Surprise colored the young man’s face. “Why, Lady Rathbourne sent me a note this morning.” He turned to Livy. “As per your request, I have arranged a meeting with your father’s solicitors.”
“Excellent.” Livy nodded. “I should know what his estate entails before I decide what to do with it.”
“We should be off then,” Josiah said.
Livy turned toward the door.
Sterling stepped toward her. “Shall I accompany you?”
“No,” she said sharply, then cast him a polite smile. “I should think your time would be better spent composing notes to the board members. As you are a member yourself, and you know them, whereas I do not, I think this request would carry more weight from you than from me. Don’t you agree?”
“Well, yes—”
“Very well then.” She nodded and accompanied Josiah from the room.
Sterling stared after her. He was right. There was something wrong. What on earth had happened? Last night in the library, well, last night was thoroughly improper and completely unexpected and probably quite mad as well as delightful and extraordinary and the stuff even the most sensible man’s dreams were made of. He would never look at his desk in the same manner again. He had thought Livy had felt the same. No matter. At the moment, he had other things to do.
Several hours later, Edward, in his usual efficient manner, had determined the location of all the board members. A handful were in London but most were at homes in the country, in locations stretching from Cambridge to Winchester. Sterling had written fourteen letters, had included the need for an urgent response, and messengers had been hired to hand-deliver each one. Livy and Josiah had still not returned, which Sterling found bothersome but not of great concern. He turned his attention to perusal of Quinton’s handling of family affairs in his absence.
It was late afternoon when Livy finally appeared in the library.
Behind his desk, Sterling rose to greet her. “Rather a long meeting, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, the meeting was over hours ago,” she said with a blithe wave of her hand. “Your mother was right, I can make no decisions about what to do with the inheritance from my father until the question of my late husband’s estate has been resolved. Fortunately, my father’s accounts and properties had already been put in my name. It’s remarkable how easy matters can be when one doesn’t have to do battle over them.”
He frowned. “Then where have you been?”
“Apparently, several years ago, my father sold his house here in town and purchased a new one.” She shrugged. “I have no idea why, nor do I care. But I have never resided there, therefore it carries no reminders of the past. It has seen better days, but once the painting is finished—”
“You’re having it painted?”
“Well, I have no intention of living there as it is.”
“I thought you were staying here until this was all settled.”
“I can’t possibly stay here for another twenty-one days.”
He stared. “Why not?”
“Sterling,” she began in a somewhat condescending manner, as if he were a small, rather dim, child, “didn’t we agree that I can make no decisions regarding my future until all else is settled?”
“I don’t recall agreeing exactly . . .”
“Besides, I have imposed on you long enough, and I don’t wish for you to feel obligated—”
“I don’t feel the least bit obligated.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She studied him for a moment. “Nonetheless, I simply cannot make any kind of rational, well-considered decision about—”
“Us?” He raised a brow.
“Yes, if you will.” She shook her head. “I cannot do that if every time I cross your path—” Her gaze shifted to his desk.
“What?”
She met his gaze firmly. “It was something Josiah said on our last voyage. I need to decide what I truly want and what I am willing to sacrifice to get it. At any rate, I have spent the afternoon hiring painters and looking at fabrics and employing all the people I need to get my house in order.”
“You can’t live there alone.”
“I shan’t be alone. I have instructed Giddings to close up that horrid house. He and the other servants have already begun moving into my new abode.” She shook her head. “Oh, it will be terribly chaotic. But quite fun I think. I have never done anything like this.”
“Livy.” He came around the desk toward her. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I think it’s best,” she said with a patient smile.
“But what about the responses from the board members?”
“I have no doubt that you will keep me informed as to the progress. Sterling,” she said firmly, “I cannot stay here, idly waiting for the responses. I shall go mad with nothing to keep myself occupied. This way, I shall be very busy, and the time will fairly fly by.”
“But—”
“I do not wish to debate this. I have instructed Andrews to have my bags packed and delivered to my new house. And now I should be on my way.” She cast him a bright smile. “Good day.”
Before he could protest she swept from the room, leaving him to stare after her like an idiot. How had they gone from passion on the desktop to polite indifference? What had he said? What had he done? He had no idea, but he would figure it out.
He went over last night’s conversation, what little conversation there had been. Nothing came to mind. Still, there must have been something. Some innocent comment on his part that she was twisting out of all proportion. Not that he could truly blame her.
Livy was a woman of extraordinary courage. But was she brave enough to abandon the dreams that had sustained her for a decade in exchange for the man who had once failed her? He had wondered, when this all began, what might happen when she no longer required his help, no longer needed him. Now, he understood that he needed her as well; he always had. And knew, in his heart, she needed him too. Not for his money or position but because they were meant to be together always. Because neither of them was complete without the other.
Ten years ago, the world, his world had shifted out of its orbit. Today, it was very nearly right again. His life—their lives—were almost on the path they should never have left. Almost but not quite.
Determination clenched his jaw. She could be as stubborn as she wished, but he would not give up until he made her see what he already knew. That regardless of triumph or failure, together they could face anything.
Especially the future.
Two weeks later, Olivia wandered through the rooms of her new house. Aside from the bedroom she was using at the moment, every room in the house was being prepared or was in the process of or had already been painted in light, bright colors. She had taken stock of all the furnishings, deciding what to discard and what to keep, and she had ordered quite a few new pieces. She was indeed extremely busy and at night fell into her bed exhausted. She’d been right, the house did take her mind off everything else. Everything but Sterling.
To date, none of the responding board members had objected. Waiting was both annoying and frustrating, but there was nothing to be done about it. Nothing she could do now but leave it all in Sterling’s trustworthy hands. She wasn’t sure precisely when or how it had happened but she’d realized she could indeed trust him not to fail her. And suspected she could trust him with her heart as well.
He had called on her every day for the first three days of her residence here and had sent daily notes apprising her of the responses for several days after that. Then his notes abruptly stopped. Even her requests for information were now being answered by his secretary. It was surprisingly distressing. And with every passing day, it was harder and harder to keep herself from marching to Harrington House and pounding on his door. Damnation, how could the man ignore her like this? Not that she hadn’t set it in motion herself. Not that she didn’t, perhaps, deserve it.
But putti
ng half of London between them had been wiser than even she had at first realized. It had allowed her to put things in perspective, to indeed be calm and rational. To consider the questions she needed to ask and answer.
Was she being foolish, to let something as insignificant as a single offhand comment stand in the way of being with him? Regardless of his protests, did he indeed think of her as nothing more than an obligation? Yet another responsibility to be borne by the Earl of Wyldewood? Did the fact that he hadn’t responded to her notes or paid another call mean that, once again, she had lost him?
No, not this time. This time her fate was in her hands. She had seven days until her quest was at an end. Win or lose, she would know she had done everything in her power to succeed. And even if she failed in beating her late husband, she had, in many ways, already been victorious. If for no other reason than she had refused to accept the fate he’d planned for her, refused to surrender.
As for Josiah’s question, that still lingered in the back of her mind. What did she want? And what was she willing to sacrifice to get it? The answer to the first question was easy. Sterling. As for the second, she still didn’t know. All she did know was that even though she’d lived without him for a decade, every day without him now seemed an eternity. And perhaps the answer to the second question was obvious as well.
Whatever was necessary.
Sterling stalked into the house and headed for the library.
“Andrews,” he barked in passing, “have a footman meet me in the library. I need a note delivered to Lady Rathbourne at once.”
“Welcome home, my lord, but . . .” The butler’s voice trailed after him. “There is no need . . .”
“There is every need, Andrews,” he called over his shoulder. “Never mind. I shall go myself.”
There were still three days left, and he had succeeded. Now he would go to Livy, and they would end this nonsense. And begin their lives all over again. This time together.
He’d had a lot of time to think in the last fortnight. What he’d done wrong and what he needed to do now. And admittedly, it might involve groveling.
He strode into the library, set the valise he carried on the desk, and opened it.
“Did you steal that from Josiah?” Livy’s voice sounded behind him.
He bit back a grin and turned toward her. “Admittedly, it might look like his, but it happens to be mine.”
“Where have you been?” The demanding note in her voice belied the look of concern in her eyes.
“My dear, Lady Rathbourne.” He withdrew a handful of letters from the valise. “I have been to . . .” He pulled one letter free of the others and waved it at her and slapped it down on the desk. “Hertford.” He pulled a second free. “Cambridge.” He pulled free a third. “Oxford and . . .” He waved the final letter at her, then, with a flourish, set it on the others. “Aylesbury. That was this past week.”
She stared at him.
“The week before last, I traveled to Warwick and Winchester.” He cast her a satisfied grin. “We now have fourteen letters of approval from board members far and wide.”
“You went in person to get them?”
“It became apparent to me rather quickly that the board members might be not be as prompt as was necessary in their responses, so I took it upon myself to call on them in person.”
Her eyes widened, and she stepped toward him. “Then we are done? We have succeeded?”
“Indeed we have.” He grinned. “And we have much to discuss.”
“Sterling, I—”
“No, Livy, allow me.” His gaze was firm. “First of all, when I said in this very room that it was the least I could do, it was not a reference to the past but to the quite delightful interlude we had just shared.”
“Oh that.” She winced. “I might possibly have taken—”
“And while I can never truly make amends for the past, I do intend to spend every day for the rest of your life trying to do so.”
She shook her head. “Sterling—”
He held up his hand to quiet her. “Secondly, it has struck me that I have never fully apologized for all that happened ten years ago. Nor have I ever begged your forgiveness. I do so now.”
She swallowed hard. “Sterling—”
“A decade ago, I failed not only to come to your aid but to fight for you. I shall not make that mistake again.” He propped his hip on his desk and studied her. “I have, as I said, fourteen letters of approval from fourteen board members.” He shuffled through the papers on his desk. “Only this one remains to be signed.”
Her brow furrowed. “Did we forget someone? Who is it?”
“Me.”
“You?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I will sign this letter only if you agree to marry me.”
She gasped. “Sterling, that’s blackmail! And no different from what Rathbourne did to my father.”
“It’s entirely different. I love you.”
She stared at him suspiciously. “You didn’t say that.”
“My apologies. I love you, I have always loved you, and I shall always love you. And whether you are willing to admit it or not, you love me. I would not do this were I not completely convinced of that.”
She scoffed. “Even so, this is most . . . that is to say . . .” She paused and studied him for a long moment. His heart caught, and he held his breath. At last, she heaved a resigned sigh. “Very well.”
“Very well you will marry me or very well you love me?”
She cast him a reluctant smile. “Both.”
“You haven’t said it,” he said in a lofty manner that belied his relief as well as the most amazing feeling that might well have been happiness.
She laughed. “Then I shall say it.” Her expression sobered. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”
“I knew it.” At once he moved to her and took her in his arms. “You are mine, Livy, you have always been mine, and you shall always be mine.”
She shook her head in a long-suffering manner. “I am not yours. I am not a possession. I do not belong to you.”
“No, of course not, I didn’t mean . . . No!” He pulled her tighter against him. “Bloody hell, you are mine. And I am yours. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me. That, Livy, is how it’s supposed to be.”
She glared up at him. “But—”
“Halves of the same whole. All these years I was only half-alive without you and never suspected. Now I know, and you know as well. You put me on your list even though you hated me.”
“I never hated you,” she murmured.
“No,” he said in his best Earl-of-Wyldewood, pirate-hunter voice. “There is no debate about this, no argument. We belong to one another. For now and forever.”
“I don’t think I can be independent and married at the same time.” She brightened. “Perhaps I could be your mistress?” A teasing note sounded in her voice. “The Contessa de Sarafini would certainly approve.”
“I do not. And I don’t want a mistress, I want a wife. No, I want you as my wife. Furthermore, I believe you can be independent and married at the same time.” He stared down at her. “I believe you can do anything you set your mind to.”
“I do not intend to be the image of a perfect wife ever again,” she warned. “I value who I’ve become. I can—”
“Breathe?”
“Yes.”
“It’s of no consequence now, but I don’t think you were at all perfect.” He smiled at the woman who had long ago claimed his soul forever. Even if neither of them had realized it. “But you are now.”
“I will not give up my list. However . . .” She paused. “I shall expect you to join me in crossing my items off.”
He raised a brow. “Even the items with men chosen for their capacity for adventure?”
“I have crossed out their names already.” A blush washed up her face. “And written in yours.”
“Excellent. As for the others, w
ell, I think we should take the children with us.”
She smiled slowly. “Children?”
“Several I should think. A family of our own.”
“Sign the letter, Sterling.”
“Will you marry me?”
“There is nothing I would rather do. And thank you.” She drew a deep breath. “For saving me.”
“My dear Livy, you don’t understand at all.” He stared into her green eyes, the eyes that had haunted his dreams for a decade and would stay in his heart until it beat for the last time and beyond. “You saved me. I was lost, and you have found me. Dead and you have brought me back to life. No, it is you who has rescued me.”
“We have both changed so much.” Her breath caught, and her gaze meshed with his. “And yet nothing has changed at all.”
“And nothing ever will.” He brushed his lips across hers. “By the way, my love.” He smiled. “I now have a list of my own.”
Epilogue
Only a pool of light cast by a single lamp on the desk illuminated the room. He drummed his fingers on the desk. “It was foolish to have attempted to find the seal in Rathbourne’s house. I regret that. It might have led back to us.”
“Nonetheless, it did spur Wyldewood’s involvement. Without him, Lady Rathbourne would never have come into possession of the third seal.”
“Now the society has all three.” He smiled with satisfaction. “Then this is the end.”
“Not at all.” His partner’s smile matched his own. “This is only the beginning.”
About the Author
VICTORIA ALEXANDER was an award-winning television reporter until she discovered fiction was much more fun than real life. She turned to writing full time and has never looked back.
Victoria grew up traveling the country as an Air Force brat and is now settled in Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two kids in college (buy her books!), and two bearded collies named Sam and Louie. She firmly believes housework is a four-letter word, there are no calories in anything eaten standing up, procrastination is an art form, and it’s never too soon to panic.
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