“I believe shipping is always a safe bet,” Lord Greville was saying. “Particularly with the East Indian Company continuing to grow, as well as rising interest in travel to the Americas. If I were to place funds in an investment, I should say that would be my choice.”
“Why Alastair, darling,” Olivia said with a sweet, practiced smile, “was that not what I was suggesting just this morning?”
Lord Greville’s eyebrows shot up, and he gave her a slight nod as Alastair turned to look at her with a bit of perplexion in his expression.
“You did,” he acknowledged. “Did it not simply sound like an exciting opportunity to you? I know of your love of adventure.”
She snorted, causing Lady Greville to let out a bit of a chuckle. Olivia thought she saw a look of respect in the woman’s eye, however it could have simply been her imagination.
“Surely you do not believe I would suggest you invest funds into a company solely based on the activities of said business? Do you think me a simpleton?” she asked, her ire growing at his complete lack of recognition of any sort of intellect. “Come, now, Alastair, have more sense than that.”
His usual easygoing countenance shifted somewhat as he began to look slightly uncomfortable. “My apologies, darling,” he said in his attempt to keep peace in front of his friends. “We shall discuss this at greater length in due time. Now tell me, Lady Greville, how fares your father? I know he and my own father were well acquainted, and I have not seen him in some time.”
“Quite well, thank you, Your Grace,” she said with a smile, and while the conversation lightened and continued, Olivia could not help but feel like a chastised child, and when they resumed their seats she could feel the frosty chill settle between she and her husband.
Alastair could not understand what had come over his wife. Why was she suddenly so interested in financial matters? Although, come to think of it, perhaps he simply did not yet know her well enough to have a grasp of what she was interested in. She certainly did not seem to take up any of the usual hobbies of a young titled lady, such as watercolors or embroidery or anything of the sort. Rather, she spent most of her time in the library, her head in books or journals, or busy scribbling away on her paper. She was certainly well learned, but he had never thought to ask what it was she was so focused on. Instead, he had always supposed that she would keep to her business and he to his own.
They bid goodnight to Lord and Lady Greville, and continued on their way out of the theatre to find their carriage. He turned to speak to Olivia when he felt a hand run down his arm.
“Alastair! Oh my apologies, I should say Your Grace, I suppose, as we no longer have the relationship we once did, do we darling?” As the words slid off the women’s ruby lips, she pressed her ample bosom, which was practically spilling out of her dress, into his arm. He cringed. He did not see how this encounter could end in any way other than disaster. “Oh, and who is this lovely creature? Perhaps the reason for your absence? You must introduce me.”
“Olivia,” he said, turning to his wife, who was eyeing the woman with thinly veiled contempt, her gaze focused on where the woman still clung to his other side. “May I introduce you to the Countess of Oxbridge, Georgina Porter. Countess, this is my wife, Olivia Finchley, the Duchess of Breckenridge.”
The woman gave a peal of laughter. “Oh Alastair, I heard that you had married, but I never believed it to be true! Why, she is simply divine. You are most beautiful, Your Grace, although I am sure you must know that. Whatever did you do to convince him to marry you? I had thought him a confirmed bachelor for life!”
Alastair’s cheeks grew hot as he risked a sideways glance at his wife, who seemed to stand taller as she wore the smile that he had come to recognize as danger despite how innocent it seemed.
“Olivia is an intriguing woman, Countess,” he said demurely. “Once she caught my attention, I simply could not imagine life without her.”
“Thank you, darling,” Olivia said, casting that smile upon him, causing him to shiver. “How lovely to make your acquaintance, Countess. Tell me, how do you happen to know my husband?”
Alastair gave a bit of a choke as he prayed the woman would not divulge their former relationship at this point in time. Unfortunately, God seemed unwilling to answer his prayers.
“Oh,” the Countess said, toying with one of her dark ringlets as she looked up at Alastair. “We met through society functions, I suppose, and found that we quite enjoyed one another’s company from time to time, did we not, Your Grace? Though I have not had the pleasure of a visit from you in the past couple of months, I’m afraid. Now I see why. How wonderful, as I thought you had simply tired of me!”
Alastair inwardly groaned as he attempted to extricate himself from the conversation.
“Yes, well, I must admit, we have been rather busy since our marriage,” he said hurriedly. “Oh! See here, our carriage has arrived. Goodnight Countess.”
As they settled themselves on the plush seats of his carriage, he leaned his head back against the squabs and closed his eyes. Perhaps she would think nothing of the encounter, he thought. Or perhaps she would say nothing. Perhaps she would not care….
“How long was the Countess your paramour?”
Perhaps he was wrong.
He opened his eyes, blinking as if he misunderstood her.
“Pardon me?”
“I asked you,” she said slowly, as if he were simple-minded, “For how long was the Countess your lover.”
Her face was stoic, not betraying any of the emotion that he was sure was simmering under the surface. He was beginning to see why some men preferred to have wives without the intelligence of his, who were content to spend their days focused on the latest fashions and gossip of the day, caring not of their husband’s business or even who they took to bed. He sighed.
“Now and again for a few years,” he said, too much of a coward to meet her eyes. “There was no relationship, nothing consistent. She was a widow, and wanted some fun now and again. I was always up for a bit of it. But, Olivia, we have discussed this before. She is simply part of my past, as you well know, and I hold no feelings toward her.”
She nodded, not betraying any of what she was feeling, saying nothing as she stared out the window. While he understood her displeasure in the encounter with the Countess, she must understand that while their marriage meant he would no longer take a lover, there may be instances when such women would engage him in conversation. He knew, however, that now was not the time to tell her of this. Alastair did not enjoy conflict and was usually quite adept at easing difficult conversations into lighter territory. However, Olivia saw beyond his flippant words and attempts to mask deeper emotions, leaving him in a place of unease, as he did not know how to address her. He felt he would rather she shout at him, to provide him with an understanding of her thoughts so he might know how best to respond. Instead, she simply sat there, and he felt his words were simply sending him into greater peril.
“Olivia?” he questioned. “There may be times when women such as the Countess approach me, but I promise you that I will never act upon any such overtures. You must understand —”
“I understand perfectly,” she said, still wearing the smile that he longed to lean over and erase with a kiss that would show her she was the only one he currently desired to warm his bed. “From when we met, I have always understood who you were. You cannot change your past and I understood that. However, I allowed myself to be swept away by your charm and your caresses, to the point that I somehow lost sight of the fact that you are a man that woman love to love, Alastair. Do you truly see yourself with only one woman for the rest of your life?”
“I — of course I do,” he said, but not without a moment of hesitancy that he immediately cursed. “I am married to you now, and I will not betray you.”
“That may be true, but is that what you want?” she asked, her smile now turning genuinely sad. “Do you want a life in which you feel tied to me out of a s
ense of honor and duty? I will not hold you to that. I will be no one’s responsibility, I will not keep you away from what you want most of life. I will not be a duty, nor an obligation. Answer me honestly, Alastair, am I all you want, for the rest of your life?”
“When I married you, I understood it was to forsake others,” he said truthfully, to which she gave a bark of laughter and looked away from him back out the window.
“As I thought, Alastair,” she said softly, and the unshed tears swimming in her eyes tore at his heart. “As I thought.”
Olivia dismissed her maid for the evening, and sat on the stool in front of the ornate oval mirror, taking a close look at her reflection. She picked up her brush and began to slowly run it through her long blonde hair, which waved loosely about her shoulders. It was therapeutic, and she closed her eyes as she willed away the thoughts that tore round her head. When she had seen the woman approach Alastair, she knew instantly who she was, who she had been to her husband. Olivia knew she had no right to be angry, was in no position to make any demands on her husband more than what he had given her, had promised her. Yet she could not help the feelings of jealousy and hurt that tore through her and, to be honest, she felt a fool. How many women were there, who would continue to haunt them? Did others laugh at her and her apparent naivety regarding her marriage?
She did not want him to be with her simply because he felt beholden to his vows. She did not want him to live a life of regret over what might have been. And she did not want to be relegated to this foolishness into which she had allowed her emotions to draw her.
She heard the opening of the door which connected their chambers, the footfalls of his boots as he crossed the room toward her. She kept her eyes closed as his hands came about her and gently eased the hairbrush out of her grasp. He began to slowly trail the brush over her hair, picking up where she had left off. As the bristles swept through the strands of her blonde waves, it brought a peaceful calm over her, and she leaned back into him, despite the thoughts that swirled through her mind.
“I must apologize, Alastair,” she finally said, breaking the quiet. “I was not fair to you. As you said, your past cannot be helped, but it is painful to be looked upon as a fool by these women.”
“No, it cannot be helped,” he responded quietly. “Though I do apologize at the awkwardness of the encounter and I shall do my very best to shield you from any in the future.”
She nodded but said nothing. She had known, when she first entered the private box with this man, what it would mean to give her heart to him. He was a man who had the potential to not only break it, but shatter it. He would be easy to love, but she would not allow herself to give him that piece of her, for she would then also be giving him the power to utterly crush her. It was why she had initially resisted going to bed with him, though her desire had eventually overcome her stubborn unwillingness to give in.
All she could now do was keep the shield around her heart very strong. She had given him her body, but resolved to never give her heart — or her soul. For him to tear them apart would be her undoing.
20
Alastair hummed a tune as he made his way down the corridor between his study and the library a few days later. Tonight he and Olivia had been invited to a ball at the home of the Duke and Duchess of Stowe. They had accepted, as they did most invitations. He and his wife were both social beings, it was true, but the feeling of unease that had entered their relationship the night of the theatre had retained its hold on them. While they maintained a cordial relationship and a sharing of the marital bed, he could feel the walls she had raised around her, as it seemed she was keeping him at a distance.
In truth, he was not sure what to make of his wife. He enjoyed her company, both her quick wit as well as the passion she injected into everything she did, be it planning a dinner menu or entering into a conversation regarding any number of subjects. Yet he felt his own reluctance to truly give his heart over to her. For so long his entire life had been a series of entertainment, from balls to gambling halls to even the odd brothel. To give himself wholly to his marriage seemed to be saying goodbye to the man he had once been.
Their late night adventures had also come to a halt since the disastrous visit to White’s. She had not suggested any further, and nor had he. Their shared mischievous outings had pulled them together as co-conspirators, and now it seemed neither wished to take the step back together in such a way.
He had not, however, gone out alone either. He had forgone doing so when he realized she wished to accompany him, and now it seemed that to go without her would somehow be a betrayal. He sighed. This was why he had chosen to remain a bachelor — so that these confounded conflicts would have no bearing upon him. A married man he was now, however, so he supposed he would have to deal with it as best as he was able.
Perhaps tonight, when they returned home from the ball, which was sure to put them in good spirits, they could have another go-round discussion about their life together and what was expected from each of them. He couldn’t change the past, but if she would at least tell him what he needed to do to return their relationship to the one he loved, the one of friendly banter, knowing smiles, and spirited lovemaking, it would be quite preferable.
He rounded the corner to the library, spotting Olivia perched on the window seat that had become hers, to his way of thinking. She hadn’t heard him, so engrossed she was in her work. She was scribbling madly, messily, and he had such an urge to know what it was that had so captured her attention.
He walked up behind her, not wanting to startle her but also not wanting to call her attention away when she was so focused.
“Olivia?” he said, question in his voice.
“Alastair!” she all but jumped off the window seat. “I had no idea you had entered the room. My, but you know how to scare a person.” She spoke on as he noted the way she slid a book overtop her paper in an attempt to subtly conceal from him whatever it was she was doing.
“My apologies, however, you were so focused,” he said, reaching out a hand to steady her. “What was it that so captured your attention?”
“Oh, nothing at all, just correspondence to my sister,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“Is anything the matter?”
“Of course not, why would you think so?” she looked at him in confusion.
“Because you are hiding your letter from me.”
“Oh, not at all,” she said with a forced laugh. “I merely thought you might find some of my ramblings to her rather silly.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Read me a passage and I shall be the judge of that.”
“No, no, you do not have time for that,” she said, picking up the papers and books in her arms and making for the door.
He put his hands on her shoulders to stop her and took the books from her.
“I can manage, Alastair,” she said, and he could see the flick of panic enter her eyes.
“Do not worry, I will not spirit away your correspondence,” he said. “I will simply carry it for you to your chamber.”
They walked together in silence until they reached the doorway of her room. “I shall see you in a few hours,” he said. “I look forward to the opportunity to be the first to view whatever costume you shall choose for the Duchess of Stowe’s ball.”
As he left her, he could feel her gaze burning into his back. She was hiding something from him, that was for certain, and he desperately wanted to know what it was. He was unsure why it bothered him to such a great extent, however knowing his wife’s penchant for going so far outside of what society expected of her, he knew he had cause to worry.
Alastair led Olivia into the Duke and Duchess of Stowe’s ballroom with smiles for their hosts. They were a striking couple. Of course, all knew of the Duchess’ humble beginnings, but Olivia remarked to Alastair that in her few conversations with the woman, she found her much kinder and more relatable than most of the women of the ton with whom she was acquainted.
“Oh, Rosalind!” Olivia exclaimed, turning to Alastair with a guilty expression. “It has been far too long since I have seen her. I suppose I have simply been preoccupied.”
“Olivia!” her friend greeted her with a broad smile and outstretched hands. “How wonderful to see you, darling. Is this not a beautiful home? I believe this is the first ball here since the Duke held his memorable masquerade.”
The two of them began to chatter, as Alastair found women often did with their close acquaintances, and he asked Olivia to save a dance for him later in the evening. “Oh, but you are married now!” said Rosalind, looking somewhat shocked at his suggestion. He laughed. “I enjoy dancing, as does Olivia,” he said. “Let the women speak of our scandalous behavior, I care not!” He then made his way through the crowd to find himself a drink and his friends. He spied Lord Merryweather and Lord Penn, but found his path blocked by a young woman he recognized — Lady Hester Montgomery.
“Your Grace,” she said, dipping into a low curtsy but keeping her eyes coyly looking up at him through thick lashes, her mouth curled into a smile that looked rather sinister to him, though how that was possible he wasn’t sure. She had been trying to capture his attention for years, but he had always found her rather desperate, lacking any significant character or intrigue. The complete opposite of his wife, he realized.
He nodded to her. “Lady Montgomery,” he said, and made to continue on his way when she stopped him. “They are beginning a waltz, Your Grace,” she said. “Would you care to dance?”
He blinked in surprise. Why on earth would this woman ask him, a married man, to dance with her? It was quite untoward and simply not done for a woman to request a dance. And yet it would be equally rude of him to refuse. He cleared his throat, trying to find some excuse, but nothing rushed to mind. He supposed his drink could wait the length of one dance.
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