“Which is?”
“Never see Lucy again.”
“That’s all? You’re going to give me all of that money and all I have to do is not see Lucy and stop…” Although he didn’t admit to the blackmail, neither did he deny it.
“That’s it. And you’ll do it today. Now. Do we have a deal?”
Lofton blinked. “Yes. We have a deal.”
“Good.”
He reached out to grab the money, but Oliver snatched it back.
“What are you—?”
“I’ll hand you the money once we reach the gate. I want to make sure you leave, and leave for good this time. Walk with me there and you’ll get it.”
“Very well.”
Oliver opened the door and squinted against the bright sunlight. Without another word, the men walked side by side to the gate. Their steps plodded on the path until they reached the entrance of the Sanctuary.
“Pardon me.”
Oliver turned and nodded toward a pretty redhead. He eyed Lofton, who stared at her. Did he know her?
The woman smiled and nodded before moving through the gate to her carriage.
Oliver tilted his head in her direction. “Someone you know?”
Lofton nodded slowly. “Amelia Talbot.”
“You seem taken with her.”
As if snapped out of a trance, Lofton turned his head back toward Oliver. “That’s neither here nor there.”
Oliver shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“I plan to.” The earl held out his hand.
Oliver placed the wrapped money into his greedy paw and stepped back.
“Enjoy Lucy. You two deserve each other.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lucy sat on the garden bench. Her cat purred as she stroked his back. A lone tear fell from her eye and traveled down her cheek to land silently on his fur. Today was for endings. Today was for saying good-bye. Good-bye to any happiness she’d ever dreamed would be hers. The future seemed bleak at best when she would become Lady Lucy Lofton.
An odd sensation, something akin to numbness, settled in, surrounded her heart. Would she always feel this way? Cold? Alone?
A rustle came from the other side of the path. Someone was coming. Conrad? Of course he’d know to look for her there. Her first thoughts when she’d run away from the Sanctuary had been to just keep going, to walk until she fell, exhausted. But what then?
She cared not. Because as soon as she wed him, her life was over, anyway.
Lucy wiped the wetness from her cheek and squared her shoulders. She might have to face Conrad, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Lucy.”
She stiffened. Her heart skipped a beat. Not Conrad’s voice.
She glanced up. Her breath caught in her throat. “Oliver?”
He walked toward her, never taking his gaze from her face. What was he doing there? What if Conrad came and saw them—
Without another word, Oliver sat next to her on the bench and removed his hat and gloves. He glanced down at the cat and smiled.
“Oliver I…”
He placed his finger on her lips to quiet her. With his other hand, he reached around and ran his fingers down the back of her neck. Shivers ran through her.
She clutched tightly to the cat. What was Oliver doing? Why was he there? Now?
Oliver placed both hands on the sides of her face. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened them, his dark eyes peered into hers, as if he could see her, really see her, even into her very soul.
He leaned forward and lightly, gently, pressed his lips to hers. Warm. So warm. His fingers ran in lazy circles on her cheeks. He pulled away and placed tiny, delicate kisses across her forehead, cheeks, and down her neck.
Lucy’s heart slowed. A languid laziness, almost a drugged feeling, took hold of her. Suddenly it seemed she could float away. Drift along on a cloud while Oliver kissed every inch of her.
He sat back and took her hand. “Lucy, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Wait! What was she doing? Conrad might show up any moment. She was betrothed for heaven’s sake!
“Oliver, I can’t—”
He shook his head. “I have some things to tell you. Very important things.”
A sigh escaped from her lips. She couldn’t imagine why he was there. Or what he wanted to tell her that would make any difference to her situation. But since she might never see him again, hear his soothing voice, she’d listen now. Listen to whatever it was he had to say, before… before he left and never returned.
“Very well. What do you need to tell me?”
His hands enveloped hers. The warmth of his skin comforted her.
“Do you know of a family by the name of Shipley?”
Lucy frowned and then nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ve heard my father speak of them. They’re quite wealthy, from what I hear. Father has said more than once that he wished to have their fortune.”
“And have you ever met them? This Shipley family?”
“No, I haven’t. They don’t seem to make appearances at any events where I’ve been. Not even the son. Which seems strange, since he would still be quite young. At an age where most men like to congregate with other young men. And women.”
“And why do you suppose that would be? That this young Shipley fellow wouldn’t associate with his peers?”
“I haven’t a clue.” She frowned. “Oliver, why all these questions about the Shipleys? I don’t even know them. Do you?”
He smiled. “Oh, yes. I’m acquainted with them quite well.”
“Then surely you know the answer to your own question better than I.”
Oliver nodded. “Indeed, I do.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Then perhaps you could tell me why a young, wealthy man might choose to distance himself from his peerage?”
“I will do just that.” He folded his arms over his chest. “The way I understand him, this Shipley fellow, he has very strong reasons for keeping to himself.”
“Oh? And what might those be?”
“You see, he doesn’t put much importance on parties and dances.”
“He doesn’t?”
“Oh, no. He’d rather use his time to pursue activities that bring him joy. And purpose.”
“And what might those activities be?”
“Lucy, I know you’ve never met this Shipley man, but, do you happen to know what his Christian name is?”
“No. I don’t.” Why is he rattling on about this family? It makes no sense.
“Oliver.”
“Pardon?”
“That’s his name.”
Lucy tilted her head. “You and he share the same name?”
“In a way.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“What’s that?”
“Talking in riddles.” As much as she was enjoying their banter, surely Conrad would come for her soon. And she had no wish to waste precious minutes with Oliver discussing that Shipley fellow. A glance over her shoulder showed them to still be alone. But it couldn’t be long before…
“He’ll not be coming.”
She turned back. “How can you be sure? He’s the greediest man I know and won’t let anything stand in his way of getting his hands on—” She looked down at her lap.
“You. And your inheritance?”
She nodded.
“Lucy, if I may ask, how do you feel about your betrothed?”
“As I would feel about a snake that slithers into the room, frightening everyone away with his disgusting—” She gasped and her eyes widened as she stared at him. “Oh! That sounded—”
“Honest.”
“Still, I shouldn’t speak of him… of my intended in such a fashion.”
“How should you speak of your intended?”
“If I loved him, which I don’t, I’d love to talk about him. His pleasant manner, the way he held my hand…” She glanced down and pulled hers from Oliver’s.<
br />
“I see. But you don’t love Lofton.”
“Of course not.”
“Then why are you marrying him?”
She shrugged. “I’m not being given a choice.” Tears burned at the back of her eyes, threatening to emerge any moment.
“And why is that?”
“In a word, Father. He wants me to marry above our station so he can benefit the most from it.”
“And what if there were someone who wanted to marry you who had even more wealth than Lofton?”
“I’m sure there are many who have more assets than Conrad, but none so far who have asked for my hand.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong.” His voice came out as nearly a whisper.
“What are you about, Oliver? Why all this talk, when it can lead to nothing but my own sadness and heartache?”
“Lucy, do you remember the day you entered your father’s study and I was there?”
“Yes, of course. And I’ve long pondered the reason you were there.” She flicked a glance at his coat. “And why you were dressed much as you are now.”
“I was there to discuss a matter of great importance with your father.”
“Was it about employment?”
He smiled. “No. Something much more important than that.”
“But what could you possibly have had to discuss with my father?”
“You.”
“You were there to discuss me? But why?”
He swallowed and looked down at his hands, which rested in his lap. “I was there to ask for your hand in marriage.”
“Ahh!” Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a second gasp. “But…”
He edged closer to her and reached up to remove her hand from her face. He clasped it and instead rested her palm against his own cheek. He closed his eyes and then opened them. “Lucy. I love you. I want to marry you.”
“Oh, Oliver.” Tears now hovered just on the edges of her lashes. He did love her! He did! “But I’m sure my father said no.”
“That’s correct.”
Her shoulders slumped, even though it was the answer she knew she would hear.
He took her hand away from his cheek and pressed his lips to her palm.
“Oh, my. Um. Oliver, we shouldn’t be—”
“Let me finish, all right?”
She nodded. But what could he possibly say now? Her father had declined his offer of marriage to her.
“Lucy, I have loved you since that first day I saw you sketching the nuthatch.”
A smile touched her lips. “In the cutaway coat?”
“Yes. Do you… have you any feelings… for me?”
“Oh, yes. Yes.”
“And what might those be?”
She swallowed. “I… have loved you since the first… as well.”
A heavy sigh, as if from somewhere deep inside, came from his lips. “I’d hoped as much, but I’m glad to hear the words, just the same.”
“But my father…”
“Don’t worry about him.”
“But I must.” Was Oliver going to ask her to elope? She would, of course. But then they would be nearly destitute, wouldn’t they? He had no money, and if she eloped, she wouldn’t either.
“While it’s true that your father said no to my offer… my original offer, his answer for my second was quite different.”
“You mean he…?”
“After a long discussion, yes he accepted.”
“Oh!” She jumped up and landed on his lap.
“Oof! Lucy! Have a care!” He glanced downward.
Heat suffused her whole person. “Oh dear. I’m…” She stood and moved away. But he grabbed her hand. “Just because I don’t want you jumping on that particular uh, part of me at present, doesn’t mean I don’t desire you to be close.” He wrapped her in his arms and pressed her head against his chest.
“But how did you get Father to agree? He’s so… greedy, and you have no…”
“That’s where my story gets interesting.”
“It does?”
“Remember when I mentioned that the young Mr. Shipley and I have the same name?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps you’d like to meet him.”
“Who?”
“Oliver Shipley?”
“But why would I?”
“Because he and I are one and the same.”
She pulled away and stared at him. “What? Oliver. You mean you’re—?”
“Yes. Wealthy and then some.”
“So that’s why my father—?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Oh my. This is all so… unexpected.”
He tilted his head. “But a good surprise, I hope.”
“The best. The best possible surprise.”
“You know, you haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t believe I remember hearing one.”
“That you haven’t.” His smiled widened. “Lucy Ashbrook, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Oliver Shipley, I would love nothing better than to be your wife.”
He pulled her onto his lap, this time gently. Fitting her tightly against him with one arm, he caressed her face with his other hand. He peered into her eyes and pulled his lips upward in a smile. And again, two dimples appeared, Lucy sighed. It was all so perfect, so right. Her gaze fell to his lips, after he glanced at hers. She was ready. Oh so ready.
His breath was warm and inviting, feathering across her cheek before he touched his lips to hers. And then, his lips, so soft and warm, pressed against hers. First only lightly. Then with more pressure. Heat shot downward, all the way to her toes. She placed both hands on the side of his head and tugged him closer. She wanted more. Much, much more.
Alas, he broke contact and drew back. Lucy sighed. “I can’t believe we’re going to be together. Married. It’s my dream come true.”
“I can’t believe it either. May I kiss you again, my little dove?”
Lucy raised an eyebrow “Little dove?” She smiled. “At least you didn’t call me a little cuckoo.”
If Oliver's laugh was any indication, Lucy would have a joyful life. She smiled. Yes, a joyful life indeed.
The End
The Unwanted Earl
Dedication
To all the unwanted heroes.
Prologue
Lord Conrad Croome, the Fifth Earl of Lofton, hurried toward the building. His entire jaw throbbed as if tiny men with hammers pounded away on his tooth. Or what was left of it. He didn’t want to visit that man, the surgeon-dentist, but short of pulling the tooth himself, which of course wouldn’t work due to his fear of the sight of blood, he had no choice. Slow footsteps plodded behind him.
Mother.
Why in the world had she insisted on coming along? There were certain things a man must do alone. Screaming in pain while another man tortured him was one of them.
Alas, she’d given Conrad no choice. Bossy thing, she was. He stopped and turned, waiting for her to catch up. “Please try to hurry, Mother.” He rubbed his hand along his jaw. “I’m in agony.”
“Oh pish.” His mother, Miriam Croome, Lady Lofton, waved a chubby hand at him. “Don’t be such a baby, Conrad.”
When she reached him, she stopped as well. Not exactly what he’d intended. He should have just kept on going, as rude as it might have appeared to outsiders. But when had worrying about others’ opinions stopped him from getting his way?
The pain intensified, sending stabs of heat to his neck. Perhaps he was being punished for his past behavior. Toward his mother. Toward Lucy and Oliver. Everyone, really.
And don’t I just deserve it? He’d treated Lucy abysmally, dogging her every step for years, hoping to marry the girl just for her inheritance. And Oliver, now Lucy’s husband… Conrad had looked down on the man, scorned him for being something he was not. A lowly Sanctuary worker. It had been the shock of Conrad’s life when he found out who Oliver really was. And then there had been Conrad’s attempt t
o blackmail Lucy’s father…
His mother tugged on his hand. “Come quickly, then. Haven’t got all day to spend out here, now do we?”
Conrad rolled his eyes, which hurt. How could a sore tooth make everything from the neck up ache?
They reached the small ivy-covered building. Ghastly. The walls were crumbling and the windows were so dirt covered a person couldn’t see inside. Maybe that was the surgeon-dentist’s plan, though. Keep people from knowing the truth of what went on in there.
The pain. The torture. The screams of—
“Conrad.” His mother stomped her boot. The woman was so stout it was amazing the sidewalk hadn’t cracked.
“Coming.” More pain raced across his face, this time centering right below his eyes. He shouldn’t have rolled them at her. But honestly, calling him a baby? Now? Had the woman never had a toothache?
They neared the door. As Conrad reached his hand out, the door opened. A burly, unkempt man stepped out, one hand on a bandage near the front of his mouth. “May as well wait out here.” His speech was muffled. “There’s someone ahead of you.”
Perfect. “Thank you.” Conrad sighed. He’d finally worked up the courage to come here and now he’d have to wait.
Something hit his shoulder. He frowned and turned to his mother, whose gloved hand still hovered in midair, post smack. “Why are you thanking that man, Conrad? As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t even speak to his type. He’s quite beneath you.”
Conrad removed his hand from his jaw and rubbed his shoulder. “We don’t really know that, now, do we? Well, I’m sure you know…”
“Keep your voice down.” Her words came out as a hiss on the word ‘voice’.
He looked around. “We’re alone. No one to overhear.”
“Let’s hope not.” She edged closer and then stepped back again. “It’s past time for you to get that tooth removed.” She wrinkled her nose.
“I was afraid of that. I’ve had such an atrocious taste in my mouth that I wondered if others—”
“Oh trust me, Conrad. Others noticed. That might be why you couldn’t get Lucy Ashbrook to marry you.”
“It’s Lucy Shipley now.”
“No thanks to you.”
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