Olivia and the Masked Duke

by Grace Callaway

  Drat. She came to her senses, swiftly turning away. Did he recognize me?

  Pulling the coarse blonde curls of her wig over her cheek, she tried to think over her thudding panic. Most people would never recognize her while she was in disguise and all the way across a dimly lit tavern, but this wasn’t most people. This was Hadleigh, and he had a way of seeing right through her.

  “Anything I can get you, luv?” Charlie arrived, positioning her body to shield Livy from Hadleigh’s view.

  “Hadleigh’s here,” Livy whispered. “I think he spotted me.”

  “Take the back exit,” Charlie said under her breath. “Hawker’s parked two blocks away.”

  With a slight nod, Livy rose and headed to the closest door. She walked as quickly as she could without looking suspicious. She felt Hadleigh’s presence behind her, but she didn’t dare to glance back. All of a sudden, she heard loud clattering, the sound of coins hitting the floor.

  “Oh, dearie me. I’ve dropped me tips.”

  Charlie’s dramatic moan was lost in the roar of patrons diving for the money. Livy risked a backward glance and saw the sea of bodies now blocking the path between her and Hadleigh. Reaching the back door, she ducked outside and found herself in an alley bordered by decrepit buildings. She navigated through the fog-cloaked night, rank smells assailing her nose and scurrying sounds making her pulse skitter.

  Ew, rats. Never mind, keep going…

  “Oof.”

  The sound left her as she ran into something. Steadying herself, she looked up…into the face of a brute. Another man emerged behind the first, holding a lamp that illuminated the menacing leers on their faces.

  “What ’ave we ’ere, eh?” the first said. “A lost dove?”

  Dodging the man’s hand, Livy sized up the threat the way Mrs. Peabody had taught her to.

  Two men, big but slow. Three sheets to the wind, by their stench. Overconfident.

  “Let me pass, and I won’t hurt you,” she said.

  The first brute gave a bark of laughter. “Feisty wench, eh? I like me sport lively.”

  He made a grab for her, looking surprised when she parried his move. She did it again, staying out of his reach. Then he lunged at her, and this time she engaged, sidestepping and shoving at his back with both palms, using his forward momentum to send him flying into the side of a building. Before she could enjoy the satisfying crack of his skull against stone, the other fiend grabbed her from behind, one burly arm around her waist, the other hand clamping over her mouth.

  “I’ve got you now,” he bragged.

  By my waist. But you left my hands free, you moron.

  She reached into her skirt pocket, her fingers closing around her pistol. Before she could yank it out, the arms around her loosened.

  “What the bleeding ’ell—”

  She spun around to see Hadleigh plow a fist into her captor’s face. The man staggered but regrouped. A blade flashed in his beefy hand, and Livy’s heart shot into her throat as he charged at Hadleigh, weapon raised. Hadleigh took him head on, grabbing the other’s wrist. The two of them grappled for control of the knife. As Livy was trying to see if she could get a clear shot, Hadleigh gained the upper hand. He twisted his foe’s arm, and the blade dropped, skidding into the darkness.

  A moan from the cobblestones momentarily distracted her. The other bastard was coming to. As he began to sit up, she crouched, aiming a jab at his nose. Groaning, he fell back once more.

  She rose and saw Charlie materialize at the end of the alleyway, behind Ben and the brute he was pummeling, neither of whom noticed her. Livy lifted her chin to let her mentor know she had everything in hand, and Charlie melted back into the fog. Hadleigh finished the job with powerful punches that made his opponent howl in pain and Livy’s blood rush hotly in her veins.

  Her heart sighed. Hadleigh was such a hero…even if she didn’t need one.

  Her pulse hiccupped as he stepped over the foe he’d vanquished and strode up to her. Fresh from the fight, his hair falling over his brow, he’d never looked more dashing and virile. Or more dangerous.

  “Hello, Hadleigh,” she said breathlessly. “There is a perfectly good explanation.”

  And I had better think of it quickly.

  “Is there indeed?” His tone was calm, his gaze stormy. “I cannot wait to hear it.”

  15

  Depositing Livy into his carriage, Ben instructed his groom to take them to Lady Fayne’s. He drew the curtains and tried to calm his simmering rage as the conveyance rolled off. Livy was seated on the opposite bench, and studying her in the light of the carriage lamp did not improve his mood. She’d transformed herself from a demure debutante into a tantalizing trollop.

  Devil and damn, her breasts were nearly spilling out from her poor excuse for a bodice, the firm rounded tops jiggling with the carriage’s movements. Her scarlet sateen dress clung to her waist, so narrow he could span it with his hands. The hem ended above her trim ankles, which were scandalously displayed in black silk stockings. She’d darkened her lashes, the smoky fringe highlighting the brilliant clarity of her eyes. The innocent pink of her lips was covered by a smear of glistening red paint.

  Gone was the little girl he’d known. In her place was a sultry, seductive tart. And the change unleashed his bestial appetites, hot hunger clawing at his gut.

  Fucking hell.

  His anger and lust seemed to feed on each other. Reining them both in, he bit out, “I am waiting for your explanation as to why you were at the Black Lion.”

  Being a quick-witted female, Livy knew how to dodge the truth. But she’d never been able to evade him. He could always tell when she was lying, and from the brief lowering of her lashes, he knew he was about to be treated to one hell of a tale.

  A deviant part of him wanted her to lie. Wanted to punish her for being a naughty, reckless girl who had endangered her own life. Equally strong was the instinct to protect her, to keep her swaddled in cotton so that nothing and no one could ever harm her.

  “I was there for the same reason you were,” she said.

  Her calm reply shot up the pressure in his veins. He’d been at the Black Lion because, earlier that day, he’d located the maker of the gold watch he’d found on Pete. Eager to see the piece returned to its owner, the watchmaker had identified his client as the Countess of Longmere, who’d commissioned the watch as a wedding present for her husband.

  Ben had tracked Longmere down to the Black Lion, spotting the man with the group of bastards he was all too familiar with. The years he’d kept company with the Horsemen told him it was no coincidence that the trail had led to them. The question was not whether they were involved with the deadly drug, but in what fashion.

  Yet at the sight of Livy, Ben had abandoned his quarry. What in blazes was she doing by herself, dressed like a whore, in a disreputable Whitechapel tavern? Having blown his night’s mission for her sake, he wasn’t about to do further damage by telling her about his covert quest.

  “I was in pursuit of a diversion,” he said shortly. “A gentleman’s prerogative.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but not before he caught the hurt that flashed through those peerless celadon orbs. A moment later, the hurt was replaced by a mutinous gleam.

  She tilted her chin up. “Not only a gentleman’s. I was there for the same reason.”

  While Livy was undoubtedly bold, she wasn’t a hussy. From what he’d observed over the years, she was not much of a flirt, nor did she actively encourage male attention. If he were honest, the only man she’d shown any interest in…was him.

  And, damn his eyes, he couldn’t deny that he liked it that way. As wrong and forbidden as it was. As undeserving as he was of her adulation. Regardless, her assertion that she was out chasing carnal thrills tonight was preposterous and maddening.

  “The devil you were.” He clenched his jaw. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “If you can go gallivanting, then why can’t I?” she shot back.

/>   “You know full well why not. Because you’re a damned virgin and a lady.”

  “Dash it all. That isn’t fair!”

  “Too bloody bad. I do not make the rules. Now stop trying to evade the question: what in blazes were you doing at the Black Lion dressed like a light-skirt?”

  She took a breath. Exhaled slowly. Buying time, no doubt.

  “Because I wanted to know what it was like to be a real woman…the kind you would be interested in.”

  Her words, wholly unexpected, stunned him into silence.

  “You called me a silly little girl,” she burst out. “Said you only wanted a real woman. Well, I wanted to know what it was like to be such a female.”

  “And you thought parading like a trollop in a tavern was the way to gain that experience?” he said incredulously. “Are you mad?”

  “I am perfectly sane, as you know. And I can take care of myself.” She gave him an annoyed look. “Why do you care what I do, anyway? You’ve rejected me three times and told me to stay away from you. As I’ve been minding my own affairs, I expect you to extend me the same courtesy. I am no concern of yours.”

  Stay calm. Stay in control.

  He drew in a breath through his nose. “You know that is not true, Livy. I do care about you. I just…I just cannot be the man you want me to be.”

  “I only want you to be you.”

  God help him. Mesmerized by her sincerity and unwavering gaze, he felt his control slip a notch. She was so damned beautiful, inside and out. The promise of a life he’d once longed for and which he knew could never be his. She was everything good…everything he was not.

  “You don’t know me,” he said hoarsely.

  Confidence shone in her eyes. “I do so.”

  She crossed over to his side of the carriage, and he automatically reached out to steady her, his hand engulfing hers. She sat beside him, lacing her fingers with his and, bastard that he was, he couldn’t make himself let go. Bloody hell, he’d missed her. The connection between them had always felt right. Even as it was shifting, changing in ways that left him confused and torn, he could not deny himself the simple, exquisite pleasure of holding her hand.

  “Is that why you’ve pushed me away?” she asked with her usual acuity. “Because you think you are not right for me?”

  “I know I am not,” he said darkly. “I am not a good man, Livy. My sins are such that they can never be erased. You deserve someone far better.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. I am perfectly capable of deciding what I want. And I can tell you this: regardless of what you have done, you will always be a hero in my eyes.”

  He gave a humorless laugh at her naïveté. She was so sweet…and so damned young.

  You want to do the right thing? his inner voice challenged. Tell her the truth. Let her know the kind of man you truly are, and she will want nothing to do with you.

  He let go of her hand. Said the words that would set her free.

  “I killed a man.”

  Livy had suspected that Hadleigh’s past was dark. He’d alluded to it more than once, and even as a girl, she’d sensed that he had his demons. Why else would he drink and brood so much and at times seem so lost? Nonetheless, his admission took her aback.

  “Why?” The word popped out of her mouth.

  She knew Hadleigh: if he had committed such a sin, there had to be a reason.

  His expression stark, he said, “Do you know how my sister Beatrice was scarred?”

  Livy drew her brows together. “My parents said Aunt Bea had a riding accident.”

  “That is true, but there is more to it. She was riding in the park when she came upon a man named Griggs beating a street urchin. She interfered, and Griggs retaliated by whipping her horse. She was thrown and nearly trampled. In truth, she was lucky to escape with only the scar.”

  “How brave of Aunt Bea to stand up for that boy.” Livy’s voice trembled with emotion. “And shame on that blighter for hurting a lady who was only doing the right thing.”

  “At the time my sister was hurt, I was sixteen,” Hadleigh said tonelessly, “and I swore to avenge her honor. Not just hers, but that of my family. Before Beatrice’s injury, she was feted by all of Society, poised to make a match with a duke. We Wodehouses were the envy of the ton for our happiness. Then Griggs came along and destroyed everything.

  “My beautiful sister was shunned because of her scar and became an object of ridicule. Our mama was beside herself with despair and locked herself in her bedchamber. Livid at everything that had befallen the family, our formerly doting papa spent more and more time away from us, the source of his unhappiness. When he died two years later, it was in his mistress’s bed. My mama followed him to the grave soon thereafter. She died, I think, of a broken heart.”

  “Oh, Hadleigh,” Livy whispered, hurting for him. “How dreadful it must have been to witness your family in such pain.”

  He gave a terse nod. “When I inherited the title at eighteen, I was consumed with the need to avenge my family’s honor. Looking back, it seems absurd now: how could revenge possibly give me back everything that I had lost? But I was a reckless, arrogant fool. I made it my life’s mission to destroy Griggs. He was a rising middle-class industrialist, and I used my influence to crush him. Rumors in the ears of the right men in the right clubs was all it took to blacken his reputation, to get his loans denied and investors to flee. His business crumbled. He came to me, begged me for mercy…and I turned him away.”

  Swallowing, Livy asked, “What happened next?”

  “Beatrice begged me to stop, told me this was not what she wanted, but I was obsessed with righting the wrong done to her. I had Griggs in the corner, and I wasn’t about to stop until he had lost everything. Several weeks later, I had my wish: Griggs was found dead in his flat. He had hung himself, but I was the one who put the noose around his neck.”

  Hadleigh’s dark confession sent ripples of shock through Livy. Yet she also knew him…and no matter how hot-headed and arrogant he might have been as a youth, she knew that he had not meant for this fellow Griggs to die. Even now, anguish was written over his features, shadows of remorse swallowing up the blue of his irises. He stared off into space, statue-still save for the shallow heaves of his chest. It was as if he were trapped in that time, cursed to relive his actions over and again.

  Livy reached for one of his hands again. Surprised to find how cold he was, she chafed his large palm between both of hers.

  “What you did was wrong,” she said. “But you did not mean to kill Griggs, did you?”

  “No.” Hadleigh’s reply was hoarse, his gaze sheened with moisture. “I was hell-bent on destroying his happiness the way he had destroyed that of Bea and my family, but I didn’t think that he would…” He jerked his hand from hers, clenching it into a fist. “It seems impossible now that I did not consider the consequences of cornering Griggs the way I did. Of forcing a man into a situation so desperate that he would see only one means of escape.”

  “You were young and rash,” she said quietly, “and Griggs had hurt your sister and your family. While that does not excuse your actions, I can understand your anger.”

  “I cannot tell you how many times I’ve asked myself, Why didn’t you see what was coming? How could you push this man into taking his own life? What the bloody hell were you thinking?” Hadleigh’s voice was as choppy as a tempest-tossed sea. “And I have no answers, nor will I ever.”

  Livy said nothing. There was nothing she could say. All she could do was sit by Hadleigh’s side and share his burden the best she could.

  “There is more,” he said. “Griggs had children, a legitimate son with his wife and a bastard daughter with his mistress. I sent money to support the boy, anonymously of course, but I lost track of the daughter. She emerged several years ago and was behind a nefarious plan to hurt Beatrice. To destroy my sister, the way I had her father. She nearly succeeded, too.”

  Livy’s heart wrenched at the guilt i
n Hadleigh’s eyes.

  “How horrible,” she whispered.

  “If anything had happened to Beatrice…” He shoved both hands through his hair, his elbows planting on his knees. He stared at the carriage floor. “During the fight to save my sister, Griggs’s daughter fell off a high platform, and I grabbed onto her. I was the one responsible for this cycle of revenge, and I wanted to save her, to stop the violence I’d started. I told her to hold on, but she looked up at me and smiled and…and then she let go.”

  Livy shuddered at the harrowing image. The words he’d said to her that fateful day at the pond surfaced.

  Not you too. Bloody hold on, do you hear me?

  Had he been thinking of Griggs’s daughter, the woman who had chosen violence and death over his help? Whose choice had destroyed his attempt at atonement?

  Overwhelmed by the tragedy of the story, Livy sat bogged in heavy silence. Her throat thickened at the thought of all that suffering. Suffering that, she realized, had never really ended for Hadleigh. All the years she had known him, he had held this inside. Had been hurting in ways she could not have begun to fathom as a child.

  I wish I could have grown up faster. Her eyes heated. Then I could have taken better care of you, my dearest friend and love.

  “In truth, I killed not one person, but two.” Hadleigh’s face was taut with self-loathing. “That is the kind of man I am. A bloody murderer. Now do you wish to be with me?”

  “Yes.” Her voice quivered, not because of uncertainty but the opposite.

  “Devil take it, Livy! Just once, don’t be so goddamned stubborn.” Rage and anguish smoldered in his eyes. “You should want nothing to do with me.”

  “That will never happen,” she said firmly. “You made a mistake—a grievous error that led to tragic consequences. But you were younger than I am now when this all started, and it is obvious that you repent your actions. You take responsibility for what you did. You have tried, to the best of your ability, to make amends. What more can you do?”