More lies, she thought. It hadn’t been what he meant at all. He wasn’t just displeased with his solicitor’s choice. He meant to cast her off. On top of the very practical reasons why that terrified her, such as being homeless, impoverished and her reputation never recovering from it, it also stung her already beleaguered pride.
“I do not think that it is what you meant at all. I feel that you meant we would live separately. Or that perhaps you mean to end our arrangement. Am I mistaken, my lord?” It was a bold tactic to address the issue so directly but she had to know.
His heavy sigh was answer enough, as was his downcast gaze. She surmised that he didn’t want to look at her directly when he told her he found her wanting.
“I will have to admit that I am considering the possibility, Olympia,” he finally uttered in a tone that was far softer than anything she’d yet heard from him. But when he looked up, meeting her gaze so intently, there was a sadness in his voice. “Darkwood Hall is no place for you.”
It wasn’t that Darkwood Hall wasn’t for her. It was that she wasn’t for him, she thought bitterly. She’d had a few suitors when she’d been younger, before her parents had passed and her aunt and uncle had relegated her to the role of servant. One she’d been quite hopeful of in fact, but in the end, he’d passed her over for another. A younger woman, prettier, with a slim and petite figure so different from her own overly curved one. Even with the meager rations provided by her relatives, her figure had remained undeniably plump.
It had to be said, to be acknowledged. They were both perfectly aware of what he really meant, she thought. “Your solicitor, Mr. Swindon, led me to believe that you were not concerned with either the beauty or fortune of the woman you chose to marry… but rather that expedience was the most important quality. Was he mistaken, then? We have yet to discuss my lack of fortune, which leaves only my appearance as your point of contention… I am sorry you find me displeasing.”
***
It took Griffin a moment to process what she’d said. The truth of the matter was that any higher functioning of his mind had ceased the moment she’d appeared in the doorway, dressed in a borrowed nightrail and a wrapper that had seen better days. He was acutely aware of the lush curves hidden beneath those thin layers of cloth. His palms itched with the need to trace each hill and valley, to learn the contours of her waist and the flare of her hips, to test the weight of her breasts in his hands. The need was so sharp it rendered him near senseless.
She’d been on his mind for the better part of the evening as he labored over his decisions. What was he to do with her? Could he set her up in a house in London or Liverpool and allow her to live an independent life? Swindon had been instructed to find a spinster, a woman with no prospects for whom the sham he offered would be a blessing. Olympia was young, lovely, and should have a husband to dote on her and children to spoil. Those were things he could never give her.
And yet, he couldn’t forget the sensation of her in his arms, or the porcelain perfection of her skin as he’d stared down at her. If he touched her, would it be as soft as it appeared? If he touched her? From the moment she’d entered his dressing room, his thoughts had been preoccupied with how few layers of clothing stood between them and with the thought that it was the first night he would be under the same roof with his new bride. And she had been in his bed. Alone.
As her words penetrated the fog of lust that had robbed him of the ability to speak coherently, he shook his head. “You mistake me, Olympia. There is nothing about you that is displeasing… Did Swindon not mention to you that my bride’s lack of fortune or beauty was of no import because this was to be a marriage in name only?”
Her eyebrows arched and her eyes widened in surprise. “That was not mentioned, my lord. Whyever would you seek such an arrangement?”
“My reasons are not entirely my own and thus I am not at liberty to share them,” he replied. Even if he were, he wouldn’t tell her. The very idea of seeing either pity for him or fear of him in her eyes was more than he could bear. “I had instructed Swindon that he should seek out a plain woman, a spinster… one who would have no other prospects and for whom this would be a boon.”
“And so he did,” she replied.
“No. He most assuredly did not. Olympia, you are many things, but plain could never be one of them… and that will only make our arrangement more difficult,” he continued. How did one tell an innocent woman that their marriage could not possibly work precisely because he desired her too much? He’d wanted her from the moment he’d first laid eyes upon her—facing him down in the rain, refusing to be cowed by him in spite of all she’d been through. He’d thought her utterly magnificent, if mad. And then she’d fainted. Recalling the weight of her in his arms, the sensation of her breath fanning over his cheek as he’d carried her to his horse, his body responded in a way that should have shamed him. His desire for her had been instant and intense. Every encounter with her, every moment in her present, only amplified it.
“You have been too long without the company of women if you do not find me plain,” she replied. “Plain, plump, and poor. Those have been my defining features for the better part of my life. And at five and twenty without a suitor in sight, I can assure you, I most definitely qualify as a spinster.”
He had no argument for that. “I could tell you that you are beautiful but you would not believe me. So I will tell you that I find you quite pretty, instead… Appealing to me in a way that no woman has for a very long time. It is a paltry compliment, but true enough I suppose. You have a quiet prettiness that draws a man, but I cannot afford to be drawn to you. You cannot afford it.”
“What a strange thing to say!” She stared up at him quizzically. Whether she moved closer or he did, he could not say, but they were standing so near that he could see the gooseflesh rise on her skin as another round of wails filtered down the darkened halls. She turned in the direction of the sound and swayed on her feet. He reached out to steady her, but as his hands closed over her forearms, feeling the delicate bones beneath soft, silken skin, he instantly regretted it.
The spark between them flared to glorious life, or perhaps he simply wished to believe that to be true. It justified his actions when he dipped his head and pressed his lips against hers. The taste of her lips was impossibly sweet. Soft and pliant beneath him, she didn’t resist, but perhaps out of shock or ignorance, she did not immediately respond either. He wanted her to. The need to awaken that fire in her, though it was a horrible mistake, compelled him. He wanted her to burn for him just as he burned for her.
Griffin tugged her closer, pressing their bodies together as he explored the tender curve of her mouth. A shudder rippled through her and she sank against him, her lush curves molding against him. It was the worst kind of folly, but for that moment, he was beyond caring.
His hands moved from her forearms, down to her waist, settled on the curve of her hips. Boldly, he swept his tongue beyond the seam of her lips, tasting her fully. She gasped and the spell was broken. Her abrupt retreat had her stumbling, but as he reached for her, she held up one hand to still him.
“I’m quite all right,” she said. “I’ve no need of your assistance.”
“Olympia, it was only a kiss,” he said. The lie burned on his tongue. There was no ‘only’ between the two of them. That simple kiss had incited his passion beyond any trick employed by the most skilled of courtesans. Olympia, innocent, untried and all the sweeter for it, was driving him to the brink of madness. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She glared at him. “Do I appear frightened? Am I cowed? No, my lord, I am not, but neither am I a fool. You’ve said yourself that this was never to be a real marriage… more to the point, you’ve said you aren’t certain if you mean to continue this marriage at all.”
“I did,” he admitted grudgingly. Her anger was entirely justified. She’d upended her entire life so that he might claim an inheritance contingent upon his marriage. Now, because he could
not control his own ravenous libido, he threatened to upend it yet again.
“Then I suggest, my lord,” she continued, each word bitten out in quiet indignation, “that before you bestow any more kisses, you decide once and for all whether or not you mean to cast me off. I can be rejected or I can be ruined, but I refuse to be both.”
There was nothing he could say in response to that. He’d acted rashly and abominably. He should see it as a blessing that she possessed more sense than he did at the moment. “I wish this were simpler… or that I were at liberty to share these ugly truths with you.”
“Then do so. Or do not. But do not feel entitled to a husband’s rights if you refuse to be a husband at all.”
“I do not feel entitled,” he corrected. “It was an impulse. As much as I should regret it, I do not. That single moment has been brighter than any other in my life for sometime. I am sorry you are upset, but find myself incapable of being sorry for my actions.”
She blinked at him, her wide dark eyes clouding with confusion. Finally, she admitted, “I have no idea what to make of this. Or you. I simply do not understand at all. You say I am not plain, and yet you say it almost as if it is an accusation, that because you do not find me so, I have wronged you in some way! And then you kiss me as if—as if…” She trailed off, clearly unable to provide further insight.
“As if I intend to consummate our union?” he provided.
“Yes!” she snapped. “What am I supposed to do, my lord? How should I respond in this situation where I am both desired and reviled?”
“You are not reviled. Not in the least. But I am not free to be the kind of husband you deserve. Fate has certainly played a cruel joke on me… Go back to bed, Olympia. If you hear any more noises in the night, know that they are harmless to you, but this house is not. It is unsafe to wander around in the dark.”
She stared at him for a moment, clearly confused by his behavior before retreating once more to the safety of his chamber. He listened to the door close, but she did not lock it. She should have, he thought. If she had any notion of the nature of his thoughts, or of just how deeply that single kiss had stirred him, she would have run from him. She would have bolted and barricaded the door.
The temptation of her was too much. The servants would have her chamber readied on the morrow. A few walls between them would not be nearly enough for his peace of mind.
In another life, he thought bitterly, she was just the type of woman who would have drawn him. Strong minded and strong in her convictions, but with a sense of calm about her that soothed him, that offered the promise of a peaceful and happy life. But it wasn't simply her demeanor that appealed to him. Nor was it just her intelligence, which she appeared to have in abundance. Olympia possessed a quiet beauty and a figure that invoked every carnal instinct within him.
A wife, children, a happy and peaceful home. Those were the things a man expected to have in life, the things that he strived for. But the promise of those things had long been gone from his life. There was no hope of keeping his distance, but it was imperative that he continually remind himself why theirs could never be the marriage he'd envisioned as a young man, when hope still had a place in his life.
The sound of low, keening wails interrupted his lustful thoughts and prompted another curse. The latest potions were not working. She was growing more restless by the day, but the nights were infinitely worse. There would be more long days spent in the conservatory, studying the many treatises on herbs and plants and mixing one concoction after another. He would have to talk to Mrs. Webster and see what could be done in the meantime.
Griffin glanced once more at the door to his chamber and cursed. He grabbed the candelabra from the table and left via the servants’ entrance. Traversing the narrow stairs, he headed for the conservatory and his studies. Work would be the only reprieve he’d have from his thoughts and foolish dreams.
Four
It had been two days since Olympia had arrived at Darkwood Hall and those two days had been rife with misery. Restricted to her bed the first day because of her ankle and because she wished to avoid further conflict with either the housekeeper or Lord Darke, she was now no longer able or willing to hide in her room. There was a pall hanging over the house, a tension that seemed to fill every nook and cranny of what should have been a grand estate but instead seemed a dark and dreary place.
The nights were the worst, Olympia reflected. The strange cries and moans that seemed to fill the upper floors of the house were haunting. Such pain and misery was impossible to ignore, and yet ignore it she did because it had been made quite clear to that to do otherwise would have severe repercussions. Her position was too tenuous by far to court the ire of either her new husband or his dragon of a housekeeper.
The better part of the night had been spent lying awake in her bed with a pillow pressed to her ears as she tried to block out those awful sounds. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason sleep had eluded her. She was keenly aware of her husband lying in his bed in the room next to hers. After the charged exchange in his dressing room on her first night there, she’d been unable to think of anything else. Lies, kisses, and confrontation — all followed by complete avoidance. Would nothing ever be simple between them, she wondered?
Collins brushed her hair, clucking her tongue over the snarls in it. “I wish I could have braided it last night, m’lady. It wouldn’t have these nasty snarls in it now. You’ve a head of hair to be the envy of any woman, and a poor maid to help you care for it.”
“You’re doing a fine job, Collins… but if you wish to return to being a kitchen maid—.”
“No, m’lady!” the young woman protested. “A position like this one is something I never dreamed of. I’ll do better! I promise, I will!”
“I’m not dismissing you, Collins. Only offering that if it causes you too much distress, you may take another position in the house that you feel suits you better… I prefer simpler hairstyles,” Olympia stated firmly.
Collins said nothing else, but her lips trembled slightly as she gave a sharp nod and returned to her task. When at last her hair was combed out and tied back in a simple ribbon, Olympia rose from her dressing table and looked around for her shawl. Darkwood Hall was drafty and damp, but it wasn’t that which left her cold and shivering.
He’d lied to about what she’d heard. Those sounds she’d heard had not been the wind. They’d been, not human exactly, but close enough. No animal could have made such sounds, but if it had indeed been a woman that Olympia heard in the night, she was broken. Fractured beyond anything Olympia could ken. That sound haunted her. It wasn’t something she was sure she’d ever forget, but it was something that she never wanted to hear again. Had he lied to protect himself, to hide his own misdeeds? It was an option she could not overlook. It also made the ease with which she’d all but forgotten herself in his arms even more alarming.
“You don’t seem quite right this morning, my lady. Was his lordship not kind to you?”
“His lordship has been cordial, Collins. But we’ve barely spoken to one another given my illness yesterday,” Olympia evaded. It wasn’t entirely a lie, she reasoned.
The maid bobbed her head as she retrieved Olympia’s shawl from the wardrobe. In taking the girl on as a maid, she’d had to ask for Mr. Swindon’s approval. He’d granted on the condition that he interviewed the girl to be certain she was a suitable employee for the Viscount.
“Collins, did Mr. Swindon say anything to you about his lordship when he agreed to hire you?” she asked.
“No, m’lady. He said nothing to me beyond asking about where I’d been employed past and if my current employers were satisfied with me… I had to lie to him a bit, m’lady. Is it a bad thing, I’ve done?”
Olympia’s stomach pitched at the reminder. “No, Collins. And prior to that evening, your work had been most satisfactory to my aunt and uncle… as satisfying as anything else was to them, at any rate. They are both horribly dissatisfied people in
general.”
Collins clutched the shawl in her hands, her eyes wide and tears threatening. “You aunt to be sure still is… but your uncle, I doubt he’s much dissatisfied with anything these days.”
Olympia said nothing further. A part of her wanted to offer reassurances, to say that everything would be fine. But she neither knew nor believed it and thus couldn’t force herself to utter the words.
Collins sighed and began straightening Olympia’s meager wardrobe. Eventually it would have to be seen to, but for the time being she had enough clothing of suitable quality that she would not embarrass her husband should they have callers.
As Collins straightened the shawl over Olympia’s shoulder, she added, “I was told nothing about his lordship, but was told to be cautious in this house… was warned of strange goings on.”
Olympia shivered at that, naturally relating to the idea of strange goings on to the wailing she’d heard the previous night. “Did he say what sort of strange goings on?”
“No, m’lady. Just warned me to be careful and not to be wandering about inside the house or out… My grandmother was from these parts. She told tale of beasties here. Giant hounds what could rip a man apart. I’ll not be traipsing about the countryside alone.”
Olympia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really, and you didn’t think to warn me of that before I left the carriage alone yesterday to go wandering around the countryside? Did you not think that would be a pertinent warning then?”
Collins looked at the floor. “I never believed her, m’lady. Just tall tales is all. And I reckoned you’d be brave enough to face down anything.”
There was no point in being angry at the girl and no point in rehashing things that were already said and done. “I am going down to breakfast.”
Once in the corridor, Olympia did not head down the hallway toward the main staircase, but instead went in the opposite direction. At the end of the hall, it split abruptly, with narrower hallways going off to the right and to the left. As she was deciding which way to go, a door at the end of the left corridor opened and Mrs. Webster appeared. The woman stopped abruptly.
A Love So Dark (The Dark Regency Series Book 4) Page 3