“It was very busy. When I was growing up in my tiny village, I often thought the life of the ladies of town must be frivolous with nothing much to keep them busy. Was I ever wrong.”
“Really? How so?” His free hand gathered an errant curl and tucked it behind her ear.
“Do you have any idea how much work goes into a society wedding?” When he gazed at her blankly, she continued. “A lot, let me tell you. Only a fool would think society meant nothing more than gossip.”
“Are you having any fun at all?” He kissed her temple. She leaned her head into his kiss since for once her head actually was one of the few places on her body that didn’t hurt.
“You know, I am. I’m just as surprised as you, but your mother and aunt and sisters have made it a delight. Lady Francesca and her friend Miss Anna Sinclair came by and helped write out the invitations. They are such lovely ladies. I can see why she’s such a society darling.”
He stopped nuzzling her ear long enough to ask, “Who?”
“Lady Francesca.”
“Ah, yes. She’s very sweet.” He gave her a lingering kiss. “So are you, you know.”
Olivia blinked at him. “I know what?” She loved how a kiss from him made her so pleasantly fuzzy.
“You are a beautiful woman.”
She bit her bottom lip and smiled at him. If a kiss made her fuzzy, then a compliment made her tingle.
“Come. Let’s go to dinner. You’re going to need to keep your strength up. The wedding is weeks away, you know, and I won’t have my fiancée too tired.”
Olivia’s heart thumped at what she guessed, hoped, was a double meaning. Every time she thought about Henry under the tree, all sense flew from her head. Any thoughts of scandal or plans of running from Reginald and his threats, or rather the infant stages of plans, vaporized when Henry kissed her. She didn’t suspect it would become less so either with repeated exposure to Henry’s charms.
The family dining room filled with chatter about the wedding and more planning as his excited sisters told Henry everything they’d accomplished that day and still had to do in the days to come. The genial nature of the meal and the obvious affection the family exhibited towards her and her brother, including them in every discussion and asking their opinion, went even further in confusing her. It diminished ideas of running away, but it also cemented her decision not to involve the family in the mess with her cousin.
The evening included a rousing game of charades in the parlor in which every member of the family made a complete fool of themselves. Olivia hadn’t had a more agreeable time in ages. The announcement of her engagement to Henry solidified Warren’s place. He argued with Henry’s youngest sister and doted on the family’s grandmother. This was where Warren belonged. The boy needed a family. A voice in her head said she needed a family, too, and for the first time in a while, she didn’t ruthlessly shush that it.
It had been a long and emotionally exhausting day, and when the younger children were sent up to bed, Henry’s grandmother and Olivia excused themselves and followed the children upstairs. Henry escorted her to the landing and bid her a good night with a heated gaze and a kiss in her palm that left Olivia tingling and very aware of her body.
Once clad in her nightgown and her unruly hair tamed into a braid, at least for the minute, Olivia found herself not the least bit sleepy, though she was sorely tired of thinking. A person could spend entirely too much time in one’s head, and nothing good could come of it. She brought a pile of La Belle Assemblée magazines and settled in to a comfortable chair by the fire hoping to tire her eyes and occupy her mind.
***
Henry knew he was an idiot, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to seduce his fiancée. He just wanted a proper kiss good night. His cock had other ideas, but that particular body part was not in charge as Henry had reminded it all through dinner and after in the parlor. Who in God’s name had put the charades clue for horse racing in the hat? He’d damn near needed to excuse himself when Olivia galloped around the parlor, smacking her pretty little bottom with her palm. Of course, Olivia had no idea what that visual did to him. Good Lord, he wasn’t made of stone. Well, maybe he was. Honestly, this couldn’t be healthy.
The house was quiet, but the faintest flicker of light shown from underneath her door. He stood at the juncture of the hall and debated a left turn to his room or a right turn to hers. Left took him to a valet, a pair of uncomfortably tight pants, and another lonely, frustrating glass of brandy. Right took him to a fairy beauty, his rapidly unraveling morals, and a recipe for disaster. He liked to think it was a desire to check on her, to make sure she was comfortable for the evening or some other equally absurd lie, that sent him towards her door, but in his heart he knew it was plain desire.
He rapped gently on the solid wood door, waited a second, then tried the knob. It turned easily, and he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Henry.” Olivia seemed surprised to see him. A vision in white lace and cotton, she stood from her chair in front of the fire.
“I came to wish you good night.”
“I seem to remember you did that earlier, didn’t you?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “I found it unsatisfying.”
“What more do you require?” A teasing smile played about her lips, and all Henry could think of was pressing his own lips against them.
“A proper kiss might go a long way to satisfying me.” His arm slid around her waist, and he pulled her against him. She flinched. He thought she’d flinched earlier too, but he’d waved it off at the time.
“Is that all?” she teased. “I have a kiss for you.”
Olivia was a fast learner, and the kiss she initiated had him forgetting about her reaction, focusing on her mouth and tongue and lips. Her hands twined behind his neck. He let her control the kiss, but he couldn’t hold his hands still, and they roamed over her back, down to caress her rear, and then smoothed up her ribs until he found the swell of her breasts. Oh, she felt so good. His hand itched to cup her, to test the weight of her breast in his palm.
The noise Olivia made was not one of pleasure. She jerked away from him and squeaked a strangled scream, suppressed by one hand clamped tightly over her mouth.
What the hell? “What’s wrong?” Now he was positive she’d flinched earlier, twice.
Olivia shook her head, her eyes clinched.
“Olivia, what’s wrong?” Henry tried to keep his voice calm, but it took a great deal of control. Tears squeezed down her cheeks, and the mastery of his emotions was lost. “Olivia, dammit, tell me what’s wrong.” He clasped her shoulders—gently because he didn’t want to inadvertently hurt her again. There was pain in her eyes, and Henry was terrified he was somehow responsible for it. He pulled her to him again, this time with exquisite tenderness, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Dear heart, please tell me what’s wrong.”
Olivia tucked her head into his chest and relaxed against his embrace. He sensed she was making an effort to calm herself. “I slipped and fell in the garden after you left.”
“Where?”
“At the fountain. Against the marble corner,” she explained, but her voice was muffled as she spoke the words into his shirt.
“How are you injured?”
“Just bruised.”
He lifted her chin with an index finger until he could look her in the eye. “Has anyone seen to your wound?” He thought it strange no inkling of her accident had reached his ears and suspected that meant no one knew of it.
“No.” The blue of her eyes were magnified by the unshed tears, making her appear even more fragile than she was.
“Will you let me see, please?”
“No.” She hesitated. “It’s under my dress.”
“I’ve already seen under your dress,” he reminded her.
“It’s not such a problem that you need to worry about me.” Olivia’s efforts to reassure him were belied by her flinching and gasps of pain.
“Perhaps not, but let me take a look to satisfy myself you’ve not been seriously hurt.” He wasn’t going to relent. Henry had a very strong feeling the wound was much more severe than she was letting on.
Olivia stared up at him for a few heartbeats before sighing. She didn’t give another protest, but she did not assist him in undressing her either. Finally, he’d undone the succession of buttons needed so when her gown was folded back, it exposed her right breast. This time he did inhale sharply, “God dammit!” Olivia flinched. He couldn’t help himself. Her entire areola was showing significant signs of bruising. He imagined even her dress caused pain when she rubbed against the fabric. For a split second, he irrationally considered that perhaps he had unwittingly done this. No, he’d been very gentle with her this afternoon, a fact he’d been quite proud of, actually, considering how great his need for her had been by the time they’d coupled under the tree. Besides, he’d never treated a woman thusly and couldn’t imagine the frame of mind a man would have to be in to cause such an injury.
“Honey.” With doubt building as to the veracity of her story, Henry began as gently as he was able. “How did this happen?”
She swallowed hard before answering, her gaze shifting to the fire in the grate. “When I fell.”
“It must have been a very violent fall.” Henry didn’t believe it for a minute. He brought her gaze back to him by turning her chin. “Tell me what happened?”
She shrugged. “I slipped on the damp grass and tripped and fell.” She alternated her downcast gaze from her feet to the fire. He buttoned her up. He couldn’t look at it anymore. Henry sat in the chair before the fire and pulled her into his lap.
“Love, you can trust me. Tell me what happened.”
“You might as well know now before we’re married. You’re engaged to a clumsy woman.” Her words were teasing, but still she didn’t look at him.
He was done with the teasing and flirting. “This is serious, Olivia. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.”
“Do you trust me, Henry?”
Did he? What did he really know about her before she dropped into his arms mere days ago? Nothing. All he knew was what she’d told his family, what murky information he’d dragged out of a scared little boy, and very few facts his sister remembered about Olivia from a year before. She might bring any number of disasters to his household and put his family in danger. It was entirely possible she was pulling off some elaborate charade and had entered into his life with a plan nothing short of evil. And now she was keeping a very serious secret from him.
Yet, when he remembered her fainting in the street, the honest terror of seeing her cousin, and the truth and forthrightness in her eyes when she told her tale—he had to believe in her. If he believed her, then he had to protect her. He’d pledged as much when he announced his intent to marry her, and now he’d taken her innocence. His sense of duty was without doubt in the matter.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be fine.” She smiled and cupped his cheek.
Henry took his proper good-night kiss, his libido severely deflated, and left her to her magazines and books. First order of business tomorrow would be to get some answers from his inquiries if he wasn’t going to get them from her.
Yes, he trusted her, but he didn’t believe her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next day, Olivia and Henry joined his sisters for a stroll in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. She was still stiff and achy, but she’d agreed to the outing as she couldn’t think of any way to refuse without lying to everyone, and she’d done quite enough of that lately, thank you very much. Natalie appeared in the morning to assist her in the usual manner. This time she had with her a mustard poultice for the bruises and a vow of her silence in the matter.
Dear Henry. Of course he’d arranged for the medicine, and of course that made her feel worse. The duplicity was killing her. She hadn’t felt this guilty when she thought she’d helped kill a man.
He asked her if she trusted him and she did, she supposed, in all the regular ways a woman trusted a good man. She never thought he’d wittingly hurt her, not the way her cousin did. She trusted he’d take good care of her and Warren. So, yes, she trusted him. But what if he found out all the trouble she was in, that being involved with her put everyone in danger? She vowed to shield him from as much of the true nature of her dilemma as possible, despite his persistence, until she figured out a way to solve it.
She really wanted to keep Henry.
It was a nice enough day for a stroll in the park. Henry eschewed the carriage and convinced his sisters the walk would do them good. Besides, it was easier to talk to who he expected to see while walking instead of being trapped in the carriage.
He tucked Olivia’s hand into the crook of his arm. He knew, and his mother and aunt reinforced the idea to him during their military-style debriefing that morning, that his appearance with her on his arm in the company of his family would solidify her new standing in society. His family had the wedding planning under control, and he was confident that the whole affair would go off without a hitch.
His self-assigned role, and one no one but him knew about, was to figure out what the hell was going on with his fiancée. His initial inquiries had come back from the man he’d sent to Staffordshire, and they were more confusing than helpful. Still waiting on some information from Reginald’s old schoolmaster, Henry wanted to confer with his friends and their contacts as well. Hopefully one of them knew something of the solicitor. A walk in the park would kill two birds—show his devotion to her in public and get some valuable opinions from his best friends.
Leave it to Morewether to find a grouping of pretty women in the park. The duke zeroed in on their party five minutes into their walk. Morewether sidled up next to Olivia’s other side and clasped her hand. “Good afternoon, lovely.”
Olivia smiled back at the duke. “Your Grace.”
Henry gritted his teeth.
“I’m going to steal your fiancée, Dalton.” Morewether flashed his patented Duke-on-the-loose smile. If Henry didn’t need the duke’s help, he would seriously consider punching him in the mouth.
“Never fear, Dalton.” Lady Francesca joined him on his other side. “Anna and I are here and will make sure my brother keeps his hands to himself.” Her smile was broad, and her green eyes twinkled in mirth.
“I don’t think you’ll need to kill him.” Miss Anna Sinclair giggled. “Not today anyway.”
Morewether waggled his eyebrows at Henry before saying to Olivia in a stage whisper, “Don’t listen to my sister. I’m going to whisk you away to a life of frivolous pleasures.”
Henry opened his mouth to blurt something scathing before he heard the deep, baritone rumblings of Thomas, Earl of Harrington. “You know he’s doing that to get a rise out of you.”
“It’s working,” Henry admitted, rueful. Morewether sauntered off, five lovely women at his side, attentive and giggling at his charms. Every fiber of his being wanted to march up to that happy damn group and snatch his fiancée off his best friend’s arm. A staying hand on his shoulder was the only thing holding him in check.
“Dalton, you know he’d never touch her,” Harrington reminded him. “Besides, my wife’s up there with her.”
Henry gave Harrington a look of sheer incredulity. “Your wife is the prat’s sister. Obviously she’s in no danger.”
Harrington rolled his eyes. “Neither is Miss Goldsleigh. Let them go. We have important things to discuss.”
Henry exhaled a long sigh. “Of course.” He focused his attention on Harrington and made a concerted effort to ignore the scene in front of them. “I received an interesting report from my man I’d like to compare with what you’ve found.”
Harrington got straight to the point. “Her cousin arrived in London about a month after they did. He’s got several goons working with him, as you know, since I believe you met one of them the other night.”
Henry nodded in agr
eement. “One thing I’m worried about is whether or not he’s still in contact with her.”
“You mean since the scene at the ball the other night?” Harrington frowned and shook his head. “It would have had to be yesterday afternoon. Do you suspect he has?”
Henry hesitated. He contemplated Olivia, smiling with the rest of the ladies and several new feminine additions to their group. Morewether held court, flirting en masse. Henry had asked Olivia to trust him, and he needed to trust someone, too.
“I don’t have any proof,” Henry confessed.
“Have you asked her?”
“No. Not in so many words.”
Harrington scratched his chin in contemplation. “What makes you think he’s been around?”
Henry crooked his head, and he and Harrington stepped from the path and headed into a wide-open meadow where no one could overhear their conversation. “There has been some unexplained physical evidence.”
Harrington furrowed his eyebrows together. “What do you mean, evidence?”
“There is mysterious bruising she can’t sufficiently explain.” Henry still couldn’t believe the extent of the developing bruise on her breast.
“She looks fine. I don’t see any evidence of mistreatment.”
Henry stopped and made eye contact with his friend. “There are bruises. I know. She was fine early in the day and then by bedtime she had a horrendous black-and-blue mark in the making.” Harrington raised an eyebrow in question. “I am positive. I saw her before, when she was perfection, and after, when it looked like she’d been kicked by a mule.”
Harrington had the good sense not to ask more about Henry’s physical knowledge of his fiancée. The man was not an idiot, and Henry was certain he’d inferred all he needed to know about the situation. “I hate to ask this question, but I must as your friend. Do you think she’s been honest with you about the relationship with her cousin?”
“What do you mean?”
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