“Good day.” Olivia stared after the lady. Proof? What possible kind of proof could Olivia offer that would convince Lady Wyldewood that there was no future to be had with her son?
They had both changed too much to go back. They would be traveling companions, partners, even friends after a fashion but nothing more. He had broken her heart once and only a fool would trust her heart again to the same man. As for Lady Wyldewood’s comment that Olivia was only fooling herself, why that was absurd.
Still, even as her mind turned to the myriad of details she had to attend to in preparation for travel, she couldn’t entirely ignore the older lady’s charge. Just as her gaze could never resist straying to the painting of Great-aunt Wilomena, the idea that she harbored any hope of a life with Sterling lingered in her thoughts.
Apparently, Olivia too would require proof.
Eight
Swim naked in a warm sea.
From the secret list of desires of Olivia Rathbourne
It was not difficult to understand why Sterling had described travel as tedious. It did seem endless. Still, Olivia thought every moment exciting and invigorating. At long last, she was going somewhere. She was doing something. No matter how eager she was to reach their destination, the journey itself was an adventure.
Sterling had chosen to travel almost entirely by sea, and they were in their third day aboard a packet steamer they’d taken from London. Four more days, and they’d arrive in Marseilles, where they would board another ship that would take five days to transport them to Egypt. Sterling had admitted that traveling from London to Dover, crossing the Channel, taking a train to Paris and another train to Marseilles would have been a bit faster but not, he had said, as efficient. Apparently, he had found the idea of transferring two ladies with their assorted baggage from one mode of transport to another somewhat daunting. Olivia further suspected he feared, once in Paris, it would be difficult, or impossible, to keep his mother from lingering in the French capital. On that point, Olivia had to agree. She too would be hard-pressed to simply transfer from one train to another without experiencing some of the sights of Paris.
She’d never been to Paris, but then again, she’d never been anywhere. Her mother had died when she was so young that she did not remember her at all. Her upbringing had been delegated first to her father’s spinster sister, who had died when Olivia was ten, then to a series of governesses. All of whom, upon reflection, were quite nice and even affectionate in their own ways. And each and every one had instilled in Olivia the desire to one day see as much of the world as possible.
Her marriage had put an end to any hope of travel beyond the daylong carriage ride from the manor in the country, where Olivia preferred to spend her solitary days, to the London house whenever her late husband had required the presence of a perfect wife. But even as she was a prisoner in her own life, her mind had been unencumbered by the restraints imposed on her. In the years of her marriage, Olivia had devoured books about travel and foreign lands. She’d read of the history of countries both familiar and unknown, in Europe and Asia and Africa and the Americas. She’d learned of strange exotic customs and fascinating peoples who lived in places both civilized and savage. And through the years, the desire to see what she’d only read about moved closer to the top of her list. And comforted her soul.
She leaned on the railing of the ship and gazed at the water rushing by. It didn’t bother her in the least that she would not see Paris on this trip. She was as eager as Sterling to be done with this trek. The sooner she acquired the items necessary to meet the terms of her late husband’s will, the sooner she would have her inheritance and be free to do whatever she wished. Then she would see Paris and Vienna and Rome. Then she would travel to America and Morocco and India. Then she would live and breathe.
And perhaps she would have a scandalous affair with a French count or allow herself to be seduced at a Venetian masked ball by a stranger or swim naked in the Aegean with a Greek god. Once she was a woman of independent means, she might never reside in London again. After all, there was nothing to keep her there.
“I thought I would never be alone with you again.” Sterling’s chuckle sounded beside her.
She straightened and glanced at him. The breeze ruffled his dark hair, and in spite of the eminently proper nature of his attire, he looked more relaxed and at ease than she had seen him since she had first asked for his help. But then she couldn’t recall when she had last felt so calm and serene. Still, she suspected the Earl of Wyldewood was seldom relaxed and at ease.
“I see the sea air agrees with you.”
He rested his forearms on the railing and gazed out at the horizon. “Apparently.” He smiled. “I cannot remember the last time I had nothing to occupy every minute of my day. There is something to be said for enforced idleness.”
She studied his profile, strong and resolute and far too familiar from the dreams of a decade. “Perhaps you should experience travel more often.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t the time. I have far too many responsibilities to abandon them. Nor do I have the desire to do so.” He slanted her a quick grin. “It is perhaps what makes me so dull.”
She bit back a smile. “Yes, I imagine that’s why.”
He laughed. “I like being on the sea though. The water stretches endlessly, and one can only wonder what adventures lie ahead.”
“Adventures?” She raised a brow. “From the staid, proper Earl of Wyldewood? Do take care, Sterling, or you shall lose your dull reputation altogether.”
“I very much doubt that will happen.” He paused for a moment. “Being aboard a ship reminds me of things I have never done. Roads not taken if you will. When we were children, my brothers and I would talk of becoming adventurers and explorers. And play at being pirates and smugglers in the attic.”
“Pirates and smugglers? You?”
“We had an ancestor who was engaged in smuggling. Adventure must run in our blood, or at least in my brothers’ blood.” He glanced at her. “Don’t mention it to my mother. She’s quite proud of our ancestry, and I don’t think she knows.”
“From what I know of your mother, I daresay she’d find a smuggler in the family exciting.” Indeed, Lady Wyldewood—or rather Millicent as she’d insisted Olivia call her as they were to be friends—seemed to find every step of their journey so far an adventure.
Olivia had discovered it was surprisingly nice to have the older woman along, not that she had opposed her accompanying them in the first place. If for no other reason than to provide a shield between her and Sterling. But Olivia hadn’t had a friend for so very long and had quite forgotten how delightful it was to exchange confidences and gossip with another female. Olivia was certain that, by the time they returned to London, Millicent would have acquainted her with every scandalous tidbit of the last ten years. Millicent Harrington did seem to know everything there was to know about everyone worth knowing.
Certainly Millicent’s presence had meant changing Olivia’s plans somewhat. For one thing, she had found herself bringing a great deal more luggage than she had anticipated. Millicent had insisted they each bring along eveningwear because one never knew when one might be invited to an unexpected social event even in Egypt and one should be properly prepared. And, of course, between the older lady and Josiah, she and Sterling were very rarely alone.
“I imagine you were an excellent smuggler.”
He shook his head. “I was never the smuggler. I was the intrepid Earl of Wyldewood, agent of the crown. I was the courageous hunter of smugglers and other nefarious brigands.” He cast her a wicked grin. “And I was the rescuer of fair maidens.”
She laughed. “And have you rescued many fair maidens?”
“You are my first.” His grin faded. “I should have rescued you long ago.”
“Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there at the moment,” she said brusquely in an effort to forestall this particular subject. She had no desire to reexamine their past. If
truth were told, she was grateful to Millicent for her constant presence. There had been no real opportunity to speak privately with Sterling. No opportunity for him to pull her into his arms and gaze at her as if she were the answers to his prayers. And no opportunity whatsoever for her resolve to soften, for her heart to melt. Again. Precisely as she wanted it. “Tell me, was the intrepid earl successful in his pursuit of smugglers and pirates?”
He considered her for a moment. “Always. The intrepid earl never fails in the pursuit of what he wants. Nor does he give up.”
“Then no doubt your arrogance is well earned.”
“In a dull and respectable sort of way.” He smiled and resumed staring at the sea. Or at something far in the distance she couldn’t see. The past perhaps. “I had once thought that I would spend at least some of my life in exploration and the search for adventure.”
She remembered long-ago discussions with him about dreams and desires. Things he wished to see, places he wanted to go. No, places they would go together. “Why didn’t you?”
“Primarily because my father died far sooner than anyone imagined. He had always enjoyed good health, so his demise was unexpected. And I then inherited the title with all the responsibilities that entails. There was no choice. My brothers became the adventurers, and I became the earl.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “I have watched them through the years go off in their search for antiquities to parts of the world I will never see. I have to admit, if I have envied them, it was only for a moment or two.”
But, of course, he wouldn’t envy his brothers. He was the responsible one. Even in those days when she had thought she knew him well, when he had spoken of seeking adventure, it was a desire limited by the realities of his future position.
“This is the first time I have traveled beyond British borders since that trip in my boyhood.”
“And you must admit you are enjoying it thus far.”
“Thus far,” he agreed, and continued, “I have heard Quinton and Nathanial tell their stories of danger and intrigue and the most hazardous thing I do is an early-morning ride in the park every day.” He cast her a quick smile. “There is the ever-present possibility of contracting a head cold, you know.”
She smiled. “Always a concern.”
“Yet my life, as dull as you may consider it, has not been uneventful. I am, for the most part, content. I have the family’s financial affairs to oversee and the country estate as well as my seat in Parliament. In truth, I rarely have time to consider that my days are not filled with the kind of adventure and excitement my brothers relish. But this is my lot in life. I have known it since birth. It could not have been otherwise; nor would I wish it to be.”
“Then you have no regrets,” she said without thinking.
“I have one.” His gaze met hers, and the look in his eyes caught at her breath.
She shook her head. “Now is not the right time—”
“When is the right time?” He straightened, and for a moment she thought he was going to drag her into his arms again. The oddest ache washed through her. “We have a great deal to talk about. A great deal to resolve.”
“No, we don’t.” She took a step back.
“There are things you need to know. Things I need to tell you.”
“To what end, Sterling?” She stared up at him. “Will it change anything? Will the past be any different? Will the years that have gone by at once vanish as if they had never happened? The past is the past and cannot be undone.”
He stepped toward her. “Livy—”
“Don’t.” She moved back. Hearing him call her that tore at a heart she long thought impervious to him. She would not pin her hopes on anything with this man. She would not make that mistake again. “We have agreed to be friends, and I think it’s wise not to dwell on what is over and best forgotten.”
“I have not forgotten.” He shook his head. “I have never forgotten you. Not for a day, not for a moment.” His intense gaze met hers. “Have you forgotten?”
“Yes,” she lied, and squared her shoulders. “I have had ten years to forget, and I have done so. Today and tomorrow and the rest of my life are my only concern now.”
“And have you forgiven as well as forgotten?” His dark gaze bored into hers.
She stared at him for a long moment. “No.”
“Of course not.” At once the Sterling who had spoken of playing pirate and had laughed at the dangerous nature of his life vanished, replaced by the proper Earl of Wyldewood. “I shall not speak of the past again.”
Without warning, the urge to throw herself into his arms seized her. To smooth his troubled brow with her fingers, to press her lips to his. She ignored the impulse and drew a deep breath. “My apologies if I have offended you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said coolly. “As you said, the past is the past. And there is nothing that can be done about it. I have agreed to be friends, and I shall endeavor not to cross the bounds of that friendship again.”
“Yes, well, I . . .”
“There you are.” Millicent bustled up to them, parasol in hand, a bright smile on her face. “Are you discussing the accommodations? Quite good if you ask me. All in all, I’m finding this most delightful. I can’t think why I so much as hesitated to come along.”
Sterling raised a brow. “Odd, I don’t recall your hesitating.”
“Then you should be more observant.” She sniffed. “What a glorious day this is. Olivia, have you ever seen a sky that blue?”
“It is lovely.” Olivia struggled to keep her voice level. Nothing at all had really happened between her and Sterling, yet her stomach was decidedly uneasy, and there was a definite ache in her throat. It was absurd, and such feelings were to be avoided from this point on. Which obviously meant avoiding any discussion of the past.
Millicent studied her curiously. “You look quite pale, my dear. Are you all right? Not suffering from mal de mer I hope. That would be simply dreadful given we are very nearly at the beginning of almost a fortnight of traveling by sea.”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Olivia smiled. She wasn’t the least bit fine and wouldn’t be as long as Sterling’s brown eyes studied her with an intensity that twisted something deep inside her. And made her wish . . . “But the glare on the water has made my head ache, so I think I shall retire to my cabin for a bit.” She summoned her brightest smile. “Good day, Millicent. Sterling.” She nodded and turned quickly but not before she noted the considering look in his eye.
She hurried back to the cabin she shared with Millicent, more than a little annoyed. With him for bringing up the past but more with herself. Why had she ever thought she could spend time with him without feelings she had long since put aside recurring? In hindsight, it was the height of foolishness. She paced the small cabin. Apparently, now that the man had returned to her life, he was in her blood as much as adventure ran in the veins of his brothers. The question now was what could be done about it.
There was no possibility of finding again what they had once had. She hadn’t forgiven him, she wasn’t sure she ever could. The pain of his betrayal had dimmed, and indeed she had thought it vanquished altogether. Now, she realized it had never been entirely forgotten. Even when he had invaded her dreams, it had lingered, a vague shadow of despair. Beyond that, they had each changed too much to go back. No, she wouldn’t trust her heart to him again. She couldn’t. She’d survived heartbreak at his hands once, she could never survive it again.
It was absurd as well to have sharing his bed on her list. It was akin to standing before a rising river and daring it not to flood. Still . . . She paused in midstep. Perhaps that was the answer. Perhaps once she had crossed that item off her list, she could go on with her life and put him in the past, where he belonged. In the same manner in which overindulging in a treat one craved ended the desire for the treat ever again.
There’s was nothing to be done for it then. She was going to have to seduce the Earl of Wyldewood. A
nd seduce him as soon as possible.
Sterling stared after her for a moment, then clenched his teeth and directed his gaze back toward the sea. She was perhaps the most infuriating creature he had ever met. He wanted to resolve the past and move on. She wouldn’t even discuss it. Worse, she made him feel helpless. He did not like it.
“I do hope she is all right,” his mother murmured. “I had the distinct impression I was interrupting something important.”
He drew a deep breath. “No, nothing important at all.”
“Oh, darling, you’re such a terrible liar. You always have been.” She sighed in resignation. “And you have never been one for revealing your feelings. Or for talking about them. Perhaps it’s time you did so.”
“I have nothing to say.” That was, of course, another lie.
“Then I shall have to do all the talking.” She paused, and he hoped she intended to prattle on about the fine day or the better-than-expected accommodations. “You have never told me precisely what transpired between you and Olivia before she married.”
So much for that hope. “There is little to tell. Her father told me she was to marry Rathbourne. And that she wished never to see me again.”
“And?”
“And . . .” He blew a long breath. “It was a lie. She was forced by her father to marry Rathbourne.”
“I see,” she said under her breath. “I have long suspected as much.”
He cast her a sharp glance. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Goodness, Sterling.” Her brows drew together in an annoyed frown. “What was I supposed to say? That you should fight for the girl? That you should refuse to allow her to walk out of your life? That you should follow where your heart led?”
“Something like that,” he muttered.
“How could I? You did not confide in me.” She huffed. “And, as I recall, you gave me no opportunity to say much of anything. You were entirely too proud.”
Desires of a Perfect Lady Page 10