“There is nothing to forgive. I appreciate your candor.” She had nothing to hide and no one to protect from the truth save herself. She did not wish to be pitied. The viscount was thankfully dead and buried and, in spite of his best efforts, she had emerged from her marriage strong and whole. She drew a deep breath. “And I applaud as well your perception. My late husband was not of my choosing. He was indeed a vile sort, and I have lived the years of my marriage waiting for the moment I would be free of him.” She studied him coolly. “Have I shocked you?”
“I might have been quite shocked before meeting you or spending the last week in your company.” He grinned. “But I am not the least bit shocked. Indeed, I am most impressed by your determination and courage.”
“Courage?”
“To have endured a life with such a man and now to be endeavoring to improve your fate.” He fell silent for a few moments, hopefully concentrating on the movement of his feet. “Tell me, what are your plans if you are not successful in meeting the terms of the will?”
“I have no plans, as the idea of failure is not something I wish to think about,” she said with a smile. “Which is not merely optimistic but probably quite foolish. After all, we are going to attempt to convince men who could not be swayed by my late husband’s considerable wealth to hand me objects they cherish. It would seem an impossible task.”
“Only for one without determination and courage,” he said staunchly.
She laughed.
“But if you do not succeed?”
“I really have no idea.” Her tone hardened. “But I shall not return to the life I have lived. Perhaps I will take that which is determined to belong to me and me alone, sell whatever that may be, and use the proceeds to begin anew.”
“You could marry again,” he said in a casual manner.
“I have experienced marriage once, thank you, I have no desire to do so again. Besides, there are no doubt dozens of impoverished widows scouring London society even as we speak in hopes of finding someone suitable to wed.”
“None like you.” He squeezed her hand.
“That’s very kind of you, Josiah, but—”
“My living is not overly substantial at the moment, but it will be someday.” He gazed earnestly into her eyes. “One day I intend to have my own firm, and I have no doubt I shall be quite successful. My prospects are excellent. Lord Wyldewood has already indicated he may be interested in my services in the future. But even now, I could support a wife. My family has money as well, and I stand to inherit an impressive sum.” His brows pulled together. “Admittedly, that is rather far in the future. My father is extraordinarily robust, and I would have it no other way but someday . . .”
“Josiah.” Good Lord! “Surely you’re not—”
“I would be an excellent husband, thoughtful and considerate. I would worship the very ground you walked upon.” He pulled her slightly closer than was proper and gazed into her eyes. “I already do. Marry me, La—Olivia.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough. If you don’t get what you want, want me. I would spend the rest of my days making you happy.”
“Josiah.” She shook her head. “I am deeply flattered, but I am not looking for a husband.”
“But if you do not succeed—”
“Then I shall cross that road when I come to it. But I don’t think—”
“We would suit well together.”
“I am entirely too old for you.”
“Nonsense.” He scoffed. “Age is immaterial when one has found the woman one wishes to spend the rest of one’s life with.”
“Josiah.” She choose her words with care. “You haven’t found the woman you wish to spend the rest of your life with.”
“I may be younger than you, Olivia, but I know my own heart.”
“And your heart is too valuable to give to someone who . . .”
“I have already given you my heart,” he said staunchly.
She ignored him. “Someone who loves you as she would a brother. A younger brother.”
His brow furrowed. “I have no desire to be your brother. I want to be your—”
“You are a dear, sweet wonderful bo—man. Any woman would be thrilled to hear you say those words. But you deserve better.”
“You’re everything I have ever dreamed of. I don’t want better, I want you.” His eyes widened. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean—”
“You only think you want me.” She shook her head. “But you don’t want a woman who only marries you because she has no other choice. You deserve a woman who loves you with her whole heart and soul. Who would do anything for you. Who would worship the very ground you walk upon.” She smiled up at him. “I will never forget what you have offered. It has been a very long time since I have experienced such kindness. It means a great deal to me.”
“It would mean more if you accepted,” he muttered.
“And you will always have a place in my heart.”
“As a brother.”
“As a beloved brother.” She adopted a teasing note. “I have never had a brother and have always wanted one.”
He blew a long breath. “I have five brothers and two sisters. I do not need another sister.”
“And yet you now have one more.”
His gaze searched hers. “If you change your mind . . .”
“I won’t,” she said firmly.
His brow furrowed. “I am not a man to give up easily.”
“And I rarely change my mind.”
“Will you at least grant me one favor then?”
She smiled with relief. “Yes, of course. What is it?”
He drew a deep breath. “I would ask only that you refrain from giving me your answer—”
“I believe I have already given you my answer.”
“Your final answer.”
She sighed. “Josiah—”
“Until such time as you have either succeeded in your quest, or you have failed.” His gaze bored into hers, his blue eyes dark with emotion. “I will not accept your answer as final until then.”
“It will be no different,” she warned.
“One never knows what may happen tomorrow.” He grinned. “And I am nothing if not optimistic.”
She cast him a weak smile. Mercifully, the music drew to a close, and their dance ended.
“I was hoping we could have another—”
Before he could finish, Olivia spotted Sterling off to one side of the dance floor speaking with Miss Johnson. Excellent. He wished to rescue maidens, and Olivia was in dire need of rescue. “Forgive me, Josiah, but I promised Lord Wyldewood the next dance.”
“Very well,” he said with a wistful smile. “Perhaps we can have another dance later in the evening?”
“That would be lovely.” She smiled and started to make her way around the room.
What a dreadful, awkward thing that was. To dash a man’s hopes and attempt do so in a manner that was both kind and firm. She did hope she had managed to convince him of the futility of pursuing her. They would be traveling together for some time yet, and she didn’t want to have to watch every word she said for fear he would misconstrue it. Nor did she wish to lose the comfortable companionship they had shared.
Although—a reluctant smile curved her lips—it was most flattering. It had been a very long time since she had been the object of a young man’s affections. To have caught the eye of a handsome man, even if a little too young, was something she had not considered. Her mirror told her she was still lovely, and certainly she had realized there was a possibility of romance somewhere in the future, but so much had transpired since she had become a widow that it had never occurred to her that someday might be now. Besides, if one were paying attention to such things, one would consider her in deep mourning even if she had no intention of mourning Viscount Rathbourne. She had refused to acquire more than one new black gown and she hadn’t brought it with her.
She drew closer to Sterlin
g and realized he wasn’t merely speaking to Miss Johnson, he was flirting. And judging by the manner in which she inclined her head toward him and fluttered her fan, the cheeky American was flirting right back. Didn’t the man know there was such a thing as being too charming?
Sterling glanced in her direction, and her gaze caught his. She smiled in what she hoped was a fetching manner and nodded slightly toward the dancers. He grinned and turned back to the young woman to hopefully make his apologies. If not, Olivia would have no difficulty dragging him onto the dance floor if necessary. She’d used Sterling as an excuse to avoid further entanglement with Josiah, and she had no intention of allowing the young man to know she had lied.
Sterling took the American’s hand and lifted it to his lips, his gaze never leaving the girl’s. Hmph. Was that a technique he had learned from Quinton? Surely he didn’t think it was effective. Still, given the look on the young woman’s face, she was ready to fling herself into his arms and damn the consequences. Nonsense. She was entirely too young for Sterling. Oh, indeed, men tended to prefer women considerably younger than they, but a man like Sterling needed a woman who was more of a challenge than an untried girl could ever be. He would be bored with an insipid miss like this one in no time at all. Admittedly, he didn’t look bored at the moment, and the girl appeared positively entranced.
Sterling released the girl’s hand, bowed in a polite manner and started toward Olivia, meeting her halfway.
“I gather you wish to dance?” He offered his arm.
“Yes.” An annoyingly grateful note sounded in her voice. She cleared her throat. “As we haven’t danced more than once tonight, and the evening . . .”
“And you wished to dance once more before the evening is at end.” He led her onto the floor, took her in his arms, and favored her with a knowing smile. “With me.”
“Yes.” She huffed and glared up at him. “With you.”
He chuckled. “You do realize I am only allowing you to order me about because I wished to dance with you as well.”
“Imagine my delight.” She smiled sweetly. In spite of her words, his declaration was nice to hear. It had been somewhat distressing to realize that she danced with Sterling as easily as they once had. As if they had never been apart. As if they had spent the last ten years dancing in each other’s arms every day. As if they were still made one for the other. It was an excellent reason to avoid dancing with him at all, and yet she couldn’t resist. She’d nearly forgotten how much she loved to dance and thought it best to ignore altogether how much she had missed dancing with him.
“So.” He grinned down at her. “Has Josiah declared his undying affection?”
“Why on earth would you ask that?” she said in a lofty manner.
“The two of you appeared to be having a conversation far too serious to be conducted on the dance floor.”
She raised a brow. “Were you watching us?”
“No more so than you were watching me,” he said smoothly.
“I wasn’t . . .” She surrendered and heaved a resigned sigh. “She’s entirely too young for you, you know.”
“Really? I thought she seemed just the right age.”
“If that’s what you want, certainly.” She shrugged. “I simply assumed that you would prefer a woman more . . . accomplished. Sophisticated. Worldly.”
“Older, you mean.”
“Not necessarily.” She paused. “However, a girl of that age—”
“I believe she is eighteen.” He grinned. “Which is considered more than old enough to wed.”
“Nonsense.” She scoffed. “A girl of eighteen scarcely even knows her own mind. When I was eighteen . . .”
“Yes?” He raised a brow. “When you were eighteen?”
When I was eighteen, I found the love of my life. She pushed the thought away.
“When I was eighteen, I was flighty and overly romantic,” she said in a lofty manner.
“When you were eighteen, you were lovely.” He grinned. “You still are.”
“How very kind of you to say,” she murmured. He might well have been the love of her life once, but he definitely wasn’t anymore. Why the thought had popped into her head at all was bothersome. Sterling was now her friend and could never be anything more.
“You also giggled a great deal.”
“I did not. I never giggled.” She stared at him. “Nor do I do so now.”
“Perhaps not now, but you used to.” He executed a complicated turn, and she followed him without hesitation or difficulty. Which was the difference between dancing with an accomplished partner and one unsure of himself. And had nothing at all to do with the familiarity of dancing in this particular partner’s arms. “I remember it distinctly.”
“I did not giggle. I may have laughed in a thoroughly lighthearted manner, but I did not giggle.”
He laughed. “Very well then, it was some other young woman whose giggle lingers still in my memory.”
“No doubt.” She paused. “A giggle is an odd thing to remember.”
“Perhaps I recall it because it was so rare. Most of the time she—whichever she I am thinking of—laughed. A fine laugh full of joy and promise.” He smiled. “She only giggled when she was embarrassed or unsure of herself.”
“Well, it wasn’t I,” she said knowing full well it was. “One would think a giggle would be most annoying and not at all memorable.”
“It wasn’t the least bit annoying then. It was delightful. Although, I will admit, I do not find Miss Johnson’s giggle quite so charming.”
“Eighteen-year-old girls do tend to giggle,” she said. “Perhaps you do not find it charming because you are no longer twenty yourself.”
“That’s probably it.” He heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Pity.”
She raised a brow. “What? That you are no longer in your youth or that you do not appreciate pretty eighteen-year-old girls?”
“Both. But I do appreciate pretty eighteen-year-old girls.” He grinned. “I’m just not sure I could live with one.”
She smiled but held her tongue.
“And you did not answer my question.”
“Which question was that?”
“Did Josiah declare himself?”
“Yes, you were right. I don’t know why I didn’t see it myself.” She sighed. “It was quite awkward, telling him I do not share his feelings without breaking his heart.”
“He’s a fine young man.”
“He is indeed, but I have no desire to marry him.”
“He asked you to marry him?” Surprise sounded in Sterling’s voice.
“If I do not meet the terms of the will and have nowhere else to turn.” She shook her head. “It was very kind of him.”
“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” Sterling said firmly. “You are an exquisite woman, Olivia. More so now than ever. Beautiful and charming as well as clever and determined. It is not difficult to see why a young man’s head would be turned by you. Or any man’s head, for that matter.”
She tilted her head and met his gaze. “Even yours?”
“You’re flirting again, Livy,” he said, deftly changing the subject. “And you still don’t have the knack for it.”
“Nonsense, I wasn’t flirting.” A blush washed up her face. Perhaps she was.
He chuckled. “Very well then. The tilt of your head, the look in your eye, the tone in your voice weren’t attempts at flirting at all.”
“No, they were not. Besides, I didn’t do any of that. Not deliberately at any rate.” She paused. “But if I had been attempting to flirt, what was wrong with the tilt of my head or the look in my eye or the tone of my voice?”
“First of all.” He gazed down at her and turned flawlessly in rhythm with the music, and again she followed him without effort. “You tilted your head too much to one side. It should be subtle, as if you were trying to ascertain my thoughts by the study of my face.”
“Like this?” She tilted her head just a fraction.
/> “Much better.” He nodded. “And the tone of your voice should be lighter, as if what you’re saying isn’t the least bit important on the surface but carries all sorts of hidden meanings and suggestions and promises.”
“I see,” she murmured, not knowing at all how to accomplish saying one thing and meaning much more. Surely she had known how once.
“As for the look in your eyes.” His gaze trapped hers. “It needs to hold the tiniest hint, the merest suggestion of what might be. Of something wonderful.” Did his hand tighten around hers, or did she just imagine it? “When you flirt with a man, when you gaze into his eyes, he needs to wonder what might happen when next you meet or dance or walk together in the moonlight.”
“Next?” The word was scarcely more than a sigh.
“Flirtation is not really a promise as much as it is a possibility.” He gazed into her eyes. “The possibility that this is merely the beginning of what he has always desired, always dreamed of. That he has at last found what he has long wanted but never realized until now. And then . . .”
“Then?” She raised her head slightly.
“Then, should he be so caught in the web of flirtation you have spun, and should you be so inclined, he will more than likely kiss you.” His gaze slipped to her lips and back to her eyes. “It should be the merest hint of a kiss, the soft brush of his lips against yours. A tease, a suggestion, and, yes, now a promise of what might be. Of what could be.”
“A kiss is all that?” Would he kiss her now? Here?
“And more.” He stared into her eyes. “Much more.” He drew a deep breath. “The music has ended, Olivia.” She hadn’t even noticed that they’d stopped dancing and were simply standing in one another’s arms. He released her and stepped back with a smile. “And I for one, find I am ready to retire for the evening.”
She struggled to catch her breath. The blasted man wasn’t going to kiss her after all. Not that she wanted him to. Still, the evening wasn’t quite over yet. “As am I.” She smiled and ignored the urge to tilt her head and perhaps even flutter her lashes. “Could I trouble you to escort me to my cabin?”
Desires of a Perfect Lady Page 13