by Sara Lindsey
“I—You—Allowed?” Olivia sputtered.
“Yes, I knew what was going to happen. When a man in the grip of violent emotions insists on carrying the woman who riled those emotions up to her room, there are exactly two possible outcomes: Either he is going to blister her ears and backside before making love to her, or, if the woman is clever, she will find a way to make him forget the first and get straight to the lovemaking.”
“You might have shown a bit more concern for my backside,” Livvy muttered.
“I should hope any niece of mine would be clever enough to divert a man’s interest.” Aunt Kate winked. “Sometimes love just needs a nudge in the right direction.”
Olivia frowned. “He hasn’t said he loves me.”
“Give him time,” her aunt urged. “Men are a bit slow in that regard.”
Her mother had come over then, effectively putting an end to the conversation, but the thought continued to nag at her. Jason’s being so far away hadn’t helped matters, but he had needed to see to estate matters, while she had wanted to go home and see to wedding preparations, so they had agreed to separate on the understanding that Jason would join her, special license in hand, at Weston Manor no later than a week before they were to wed. Aunt Kate and Charlotte had traveled with her, and to her surprise, Jason had agreed to her aunt’s suggestion that Edward accompany them. Not only would it mean less tiring travel for Edward, she had pointed out, but it would also give him and Olivia more time to get to know each other before she became his stepmother. Livvy’s heart had swelled with the knowledge that Jason trusted her with his son. She knew how difficult it was for him to relinquish any sort of control, and giving Edward over into her care could not have been easy.
Her family had taken to Edward immediately, and he to them. Livvy had feared he might be overwhelmed by the general chaos of Weston Manor, but Edward had quickly adapted to his surroundings. Within a few days, it had become as normal to hear him shouting and running about as any of the other children. She had cautioned everyone that if Edward displayed any signs of being unwell or out of breath, they were to turn to quieter pursuits. She was also armed with oxymel of squills, coltsfoot water, and syrup of ipecac, for while in London she had sent to an apothecary for some of the remedies suggested in the various herbals and treatises on pharmacy she had read at Arlyss. Naturally, she had no need of them—one never did when one was prepared.
Aunt Kate’s idea to have Edward accompany them was a wise one, for Edward’s great popularity had certainly predisposed her family to like Jason. Livvy had been present earlier that week when Jason had formally asked for her hand. Her father had said yes, of course, but he’d also said that the time he’d spent with Edward had told him everything he needed to know about Jason in order to give them his blessing.
Aside from wanting to hear three little words from Jason, life was nigh perfect. Well, except for the fact that Jason was staying at Sheffield Park, the neighboring estate belonging to her sister Isabella and her husband. Whenever Jason visited at Weston Manor they were surrounded by her family, which put a definite damper on random acts of ardor.
She had spent the first three weeks she was home anticipating what she would do when she saw him. That had been trying enough. To have to wait another week, especially when he was within ravishing distance, was torturous. Jason was faring little better. He had told her yesterday that as soon as the vicar pronounced them man and wife, he was taking her upstairs and making love to her until they collapsed, and the guests could go hang. Her cheeks hadn’t stopped flaming for hours.
Only one more day, she told herself.
Though Jason had not yet given her the words she most longed to hear, he had brought other news that warmed her heart and filled her with delight. He had asked Charles to stand up with him at their wedding. She’d been worried Jason wouldn’t be able to forgive Charles for his part in the weeks leading up to Laura’s death, but he hadn’t said a single bad thing about his brother-in-law.
Perhaps, Livvy thought, Jason’s remorse over thinking Laura an adulteress had softened him toward Charles. At least, she supposed he was remorseful. They hadn’t discussed the situation. She hadn’t had the time—or the inclination, if she was truly honest—to talk about it. Now Charles was coming, she could ask him just what had been said that night.
Now where was he?
Jason had said Charles was to ride up from London today, and though he would be staying at Sheffield Park with Jason, she had left strict instructions that Charles was to come visit her directly he arrived. As it was the day before the wedding, Jason was to stay away on pain of death.
She heard the faint thunder of hoofbeats just before Charles’s curricle appeared at the end of the drive. Olivia hurried to the front door, yelling to Caldwell, their butler, that he needn’t bother getting up.
Charles had just handed the reins to a groom when Olivia pounced on him. He returned her enthusiastic hug. “Hello, my soon-to-be sis! Miss me?”
Olivia led him inside. “At the moment I can’t imagine why, but I actually did. Do you realize I haven’t seen you since, well, that night.”
“If by ‘that night’ you mean the night you were caught trying to enter my building, mistaken for a thief and tossed into gaol . . .”
“Keep your voice down,” Olivia hissed. “My mother has been so focused on the wedding she hasn’t found out about that yet, and I would like to keep it that way as long as possible!”
“Olivia, dear,” her mother’s voice came floating down to them from a floor above. “Is that Sir Charles I hear with you?”
“Yes,” Olivia responded as Charles called up, “Hello, Lady Weston.”
“Did I hear something about a thief and gaol?” she asked from the landing of the stairs.
“No.” Livvy’s voice was firm. “You heard nothing of the sort.”
Charles began to laugh, but he quickly covered it with a cough. “Ah, no. I’m afraid you must have misheard me.”
Her mother appeared before them with a quick wink. “I doubt it. Welcome to Weston Manor, Sir Charles. I am very pleased to meet you. I’m sorry my husband isn’t here to greet you as well, but he and Henry, my oldest nuisance, are out dealing with a situation that’s come up.”
“Nothing too serious, I hope,” said Charles.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. They never did say what it was. Truth be told, they might have made the whole thing up as an excuse to get out of the house. Men are so wonderfully missish about weddings. My sister tells me you’re not yet wed. There will be some lovely girls here tomorrow. Miss Merriwether is such a sweet—”
“Mother!”
“Oh, come. You are going to be married tomorrow. You of all people should be preaching the joys of wedded bliss.”
“As far as you are concerned, I haven’t the faintest notion what wedded bliss is or how one comes by it,” Livvy muttered.
“Olivia Jane Weston!”
Livvy grinned and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Don’t worry. After tomorrow I’ll be someone else’s problem. And with regards to Miss Merriwether, we both know she only has eyes for one gentleman.”
“And your brother hardly knows she exists.” Her mother sighed. “On the one hand, I hope Jason knows what he’s getting into. On the other, I pray he doesn’t find out until it’s too late.”
“I think it’s safe to say he’s had a fair taste of her, Lady Weston,” Charles assured her.
“More than a taste,” Olivia muttered under her breath.
“I will pretend I did not hear that, dearest.” She turned her attention back to Charles. “We’ve come to know your nephew over the past month, and he’s quite one of the family now. I hope you will make yourself at home here as well. We don’t stand on ceremony, though I have tried to instill some sense of propriety in my children. Not that I imagine you’ve seen any evidence of it in this one. I know she looks the quiet type, but if there’s some sort of trouble, my Livvy is usually in it up to he
r neck.”
A choking, strangled sound emerged from Charles. “You don’t say.”
Olivia could tell Charles was only just managing to hold back his laughter, so she put her hands on her hips and faced her mother. “Have I any other character flaws you wish to point out or may I show our guest around?”
“Oh, by all means. You might take a walk and enjoy the sunshine, for I doubt it will last. Caldwell tells me his knees anticipate a storm. Caldwell is our butler, Sir Charles, and his knees have been predicting the weather with startling accuracy for well over a decade.”
“Then we had best go now,” Livvy remarked. “Come, we can go out to the gardens through the study.”
“Your mother is frighteningly perceptive,” Charles said once they were outside.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she muttered as they began to walk through the meticulously tended formal garden.
“Very well. I doubt you know that your husband-to-be is the subject of much speculation, having ordered a frightful number of gothic novels from Hookham’s.”
“He didn’t!” she gasped.
“Indeed he did. There’s a wager in the betting book at White’s over whether he is in love or whether he has descended into madness.”
“I am scared to ask which side you put your money on.”
He clapped a hand over his heart. “You wound me. The man is most assuredly mad—”
“Charles!” she exclaimed.
“—madly in love.”
“He is not,” she protested, even as her heart raced at the thought.
“Head over heels,” he insisted. “I must thank you, by the way. I am still shocked that Jason asked me to stand up with him. When he showed up at my apartments last week I thought he was coming to call me out, but he never said a word. Whatever did you say to him?”
Olivia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you obviously broke the news gently, seeing as how well he’s taken it.”
She froze. No, he couldn’t mean . . .
“What are you talking about?” she asked in a quavering voice.
“Has love addled your wits? About Laura, of course.”
“There is no ‘of course’ about it.” She strode rapidly to a nearby marble bench and sat before her knees gave out. “Are you saying that you never spoke with Jason that night?”
“I was just about to tell him,” he said, seating himself beside her, “but then Jason recognized you as the thief and I didn’t have the chance. I had planned to come around the next day to speak with him, but when I received Katherine’s note, I figured the two of you had set things straight.”
Olivia felt her world tilt on its axis.
“He doesn’t know,” she whispered. “What am I to do?”
“I hardly think now is the time to tell him. Everyone seems to be in good spirits, and that’s bound to put a damper on things.”
“He doesn’t know,” she repeated brokenly.
Charles looked at her askance. “Livvy, are you all right?”
“No,” she snapped. “I am not all right. You told me you would tell him.”
“And I would have, but I didn’t plan on having the evening interrupted with a mad race to Bow Street.” His tone softened. “Look, does it really matter if he knows? He’s happy now and—”
“Do you know what he said to me?” she demanded. “He told me women are incapable of fidelity.”
“Well, unless I am much mistaken in your character, you’ll prove him wrong in fifty years or so.”
“Don’t you see? I don’t want to have to prove anything. I need him to trust me. How could I possibly marry a man who believes that, at some point, I will betray him? Without trust, there can’t be love. I thought he just needed time—” Her throat clogged with unshed tears.
Charles handed her his handkerchief.
Perhaps she could use it to bandage her heart.
This was why she hadn’t wanted to fall in love. She’d known it would end in disappointment, but oh, how it hurt to be right. She had let herself get swept up in the excitement of being in love, forgetting the basic law of gravity. She had spent the past month transported to the heights of happiness, and now she had to face the painful fall back to reality. A reality where the man she loved didn’t love her. Might never love her.
And she was supposed to marry him on the morrow.
She wasn’t sure she could bear it.
She shot to her feet and began to pace. Panic flooded through her, making her frantic. “I have to go away. If he sees me, he’ll know something is wrong. I can’t talk to him. He’ll find some way to convince me to go through with it. I know he will.” She knew she was babbling hysterically, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “You don’t know what it’s like. I have no defense against him.” She raised her hands to her face and began to weep.
She felt Charles’s hands on her shoulders, guiding her back to the bench. She sank down wearily, exhausted by the violent outburst of emotion.
“Come, Livvy, you need to calm down or you’ll make yourself sick.”
She drew in a shuddering breath, fighting for composure.
Charles squeezed her shoulder. “There’s a girl. Now, what’s this talk of going away?”
“I can’t stay here. I know it’s wrong and selfish, but I can’t bear to face everyone. Especially not Edward. He won’t understand.”
Charles eyed her warily. “Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
“I can’t marry him. Not like this. Not while he doesn’t trust me not to betray him. Without trust, there can’t be love. You know I love him. I love him with my whole heart, but his heart is still too broken to love me back. Learning the truth about Laura might help heal his heart, or it might not, but I can’t marry him until I know if he’ll ever be able to love me back. You have to tell him, Charles.”
He took his hand from her shoulder, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Livvy, but I’m not going to break off your engagement for you.”
“Doesn’t it matter that I wouldn’t be engaged if you had kept up your half of the bargain and told Jason the truth?”
“And so I would have if I hadn’t been interrupted by a mad dash to Bow Street.”
“So this is my fault?” she demanded angrily.
“I prefer to think of it as a misunderstanding, but if you insist on pointing fingers, then yes, you are as much to blame as anyone for the current state of affairs.”
That wasn’t fair. Jason had lied to her. He’d said—She paused, thinking back to the morning he’d told her they were to be married. He hadn’t asked her, she realized, but she supposed he could be forgiven that presumption given the circumstances. But he’d told her his feelings had changed because of Laura, hadn’t he? She grasped at the fragments of conversation lingering in her memory.
No, she realized with dawning horror, he hadn’t said anything about Laura. All he’d said was that the previous night had changed things. She had assumed he was referring to learning the truth about Laura because that was what she’d wanted to hear. When she’d voiced her concerns about his claim that women were incapable of fidelity, he hadn’t said he’d changed his mind. All he had said were four words that might have referred to any number of happenings, but which she suspected were intentionally vague.
Last night changed things.
Four meaningless words.
No, not meaningless. She’d given them meaning—the one she wanted to hear. She hadn’t pressed the matter because his words suited her. Charles was right. She had no one to blame but herself.
Charles sighed. “Look, Livvy, regardless of who, if anyone, is at blame, this talk of leaving is nonsense, and you know it. Besides, where would you go?”
The answer came to her in a flash. She needed to be in the library at Haile Castle. Everything there followed a perfect, rational, logical order, which she had created. She was in control there . . . and it was where she’d first started loving Jason. It didn�
�t matter that it was far away. It was the perfect place to hide, lick her wounds, and try to make sense of her confused emotions. And Jason would never think to look for her there.
“I’m going to Haile Castle.” She began marching toward the house, her chin raised high in the air, defying Charles to tell her she couldn’t do it.
He didn’t disappoint. “To Scotland? Are you mad? How do you think you’re going to get there, my girl?”
“I have some money saved up. I can ride as far as Chelmsford, and from there I shall take the stage to Edinburgh. I expect I can hire a post chaise for the remainder of the trip.”
“Good God, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “I know running away is the coward’s way out, and I understand if you despise me for it, but I need to go someplace where I can think. I hardly know my own mind anymore.”
“All right. You win, Livvy. If you need to go so badly, I’ll take you.”
“You will?”
He sighed. “I will. Jason will likely kill me for taking you, but he would also kill me if I let you try to get to Scotland on your own. Go get your things while I see to the horses. Be quick about it, mind you, lest I come to my senses and change my mind.”
“What do you mean, she’s gone? Gone where?” Jason frowned at his soon-to-be father-in-law.
Lord Weston had burst into the drawing room of Sheffield Park only moments before, his son, Henry, close on his heels.
“I mean she’s missing.” The older man raked a hand through his already disheveled hair.
Olivia’s hair. Jason had made a close study of Lord and Lady Weston, trying to puzzle out which parent she had inherited her features from. Her hair and her sense of humor had come from her father. Her blue eyes and quick wit were clearly a gift from her mother. That cute, pert nose seemed to be uniquely her own. And as for her mouth, well, it didn’t matter who had given it to her, as it was his now.