He shuddered. She watched him, fleeting expressions crossing her face as she contemplated his words.
“There is time, Edward. Allow yourself to recover from the shock of your brother’s death, to settle into the role, and to think things through. You are a very different man now, than you were when you married Sarina.”
He reached out to cup her cheek, still reeling from the fact that she had not simply turned away from him. He needed, given that, to tell her the truth of his greatest distress about the situation. If she could not accept his words, so be it – but he needed to say them.
“Olivia... there is one more thing that makes me reject the idea of a marriage, simply for the sake of an heir... I love you, Olivia – I could not bear to marry another, when I love you.”
“Oh Edward! I... love you, but... I am almost certain that I could not give you a child...”
Edward flinched at her words. He had known it, but to hear it so baldly stated... he felt his heart breaking. His dedication to the history of the great families told him that he should preserve his bloodline at all costs, his heart told him that the love of the woman before him was worth more than anything – that if a distant cousin inherited, so be it.
“Truly, I might be er, er, delighted if a child happened, but I would never expect such of you. I had er, considered... but I have not thought myself worthy. And now, I cannot ask, no er, matter the love I feel for you. I must be sure that I would not doom both of us to er, er, misery. I do not think that I could live with that again. But... know, my darling, that I will not marry another. I will take your wise er, advice, and give myself time – and give you time, to truly er, consider what I have told you today, to consider if you still wish to associate with a man who has failed so utterly.”
She turned her face into his hand, and kissed his palm.
“Edward, we have both seen our perceptions of the world, and our lives in general, change very much. But all is not lost – I refuse to believe it. We will promise nothing, except to wait, and think, to be sure of each other.”
She reached for him, and they went into each other’s arms. He held her, inhaling her lilac scent. He could have wept, for the bitter irony of it. At the point in his life when he had found love, with a woman who loved him, circumstance and duty might still force them apart. But he would not accept that – not until there was no choice about it.
He tilted her chin up and kissed her, as if he might never have the chance to do so again.
OLIVIA LET THE KISS carry her away, her hands roaming his body, her every sense drinking him in. She could not bear to lose him, but she had no right to ask him to abandon all hope of an heir.
After all, her youngest child was now twenty-five, and her husband had only died two years ago – that would strongly suggest that she had been incapable of having another child for a long time. For now, she would enjoy every second that she was granted with Edward, no matter what the future might bring.
Chapter Twelve
Two weeks passed, and Sterling happily added his knowledge to Olivia’s to assist Edward with dealing with his new estates. But the time when Olivia should remove herself to the Dower House loomed. She had passed everything about the management of the townhouse over to Amelia, and no longer really had any excuse to stay.
They had not, since that day in the library, discussed love, or marriage, or his need for an heir, again. But it loomed over them, an unspoken monster, waiting to tear them apart. Their kisses became more passionate, their touch more directly carnal, but neither could bear to put their desires or fears into words.
Edward spent almost every day in her company, and it became steadily more obvious to him how much he had come to depend on her knowledge, and her quiet competence.
‘Surely’, whispered the tiny voice in his mind, ‘if we are this good together, every day, that could not suddenly change, simply because we married?’
He wanted that to be true, but fear still assailed him. If he married Olivia, and then he failed, as he had with Sarina, she would leave him – he could not bear such a thing. In his clearer moments, he knew that it was unlikely – that Olivia was made of sterner stuff, and would more likely sit him down and talk through any issues, but still, the fear was there. Thirteen years had made it strong within him.
Feverishly, he threw himself into researching his own family. He reviewed every chart he had ever drawn, made certain that any recent births were noted on there, and worked out the chain of inheritance. Through his grandfather’s younger brother, there was another male heir in this generation. Edward set about discovering all he could of the man, who he had never met.
Finally, he deemed the man worthy of potentially inheriting the Camberton title. It was a relief, a far deeper one than Edward had expected. He decided that he should follow his heart. The matter of an heir was settled – there was a suitable candidate. Why should he not have a chance at happiness, with the woman he had come to love?
But... would she have him? There was but one way to find out.
WINTER WAS UPON THEM, and the late November day was crisp and cold, with a frost on the ground, even in London.
Olivia pulled the carriage blanket around her, as Edward drove her through the park in his little chaise. She could not remember ever enjoying outings like this, when she had been younger. Then, there was no point at which simply being in a specific person’s company had been enough to make her feel happy. And she wanted to treasure the day. For, next week, she would depart London for the Dower House at Hemsbridge Park.
Sterling and Amelia would come to Hemsbridge Park for Christmas itself, but before then, there would be a few weeks where she would be alone. The prospect seemed bleak. Edward was quieter than usual, as if preoccupied, and she left him to his silence, confident that he would speak when he was ready. Her hand rested on his knee, and she wondered at herself. There had been a time when she would not have considered such a public display of her affection.
Idly, she watched the other people around them. The park was quiet – partly due to the cold, and partly because they were earlier in the day than the fashionable hour, when the ton came out to parade. How long might it be, before she was here again?
They turned to go back, and she thought, with anticipation, of the new research that Edward wished to show her. They would go to his townhouse before he took her home – and for the thousandth time, she blessed the fact that society did not expect the same standard of propriety of a widow that they did of an unmarried young woman.
That fact allowed her time with Edward, unobserved – time for kisses and time to simply talk, or dig through books. She was not sure which of those she valued the most, but she suspected that it was the kisses.
When they reached Edward’s townhouse, she was glad to settle in his library, with a cup of warm tea, and listen as he explained what he had discovered. The extent to which the upper ten thousand had managed to create, and then hide, scandalous liaisons over the years was astounding. She was beginning to wonder if the number of secretly illegitimate members of the ton exceeded the legitimate ones!
When he had finally been through it all, he neatly stacked his books and documents again, and came to sit beside her. There was silence, as they both sipped tea. Then, carefully, he placed his cup on the tray, and turned to her.
“Olivia... I... I would like to ask...”
He was interrupted by a tap on the door. An expression which seemed remarkably like frustration crossed his face, before he called “Enter”.
Jamison came in, bearing the correspondence tray.
“I am sorry to interrupt, my Lord, but this message was just delivered. It was brought by a messenger, who has come more than a day’s travel to bring it. He was asked to return with a reply.”
He proffered the tray. Given what had been contained in the last message delivered by a messenger, Olivia did not wonder at Edward’s look. He eyed the paper as if it were potentially a poisonous serpent.
INWAR
DLY, EDWARD CURSED. He had been about to ask her to marry him, and this had interrupted!
The folded paper, sealed with plain, poor quality wax, might as well have been a serpent, for the unwillingness he felt to lift it from the tray. The last innocuous looking message he had received had contained the news of his brother’s death – what might this one contain?
Jamison waited. Edward took a steadying breath, and lifted the thing. He held it for a moment, simply looking at it. There was no sender’s name inscribed upon it. It bore simply his name ‘Edward Greenidge’ without any title or salutation. Curiosity stirred within him. He broke the seal, and unfolded it.
He read it through, puzzled at first, and then surprised, and worried. He could feel the frown creasing his brow as he read it again, attempting to take in the possible meaning.
“Edward, you look worried – is this another message of bad news?”
Olivia’s voice brought him out of his reverie, and he looked up, to see Jamison still waiting.
“Jamison, please provide the messenger with food, and a bed. I must consider this carefully before I reply.” Jamison bowed, and left the room. Edward turned to Olivia. “I am not certain what sort of news it is. Perhaps you can help me decide.”
He moved closer to her, and held the paper so that she could see it, as he read it again. It was written in a shaky hand, one he had only ever seen once before, But that once was enough for it to be branded into his memory.
That once had been on the letter which had informed him of Sarina’s death.
In the years in between, the hand had become even shakier, but its distinctive features were the same. The words were simple, but they did not answer any questions – they merely left him puzzled, more each time he read it.
Mr Greenidge,
I hesitated to write this, yet the time has come where I must. Whilst Sarina has been gone for thirteen years, there are still things left undone, secrets kept for far too long, that I must resolve before I leave this earth. I am old, and I have done my best for her, at every stage since her birth. This one last thing must be done, before I am gone.
I beg that you come to me, at Marigold Cottage in Winterwood Downs village, near Reading, that I can impart to you all that you should know, and give you that which is rightfully yours.
With respect, and in hope of your early arrival,
Mildred Bentick.
Olivia looked at him, her brow furrowed.
“Whatever can she mean? This is the woman that Sarina lived with, after she left you?”
“Yes, so it would seem – the hand is the same as that which informed me of Sarina’s death.”
“Will you go?”
“I do not think I can do otherwise. I confess, this makes me intensely curious – what could there be, of Sarina’s, that I should have, which was worth keeping secret for so long? If Mrs Bentick is as old as I believe her to be, I should go as soon as possible – the winter is cold, and if she fears to pass from this life soon, I might otherwise never know the truth of it.”
“Then you will go tomorrow?”
“I believe so. I will send the messenger off again, as soon as he is rested, so that she is forewarned of my arrival. But it will be two days travel to reach her, especially if there has been snow.”
“Edward... might I... might I come with you? I find that my curiosity is as aroused as yours, and I have nowhere that I must be, until Christmastide...”
“Olivia... surely that would cause quite a scandal – widows may be given great licence, but still...”
“I find that I do not care, shocking though that is. I care more to spend the time with you, than to sit alone in the Dower House.”
“Well, I admit that I would appreciate your company, your support. This has been a time of one shock after another. And I also admit that I do not know that I am at all well equipped to deal with a crotchety old woman who may still hate me for having failed the girl she half raised.”
Olivia laughed, and leant to kiss his cheek.
“It is settled then. We had best set things in motion.”
“But... Olivia, we will need to stay overnight in an Inn – it is two days travel.”
“Then we will, for the purposes of Innkeepers, pretend to be married, won’t we?” The breath left Edward in a whoosh, his heart suddenly beating so hard that he wondered she could not hear it. His mind instantly went to the idea of a night alone with her, in a bedchamber at an Inn, and his body reacted to the idea, with considerable enthusiasm. How could he say no? He had intended to ask her to marry him anyway. The moment was gone for that now, and he wanted to discover what this letter presaged, before he did ask – but surely there was no harm... he took a breath.
“If that is how you wish it, Olivia...”
“It is. I find that the idea of being truly scandalously improprietous for the first time in my life has a definite appeal, when it involves you.”
He swept her into a kiss, and his hands skimmed the shape of her as his lips scattered kisses across her lips, down her neck, and onto the upper curve of her breasts, where the thin muslin of her high-necked chemise strained. She gasped, a little moan of desire mixed with surprise, then arched her body against him. His fingers traced the edge of her bodice, feeling the hard peaks of her breasts through the fabric, where they sat, just above the edge of her stays. His mind filled with scandalously erotic images of what he might do to her, in a private Inn room, where no one they knew, and no servant of theirs, could possibly intrude. He lifted his lips to hers again, and she met him, passion for passion, her green eyes glazed with desire.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, they set out early, both feeling as excited as small children might. It seemed an adventure – but Olivia looked forward more to that evening at an Inn, than to their destination – whatever it might contain. She had sent her own carriage on to Hemsbridge Park, with much of her luggage, and only taken a small valise with her. Once their business at Marigold Cottage was done, Edward would take her to Hemsbridge Park.
Now, as the day wore on to evening, they drew into the yard of a prosperous looking Inn, the Sheaf and Stook, in a tiny village which appeared to exist for no reason other than to support the travellers who passed along the highway.
They had made good time, and the roads had been good – a little mud, but no significant snow to worry about. Soon, the coachman and footman were settled into a small room above the stables, and Edward and Olivia, as Lord and Lady Greenwood, were shown into a small suite of rooms on the upper floor.
Once they had eaten, in their small private parlour, and the door was locked behind the departing maid, silence fell. Almost embarrassed, they looked at each other. How did one go about such a thing, Olivia thought – how did a widow take a gentleman to her bed? It was a matter of which she had no experience, for Drummond had always come to her. Edward, it seemed, was equally uncertain. She drew herself up. If she did not act, they might sit here all night, and never get to the point of it.
She held out her hand as she rose from her chair. Eyes wide, and a smile growing on his face, Edward took it. She led him into the bedroom.
Once the door was shut, he pulled her into his arms, and his lips came down upon hers with more force than she had ever felt from him before. Heat rushed through her, making her feel as if a fire raged within, and moisture pooled at the apex of her thighs, in a way unlike anything she had ever before experienced. Within moments, it seemed, they had begun to strip the clothing from each other. A passing thought slipped through her mind – how fortunate that they had both been married, both at least knew how this worked, and were both, it seemed, unafraid of the moment.
Her dress fell away, once he had undone its buttons, and eased if off her shoulders, her stays followed it to the floor. He never stopped kissing her, throughout the process. As his fingers inched up her chemise, and the cool air of the room caressed her heated skin, Olivia felt almost delirious. This was beyond her experience, this intense desire that he roused i
n her, and she welcomed it. All nervousness fell away. He drew back a moment, and lifted her chemise over her head and dropped it to the floor to join the rest of her clothes.
“Olivia... you are beautiful, so beautiful.”
His voice was husky, and she shivered as it seemed to resonate deep within her. No-one had ever told her that she was beautiful in quite that way. She reached for his clothes, determined to have him as naked as she was, as soon as possible. He helped, pulling off his boots, and stripping off his shirt as she undid the buttons of his falls. Soon he stood before her. His face, for a moment, reflected his fear of rejection.
“Edward...”
Olivia reached for him, drawing him to the bed.
That was all it took for him to move past his fear, to allow his desire for her, and all of the pent-up need that he had pushed aside for thirteen long years, to surge up inside him. He tumbled her to the bed, and she lay there, unsure at first, as his kisses trailed down her neck, then to her breasts. But as his tongue found her nipple, she gasped, and thrust herself up to him, sensation running through her like lightning from that point. She reached for him, her hands exploring, and he moaned against her, the vibration of the sound intensifying her pleasure.
Slowly, led only by their joy in finally touching each other, without restraint, they found their way to pleasure, to discovering what each liked, and where the most sensitive spots were. Soon, that slow approach seemed maddening, and Olivia could no longer be anything like still. Her body reacted as it never had before, and she squirmed at his touch, wanting more, pressing herself against him, feeling the hardness of his manhood as he leant over her to kiss her mouth again.
Then his fingers found her core, and she cried out as he stroked her most sensitive part, then thrust his fingers deep into her channel. A pressure rose within her, maddening, terrible, wonderful, all at once. His hand continued its work, and his lips moved to her breasts again. For a moment, she hung suspended in a state of exquisite torture, then she shattered, as she never had before, her mind whirling into what seemed a million pieces, and a heated flow of pleasure filling her whole body.
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