She lowered her hands and tossed the mask aside, causing a slightly metallic clink as it hit the marble floor.
“Bloody hell, what in the name of all that is holy is going on!” Mr. Sheppard’s voice startled Olivia since she had quite forgotten he was present! She turned and met his confused and angry gaze.
“I — Mr. Sheppard… could you please give us a moment?” she asked kindly, folding her hands in front of her.
“I— that is— no.” He stuttered then broadened his stance in a resolute manner. “You cannot remain unaccompanied with this gentleman. Especially this gentleman! Do you have any idea what would happen to your reputation should you be found with him? Or yours?” His gaze shot to Lord Langley.
“Curtis—“
“Don’t you Curtis me! I’ve defended you, been your loyal friend, and this is the treatment I receive? Your deceit? Your corruption of whatever moral fiber you previously possessed.” Cutis shook his head.
“Mr. Sheppard—“
“No. Forgive me, but you don’t know the man Langley has become. The man your sister made him. The fact that you’re standing here, kissing him tells me that you haven’t a clue as to what truly happened with Marybelle. Because if you did, you, my dear, would be running to the safety of the ballroom as fast as your little slippered feet could carry you.” He snorted in disgust as he glared at Langley, defiance blazing in his eyes.
Olivia shifted her gaze to Langley, watching, as he seemed to struggle between anger and acceptance.
With a defeated sigh, he met her gaze. “Mr. Sheppard is correct. And my…” He glanced to his friend as he continued. “…last shreds of dignity…” He turned back to Olivia. “…require that I act as a gentleman. Which I, admittedly, haven’t acted as such tonight. For that, please forgive me, Miss Olivia.” He bent slightly, picked up her hand, and kissed it tenderly. Without a further word, he left. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the hall as Olivia watched the proud stance of his back. He didn’t return to the ballroom, but made a left, one that would lead him toward the foyer and presumably, to his carriage home.
“Damn the man,” Curtis swore.
Olivia turned to him, unsure as to how to proceed. Anger, contempt, and disappointment all welled within her, focusing on him as a target.
She opened her mouth to say something, but thinking of nothing that would even remotely come close to conveying her displeasure or her confusion, she simply shook her head and walked away.
“Miss Olivia!” Curtis called in an overly loud whisper.
Olivia ignored him and picked up her pace. The ballroom was just beyond, and, if she hurried, she could make it without having to address Mr. Sheppard.
“Please wait. I can explain.”
Anger stealing her common sense, she spun on her heel and changed directions. Aggressing toward him, she watched as he stumbled to a halt, and his eyes widened.
“The question is not if you should explain, but if you’re the one who should explain. Tell me, Mr. Sheppard, is it your secret to tell? Or in telling me would you be, in fact, committing the very same crime of which you previously convicted your friend? Or is friendship so easily bought and sold today that you were willing to throw it to the wind over a small matter?” she asked directly.
“I don’t think it was any small matter, Miss Olivia,” he whispered, his gaze softening.
“Regardless, any explanation I receive should come from the source, or else it’s no better than the gossip from an old dowager.” She turned abruptly and walked toward the crowded ballroom.
“Even if that means you never learn the truth of what happened with your sister?” Mr. Sheppard called out.
Olivia paused. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh. Turning she focused on Mr. Sheppard. “Yes. Even if that means I never learn the truth. You see, that is where I keep my integrity intact, Mr. Sheppard.” With that, she turned and walked into the ballroom, intent on finding her parents.
If she pleaded a headache, perhaps they would be swayed to leave early. And it wouldn’t be a lie either. Lips trembling, she felt a pounding in her heart and head that reminded her that one can be close, yet still so very far away.
Too far.
And that might mean that she never knew the truth.
But more importantly, it might mean she never found herself in Lord Langley’s company again. Because, in spite of what Mr. Sheppard had said, Olivia knew Lord Langley’s character. And it had only been proven when he walked away.
Because it was for her sake that he’d done it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EDWARD HUNG HIS HEAD as he sat up on his bed and cursed the seeming eternal night hours. He had immediately left the Symth Masquerade and come home, only to find that he was a man haunted.
Only this time, he wasn’t haunted by Marybelle’s memory, rather her deception.
But haunted by her sister’s kiss.
For the first hour after his arrival, he had half-expected Curtis to show up and beat him bloody.
He would have let him, not even putting up a fight.
Because he deserved every blow, every drop of blood that would have been drawn. It would have been his penance for his utter lack of honor, lack of control.
Yet, as remorseful as he was for his actions, he would do it all over again.
Closing his eyes, he remembered the fresh and inviting fragrance of her skin, the bright hue of her guileless eyes. The soft form of her body sent his blood to racing simply from memory. When Curtis had interrupted their kiss, Edward felt sure that his heart had stopped. He was planning on telling her, but when Curtis bit out his name like an oath, it felt like blow to his midsection, stealing his air.
He was so sure she’d run, slap him, or call him a rake of the first order.
But she hadn’t.
Rather she’d looked up at him with those shimmering blue eyes and smiled.
She bloody grinned like a fool!
Why? More than anything, he wanted to know why. True, she had been asking Curtis for information regarding him, but he had always assumed it had been because of her sister, even when Curtis had hinted that it wasn’t that simple.
Could he be right?
Or was it even simpler?
He didn’t dare allow himself to hope that she might have interest in him. It would be insane, not to mention forbidden by her parents.
He was forsaken by her family, forsaken because of someone else’s sin. Someone else’s weakness.
Forsaken because of his own.
He had given up on love, on life. Become a shell, yet with one evening in her company, one kiss from her lush lips, he felt himself rising. Rather, he felt hope. Something he didn’t deserve.
He had accepted his fate, allowing the bitterness to rule him, to feed him, nourish his life only to discover now, that rather that sustain him, it was stealing his life breath by breath, moment by moment till so little of who he was remained, he hardly recognized himself.
Curtis was right. He had no business with one such as her, one so… pure.
Yet he craved her like water, like air.
But it was futile. Even if he wanted to see her, he wouldn’t be admitted into her house.
She could never come to his.
Any social function was out of the question. The worst part? He was a victim of his own terms. He was the one who’d set up the perimeters for Olivia’s family after the deception of Marybelle had been uncovered. He was the one responsible for the reason he could never approach her in public or private.
A humorless laugh escaped his lips.
Of course, all this was simply the musings of madness. Who was to say that she even would want to see him after what had happened? True, she had smiled, but how much did that signify? She hadn’t tried to stop him when he left.
Edward stood and paced around his room. He needed to get out, to breathe.
Slipping on his robe, he went down the stairs and into his study to lose himself in a snifter of brandy. Cursin
g his weakness he, reached the door and let himself in, thankful for the light of a low-burning fire in the grate. The smoldering light matched his mood. He made a direct route to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a large serving of the amber liquid. Lifting it to his lips, he inhaled the sweet poignant scent of it, then lowered it.
Alcohol only made memories stronger.
And right now all he wanted to do was forget anything, forget everything.
Yet that seemed to be his curse: he was unable to forget.
With a curse, he threw the crystal glass into the fire, causing a roaring flame to illuminate the study with a powerful glow before dying down and crackling.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Curtis’ dark voice drew his attention from the flames and to the far corner of the study, where his friend sat and watched him. He was still in his evening kit, though his cravat was no longer tied and his jacket had long been removed, judging by the skewed and wrinkled quality of his white shirt.
“Apparently its an epidemic tonight,” Edward answered after a moment.
“Indeed.”
Edward watched his friend for a moment, studying him.
“I’m not going to attack you, though the thought did have some merit.” Curtis shrugged and leaned back into the leather chair.
“It’s not to say I don’t deserve it,” Edward responded quietly.
“Hell yes, you do.” Curtis shook his head, snorting in derision. “But I was out of line as well. For that I owe you an apology.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ll not repeat myself,” Curtis snapped.
“At which point were you out of line, Curtis? When you were saving an innocent from a gentleman she didn’t know stealing her kiss? Or was it when you revealed my identity when I was trying to remain hidden for my own benefit? Though, I must defend myself and say that I was going to tell her. Regardless, that doesn’t justify my actions! You had every right to save her from me, and truthfully, save me from myself. But at this point, I fear there’s not much worth saving.” Edward sighed heavily and took a seat next to his friend, who was watching him with a narrowed expression.
“Bloody hell, you’re such an — idiot. You really think that my intentions were so honorable?” He snorted. “I wanted her for myself, you nodcock! I’d love to sit here and pretend I was honorable, but the truth is, I’m no better than you. She told me as much as well,” Curtis confessed, his tone bitter yet accepting.
“Pardon?”
“What, did you suddenly lose your hearing?” Curtis stood and walked about in an agitated manner.
“Er, no. I’m simply surprised that she would say—“
“Oh, she gave me quite a tongue-lashing. Here I was, trying to come to her rescue, and instead, she comes to yours. When I think of all the time I spent with her, falling for her, and all I had done was delude myself into thinking that she’d want me, not you. That, my friend, is where I was wrong. And my bloody pride got in the way. I see that now.”
“That’s where your mistaken. I’m a mystery. She doesn’t want me— She simply wants to know about me. It’s quite different. And after tonight, I’m quite sure that she’ll not be interested,” Edward replied, then, before he could stop the words from being spoken, he continued. “Regardless of your own agenda, you did save her from me. And it’s apparent she holds some fondness of you. I’m sure if you nurture—“
“Damn it, Langley. You’re losing your hearing, and you’re going blind — that is the only excuse I can think of. Did you somehow miss her beautiful smile the moment I said your name? Or maybe you missed the fact that she utterly forgot my presence as soon as she removed your mask, which I must say, was innocently erotic? I had to glance away!” He looked heavenward as if searching for patience then he turned to face Edward. “And if you don’t wipe that confused look from your face, and if you dare say pardon once more, I will lay you flat with my fist, am I clear?” Curtis growled.
“Understood—“
“I just have one question.” Curtis interrupted.
“Yes?” Edward answered.
Curtis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you love her?”
“Do I love her?”
“Yes. Did you kiss her tonight to humiliate her, to provoke some sick sort of revenge because of her whore of a sister, or did you kiss her because you finally realized she was everything I said, everything I saw and had fallen for myself?” Curtis asked, his tone no longer angry; rather, it was tired, weary.
“She is everything you said, Curtis, and more. She is kind. I know that doesn’t seem like much, but kindness is utterly unappreciated. Few people are truly kind. Honesty pours from her, along with a guileless nature that can’t be imitated. Her character, her wit I’ve learned through the conversations we’ve had concerning her, but when I spoke with her, danced with her, it was as if it all fit together, creating the most alluring, beautiful creature ever fashioned, and I was powerless to stop myself from taking every moment I could. So, to answer your question, it wasn’t for revenge that I kissed her. It was for… hope. Because for the first time since Marybelle’s death, I discovered something more powerful than my own bitterness and regret.” Edward watched his friend, met his gaze, hoping his friend could read the sincerity of his words in his expression.
“Damn it all, that’s what I was afraid of,” Curtis swore and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well… what a fine mess we’ve made of this. What are we going to do?”
“To do?”
“Yes, you’re not going to just give up, are you? I bloody well thought better of you than that.” Curtis threw up his hands in exasperation. “You can just walk away!”
Edward chuckled darkly and without humor. “Just what exactly do you think I should do? Approach her father and ask for permission to court his other daughter? Or perhaps I should ask her to dance at the next ball? That wouldn’t cause a stir.” Edward spoke sarcastically.
“You do have a point.”
Edward arched an eyebrow at his friend.
Curtis narrowed his eyes and began to pace. His frame moved before the fire, casting a shadow about the room as he walked. Edward crossed over to his desk and stood behind his chair. He gripped the wood on the back of the seat as his fingers flexed.
“What if…” Edward began, unsure of how to proceed. A plan was just beginning to take form. It was utterly foolish, a hair-brained scheme that would usually only take form in his nightmares. Yet he found himself willing to risk it, for if it worked, the reward would be indeed priceless.
That was, of course, assuming that Curtis was correct about Olivia’s regard for him.
A minor detail that had the ability to either make his plan an epic failure or success.
But the rub was that for it to work, he had to take the risk blindly, not knowing if she, indeed, did return his affection.
Bloody miserable risky love.
Could he do it?
Was it worth it?
“Edward? You didn’t finish your sentence. And among my many splendid talents, mindreading isn’t one of them,” Curtis drolled, his tone wry.
“What if…”
“You’ve said that already.”
“I’m aware. But what if I remove the obstacles?”
“Obstacles? As in the agreement?” Curtis’ brow furrowed deeply. “The agreement between yourself and Marybelle’s parents? Rather Olivia’s parents?”
Edward took a deep breath, then nodded.
“That would work as far as allowing you the freedom in your pursuit of Olivia… but, I must ask, do you realize what such an… action would require?” Curtis asked slowly, his gaze severe.
Edward glanced down to his hands, still gripping the top of the chair. His knuckles were white, his tendons tight under his flesh. “Indeed.”
“Then… I think you should do it,” Curtis responded.
Edward’s gaze shot up to meet his friend’s. “You do?”
“Yes. Honestly, it’s the only course of a
ction I believe you have.”
“Don’t I know, damn it all.”
“It’s quite a risk.” Curtis spoke after a moment.
“I know,” Edward whispered. His hands were aching from his tight grip.
“But I think the reward is worth it.”
“It is,” Edward answered immediately. “Though why she’d ever find anything redeeming in me is a mystery. You of all people know my forsaken past.”
“Ah, yes. The Forsaken Lord. I quite forgot about your self-inflicted nickname.” Curtis shook his head. “The only one who betrayed you is no longer here to torment us mortals. And bitterness is a cold bed partner, my friend. It’s good to move on, to leave the past as dead and cold as Marybelle’s heart. Though I must say, God has a sense of humor to have the redeemer of your wretched heart in the form of Marybelle’s sister. That’s irony for you.” Curtis chuckled.
“To say the least.”
“Though, when you consider it, it is quite perfect. The one that hurt you is sister to the one who will heal. Poetic.”
“It’s bloody petrifying.”
“I’m sure it is, but isn’t that the glory of love? How many wars have been fought over a woman? How many men have given their lives freely for the sake of love? Is it not what compels us? What takes our mere humanity and transforms it into a supernatural determination to exceed our own limits?” Curtis strode over to him and patted him on the back. “Edward, it’s time to let go.”
Edward met his friend’s gaze and watched as he lowered it till it fell on his vice-grip on the chair back.
“Let go, Edward.”
With a heavy sigh, Edward released his aching fingers. Stiff from exertion, he clenched his fist and released it, working out the tension.
“Let it go and hold onto something far more wonderful than your hatred. Hold on to love.”
Edward chuckled without any joy. “Or at least the hope of it. Eh, my friend?”
Curtis shook his head and chuckled. “Indeed. Now, since we’re not going to have pistols at dawn over the girl, I think I’ll try to get some sleep. You should too. You have a lot to do in the morning, and you, my friend, look like hell.”
The Forsaken Love of A Lord Page 8