by Amelia Grey
“Hell no. I mean yes. No. We’re friends, of course. I meant it’s no longer true that I haven’t been with my wife.”
“Oh—so you’ve—”
“Yes. Not that it’s any of your damn business or John’s.”
“Of course it is. I was beginning to worry about you. It’s not natural not to take your wife to bed.”
Andrew chuckled under his breath. He would have loved to have heard the conversation about this between John and Chandler. They probably had a jolly good time at his expense. He wasn’t as irritated with them as he should be.
“My relationship with my wife is not something you two should be discussing, and I don’t need any lectures from you or John about Olivia.”
“Hell, I know that. It’s why I’ve remained quiet. We know she forced you into marriage, but Olivia is still a beautiful woman. You needed to consummate your marriage.”
Did Olivia force him into marriage? He used to think that but he wasn’t so sure anymore. He could have gotten out of it if he’d tried. There were a couple of other choices.
“How did you know you were falling in love with Millicent?” Andrew asked his friend.
Chandler put down his ale without having sipped it and eyed Andrew curiously. “Is this a trick question?”
“No, damnation, I’m serious.”
“All right. I guess the first thing was that I knew I wanted to kiss her the moment I saw her.”
Andrew remembered wanting to kiss Olivia, too.
“And then I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was as if nothing mattered except Millicent.”
Olivia was just about the only thing he thought about anymore. Even finding the bastard Hawkins was a distant second.
“When I was away from her I wanted to be with her. Whenever I was near her I wanted to touch her. I wanted to take her to my bed and—”
“All right, I understand,” Andrew said, holding up his hand to stop Chandler before he told more than Andrew wanted to know.
“I didn’t want anyone else to touch her even when dancing. Does any of this sound familiar?”
“No, no.” Andrew denied what he knew to be true, but quickly corrected himself and said, “Maybe. Yes.”
A knowing grin lifted one side of Chandler’s lips. “Are you falling in love with your wife?”
“Oh, damn, I hope not,” he whispered under his breath. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
Seventeen
Lights from the Great Hall were gleaming, jubilant music played, and the chattering of the crowd rumbled out through the doors as Olivia and Andrew walked up the steps to the ballroom.
Olivia had taken special care with her appearance, wearing a pale yellow gown that was banded by satin ribbon on the capped sleeves, the high waistline, and the tiered hem of her skirt. Around her neck she wore a gold chain studded with dark and light amber-colored gemstones.
Andrew looked handsome in his evening attire of black evening coat, finely pleated waistcoat, and intricately tied neckcloth. As she had dressed for the party, Olivia had wondered if she and Andrew might have a repeat of the night before and never make it out of the bedroom, but Andrew had remained as aloof when he returned as he had been at breakfast.
The minute they stepped into the crowded ballroom, Olivia knew something was different. There was an almost frenetic energy to the chattering that could be heard like a roar above the lively music. Olivia’s stomach churned with apprehension. Lynette had to be the cause. Olivia wanted to find her quickly and see if she needed support or comfort.
She turned to Andrew and said, “There’s someone I need to speak to right away. Would you excuse me?”
Without waiting for his answer or even looking back to see the expression on his face, Olivia waded her way through the crush of people in search of Lynette. She smiled at a trio of gentlemen she passed, bumped the elbow of a disgruntled dowager, and scowled at a group of ladies who were whispering behind their fans.
She walked the perimeter of the room but didn’t see Lynette. In a far corner she caught a glimpse of her aunt, and Andrew’s Aunt Claudette and the brusque Mrs. Farebrother. Olivia winced. The Lord Mayor’s wife could try anyone’s patience.
Olivia slowed her steps and calmed her breathing as she neared the ladies. “Good evening, everyone,” she said brightly to the three of them.
The two aunts greeted her with smiles and hellos, but Mrs. Farebrother lifted her sharp chin and immediately asked, “Have you seen Lady Lynette tonight?”
“No,” Olivia said cautiously, hoping she didn’t sound eager. “I just arrived.”
“Well, look over there.” Mrs. Farebrother pointed to the dance floor. “She’s dancing with the Marquis of Musgrove Glenn again, but he’s not her first partner of the evening. She’s been dancing since I arrived.”
Olivia caught sight of Lynette and the marquis and she smiled with satisfaction. Both of them were tall and they looked splendid together; regal and happy. Yes, they looked happy together. How wonderful for Lynette that the marquis was dancing with her again.
“Why is that a problem?” Olivia asked.
“She’s never danced so much in one evening and I think it’s because she looks very different,” Mrs. Farebrother said with what sounded a little like disparagement.
“Really?” Olivia tried to look innocently from one lady to the other. “In what way?”
Mrs. Farebrother’s brows lifted and wrinkled into a frown. “After all these years she has decided to try to hide the birthmark on her cheek with some sort of flesh-colored cream or paste. Good Lord! Why bother? Everyone knows it’s there.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t want to hide it but just make it less noticeable,” Olivia said, a bit more defensively than she should have.
“That’s a nice way to say it, Livy, and probably true,” Agatha said.
“But I do have to wonder why she decided to do something about covering her disfigurement after all these years,” Claudette said, a wrinkle of confusion between her brows, too.
“Especially now that she has passed the age to make a match,” Mrs. Farebrother said.
“What do you mean passed the age?” Olivia asked, bristling. “She’s still young. She’s not yet thirty, is she?”
“Well, if not, she’s very close,” Mrs. Farebrother said as if she were speaking gospel.
“Surely a woman can get married at any age she desires,” Olivia challenged. “A lady is never too old to marry.”
“I hope not,” Claudette said with a grin on her lips. “I should like to try my hand at marriage one more time before I die.”
“Will that be your fourth or fifth marriage, Claudette?” Agatha asked.
“Fourth, not that I’m counting.”
Agatha and Claudette laughed, but Mrs. Farebrother sniffed haughtily and said, “Laugh if you want, but a lady’s prospects of a match diminish considerably after her third Season, and I think Lynette has seen more than ten Seasons pass.”
“Perhaps her covering the birthmark has nothing to do with a man at all. I think she just decided to do something about her appearance for herself, and I for one think that’s admirable,” Agatha countered.
“I think you are right, Aunt Agatha,” Olivia said, even though she knew for a fact her aunt wasn’t right.
“I agree, too,” Claudette said. “I use creams that I get from the apothecary on my face every day. That’s why I look as youthful as I do.”
Mrs. Farebrother screwed up her face even more at Claudette’s comment. “I still think she did it because of a gentleman, and I wish I knew which one. But the poor girl, I don’t think it will help. Every man knows she has the birthmark and no amount of creams or covering will change that fact. When she removes the cream the horrid red mark will still be there.”
Olivia, Claudette, and Agatha gasped in unison.
“That’s a dreadful thing to say, Mrs. Farebrother,” Olivia admonished.
“It’s not dreadful, my dear. It’s true.”
“If doing this makes her feel better about herself, everyone in the ton should support her as she’s supported all of you these many years.”
“Well said, Olivia,” Agatha remarked with a beaming smile on her face, obviously very proud of her niece’s courageous stand for her friend.
“Balderdash,” Mrs. Farebrother said. “Everyone has always accepted her as she is. She is, after all, a duke’s daughter. Who would dare say anything against her to her face?”
“Good evening, ladies,” Lady Lynette said as she stopped beside them. “I hope you are enjoying yourselves tonight. I seem to have caused quite a stir among the attendees.”
A smile spread across Olivia’s face. Lynette’s face glowed with confidence; her eyes sparkled with a happiness Olivia had never seen in her before.
“Lynette, you are beautiful.”
“Thank you, Olivia. For the first time in my life I feel beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever danced as much as I have tonight. I think it’s because all the confirmed bachelors want to get close to me to see if they can tell what I’ve done to change my appearance.”
“I hope you are denying some of them a dance just to keep them guessing,” Olivia teased.
“Oh, I wouldn’t. I’m having too much fun to do that. Tonight might be the only night I’m the belle of the ball, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”
“You know, it is quite remarkable how different you look,” Mrs. Farebrother said as she leaned closer to Lynette and eyed her without censure to get a better look at Lynette’s face. “I don’t know why you didn’t do something to cover your birthmark before now.”
“Heaven’s bells, Dorothy, must you always be so rude?” Agatha said.
“Me, rude? I am not,” she said with outraged indignation. “I would never be disrespectful to another person.”
Olivia, Lady Lynette, Agatha, and Claudette looked at each other and they all started laughing.
***
Andrew stood with a group of men who were listening to Lord Windham talk about the latest scandal in Parliament, but his gaze and his thoughts were on Olivia. She was across the ballroom laughing with their aunts, Mrs. Farebrother, and Lady Lynette.
She had left his side the minute they walked through the door. It was as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him. Maybe he couldn’t blame her. He had been glum, but only because he was trying to figure out what he was feeling for her.
He could see she was having a good time, but he certainly wasn’t. And it wasn’t because he hadn’t tried. It seemed that trying to have a good time was all he had done since he married Olivia. But it was becoming clear that the things that once held his interest—a mistress, gambling, racing, and drinking until dawn—no longer entertained him.
Olivia was stunning when she opened up and laughed without reserve. He wanted to see her that free, that uninhibited, and that happy when she looked at him.
Right now, watching her look so beautiful enjoying herself, the only thing he wanted to do was go over and take her by the hand and say, “Let’s go home and go to bed.”
That is all he had wanted to do since he’d left her side early that morning. He wanted to run his hands over her silky body and taste her skin, sink inside her, and…
“Lord Dugdale.”
Andrew turned to see one of the servants standing beside him holding a small silver tray with a folded sheet of paper on it.
“Excuse me, my lord, but I was asked to give you this. The man outside said it was urgent.”
“Thank you.”
Andrew took the paper and opened it. His gaze went immediately to the signature. It was Thompson. A quick scan of the short note told him the Runner was outside and wanted to talk to him. Maybe his luck was turning and Thompson had found Hawkins.
Andrew excused himself and walked outside the Great Hall. The night was clear of clouds and fog. There was a lingering chill in the air. Lamps glared a harsh light up and down the street, but Andrew saw Thompson standing on the far side of the road and walked over to him.
“What do you have for me?” he asked while still walking up to the Runner.
“Good evening, Lord Dugdale. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“Do you have good news?”
“I have news, but I don’t know if you will consider it good.”
“Out with it.”
“I have reason to believe Hawkins is here in London.”
“You mentioned this possibility before. What makes you think this?”
“I learned a lot about him and his habits by asking around when we were in Derbyshire. He likes to gamble, but he has a nasty habit of not knowing when to quit. He often wins big and he loses big. He seldom walks away when he’s winning.”
“I know this,” Andrew said, trying not to let his frustration show. He wanted to hear that Thompson had found the man, not that he knew his habits.
“We’ve asked around and found out that a newcomer who fits Hawkins’s physical description and his gambling preference has been at three different clubs in the area. I have agents at all three places as we speak. I think he’s here in Town and it’s only a matter of time before we grab him.”
“London is a big city. There are a lot of men who fit that description.”
“Yes, sir, but everybody is an individual. And this man stands out in the places he goes because his speech is better than that of most of the crowd around him and he acts as if he’s a man born to a title.”
That sounded like Hawkins. “All right, Thompson, keep looking.”
“One more thing before you go, my lord.”
“Yes?”
“Be watchful. He tried to shoot you the last time he saw you. He might try again.”
“Just find the man.”
Thompson nodded and Andrew turned and headed back into the Great Hall. He had to give some thought to Thompson’s warning. Not for himself, but he did have Olivia now to worry about. He certainly didn’t want the man shooting at him with Olivia anywhere close by.
As he entered the ballroom again one of the young bachelors walked up to him and said, “Dugdale, isn’t The General the horse Westerland won off your friend Fines last year?”
A scowl eased across Andrew’s face as he looked at the man and tried to remember his name. Westerland didn’t win The General. Andrew’s friend John had given the gelding to the Marquis of Westerland when he failed to follow through with a bet, but Andrew didn’t want to get into that with the gentleman whose name he couldn’t even remember.
He simply said, “Fines gave Westerland The General.”
“Yes, that’s the one. Westerland has The General up against a black stallion tonight at Rotten Row. Word has it that the stallion has never lost a race.”
“Is that right?” Andrew said.
“That’s what we’re being told. Some of us are heading over that way to put down our wagers and watch the race. Come join us.”
For a moment Andrew was mildly intrigued, but only for a moment. “Thanks for letting me know, ole chap, but I can’t make it.”
Andrew walked off.
They had only been at the party a little over an hour but he was ready to find Olivia and take her home. To bed.
He stopped halfway up the steps and chuckled to himself.
“Damnation,” he whispered.
What was wrong with him? He was sounding just like Chandler and John. He was beginning to understand why they would rather be home with their wives than at a party with over two hundred people or at a gentlemen’s club with half-drunk gamblers, or at a horse race.
He didn’t know what made Olivia different from all the other women he’d pursued. What was it ab
out her that had him more interested in being alone with her than with a group of men watching horses race or with a well-paid mistress?
When had he changed? And what caused it?
It couldn’t just be taking her to bed. He’d never let the enjoyment of a mistress’s bed keep him from a horse race.
Olivia was different from every other woman, be she mistress, lady, or doxy. He’d known that the moment he saw her standing in his room. Just thinking of how she looked that evening caused a rise in his lower body.
He bounded up the steps and strode into the large room. A quick glance around told him Olivia was not nearby. He perused the perimeter of the dance floor, passing giddy young ladies, gossiping dowagers, and hopeful bachelors on his search for Olivia.
He steered clear of his Aunt Claude, Miss Loudermilk, and Mrs. Farebrother, who were motioning for him to join them. Pretending he didn’t notice, he kept on walking. He didn’t want to get caught up in a conversation with the three of them ever again. He’d rather have a burr in his drawers than listen to them bicker.
When he passed the balcony doors he looked out and saw Olivia standing outside with Lady Lynette and the Marquis of Musgrove Glenn.
He stiffened.
Was Olivia still trying to match Lynette and the marquis? The two ladies were listening intently to something the marquis was saying. Suddenly both ladies laughed and Andrew realized there was nothing sinister about the two ladies. They were simply conversing as friends with the marquis.
His gaze strayed to Lynette. Something was different about her. She had never looked more beautiful. No, maybe it was that she’d never looked happier. The marquis was smiling, too, and at Lynette.
He thought back to what Olivia had told him that morning at breakfast. Watching them now, he realized that if Olivia was trying to play matchmaker between Lynette and the marquis it was because she’d seen something between the two of them that no one else had seen.
The marquis and the duke’s daughter certainly looked enchanted with each other. He believed Olivia was truthful when she’d said she wasn’t trying to trap the marquis for Lynette. And the man actually looked interested in Lynette.