by Anne Herries
Olivia. 'Would you like me to have a discreet word with Denning—warn him that he should back
off now if he has no serious intentions towards her?'
'Would he not resent that, Harry?'
'I would willingly incur Denning's displeasure to protect your sister, dearest. Far better that he
should feel himself insulted than that she should be misled into giving her heart unwisely.'
Beatrice nodded but made no reply. She was very much afraid that Olivia's heart had already been
given to Captain Denning. Yet Harry would know how to put the matter delicately, and it might be
that they were worrying for no good reason.
'Yes, perhaps you should have a word with him, Harry,' she said. 'Explain that she has been hurt
and that her family wants only to protect her from more gossip...'
Happily unaware that her sister and Harry Ravensden were so earnestly discussing her, Olivia
finished preparing for the ball. She was wearing a very pretty lemon silk ball gown. The neckline
dipped into a V at both the back and front, but the back had gathered frills right to the tip of the
little train, which looked very stylish and elegant, and there were knots of silk flowers at her
breasts. Her long gloves were white, as were her slippers, and her hair was caught into ringlets
with a white ribbon.
She wore only a fine gold chain with the cross Mrs Roade had given her about her neck, for she
had very little jewellery. Just some trinkets Beatrice had given her and some simple beads. All
her costly jewels had been left behind when she left the home of her adoptive parents.
It was odd, Olivia thought, but Lady Burton had been much in her mind that day. She had tried
these past months not to think of the woman who had been as a mother to her for so many years,
but sometimes the memories came back to haunt her.
Lord Burton had always been stern, though he had undoubtedly spoiled Olivia in a material way.
Yet she had never been truly convinced of his true affection for her. She rather thought he had seen
her as a pretty ornament, a bauble his wealth had bought for him. Sometimes, as she grew older,
she had not quite liked the way he looked at her...almost as though he saw her as something other
than the indulged daughter he claimed her to be.
Olivia had had no such doubts concerning Lady Burton's feelings. She was sure her adoptive
mother had loved her. After the breach between them, she had been terribly hurt that her adoptive
mother had allowed her to be cast out, but the months spent in contemplation since then had led her
to realize that her mama had really been given no choice.
Perhaps Beatrice was right. Perhaps some attempt at reconciliation with Lady Burton should be
made.
'Are you ready, dearest?' Olivia's thoughts were interrupted as her sister entered the bedchamber.
'Oh, you do look lovely this evening!'
'Thank you,' Olivia said and smiled at her. 'You look wonderful, Beatrice—there is a glow about
you.'
'I feel wonderful.' Beatrice touched the emerald necklace at her throat, her cheeks a little pink.
'Harry gave me these this evening. He had meant them for my birthday, but he was excited by my
news...'
Olivia nodded, then moved to kiss her cheek. 'I believe you are to be congratulated, Beatrice.'
'So you guessed.' Beatrice laughed. 'I did not want to say until I was certain. I told Harry earlier
that I suspected I might be increasing, and he admitted that he had had his own suspicions. Harry
will summon a doctor soon, but I feel fairly certain I am with child.'
'I am so glad. You must both be very happy?'
'Yes. We are, of course...' Beatrice hesitated, but could not bring herself to speak to Olivia about
Captain Denning. After all, perhaps Harry was wrong in his opinion that the Captain had no
thought of marriage. 'I should like to see you as happy, Olivia.'
'I am much happier than I was,' Olivia replied, smiling at her. 'Oh, I know I should not allow
myself to hope—but I cannot help it. I do know that I shall never marry, unless...' She paused and
blushed. 'But I have no need to explain to you. You fell in love with Harry at first sight.'
Beatrice smiled and hid her anxiety. She did understand exactly how Olivia felt. She had gone
through a period of uncertainty and distress until Harry had been free to offer her his love.
'Shall we go?' she said, holding her hand out to Olivia. 'We do not want to miss anything. I am
sure it will be a sad crush, but I mean to dance this evening—if Harry can be kept from the card
tables for long enough to oblige me.'
It was a glittering occasion. The Pavilion was remarkable enough from the outside, but the interior
had been furnished in the Chinese taste, which looked very odd in Olivia's opinion, though many
professed to admire it. The rooms were also overpoweringly hot, and the ladies were all using
their fans to good effect.
Everyone was wearing his or her finest clothes and most costly jewels, which flashed in the lights
of the brilliant chandeliers. As Beatrice had forecast, it was indeed a sad crush, the rooms
overflowing with laughing, chattering people, who all seemed to know one another. However, as
Olivia found herself besieged by eager partners as soon as she entered the ballroom, she hardly
had time to notice the overcrowding.
Harry had done his work well. Olivia was once again recognized as an heiress, and several
impecunious young men felt the risk of being jilted by her was worth taking. For who knew, she
might not change her mind a second time, and she was certainly a prize to be gained. And when the
Regent himself went so far as to smile and speak to her kindly for several minutes soon after her
arrival, her success was assured.
Olivia's card was quickly filled, but she had pencilled Captain Denning's name in two spaces, and
as soon as the first waltz was announced, he came to her side.
'My dance, I believe, Miss Olivia?'
Her heart leapt. 'Let me see...' She pretended to consult her card. 'Why yes, sir, I believe you are
right.'
Jack's eyes gleamed. He took her arm firmly and led her out to join the other dancers.
'I believe you are a minx, Miss Olivia.'
'How can you say so, Captain Denning?' She gave him a wicked glance, her eyes bright with
mischief.
'With perfect truth,' he replied and, placing his hand at her waist, swept her away into the crowd
of swirling dancers.
At their first meeting Olivia had been afraid of his dog, appearing to be a little timid; at their
second she must have seemed to be a rather sad creature, forced to sit out most of the dances for
lack of a partner. This evening she was once again the popular Miss Roade Burton, who had taken
the Ton by storm.
Olivia sensed that Captain Denning was a little surprised at the transformation. She felt there was
an odd reserve in his manner that evening—almost a withdrawal. Did he think her a flirt? Gazing
up at him anxiously, she saw that his eyes seemed to be looking beyond her.
Had she done something to make him angry? Olivia could not imagine what that might be—unless
he was jealous?
Her heart beat a little faster as the thought entered her mind. Oh, if only it were so! If only he
would speak!
'Shall you be at Lady Ravensden's dance next week, sir?'
'I fear not,' Jack replied, gl
ancing down at her. 'I am recalled home on business. I leave on
Sunday.'
Only two days away! Olivia's heart sank. So little time left to her—and then she might never see
him again.
'We shall miss you,' she said, speaking honestly. 'I believe my sister intends a stay of at least
another week.'
'Oh, you will not miss one acquaintance amongst so many,' Jack said, ignoring the appeal in her
lovely eyes. 'I am sure you will have forgotten me within the week.'
'I am sure I shall not, sir.'
Their dance was ending. Olivia noticed Captain Denning's quick frown as he prepared to lead her
back to her sister. She sensed that something was on his mind. His manner had most definitely
changed towards her, was not so outgoing as before. Why? What had caused him to withdraw his
friendship?
She wanted to ask him, but knew she dared not. Instead, she flashed a brilliant smile at him, a
teasing sparkle in her eyes.
'You will not forget we are engaged for the supper dance?'
'No, I shall not forget.' He smiled, bowed and walked away into the throng.
Olivia's eyes followed him, her wistful expression betraying more of her thoughts and feelings
than she realized before she turned to greet her next partner.
From across the room, Lady Clements observed the revealing look and frowned as she spoke to
her nephew. 'You should make a push to engage the interest of Miss Roade Burton,' she told him
sharply. 'Else you will lose your chance to secure her fortune.
Ten thousand is not as much as she might have had perhaps, but it is a useful sum.'
'B-but what can I do?' asked Mr Reginald Smythe. 'She hardly notices me. And it is not just
because of Denning. She has so many admirers since it became common knowledge that she is not
penniless after all.'
'Do not be so weak-willed,' Lady Clements said, giving him a sour look. 'You have debts of nearly
five thousand, and neither your mama nor I are prepared to pay them for you. Unless you do
something you will find yourself in a debtor's prison.'
Reginald Smythe nodded gloomily. He had been a fool to gamble for stakes he could not afford,
and he knew it was hopeless to apply to any member of his family for help. Unless he could think
of a way to attract the interest of an heiress, he would very likely be ruined. Yet what could he
do?
'Miss Roade Burton is in an awkward position. Her reputation is fragile after that last
contretemps,' Lady Clements remarked acidly. 'It should not be beyond your imagination to
compromise the girl in some way! Take her out into the garden or to one of the private rooms. I
will engage to follow with her sister—or better still, Lord Ravensden. If we catch you behaving
badly, I will insist you do the honourable thing and marry the chit!'
Reginald looked at her in amazement. It was a daring plan, but not at all what he might have
expected to hear from his respectable aunt.
'I'll take her to one of the private rooms just off the ballroom,' he said, a thoughtful expression in
his eyes. 'Far more intimate than the garden, don't you think?'
Unaware that Lady Clements and her nephew were hatching schemes to entrap her into marriage,
Olivia continued to dance the night away. Although she looked for him often, she saw no sign of
Captain Denning in the ballroom. She supposed that he must have gone to the card room,
preferring like some other gentlemen to spend his time gaming.
In thinking that, however, she wronged him. Jack had gone into the garden to smoke a cigar and
think. His conversation with Harry Ravensden earlier that evening had given him food for thought
—thoughts which were not affording him a great deal of pleasure at that moment.
He had carelessly taken up the cudgels on Miss Roade Burton's behalf after seeing her humiliation
at Lady Clements's ball because he hated the hypocrisy in society, and because something in him
had responded to her brave attempt to ignore what was happening to her. Once they began to talk
and to know one another, he had found himself caught by her naughty looks and smiles.
Jack sensed there was far more to Olivia than he might have imagined from her society manners,
and perhaps it was this that had led him into what he saw as a mild flirtation. He had not thought
beyond the next few days...until this evening. If the world of polite society and Miss Roade Burton
were expecting a proposal, they would be sadly disappointed.
Yes, she was charming. Yes, she amused him with her challenging looks—and yes, he was
physically attracted to her, felt protective of her in a way he had not felt before, but that did not
mean he was thinking of making her his wife. Jack had his own reasons for refraining from
matrimony, and he had never revealed the whole of them to anyone. Not even to Anne, who had
once been his lover, and was now his friend, had he ever confessed his worst nightmare.
No, he would be a fool to think of Olivia! It was an impossible situation. If Jack had ever
contemplated more than a flirtation between them, he had been warned to think again. Ravensden
had made it abundantly clear that he would protect Olivia's reputation no matter what.
The intervention had angered Jack. Good grief! Did Ravensden imagine he planned the girl's ruin?
He of all men! To harm a woman in any way was something Jack would never wish to do,
something so foreign to his nature that had he not perfectly understood Ravensden's point of view,
he might have challenged him to a duel for the insult.
So, if he did not plan Olivia's seduction or marriage, what were his intentions?
Jack scowled at his own thoughts. He disliked his affairs being scrutinised so intimately. Damn
Ravensden! What business was it of his? Yet he could not fault the other man's thinking. It was
true that Jack had paid Olivia particular attention. If he continued to do so, it would undoubtedly
lead to speculation, which in turn might damage Olivia in some way: her reputation, if not her
heart. For he was uncertain of her feelings towards him. Sometimes her smile seemed to hint at
more than mere friendship, but he had seen her smile at others as warmly.
His only choice was to draw back now. He had no right to marry a girl like that! She was too
lovely, too far above him—too innocent to guess at the blackness he kept hidden in his heart.
Making up his mind, he flicked away his cigar into the bushes. The honourable thing would be to
act immediately. He would find Olivia, apologise and leave without taking her to supper.
At the same moment that Jack was coming to his decision, Olivia was looking ruefully at the hem
of her gown. It had just been trodden on and torn by the clumsy Mr Reginald Smythe, who had
come to claim his dance.
'Your pretty gown is ruined,' he said and blushed as he apologised for the fourth time in quick
succession. 'What can I do to make amends? I am so very sorry.'
'Do not worry,' Olivia replied, smothering her sigh of annoyance. He looked so wretched that she
felt sorry for him. 'I shall find somewhere to be private and pin up the tear.'
'Do you carry something in your reticule?' he asked, looking eager. 'May I be of assistance? I
could show you a room nearby—and perhaps I could help you to make the repair?'
Had he been one of the hardened rakes, some of whom had pursued her relentlessly when she was
in London, Oli
via might have been more wary. However, Reginald Smythe was such a diffident,
unsure young man that she believed herself safe in trusting him, and smiled her agreement.
'Pray let us go at once,' she said. 'I certainly cannot dance until the hem has been repaired.'
She left the ballroom and went into the small parlour just along the hallway, followed meekly by
Mr Smythe. Closing the door behind them, he went across to a small sofa and set a branch of
candles on a wine table next to it so that she might see more clearly.
'If you were to sit down,' he suggested, 'I could lift the hem so that you could pin it into place.'
Olivia frowned. She had suddenly realized that her being here alone with him, in what was an
intimate situation, might look odd if someone were to come in. She ought of course to have gone
upstairs to the room provided for the ladies, where an attendant might have pinned the torn hem for
her. Yet surely it could not matter? It would take only a moment to make the repair, and then they
could return to the ballroom.
She sat down, and Mr Smythe knelt at her feet, handing her the torn hem carefully so that she could
do what was needed. She set several tiny stitches, and replaced the sewing packet in her beaded
purse.
'There, that was soon done,' she said, feeling relieved. 'Thank you, sir. I believe we should go
back now.'
'No! Not yet,' he cried. Olivia was startled by the look of desperation in his face. He threw a
scared glance over his shoulder, then grabbed hold of her hand. 'I brought, you here in order to be
alone with you, Miss Olivia. Pray forgive me, but you must know that I have fallen in love with
you. I am desperate. If you will not marry me, I do not know what I shall do...'
'Pray do not...' He was still kneeling at her feet. Olivia was shocked by the wildness in his eyes,
and knew she had been unwise to come here with him. 'I am honoured by your offer, of course, but
I must refuse. I cannot return your kind regard, sir. I must ask you to release my hand and...'
He threw another terrified glance towards the door, then flung his body forward, forcing her back
on the sofa, his whole weight pressing on her. Olivia found herself crushed beneath him, unable to