Once alone in her bed, however, she relived that final interview and, though her heart felt as though it was being shredded with the sharpest of claws, she knew she must grow up and accept that Hugo simply did not want her—not in the way she had dreamt of, anyway. That had been a fantasy of her own making. And she would not be his lover—she could never follow that path, not even for him.
So she lay in her bed and she did not allow herself to shrink from facing up to her stupid juvenile behaviour. It was the least she could do. She must accept that she could not have what she wanted simply by force of will. Real life wasn’t like that. Other people, such as Hugo, had opinions and desires and needs and expectations, just as she did. And she must respect all those things, even though they differed from hers.
She had asked him once, teasingly, if she goaded him. Now she knew the answer.
She heard again the helpless fury in his outburst. What is it you want from me? She pictured again his haunted eyes in haggard features. She had pushed him too far. Did she never learn? She had always done the same with her brothers...badgered them until, finally, they lost their tempers. Or gave in.
And then, as she had struggled to control the emotions that threatened to choke her, his anger had receded, revealing a glimpse of tenderness as he had taken her hands. But it had been an implacable tenderness. He had been resolute and—she now realised—she respected him more for that inner strength. The same solid aching lump filled her throat now as then.
She must move on from believing that, if only she persisted, Hugo would come to realise the depth of his feelings for her and find some way for them to be together. She could not force him to feel more for her than he did and, besides, a miracle would be needed for her father to consider a man like Hugo as a suitable son-in-law. Dominic was right—she must stop trying to manipulate everyone in the hope they would eventually give in and see things her way. She must stand back and allow others to do as they wish.
She could not blame Hugo for her ridiculous fantasies—it was not his fault she had somehow elevated him to the status of a hero, merely because he had saved her from a horrible situation entirely of her own making.
It was time to face reality and time for her to behave as a woman, not as a girl with foolish daydreams.
Chapter Eighteen
Two days later, Olivia sat on the sofa in the morning room, picking disconsolately at the stitches she had only just set. They were all wrong, just like her life. She sighed.
‘Livvy?’
‘Yes?’ She glanced at Nell, who was sitting on a chair nearby, also sewing. She saw the concern in her friend’s violet eyes and her throat thickened. Which made her cross, because it was stupid, blatant self-pity. She bent her head again to concentrate on the handkerchief she was hemming.
‘Will you not tell me what is wrong?’
‘I am tired.’
Silence reigned. Olivia sighed again. ‘I am sorry. I did not mean to snap at you.’
‘I do not believe you are simply tired, Liv,’ said Nell. ‘And I hate to see you so unhappy. Please talk to me. Is it Lord Hugo? What happened the other night? You did not...he did not...?’
Olivia shifted impatiently. ‘No. Of course we did not. I am not that foolish.’ She bent her head to the handkerchief again and stabbed her needle through the fine lawn. ‘Oh, blast it!’ She sucked at her finger and cast the handkerchief aside. ‘Now I shall have to stop sewing or I shall get blood all over everything.’
Nell reached across for her hand and examined her fingertip. ‘It is a mere pinprick. It will soon stop bleeding.’
Unlike my heart.
Her vision blurred.
‘Livvy...’ Nell rose from her chair and sat next to Olivia, putting her arm around her. ‘Is Lord Hugo really worth all this risk?’
The pain in her chest spiked, radiating out. ‘I thought he was.’
She hadn’t confessed the truth of their conversation at the musical soirée. She had allowed Nell to assume it had been as before—with snatched kisses and murmured endearments. Not that Hugo had ever murmured endearments to her except in her dreams, but she had felt compelled to embellish their meetings somewhat. To make them sound more romantic and less... She scowled down at her lap. If she honestly, truthfully sorted fact from fiction in her head, he had only ever taken what she had offered. Yes, he had resisted taking more than kisses, but not once had he ever uttered words to encourage her instinct that he cared for her on some deep, elemental level. Was she really guilty of allowing her own desires and daydreams to colour reality? The answer, she knew, was yes. Her heart, already bruised and tender, squeezed tight and she bit back a gasp at the pain as tears blurred her vision.
‘Olivia?’
The burden of keeping her anguish to herself grew too heavy and she told her friend, in halting terms, the truth of what had happened that night.
‘He told me I must stay away from him.’ Her tears spilled over. ‘Oh, Nell! How can I have been so stupid? I thought I could win him over. I th-th-thought he cared for me, but he does not. Or at least, not enough...not in the same way I care for him. And now...and now...oh, Nell, I cannot face him again.’
‘You have no choice, Livvy. You are bound to see him, but you shall ignore him. You are a Beauchamp. You are the Catch of the Season. You shall not even glance in his direction...your orbit flies high above the likes of a disreputable second son.’
Olivia blurted out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. ‘Oh, Nell. You sound so fierce.’
Nell put her arm around Olivia. ‘Whatever you do, do not let him suspect for one moment that you still care. You have more spirit than to let one thoughtless, heartless rake defeat you. Yes, you will see him. But there will be other gentlemen there, too, and you will put on a brave face and you will show Lord Hugo Alastair exactly how popular you are.’
‘He already knows. And he does not care.’
* * *
This time, Hugo stuck to his promise to himself. He continued to avoid Olivia, declining invitations to events where she was likely to be present. It proved harder than he expected to stay away from her. He could not stop thinking about her, and his mother—as discreet as an elephant in a herd of cows—was not helping.
‘Why do you not think of settling down, Hugo?’
‘Look how happy and content Lucas is with Mary and the children.’
‘I thought maybe there was a hint of something between you and Lady Olivia, son?’
‘Now you have Cedar Lodge there is nothing to stop you. It is a perfect place to raise a family.’
‘Sir Horace and I would adore having our grandchildren living closer to us. I know it’s impossible for Lucas’s family, but...’
And she would eye Hugo with her head on one side and those bright eyes of hers until he was almost ready to pack in the whole idea of Cedar Lodge and helping Sir Horace run the Helmstone estates. He did not know how he would stand the entire summer at Helmstone if this was how she kept on. Mama was adamant that Hugo should stay at Helmstone itself and not live on his own out at the Lodge while Lucas and his family were there.
One place he was certain to run into neither his mother nor Olivia was White’s. And it was while he was there that Alex slouched across to join him one day.
‘Don’t often see you in here, Beauchamp,’ said Hugo, signalling to a waiter for another glass and a bottle of claret.
‘Need a bit of peace to think. Too noisy at home...some crisis or other.’
Hugo stilled. ‘Is your sister all right?’
Alex stared. ‘Liv? ’Course she’s all right. Some ruckus concerning my aunt and—well! That’s family business. Not for outsiders.’
Hugo lost interest.
‘Why would you think it’s about Liv? Have you two fallen out? Not so long ago, you were always skulking around corners together.’
�
��That,’ said Hugo, with as much hauteur as he could muster, ‘was when we were desperate to keep you away from Diablo’s.’
Alex barked a laugh. ‘I don’t need telling twice. No fear I’ll fall for that again.’
They drank in companionable silence for a while.
‘We went over to Foxbourne yesterday,’ said Alex. ‘My father said that if I stay out of trouble and debt, I can take it on. The house needs a bit of modernisation and I’ll move there in September.’
‘You’ve just got to stay away from trouble until then?’
Alex nodded. ‘I should thank you for not letting on about that Vauxhall business.’
Hugo shrugged. ‘It was nothing. I’ve been dodging trouble most of my life, so I know what it’s like. Although...’ He hesitated, but then realised that maybe his experiences might help Alex to realise he wasn’t the only one with baggage from the past. ‘I’ve been given a chance at a future now, as well.’ He told Alex about Cedar Lodge and Helmstone. ‘I sometimes find myself wondering how different I would have been had Sir Horace been my father instead of that...bastard.’
‘What was he like, your old man?’
‘Evil. A drunkard. Violent. Unpredictable.’
‘Is that why you and your brother were so wild?’
Hugo shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose so. But it doesn’t work, you know.’
‘What doesn’t?’
‘Wild living. Drink, drugs, gambling, women—they will never fully chase the shadows from your soul. I should know. I tried it long enough.’
And now, the one thing that would finally banish his demons—Olivia—was the one thing he could not have. Hell, if he were her father, he would never let her within half a mile of a creature like him! But only now could he fully admit he loved her; only now, when it was safe to do so because he rarely saw her and never spoke to her.
‘Take my advice, Beauchamp. Don’t leave it as long as I have to get wise. You love to work with horses, so concentrate all your efforts on making a success of running Foxbourne.’
Alex huffed an uneasy laugh. ‘Well, at least I’m trying now to stay away from those vices, though it’s deadly dull at times.’ Then he brightened. ‘That’s what I came across to tell you. Sir Horace has invited me to Helmstone for a few weeks, until the Brighton races. Wants me to look at some of his racehorses.’
About to take another mouthful of claret, Hugo slowly lowered his glass and stared at Alex.
‘How would you feel about staying with me at Cedar Lodge instead of at Helmstone?’
Mama couldn’t possibly quibble with that.
Alex grinned. ‘Perfect.’
* * *
Olivia watched the grey streets of London slip away as the carriage bowled along the road to Brighton. With each mile her heart grew more leaden. Hugo was back there, in London, and she would not see him again until the spring. No matter how she tried to convince herself that what she felt was an infatuation that would fade, she could not truly believe that.
All she had seen of him since the musical soirée had been fleeting, distant glimpses. It had been painfully obvious he was avoiding her—probably afraid she would force him to kiss her again or some such—and she knew it was for the best, but... She sighed and diverted her thoughts to other matters. She had become quite adept at distracting herself and there had been more than enough happening just within her own family to keep her thoughts from drifting to Hugo more than a dozen or so times a day. So she hardly thought of him at all, really.
The cause of Aunt Cecily’s unhappiness had shown up in London in the shape of Zachary Graystoke, the half-Romany son of an earl with whom Cecily had fallen deeply in love. Their story had ended happily, with their wedding two days ago. Their marriage, however, meant that Aunt Cecily would no longer be a permanent fixture in Olivia’s life and neither would Uncle Vernon. He had returned from his honeymoon with his new wife, Aunt Thea—who was actually lovely, and great fun, even though Olivia had been prepared to thoroughly dislike her for stealing her uncle’s heart—but they already had plans to make their home together at Woodbeare, Uncle Vernon’s estate in Devonshire—a full fifteen miles from Cheriton Abbey. At least they would join the rest of the family in Brighton next week, but now Aunt Cecily and Uncle Zach were away on their honeymoon.
Despite Olivia’s determination not to be selfish—she truly was pleased that both her uncle and her aunt had found such happiness—she still could not help but feel that everyone she loved abandoned her.
Misery squeezed her heart. Mama had found her only daughter boring and now Aunt Cecily was gone. Dominic and Alex—neither of whom were coming to Brighton, preferring instead to visit friends’ estates rather than be with their family—found her irritating and of no consequence whatsoever in their lives and her father and her uncle now both had new wives to occupy their time.
She felt like her whole world was crumbling from beneath her feet. Had it all been an illusion? Ever since Mama died, her father, aunt and uncle had been there...her rocks, always on her side, constantly supporting her. But now that solid foundation had shifted and she felt...shaky...vulnerable. She had never before questioned their love for her, but these rapid changes had stirred up doubt. Mama made no secret of her indifference to her only daughter. Were the rest of them simply more adept at hiding their true feelings? Was she as unimportant to them as to her mother?
They would all probably be delighted once she was wed and off their hands, then they could pass all responsibility for her on to her husband and forget all about her.
But that wouldn’t be Hugo. Not the man she really, truly wanted with all her heart. Because even he dismissed the way she felt as of no importance, setting her aside without a thought...he did not even care enough for her to try to persuade Papa...
She swallowed past a hard ball of despair. She had promised herself she would stop hankering after the unattainable, but it was hard. It was heartbreaking. And it was lonely. She battened down that sense that everyone ended up rejecting her, chiding herself for her self-pity. She had so much; she was very fortunate; she should not be so ungrateful.
None of that helped.
She sighed again.
‘What is it, Livvy?’ Rosalind was watching her with a worried expression from the opposite seat. ‘Is the motion of the carriage making you unwell?’
Olivia forced a smile. ‘I am quite well, thank you, Stepmama. I am just tired.’
‘It has been a long, eventful Season for us all,’ said Rosalind. She sighed, a faraway look in her eyes, as though she were reminiscing. ‘Most eventful.’ Her attention snapped back to Olivia and Nell. ‘I confess I am looking forward to going to Brighton. A daily walk breathing in that bracing sea air will be just the thing—London is growing far too warm and stuffy for my liking.’
‘I doubt London will ever fully meet your approval, Ros,’ Nell teased. ‘Other than that it is the place where you met the love of your life.’
A light blush settled over Rosalind’s cheeks and she flashed a warning look at Nell.
‘I am sorry if that was inappropriate,’ said Nell, ‘but you are still my sister, even if you are also Livvy’s stepmama. I cannot censor every word that I say.’
‘No. I understand that. It is just...it is a difficult adjustment for me, having three stepchildren who are similar ages to my brothers and sister,’ said Rosalind with another sigh. ‘I feel more like an older sister than a stepmother. Livvy, my dear... I know I cannot take Cecily’s place—she has been a mother to you all these years—but I hope you know that I am always here for you, just as I am for Nell.’
‘Thank you, Stepmama.’ Olivia forced a smile, swallowing down an upwelling of self-pity. Rosalind was kind, but she could never take Aunt Cecily’s place. ‘The change of scenery in Brighton will probably do us all good. Papa said there are some splendid rides over the South Downs—it will be a pleasa
nt change to be able to gallop Sprite again.’
‘Indeed.’ Rosalind’s face lit with her smile. ‘It will be lovely to give Kamal his head again after our sedate outings in the Park.’
Papa had sent their riding horses—including Rosalind’s beautiful Arabian gelding, Kamal, and Olivia’s Sprite—down to Brighton with the grooms a few days ago. Olivia felt her spirits lift a little. There would be plenty to occupy her in Brighton—far too many new experiences to give her time to grieve over Hugo.
Maybe out of sight will mean out of mind. I must forget him.
* * *
Papa had leased a house on Marine Parade and, had it not been for her despair at the prospect of not seeing Hugo again for several months, Olivia would be completely enchanted by the position of their short-term home overlooking the beach and the ocean. The Brighton Season was in full swing, enlivened by the presence of the Prince of Wales and his set—not that Olivia had any great desire to mingle with them, because they were, for the most part, even older than Papa and therefore of little interest to her even if he was the Prince Regent and just about the most important man in the land. But still they had balls and routs, soirées and theatre outings to attend, the library and shops to visit, sea bathing to experience for the first time—to shrieks of delight—and the enjoyment of riding across the Downs that stretched for miles behind the town.
More than enough to keep any young lady happy and occupied.
Many of the young gentlemen who had paid both Olivia and Nell such marked attentions in London had also repaired to Brighton and so their social commitments were as hectic as ever. Olivia buried her despair beneath a desperate outward gaiety as she tried to pretend—especially to herself—that everything was all right. But, hidden from sight, her insides continued to wind tighter with each day that passed until she felt ready to explode.
Lady Olivia and the Infamous Rake Page 20