by Laura Landon
“Olivia,” she heard her father say from behind her. Then louder. “Olivia!”
She crumpled to the floor as darkness overtook her.
Chapter 4
London—Three years later
Olivia made another note on the paper in front of her while Henry Lockling, Damien’s steward, discussed improvements that needed to be made to several tenants’ homes on Damien’s property. Even though he’d been dead more than three years, no one knew it except her, her father, and Captain Durham. It was a decision she and her father had made after they’d gotten the letter from Captain Durham. No one can know that Damien is dead. Not yet.
The reasons had been simple. If Damien’s death had become public knowledge, Lady Iversley and Damien’s two sisters would have been at the mercy of a distant cousin of whom Damien had never spoken highly. By keeping Damien’s death a secret, his oldest sister had been able to have a Season and find a husband. She was now happily married and expecting her first child. Damien’s youngest sister, Penelope, was in the midst of enjoying her Season and, according to Lady Iversley, had caught the eye of several ideal suitors. Olivia expected to hear the announcement of Penelope’s engagement by the end of the Season.
Of course, Lady Iversley was extremely put out with Damien for staying away from London for so long, but Olivia had forged several letters over the years and had had Captain Durham post them from the various ports where he stopped. Every letter promised Damien would be home soon, which only Captain Durham and Olivia knew was a lie.
She’d also used the three years to make sure Lady Iversley would be cared for when word came of Damien’s death. Every quarter, she put back a portion of the profits from the estates to ensure that Lady Iversley would have an adequate amount to live on for the rest of her life. Especially if rumors were true concerning the man who would become the next Earl of Iversley when Damien’s death was revealed.
Olivia took special care of Damien’s estates, managing them as if he were coming back any day to run them again himself. Even though he never would be.
Just as her father would never be here to help her run Pellingsworth Shipping.
His sudden death nine months ago had left her reeling in such despair that, for the first few weeks after he was gone, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to cope. But she had. There’d been too much to do to give in to her despair. Too much to take care of to lock herself away like she’d wanted and bury herself in her grief. And now, there was even more. Not only did she have the estates to look after, but there were problems at Pellingsworth Shipping.
Shortly after her father’s death, the first mysterious catastrophe occurred. In the ensuing months, the shipping company had been plagued by one disaster after another.
Olivia clutched the pen tighter in frustration. If only her father were still here. Or if Captain Durham would return from his last voyage. She desperately needed someone to whom she could talk. Someone who could help her figure out what was going on.
“My lady?”
Olivia pulled herself to attention with a jolt. She looked into Henry Lockling’s face and realized she’d been silent for too long a time.
Henry Lockling’s thick brown hair had thinned since the first time she’d met with him three years earlier, but his shoulders were still as broad, and he carried himself with the same air of confidence she’d noted then. He was still a striking man even though his skin was more weathered and the hook to his nose more pronounced. And somewhere between the doubts he’d had of her ability to run the estates and the gradual building of their mutual respect, the two of them had become almost friends.
“I’m sorry, Henry. You were saying?”
“I was saying that other than the roofs on the Yardley and Harper cottages, the other homes made it through the winter in relatively good condition. An outbuilding or two does need repair, but most of those are minor and have been seen to already.”
Olivia nodded. “What about the new barn we planned to build next to the Proctor’s? It needs to be up in the next couple of months if we hope to store the wool over winter for delivery next spring.”
“The lumber’s already been ordered and the labor’s lined up to begin construction the moment it arrives.”
Olivia gave a nod of assent. “What do you hear from Iversley Hall?”
Lockling shook his head. “’Tis not good, my lady. Lord Iversley’s cousin is still in residence. Lady Iversley isn’t pleased that he hasn’t left yet, but you know the lady. She doesn’t have the heart to demand that he go.”
Olivia fought the anger building within her. “What reason does Mr. Compton give for staying so long?”
The corner of Henry Lockling’s lip lifted in a snarl. “He says he’s concerned for his aunt. It troubles him that Lord Iversley has been gone for so long, and he’s even hinted his fear that something has happened to his lordship.”
Olivia knew that Damien’s prolonged absence would raise questions eventually, but the last thing she needed was for people to find out why Damien hadn’t returned. Not now.
Olivia rolled the pen in her fingers, then looked at Mr. Lockling. “Have you met Mr. Compton? What’s your opinion of him?”
“Rumor has it young Compton cares a great deal for gaming and living the high life in London. Stephens, the butler, told me creditors have recently come to see Lady Iversley concerning Mr. Compton’s unpaid bills and gaming debts. You will notice an increase in the household expenses when you go through this quarter’s accounts.”
Olivia lowered her gaze to the ledger Mr. Lockling had brought for her to peruse. “I see,” Olivia said. She was obviously going to have to pay Lady Iversley a visit. Mr. Compton couldn’t continue to mount up debts that his aunt had to cover.
“I’m sorry my news isn’t better,” Lockling said.
Olivia tried to smile. “You’re only the messenger, Mr. Lockling. You don’t have any control over the message.”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Henry Lockling gathered his papers and prepared to leave. He stopped his motions. “I wish you would tell Lady Iversley that you have been responsible for running the estate. The praises she offers me are totally unwarranted. They should be given directly to you.”
“I don’t need praises,” Olivia answered. “I only need to know that Lord Iversley’s estates will be in good shape when he returns.”
“Is there any word on when that will be?”
Olivia halted. How should she answer? “Soon, Mr. Lockling. Within the year, I should say.”
“That’s good, my lady. Although you have done an admirable job running the estate, it will be good to have his lordship back.”
“Yes, it will,” Olivia responded. It would be good to have Damien back—if only it were possible for him to come back from the dead.
Lockling finished gathering the rest of his papers and rose to take his leave. Before he walked across the room, there was a knock on the door. Chivers stepped into the room.
“Lord Rotham to see you, my lady. Are you receiving?”
Olivia hesitated a fraction of a second, only because she wasn’t sure she was up to a visit with the Marquess of Rotham. She wasn’t ready to give him an answer, which she knew he expected. But procrastinating would do no good. It wouldn’t change the inevitable.
“Send him in, Chivers. Mr. Lockling was just leaving.”
Lockling bowed again and left the room. Rolland St. James, the Marquess of Rotham, entered in his wake.
When Rolland walked through the door, Olivia experienced a familiar warmth and felt tranquil and safe, as she would with an old friend. But nothing more.
She wished she felt something more for him. She liked him, admired him, and appreciated his friendship. But he could never take Damien’s place in her heart. Just as Olivia could never be a replacement for the wife he’d loved and lost.
She�
�d known Rolland for years. He’d been a longtime friend of her father’s and, as such, had been a frequent guest for dinner. She and Rolland had much in common, especially their love of the ships they both owned, so it was only natural that they were drawn to each other. And, Olivia knew that the day would come when she would have to marry. She couldn’t remain a spinster forever. She wouldn’t find a better husband than Rolland. If she didn’t love him now, perhaps in time she would.
She watched him walk across the room and was struck by how handsome he was, how distinguished-looking. She smiled and moved from behind the desk.
Rolland took her extended hands, then lowered his head and kissed her fingers.
“Good day, Rolland.”
“Olivia.”
Olivia looked to Chivers who was just about to close the door. “Chivers, please have tea served.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Won’t you sit down, Rolland?”
“Thank you, Olivia.”
He motioned for her to sit on the end of the settee, and after she’d settled, he sat in the chair opposite her.
“That was Iversley’s steward who just left, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no trouble, is there?”
Olivia shook her head. “Mr. Lockling just needed to go over some work Lord Iversley had ordered be started on a piece of land that borders Pellingsworth Estate and was courteous enough to inform me before the work started. Nothing important.”
“You’re working too hard, Olivia,” he said. His voice stayed soft but did not hide a hint of concern. “You look tired.”
Olivia laughed. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to tell a lady she’s lovely? Even if it’s a lie.”
“You are lovely, one of the loveliest women in all of England, but the dark smudges beneath your eyes tell me you’re working too hard.”
Olivia studied the genuine concern on Rolland’s face while a servant wheeled a tea tray into the room. The marquess was handsome, with hair a golden blond and eyes the deepest brown. His brows angled above his eyes, giving him an austere expression that fit his station. His face was long and narrow, with high cheekbones chiseled in the same defined cut as his jaw.
Olivia poured tea when it arrived, and Rolland reached across the narrow space that separated them and took the cup and saucer from her hand. His fingers brushed against hers, keeping the contact several seconds before breaking it.
Olivia looked down. His hands were wide, his fingers long. She recognized his strength. She also knew his compassion.
Rolland’s first wife had been a young, dainty beauty who was the love of his life. He’d lost her in childbirth, and during the six years since she’d been gone, some speculated he’d never remarry. This turned him into the prime catch of every Season. When he showed an interest in Olivia some year and a half ago, the town was abuzz with speculation. Nearly everyone awaited the announcement of their engagement with eager anticipation. Everyone except those who favored Rotham as a prospective husband for themselves or their daughters.
Rolland took a sip of tea, then set his saucer on a table beside his chair and looked at her. “I know about the accidents with your ships, Olivia.”
Olivia slowly lowered her cup and saucer to her lap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about someone sabotaging your shipping company. The damaged cargo aboard the Lady’s Mist. The faulty riggings that nearly sank the Conquest. The abandonment of a third of the crew that was supposed to sail on the Viking. Then there was the wrong cargo on the Andora Jane and the missed deadlines and the—”
“Enough!”
“You need my help, Olivia. Someone is deliberately trying to ruin your father’s shipping company.”
Olivia squared her shoulders. She refused to have anyone think she wasn’t capable.
“They’re just accidents. They don’t mean anything.”
“You’re fooling yourself if you believe that. There’s something more serious going on and you know it.”
She lifted her chin and locked her gaze with his. “Of course I know it. How could I not? But I’m quite capable of handling it myself.”
“But that’s the problem, Olivia. You can’t handle these problems alone. I don’t want you to handle what’s going on alone.” Rolland sat forward in his chair. “Let me help you. You know how I feel about you. You know a match between us would be mutually beneficial.”
“Don’t, Rolland.”
“I have to. I can’t let you continue as you are. Marry me. Let’s announce our betrothal.”
Olivia’s cup and saucer rattled when she moved them to the table, and she clasped her hands together in her lap. “Rolland, you are such a dear. But I can’t. You know I can’t. Father hasn’t been gone a full year yet. I’m still in mourning. And Damien—”
“Iversley’s been gone more than three years. It’s quite possible he doesn’t intend on ever returning.”
Olivia bolted to her feet. “Don’t!”
“You have to face facts, Olivia. Strathern’s been dead for more than a year.”
“But his son is still alive! There’s still a price on Damien’s head.”
“When was the last time you heard from Iversley?”
“That’s none of your—”
“When?”
Olivia turned her back on Rolland and looked out the window. How could she try to convince anyone that Damien would return when she knew he wouldn’t?
“You’re young and alone, Olivia. No one expects you to wait for Iversley. Everyone knows you’ve waited long enough for him to return, and that it’s time you moved forward with your life.”
Rolland walked to her and turned her so she faced him. “People will think you prudent and wise to marry me and let me shoulder your responsibilities.”
Olivia arched her brows. “Because I’m a woman and not intelligent enough to manage on my own?”
“No, because I’m a man and it’s expected of me.”
Olivia shook her head. “Don’t, Rolland. I can’t. Not yet.”
“Surely you aren’t still in love with Iversley? Not after he abandoned you.”
She locked her gaze with his. “Can you tell me you aren’t still in love with Felicity?”
Olivia heard the air rush from him before he answered.
“Not completely. But perhaps it’s time we both buried our ghosts and started again.”
Rolland kept his gaze connected with hers. Olivia waited in silence, unable to give him an answer.
“Olivia, consider your position, as well as mine. I’m very fond of you.”
“Fond?”
“You know what I mean.” He led her to the sofa. When they were seated, he reached for her hands. “We have both loved deeply. But it’s time we move on with our lives. You’re twenty-six years old and nearly past the age to marry. I’m thirty-two and in need of an heir. Between the two of us, we are worth a fortune. More than either of us has need of. Without children to leave it to, what good is all we have?”
He gently squeezed her fingers as if emphasizing his next words. “I care for you, Olivia. Deeply. I want to take care of you and the children we’ll have together. And you need me, too. You need me to help you run the business your father left you, as well as the properties that didn’t go to your uncle. You need me to take care of Pellingsworth Shipping.”
“I’ve managed,” she said defensively.
“At what cost? Do you know the danger you’re in every time you go down to the docks? A man isn’t safe from the drunken sailors and thieves who roam the wharves, let alone a woman. I know your father didn’t intend for you to continue like this. He encouraged an association between us. You know he did.”
Olivia wasn’t sure what her father had wanted for her. She knew he respected Rollan
d, knew he valued him as a friend and colleague, but she had no idea what role her father envisioned Rolland would play in her life.
But Rolland was right. Perhaps it was time to let Damien go.
She looked at Rolland’s hands, which were holding hers, then looked up at him. “Give me a little more time, Rolland. Just until Father’s will has been read.”
Olivia could see the shock on his face.
“Your father’s will hasn’t been read?”
“Not all of it. Only the parts that involved the entailed properties. Descriptions of the land that went to my uncle, my father’s younger brother.”
“For God’s sake, why not the rest of it?”
“Because Captain Durham is required to be here for the reading. Word was sent him when the Angel’s Wings sailed, but he hasn’t arrived yet.”
“The Angel’s Wings isn’t due back for months yet.”
“Perhaps two. Three if the winds are against them.”
“And you’ve gone all this time without knowing what exactly is yours?”
Olivia felt her temper bristle. “I have no doubt my father left me well provided for. I am assuming that other than Pellingsworth Manor, which is entailed, everything else will remain in my name.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“I’m not worried about that, Rolland. And you shouldn’t be either.”
“I’m not interested in your money, Olivia. Surely you know that?”
Olivia rubbed the ache at her temples. “Of course I do. I’m just tired is all. Please, could we talk of something else?”
The look on Rolland’s face said he didn’t want to talk about something else, but the heavy sigh he breathed told her he’d given in.
“Very well. Do you plan to attend the Grahamshire ball tonight?”
Olivia didn’t feel up to going anywhere tonight and wanted to say so but knew if she did, Rolland would have another example to throw in her face, proof she was working too hard. “Yes, I’m planning to go.”
“Good. I’ll come for you at eight.”
He rose and walked to the door. Olivia followed to ring for Chivers. “I can see myself out, Olivia. Perhaps, though, you should find time to rest before you dress for the evening.”