Harrington took off his hat and ran his hands through his hair. He stalled as he peered into his hat as if printed inside was a good way to word what Henry was afraid the man was going to ask. Finally, Harrington said, “How well do you really know her? Do you think she and her cousin have a…different relationship? Do you think they are hustling you somehow?”
If the suggestion had come from anyone else, his fist would have answered the question, but he’d asked Harrington and Morewether here to consult with them. He knew his friend was looking out for him. Nevertheless, this was not a conversation he wanted to have. It was of the utmost importance to him that he protect Olivia’s reputation. “I am confident she’d never been with another man.” With that painful admission out of the way, Henry continued, “I’ve already worked through all those disloyal thoughts, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t think she’s telling me the whole truth. That being said, I firmly believe she desperately needs my help. And since I do intend to marry her…”
Harrington smiled and nodded. Apparently he was satisfied with Henry’s assessment. “And you asked her how her injuries came about?”
“Yes. She said she’d slipped in the garden. My valet tells me she also tore the bodice of her dress. One bruise I’d understand, although this bruise is more than I’d associate with a simple fall against a fountain.”
Harrington nodded. “Where do you suspect these possible meetings took place? In the garden or elsewhere?”
“That’s the only place that makes sense, logistically speaking. I can’t imagine the man getting into the house without notice, and she never left the house and gardens yesterday.”
Harrington informed Henry what he’d discovered about the solicitor, which was pitifully little. The man had been absent from his office for the last several months. The clerk had received a note in the middle of the night saying his employer had to leave town for an emergency, and no other contact had so far been made. Harrington told a frustrated Henry his men were still searching.
“What do you want us to do?” Harrington asked, referring to himself and the profligate flirting with Henry’s bride-to-be. “I’ll have a man or two watch the house from various angles from the streets, but what else?”
“I’ve alerted Siegfried to the dangers. He and the footmen will keep a sharp eye inside the house. My man of business is investigating some disturbing reports from inquiries I made, and another chap is talking to a fellow with Bow Street.” Henry thought about what it was he wanted from his friends. Besides for them to tell him they didn’t think he was crazy or overprotective. “Can you spare a couple of big footmen who can help my grandmother with the garden? I suspect that’s where he got to her. That garden is very secluded, and I doubt anyone would notice from the street if something was amiss.” It killed Henry to think Reginald would have assaulted his Olivia after the blissful event that took place there.
“Certainly.” Harrington nodded and clapped him on the shoulder in a show of support. “Ah, here comes our favorite lothario now.” Morewether’s long strides ate up the carpet of grass as he made his way across the meadow. The group of ladies milling about had grown, and several opportunistic gentlemen had joined the collective now that the Duke of Morewether had left the ladies.
“I adore your fiancée, Dalton,” Morewether told Henry with an unrepentant grin. “Not only is she lovely, but she’s got a brain, too. Such a delicious combination.”
“Good God, man, why do you have to do that to him?” Harrington asked his brother-in-law. “As if he’s not agitated enough without your asinine attempt at teasing him.”
“Who’s teasing?” Morewether grinned. “I’m not teasing. If Henry here wasn’t so in love with her, I’d take a run at her myself.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed at the thought of Morewether focusing his considerable charms on Olivia with any goal other than infuriating him. His sweet, innocent, country girl wouldn’t stand a chance. “I’m not in love with her.” When both his friends turned their nearly identical expressions of disbelief on him, he explained, “I’m definitely in lust with her. I have a great deal of respect for her gumption and bravery. Beyond a doubt, she is lovely.”
“But you’re not in love with her.” Morewether’s tone dripped with irony.
“No.” Henry wasn’t certain of his exact feelings, but he had no intention of figuring them out with these two and refused to discuss it until he was certain himself. “But I do have every intention of marrying her, and I don’t want any harm to come to her. Well, any more harm.” Morewether nodded at him sagely, but one raised eyebrow irked the hell out of Henry. “I also don’t want you wooing her, Morewether.”
“I would never dream of wooing the true love of my good friend.” Morewether’s eyebrow continued to mock him.
Henry pointed his index finger at the duke. “I swear, as God is my witness, I will knock that bloody eyebrow off your head, Morewether.” His gardener had a sturdy square-headed shovel that should do the trick and then would serve nicely to dig the grave.
Morewether chuckled. “Relax, Dalton. I’m testing your resolve. I wouldn’t dream of it. Your bride is as safe with me as my sister. Besides, my astounding charms are completely lost on her. She only has eyes for you.”
That admission went a long way towards soothing Henry. It made him feel like a complete idiot, baring his teeth and acting like a caveman. “It’s a good goddamn thing because I’m not losing another fiancée to you people.”
The three of them spent several more minutes debating how to protect Olivia and how to best get rid of her cousin.
Henry glanced past Morewether to Olivia. He found her in the throng. His eyes locked with hers, and she gave him a smile he felt in his loins from clear across the expanse. He was definitely in lust with his fiancée. Love? Maybe someday, but for now, he wanted her safe because that was his job. He’d promised, and Henry never broke a promise.
He stood in plain sight, just before the shadow of the tree line to the right of the path. Perhaps he was twenty yards away, but he had to know Olivia saw him. He didn’t approach her group. No, he was much too cunning for that. He didn’t make himself obvious to the others, either. He was there simply to remind her he was near, always near, and he could take her anytime he wanted.
Olivia schooled her features and struggled to keep her smile friendly and unaware. It would serve no one if there was a confrontation in the park. Reginald would not be frightened away for good, and no one needed a scene in public following so soon after the one in the ball that started everything. She knew the stroll through the park was meant to show the validity of her match with Henry and dispel any possible nasty rumors. A loud argument this day would make matters much worse.
She smiled at the Duke of Morewether’s teases and flirtations, but she wasn’t really paying attention to him. Once her gaze shifted from her cousin’s taunting presence, she sought out Henry.
How does the sunlight always find his blond head in just that way?
Henry stood with the Earl of Harrington in the meadow away from the path. They were a portrait of light and dark: Harrington’s black hair and Henry’s blond curls. Their heads bowed in concentrated conversation, neither noticed her tormentor and likely subject of their conversation. She was certain that fact gave Reginald a perverted sense of satisfaction and inflated feelings of power. These kinds of games had always brought her cousin such sick pleasure. All of her life, she could never understand him or his evil games. Not when he tortured the orphan boy from her village, or the rumors that filtered down about the serving girl at his school. The tales were awful, but she’d known him in action, and therefore she believed every horrible word.
When Olivia glanced back, Reginald was gone. He would find her again, she was certain.
She was running out of time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Who would have ever thought Olivia would come to hate shopping?
Penelope and Cassandra somehow felt the need t
o spend as much of their brother’s money as possible during each shopping excursion. How many pairs of gloves did a girl need?
“You’ll need opera-length ones for later this week,” Penelope reminded her. “And make sure the buttons are real pearl.”
“Lizzy Barker wore some last week made by a cheap milliner and Susan Everette-Jones found out. Everyone knew by noon the next day. It was dreadful,” Cassandra confided. “I felt so bad for her.”
Gloves. Bonnets. Stockings. Olivia had such a headache.
She should be grateful she was out of the house at all. It had been two days since Reginald had made his presence known to her in the park, and three since his appearance in the garden. There was no way Henry believed her story about falling. Only an idiot would have. But to his credit, he’d not said another word about it. Instead, he’d come up with excuse after excuse why no one could leave the house. She assumed he held them all gently hostage because he couldn’t think of any other way to keep her at home.
The girls had complained long and loud enough, and finally he’d relented with the requirement that the young Goliath of a footman accompany them for the day. Olivia hadn’t minded, even when she suspected Henry’s real reason for the burly, young escort.
Even as grateful as she was to be out of confinement, and for the massive size of the footman, Olivia was still paranoid about an attack from Reginald. She knew he wouldn’t try anything in front of witnesses—he wasn’t that stupid, but nevertheless, she’d tucked the accursed gun into her reticule before leaving the house. Honestly, she didn’t know how to shoot it or reload it and the thing terrified her, but she still felt safer knowing she had it with her.
“Isn’t this the most adorable bonnet, Olivia?” Cassie tied pink ribbons in a large, floppy bow under her chin.
Olivia smiled and nodded and tried to appear like she cared.
Her bruises were starting to fade, although that meant instead of being mostly black, there were yellows and greens, making the whole mottled mess uglier than ever. The pain had faded more than the colors, and that was a relief. Regardless of the fact that there was no way Henry believed her story about the fall, his affection for her had not waned. There had not been a repeat of the affair under the tree, but it wasn’t from lack of desire. Henry had checked on her often, coming to her room each night after the household had gone to bed, ostensibly to assure himself she was healing, but after a cursory glance at the bruises, he generally found a better use for her raised skirt or open bodice. The thought of Henry’s warm, sure hands molding her body to his for a passionate kiss or a sensual caress had her blood heating and an increasingly more familiar dampness between her legs.
“Try the yellow one on, Cass,” Penelope suggested and handed her sister a straw bonnet with yellow silk posies.
Every time she fooled herself into believing she could have her happy ending, Reginald appeared like he did in the park. She couldn’t afford to get any more attached to Henry than she already was, and she was nearing the point of dangerously attached.
There was nothing she wanted more than to stay with Henry and his family. She could learn to relish shopping and worrying about the mundane and trivial matters such as glove buttons if she didn’t have such life–and-death concerns hanging over her. Instead, wedding plans swirled about her head unabated, plans she couldn’t bring herself to permit much excitement for since the wedding would likely never take place.
A cornflower-blue velvet hat with pale pink rosebuds plopped on her head and startled her out of her reverie.
“I knew this was perfect for you,” Penelope gushed, but then looked at Olivia quizzically. “Are you quite all right?”
“Of course,” Olivia said.
“I ask because you seem very distant. Admittedly I haven’t planned many weddings, this being the first actually, but I always thought the bride would be, oh I don’t know, more present, more excited.”
Olivia smiled at her perceptive friend. “I am feeling a bit overwhelmed.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to love Henry already, you’ve not even known him a week, but I do hope at least you like him.” Penny took Olivia’s hand and led her to a corner away from the counter and any curious ears. “My opinion may be skewed because I’m his sister, but perhaps my endorsement is better than most as I know all his wretched faults. For example, he’s always calling us horrible pet names like Curly Sue and turtle pie and lizard breath. He’s dreadfully overprotective and is forever frightening away suitors. He thinks he knows everything because he’s a man. Oh, there are so many wretched things about him, I hardly believe there are so many good things, too. We may speak sharply to him about his grousing, but he’s very generous with allowances and never really balks at our modiste bills. He grumbles, but he always provides a faithful escort to every function, no matter how dull. Oh dear, now I’ve made him sound like a good hunting dog or something.”
Olivia laughed, a real laugh, the first in perhaps days. “Oh, Penny, you don’t have to convince me. He isn’t the reason for my reticence. I think he’s a wonderful, handsome, generous man, and I would love to marry him.” And she would. With all her heart. If it was at all possible.
“Then why are you holding back?”
What could she possibly say? Nothing. She couldn’t tell her anything. Here Penny was trying to sell her on the merits of her brother, and all the while the unworthy one was Olivia herself.
“I’m afraid, I guess,” Olivia confessed. That part was true. “I can’t thank you enough for being such a good friend to me. Someday I hope I can repay you.”
“Goodness knows I don’t need another sister.” Penny pulled Olivia into an embrace, “but I’m so excited you’re going to be one anyway. Now I’m adding that hat to the packages and I don’t want to hear another word about it. Sister.”
Olivia stepped outside to get a breath of air. She was desperate for a moment alone. The shop was stuffy, and she was suffocating under the weight of all her lies and half-truths. She rubbed her temples and inhaled. It mattered not that the air smelled of coal smoke and horse droppings. She inhaled deeply, expanding her lungs and exhaling through her nose, even as she pinched the bridge and made an effort to calm herself. She closed her eyes and leaned her back and head against the brick façade of the milliner’s shop.
Someone yanked her elbow hard and pulled her through the crowd into the alleyway between the buildings.
“Your little friends are very pretty.” Reginald backed her several feet into the darkness of the dead-end alley. He stood between her and the street, effectively blocking her exit and the odds of someone seeing her behind him.
This is it. It’s all over. I’m so sorry, Henry.
He could have her right now if he wanted to, but Reginald wasn’t especially fond of getting dirty, and the alley was filthy, even on Bond Street. Besides, he wasn’t actually prepared to take her today. He didn’t want to snatch her. He could have done that anytime. He liked the idea that she be forced to make the decision to come to him of her own free will. He gripped her upper arm, wrapping his fingers around her thin biceps until his thumb and fingers met. He’d leave another bruise, and that idea made him smile. He always enjoyed leaving a memento for ladies to think about later. His cock stirred to life when he recalled the bruise he surely left on her tit the other day. He wanted to see it. Right now. In this alley. The thought that a passerby might espy the two of them in the alley with his hands on her excited him more.
“How are you, Livvy?” He reached a hand to fondle the breast he’d pinched the other day. “Did I leave you a souvenir?”
Olivia squirmed and slapped at him, but he held her arm tight. “No,” she lied. Reginald knew it because was a lying bitch.
“I want to see your tit.” Saying the word out loud, with the help of his vivid imagination, sent his blood pumping.
“No,” she said again and tried to pull away from him. Her expression was wary and—ah, there it was, his favorite—afraid. His cock len
gthened down his leg. “My lord, let me go.”
“Good girl,” he mocked, “you remembered to address me properly. I knew you weren’t too stupid to learn. After all, you are smarter than that hunting bitch of your father’s, right? By the way, I shot that bloody nuisance of a dog.” He was rewarded by the offhand remark with tears in her eyes. “If you’d been home, you could have buried her. But since you ran off, I left the body in the woods for the animals to scavenge. So much misery could have been avoided if you weren’t so childish and stupid.”
“What do you want, my lord?” She maintained her air of willfulness, but he would break her of that soon.
Reginald sneered at her. “Right now I want to see your fucking tit.” He kept his voice controlled while he issued the order, but he was on the verge of losing that tenuous thread.
Olivia emitted an indignant gasp and yanked on her captured arm. When he wrenched it back to his side, she used her free hand to whop at his head with her reticule. He snatched the velvet bag, surprised at its weight, and tossed it to the ground behind them. “Either you undo the buttons and show me, or I’ll rip them off when I do it.”
Olivia swallowed hard and shook her head. “Go to Hades, my lord.” She finished with the honorific in a sickeningly sweet voice that grated his spine.
“Stop playing games with me, Olivia.” He pushed her alongside the brick of the milliner’s shop and shoved his hips against her so she could feel how ready he was for her. The girl had the gall to attempt pushing him away. Reginald grabbed her wrists and wrenched them behind her between her and the wall, holding them there with one hand. She made a pretty, whimpering moan and arched her back, displaying her breasts for his delectation.
With his free hand, he started in on the first button. He glanced at Olivia to find her staring at him, her gaze full of venom.
“Let go of me,” she demanded and tried to twist away. He shoved her against the wall and ground his hips against her again. Sweet Jesus, he was going to come in his pants.
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