he were falling for his own fiancée, well, who could possibly fault him for that?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Olivia pulled on her glove with a firm yank, then she smoothed the skirts of her dress, adjusted the ribbon on her bonnet and checked her reticule.
Gibbons watched the unnecessary fanfare with a mild interest. He couldn’t possibly know her nerves prevented her from marching out of the house and back out into society. From the moment she and Nick had been found in the garden, she’d been careful not to put herself places where she might find herself the object of attention.
But she needed a few items from Bond Street, and while she could have sent Sarah with a groom, Olivia had decided it was time to lift her self-imposed exile.