by Maya Rodale
But what else would she do, if she did not read it?
At this moment she might have moved, accidentally brushing all the other books off the bedside table. The pages rustled as they fell to the floor, where they landed in a series of thuds.
“Oops,” she said to no one.
Even if she wanted to pick up the fallen books or, say, embroider, she could not because her things were on the floor or in the other room. Olivia tried moving her ankle, which had been bound up tightly. Sparks of pain informed her that indeed she would be following the doctor’s orders and remain abed.
For her health, Olivia turned to the first page and began to read.
The Mad Baron met his bride under secretive, scandalous, and highly questionable circumstances. Miss Nadine Prescott had been betrothed to the Mad Baron’s brother, George.
“His brother!” Olivia gasped. She looked around the room for someone to share her shock. There was no one.
George ought to have been Baron Radcliffe were it not for his untimely demise at his brother’s hand.
“Goodness,” Olivia murmured, heart thudding. Phinn had murdered his brother, too? She couldn’t quite believe it. One murder could be an accident. But two?
Then she continued to read.
’Twas love at first sight on the High Street one afternoon in Westlake Village when George first set eyes on Nadine. She was renowned for her beauty. Her eyes were perfectly almond-shaped and the color of chocolate. Her mouth was a perfect rosebud. Her hair was jet black and fell in silky strands to her waist. Her figure was perfectly slender, except for where it was perfectly voluptuous. There was no woman in possession of more beauty and charm in all of Yorkshire.
Olivia looked up from the page with a scowl on her face. Was it wrong for her to feel inadequate compared to a fictional yet dead woman? And lud, how was she ever to compare to her in Phinn’s mind?
George was an accomplished sportsman and was popular with all the local gentry. There was no sport, feat of daring, or daunting endeavor that he did not succeed in. His father, the baron, was proud of his heir.
Olivia skimmed a full page listing all the sporting activities, feats of daring, and daunting endeavors that George excelled at. She was exhausted just reading about his jousting, boxing, fencing, fox hunting, running distances both long and short, climbing tall trees and then climbing down one-handed (for the other held a litter of squirming kittens). There was no mention of his younger brother, Phinn, and it was he that Olivia was curious about.
This Nadine and George had a passionate courtship. Olivia knew this because the book said, Theirs was a passionate courtship. Then she skimmed ahead of their perfect courtship. She wanted to get to the part about Phinn.
Their rosy romance came to an ABRUPT halt with the arrival of George’s younger brother, newly returned from university where he had studied Strange and Dangerous Sciences. When he was not ensconced in a makeshift workshop in the barn on his brother’s estate, he was committing his first grave sin: coveting the fiancée of his only brother, who had shown nothing but kindness to his unusual sibling.
Even worse, he schemed to win her for himself by fabricating horrendous lies about her which he told his besotted brother. Fictions, these were! There was no one more beautiful, charming, and perfect than Nadine. How DARE he cast aspersions upon his brother’s intended, and for the sole purpose of seducing her himself?
“How dare you!” George accused his brother on a dark and stormy night.
His brother, already mad and bad but not yet a baron, said—
“Olivia.”
She replied with a bloodcurdling scream.
When her heartbeat returned to normal and her wits returned, she saw that Phinn had returned. She was alone with the Mad Baron!
Olivia exhaled slowly. No, she was alone with her husband who had shown her nothing but devotion and tender care. Also, kisses that made her feel all the sparks and wonder and romance she’d ever wanted. Who was also known to everyone else as the Mad Baron who had coveted his brother’s intended and possibly murdered them both.
She eyed him nervously.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she said, collecting herself. “I was reading this awful piece of literature. It had consumed my imagination and I’d been quite immersed in the story. You gave me a fright.”
Sheepishly, she held up the awful piece of literature.
Olivia watched Phinn stiffen. His jaw tightened and his mouth pressed into a firm line. Because she knew him now, she detected the signs that his mood was darkening and his temper on the verge of explosion.
She couldn’t bear it if he hollered at her the way he did at Rogan. Or if he hit her—no, he wouldn’t. She knew that. In order to prevent a row, Olivia caught his eye, held his gaze and smiled.
“Really, it’s awful,” she said.
But the truth was, she had questions. He had secrets.
Phinn’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, as one did when trying not to lose one’s temper. She hadn’t meant to anger him. She just wanted to know him, and he wasn’t here, but off with his engine. And when he was here, they weren’t exactly conversing.
“Phinn, look at me.”
He looked at her. For a quick second she was taken aback by the darkness in his gaze. Oh, lud, he was angry. Which was ridiculous, really. Fortunately, she had enough sense not to say that to him. She just held his gaze and watched as he fought for control over whatever demon had possessed him.
Phinn kept his gaze focused on Olivia’s lovely face. The cornflower blue of her eyes soothed him, especially when she peered up at him with such concern. He couldn’t lose his temper now. He didn’t want to lose his temper, for if he did then he wouldn’t be able to idly spend the evening—and night—with her, which is what he truly wanted to do.
Phinn willed the anger to subside. He hated that book. It’d done more damage to him than Nadia had, and that was saying something. Nadia had just tortured him, but that was in the past. That damned book had nearly cost him his future happiness. He hated that Olivia was reading it, but even through the hot flames of anger, he could see that he’d left her no choice when he hadn’t told her the truth.
So, Phinn gave a short exhale and asked, “How bad is it?”
“It’s dreadful,” Olivia sent vehemently. “Listen to this. ‘It was a dark and stormy, moonlit and wicked night when Miss Nadine Prescott’s fate was altered forevermore.’ I ask you, how can it be dark, stormy, and moonlit? And what is a wicked night?”
It had been a wicked night. That much he remembered. The rain had lashed at the windows. The candles were dwindling. The bottle nearly empty. It was the wrong time for George to ask what he thought of his future bride and the wrong time for him to tell his brother the truth. He had meant well, which was the most horrendous part of all.
“Her name wasn’t Nadine,” Phinn said finally. Olivia bit her lower lip, waiting for the truth. “It was Nadia.”
“Was she really the most beautiful and charming woman in all of Yorkshire, with almond-shaped eyes the color of chocolate and a figure both slender and voluptuous?”
“Nadia was beautiful,” Phinn admitted. He still recalled his first glimpse of her after he’d returned home from university. She was laughing and taking tea and otherwise presenting herself as the most beautiful and charming woman in Yorkshire. She hadn’t snared his brother yet and thus hadn’t revealed her true nature. “She was also a nightmare—haughty, demanding, spoiled, jealous.”
“Not the paragon of virtue this book claims her to be,” Olivia murmured. Phinn pushed off the doorjamb he’d been leaning on and moved to the chair by her bed. “Was your brother the most accomplished sportsman and beloved member of the local community? Because if not, this author is quite a liar. For he goes on at length listing every sport your brother excelled at.”
“Aye, everyone adored George,” Phinn said. “Especially me. Especially our father, since George was everything I was not, and every
thing our father wanted in a son. Which was just as well—they left me to my scientific studies while they went off on sporting adventures. Mathematical equations and laws of physics don’t try my temper the way my family had a knack of doing. And three Radcliffe tempers, plus my mother’s flair for hysteria, add up to one thing: disaster.”
Olivia nodded, drinking in every word. She continued to read the story.
“Everyone adored George. He thought about sport, Nadia, and ale. That was all.”
“This book says you coveted Nadine—Nadia—for yourself and tried to dissuade your brother from marrying her,” Olivia said softly. He glanced down at the book open on her lap. It was just an absurd fictional story to so many people. For Phinn, it was a hand reaching out from the past and dragging him back to scenes and memories he’d rather forget.
“Nadia didn’t notice me,” Phinn explained. “I was the quiet younger son with the peculiar interests in science. Nadia wanted George. She didn’t bother trying to win me over and she never paid me much mind. She’d forget her pretty manners, thinking no one that mattered was looking. I saw her strike a maid for forgetting her gloves. And I saw her behind the Assembly rooms with John Huntford.”
“I suppose these are the ‘the horrendous’ lies you told your brother about?”
“George didn’t want to hear them. He said even if it were true, it was too late.”
“Had he already proposed?” Olivia asked.
Phinn paused, considering how to answer that.
“He’d already made her his,” he said, hoping that was sufficient.
“Oh.” She seemed to understand. “Was it truly a dark and stormy night with violence in the air when this occurred?”
“My brother and I fought as only two Radcliffes can. He would not hear a word against her,” Phinn said. He took another deep breath. He hated that night, hated the memory of it, hated having to relive it. But he also hated the fear he had seen in Olivia’s eyes and the secrets that kept them apart and led to her getting hurt. “I have a temper, Olivia. I can’t help it. I don’t like it.”
“I can see you counting back from ten and exhaling slowly,” she said with a half smile.
“It’s supposed to help,” he said with a shrug.
“Does it?”
Phinn lifted his eyes to hers. “Not as much as looking at you.”
Olivia reached out for his hand in a consoling gesture. But then she moved aside on the bed, making room, and beckoned him with her eyes and a half smile. Phinn joined her on the bed. Side by side they lay, reclining back on the pillows.
The damned book lay open on her lap. He glanced down at all the words just there, black on white, oblivious to the hurt they’d caused.
Fearing his strange, jealous brother, George rushed out headlong into the dark and stormy night with DANGER in the air. Only such TERROR would drive a man to venture forth in a driving downpour. He happened to encounter Huntford in town.
“George went to his house,” Phinn said, pointing to the lies printed on the page. “George didn’t want to believe me, but he knew I wouldn’t lie to him. It wasn’t an accidental meeting at all.”
Olivia picked up the book and read aloud.
“ ‘After hurling base accusations, Huntford had no choice but to defend his honor. These two sporting men rained down violent blows upon each other, each one fighting for honor and dignity. But soon each man was only fighting for his life. For love.’ ”
“The long and short of it is that Huntford killed my brother,” Phinn said. “He had no choice but to flee the country.”
“So when it says that you took advantage of Nadine’s utterly distraught, exceptionally emotional state of tragic grief and unrelenting bereavement to force her into marriage, I suppose it didn’t happen quite like that,” Olivia said. “One lover was dead and the other might as well have been. She would have been ruined. Marriage was her only salvation.”
“Nadia begged me to marry her,” Phinn said, recalling how in turns she begged and cajoled. There had been tears. Heaving bosoms. A damsel in distress on her knees before him, promising anything if he would just save her. He was tempted; Nadia was beautiful. She had a knack for bending a man to her will. But he didn’t love her. “She said it was possible that she could be expecting,” he said.
“Was there a baby?” Olivia asked, eyes widening. “Is there a baby?”
“No,” Phinn said. He was never sure if he was saddened by the fact or glad because of the freedom it afforded him. Often he wondered how things would have fared if they had just waited to see if she were expecting. Or had she lied to him all along, eager to claim the title of baroness and the protection that would come with it? It seemed imperative that he marry her before the scandal broke.
“Why did you marry her?” Olivia asked. “Honor?”
“She would have been ruined otherwise. And I couldn’t let my brother’s child—should there be one—be raised in some outcast squalor,” Phinn said. “And she was beautiful and had a way of manipulating a man with a terrifying combination of tears and seductive smiles.”
“None of which were taught at Lady Penelope’s Finishing School for Young Ladies,” Olivia remarked wryly.
“Thank God for that,” Phinn said. The last thing he wanted was another conniving and tempestuous wife.
Olivia rolled on her side to face him. He noticed her long blond hair falling in waves around her face and splayed across the pillow. He wanted to sink his fingers into it, pull her close and kiss her senseless. He never wanted to talk about his past again.
“Did you love her?” Olivia asked softly.
“I cared for her,” Phinn said. And he did in time have an affection for Nadia. They were a bad match. He didn’t give her the attention she craved, which drove her to act more outrageously, which drove him further away. But she was still his wife. He couldn’t not care for her. “But I didn’t love her.”
“How did she die, Phinn?” Olivia’s voice was soft. She slipped her hand into his. “I assume you didn’t strangle her in a fit of rage. Or, to quote the book . . .” She glanced down at the page. “ ‘Enclose your massive fists around the pale, slender column of her innocent neck whilst she pleaded for you to spare her life.’ ”
“We settled into a routine in which we largely avoided each other save for fights at dinner and . . .” Here Phinn paused, remembering how their passionate outbursts became something else entirely in the bedroom. He remembered, too, how wretched and dishonorable he’d felt after each time. While Olivia was present, he didn’t want to think of the way they made up after fights, let alone mention it to her, his lovely new bride. “And then we made up afterward,” he said finally. “But she wanted more and more of my attention. She resorted to all sorts of dramatics and hysterics to get it. This only angered me, and with my temper, I thought it best if I just stayed away in my workshop and focused on my work.”
“Which only angered her more,” Olivia finished with a slight smile. “I can understand.”
“I shut her out,” Phinn said, pushing his fingers through his hair. “She hated it.”
“Any woman would,” Olivia said. She tugged his hand. He turned to face her.
This time, when their eyes met, hers weren’t filled with fear. Phinn was aware of the soft rise and fall of her chest. Her lips . . . just there. But there would be no stopping this kiss once he started. He wanted to finish this story, leave it in the past and fully surrender to his future with Olivia, no longer haunted by secrets.
Reluctantly he kept talking.
“One night she went out to my workshop, in a fit of rage, of course. She never took an interest in my work. She felt competitive, I suppose. That night, she set fire to the workshop. I think she was trying to get my attention,” Phinn said. And that was why he blamed himself. If he’d been better, tried harder, then she wouldn’t have resorted to such foolish and drastic measures. That’s why Olivia could never have scared him off with her antics. He was too determined to be
devoted.
“A fire is one way to get your attention,” Olivia remarked.
“She just couldn’t get out in time . . .” Phinn said, his voice rough. In his mind, he was back there . . . the scent of smoking disturbing him as he sat down to dinner. He could still feel the way his heart lodged in his throat when he looked out the window and saw the flames—and then glanced at her empty space set at the far end of the dinner table.
He ran to save her. But he’d been too late.
“Something I was working on had fallen. She’d been trapped. And I hadn’t gotten to her in time. So you see, I didn’t really kill her. Not with my bare hands. But her death was my fault all the same.”
Phinn held his breath, waiting for Olivia to order him to leave. After confessing his entire, sordid family saga to her, he wouldn’t blame her if she wanted nothing more to do with him.
But then she surprised him. Always, always, she surprised him.
“I’m so sorry, Phinn,” she whispered. And then she somehow soothed the deep-seated fear he couldn’t put into words but that weighed on him heavily. “And I’m so sorry for breaking the Difference Engine. I wasn’t trying to break it or make you angry. I thought you might be there, which is why I went. Once I saw the engine, I couldn’t look away.”
There had been too many similarities between the day Olivia was injured and that awful night years ago. But this time she had been going to him, not running from him. This time, he’d saved her.
“But you really oughtn’t lock yourself away with the engine,” she said. “At least not while I am bedridden and desperate for amusement.”
Phinn felt his breath catch.
“Amusement?”
“Just something to take my mind off the pain,” Olivia said softly.
“Do you want laudanum?”