Kiss the Wallflower: Books 4-6

by Gill, Tamara

  Olivia watched as her friend flounced from the room without a backward glance or apology. She slumped down onto her settee, lost for words. What had just happened? She had not meant to criticize her friend’s choice, but to ensure she was happy with her decision. Marriage was forever, after all. It was not a decision one ought to make lightly.

  A knock sounded on the door, and she gasped, glancing up to see Mary, the Duchess of Carlton, smiling in greeting. "I hope I'm not interrupting you, Olivia. I thought I would call by. I'm out and about making calls, and I saw Lady Athol leave rather suddenly, and I wanted to make sure everything was well."

  Olivia stood, going to the duchess, and pulling her into the room. "You're always most welcome, Mary. Come, we shall have tea."

  They settled down on the leather settee, the duchess studying her most peculiarly. "What happened between you and Lady Athol? You seem out of sorts to me."

  Olivia sighed, handing the duchess a cup of tea. She rubbed her forehead, a slight ache across her brow. "She is recently engaged to Lord Berry, and I merely asked if she was happy with her choice. She's been so unsettled, allowing different men to court her that it is hard to keep up. She accused me of being jealous."

  "And are you jealous, my dear?" the duchess asked, meeting her gaze over the rim of her teacup.

  "Of course not," Olivia denied. "I am truly happy for Athol, but only several weeks ago she was kissing Lord Oglemoore. One week ago, she was being courted by Lord Dormer. One must admit to being skeptical of her decision making."

  The duchess chuckled, setting down her teacup. "Let her have her choice. If she chooses worse than you would have picked for her, that is her own doing. And talking of gentlemen admirers, what is new with you, Olivia? How is the Season progressing?"

  Excitement thrummed through her, and she shivered at the thought of Jasper. His touch, his kisses, his body that made her burn and come apart into a thousand stars. She would not see him tonight for they were attending different events, but tomorrow she would, and she was already counting down the time until they assembled.

  "The Season has been quite diverting this year. What with Clara's house party to break up the time, and with only a few weeks left in town, I have enjoyed myself immensely."

  The duchess nodded, a small smile playing about her mouth as if she knew something Olivia did not. "I have noticed Hamlyn is spending a great deal of time with you lately. To me, he seems quite taken with you, my dear."

  Did he? She schooled her features, not wanting to burst out into childish laughter at the idea he liked her as much as she was starting to fear she liked him. They had not discussed their original deal for several days now.

  Would Jasper pull away from her if she raised the possibility that her request of him had gone too far? That for her, spending time with him, getting to know him in all ways, not just the façade he portrayed to the ton, but the man behind the door when they were alone and private, had made her heart his. Or would he declare, as she hoped, undying love for her and ask her to be his wife?

  She was not certain what she would do should he still be playing her game and had no emotional attachment to her at all.

  "The duke and I have become friends, yes, but I'm uncertain of his intentions toward me. He has certainly not asked me to be his wife."

  "Do you think he may?" Mary asked, a contemplative look on her pretty face.

  Olivia shrugged, wishing with all her heart he would. "I do not know. That is yet to be seen."

  "Hmm," the duchess said, her eyes narrowing. "I heard that he has parted ways with his mistress, and with his considerable attention toward you, which has not gone unnoticed in town, I wondered if there was something between you or if not, perhaps will be very soon."

  He had parted ways with his mistress?

  Olivia did not know how to answer such a statement, and for the duchess to bring up a duke's lover was far from appropriate. Not that Olivia could say much on the subject of appropriateness after what she had been taking part in the last week. Nights of debauchery and utter unadulterated pleasure.

  "I do not know anything about the duke's private life, Your Grace. But if he does choose me to be his wife, of course I would hope he would part ways with his mistress. I would expect nothing less."

  "Of course you wouldn't, my dear. Just know that should you need any advice or guidance, I am in town and here to help you until your cousin returns."

  "Thank you," Olivia said, seeing the duchess off only a few minutes later. She slumped against the front door after her two visitors for the day, both of whom brought up issues that were taxing and hard to discuss.

  The duchess was right however, she needed to know where this love affair with Jasper was heading, if anywhere at all. She could not remain his lover forever, the risk was too high. And she was an unmarried woman, she didn't even have the cover of being a widow to protect her. Should the ton find out about their escapades, she would be ruined forever and her marriage chances along with it.

  They needed to end the affair or marry. Those were the only two options. Olivia pushed off from the door, heading upstairs to bathe and prepare for the ball. At least tonight, she could dance and enjoy her time in the ton and not worry about talking about such matters with Jasper. Their conversation would keep for another day until she saw him again. A small reprieve this day at least.

  Chapter 16

  The widow Lady Craven's ball was a crush, but thankfully the late Earl Mayfair’s home was generous enough to host such an event.

  As expected, Olivia had not seen Jasper here this evening, and yet she had seen Oglemoore, moving about the room and talking to acquaintances since his arrival, not an hour before.

  The Duchess of Carlton was also in attendance and had raised her glass of champagne in salute when they had spied each other across the room.

  Olivia stood speaking with some friends when Oglemoore appeared before her, dipping into a bow. "Miss Quinton, how well you look this evening. Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

  She smiled, offering her his hand out of politeness. Certainly her interest in the man had long ceased. In fact, as she placed her hand into his, she had to wonder what she ever saw in the gentleman. He had nothing on Hamlyn, who was amusing, kind, and sweet. Oglemoore had proven himself to be flippant, and after his treatment of her in Kent, she ought not to give him the time of day. Athol was fortunate to be rid of him, truth be said. There was something about the man that left Olivia knowing he would not be faithful or a true husband to any wife. She doubted he would part with his mistress if he chose to marry.

  His lordship stumbled with the steps, and she shot a look at him. "Are you well, my lord?" she asked, moving forward with the dance.

  "Of course." He chuckled.

  She studied him a moment and noticed for the first time his glassy, unclear eyes. Was he foxed?

  "A misstep, nothing more," he continued.

  They resumed the dance, Oglemoore making so many errors they caught the eye of some of the guests. Not willing to be gossiped or mocked, Olivia falsely tripped and, feigning a sore foot, allowed Oglemoore to escort her from the floor.

  A footman went to pass them, and his lordship reached out, snapping up two flutes of champagne, handing her one.

  "Tell me, my lord, what are your plans once the Season comes to an end? Are you for Surrey?"

  He finished his drink with barely a breath, and Olivia stared at his empty glass. The dance was not so taxing that one drank to such an extreme. "I'm not certain as yet. Everything is to be appointed." His slow, standoffish drawl piqued her interest.

  "Is something the matter, my lord? You seem offended."

  He started to laugh. Cackle would be a better term to describe his mirth. Other guests glanced in their direction before moving away from them. Olivia felt the kiss of heat on her cheeks.

  "Nothing is the matter, my dear. Nothing at all, except…" He smiled, his mirth not reaching his eyes. "I do wonder what you're playing at, my
dear. What you hope to achieve."

  "Pardon me?" she asked, lowering her voice, not wanting anyone else to hear his accusations.

  "Pardon you indeed," he replied, hiccupping. "I know you wanted me to marry you, had your heart set on an alliance with my family. I also know that out of spite, you turned Athol away from my suit, and now she is lost to me forever."

  "I never did such a thing," she stated, her voice stern. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing."

  "Athol told me herself. Tonight, in fact, stated that she has chosen another because you did not approve. How could you?"

  Hurt spiked through her heart at her friend's lie. Why would Athol say such a thing? "I never turned Lady Athol from your suit. That she chose Lord Berry is perhaps more to your inability to ask her for her hand than anything I have done."

  "You don’t say?" he stuttered, stumbling toward her. "Well, I have some news for you, Miss Quinton. I have seen you these past weeks since Kent throwing yourself at Hamlyn. Flaunting your assets so to turn his head, but it is all a ruse, you know. He is not interested in you at all."

  Olivia stilled, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat at his words. A ruse? Fear curled about her heart, and she looked around, not wanting to cause a scene. "I do not understand what you're saying. If you'll excuse me."

  "I will not," he said, clasping her arm and holding her in place when she went to flee. "I knew you wanted me as your husband. I made a judgment of error last year in seeking you out to be my bride. I did not find you attractive as a husband should find his wife, and therefore I cooled my friendship with you once I realized my mistake. I asked Hamlyn on our way to Kent to keep you occupied and out of my way so I may court your friend. He readily agreed to keep you distracted. You were only ever a game, my dear. I hope you did not get your hopes up too much. I would hate for us both to have lost in love this year." Oglemoore smiled as if he were doing her a great service.

  "You lie," she said, not able to imagine all that she'd shared with Jasper to be false. He could not act so heartlessly. Not even a rogue like he was.

  Olivia stumbled back, catching herself on a nearby guest. She thanked them before fleeing, fighting her way through the throng of guests to the door. She could not stay here, did not want to listen to any more of Oglemoore's cruel words.

  Jasper had only shown an interest in her at his friend's behest?

  Oh dear heavens, she'd made a fool of herself. She had also made a fool of herself to Hamlyn. He knew of her plan to make Oglemoore jealous, and all the while, he was keeping her engaged for Oglemoore?

  How could he?

  Her vision blurred, her stomach roiled. Blindly she ran out onto the footpath, calling for the first hackney she spied, yelling out the direction to home. She had to leave London. Hide and never come back after this. The people at the ball would have heard Oglemoore and his cruel, mocking words. By tomorrow she would be the latest on dit.

  She would never forgive Jasper for this. At least she had been truthful in her plan, and although she schemed to make Oglemoore jealous, she never intended to play anyone the fool as they had her.

  The bastards had not done the same.

  * * *

  Jasper sipped his coffee in Whites the following morning, reading The Times and thinking of tonight when he would see Olivia again. Yesterday he'd taken the time to go to the jeweler to have the ring his father had given his mother upon their engagement cleaned and polished.

  Tonight he would offer Olivia his hand and his heart and hope like hell she would accept him. Their game, their original scheme to make Oglemoore jealous had not worked. Even though it was a lot of fun, it had changed, grown into something so much more than a game.

  He adored her. Wanted her to be by his side for the rest of his life. His partner and wife. His love.

  A hand came down over his paper, ripping it away. Marquess Graham glared at him, taking a seat across from him without a word.

  "Graham, whatever do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, straightening his paper and wondering why he'd gained the ire of one of his friends.

  "Indeed," Graham drawled, his mouth set into a displeased line. "Have you looked around you this morning, Hamlyn? Have you noticed anything different in your world?"

  Jasper laid the paper on his knee and glanced about the room. The older gentlemen sat and ate their breakfast, drinking their coffee without a by your leave, while the younger men superstitiously glanced at him, raised their brows, and smirked.

  He frowned, dread coiling in his gut. Whatever had he done now?

  "You need to call out Oglemoore for making a fool of a woman who is practically family to me last evening. She was belittled and mocked and is now the laughing stock of London."

  "What?" Jasper bolted upright. "What did he do to Olivia?"

  Graham's jaw clenched. "Well, at least I'm glad to know that you assumed it to be Olivia who had been harmed." He paused. "Oglemoore, well in his cups last night, declared to anyone within hearing distance of his booming mouth that you had courted Miss Quinton only to keep her occupied and out of his hair. Made her sound like a besotted idiot toward the fool and a game for you and Oglemoore. How could you do that to her? She does not deserve such treatment."

  Fuck!

  Panic seized him, and for a moment, he could not speak. Could not think straight. "He said that to her?"

  "Of course, and other things too. Cruel words that have seen her flee London. She will not return this Season, and you need to make this right. You have been seen on multiple occasions in her presence, dancing and paying attention to her every word. You will offer her your hand and declare Oglemoore a liar. Friend or not, I will not have Miss Quinton come out of this game you decided to play being the one to lose. You will be her husband, and she will save her reputation and pride. I do not care if you wish to marry her or not. That is what you will do."

  Jasper would not normally take such a set down, such rules from anyone, but in this case, he would. He had already decided to offer for Olivia. He would not let her down in this. Face this scandal alone. "I will go to her and make things right." He would first find Oglemoore and give him a good dose of reality and possibly a fist to his nose.

  How dare he tell Olivia of his plans? Why would Oglemoore have wanted to hurt her so?

  He stood, throwing the paper onto the chair and striding from the room. His carriage waited outside the club, and he called out Oglemoore's address. Anger thrummed through him at his friend's treatment of her. The bastard would not come out of this smelling like a rose. He would make sure of it.

  A few minutes later, the carriage rolled to a halt before the modest townhouse. Jasper took the stairs at the front of the house two at a time. He did not wait for the door to be opened, trying the handle himself and finding it unlocked.

  The house was dark, the curtains yet to be opened even at this late time in the morning. A footman skidded to a halt in the foyer. "Your Grace, Lord Oglemoore has not yet risen today. Would you like to leave a message for his lordship?"

  Jasper started up the stairs, ignoring the servant's calls for him to stop. "I shall wake him myself. No need to trouble yourself," he called out over his shoulder. The house was smaller than his own, and it did not take him long to find Oglemoore's room since his door was ajar, and there was a decidedly loud snore emanating from the space that reeked of sweat and spirits.

  "Oglemoore," he yelled, slamming the door wide.

  Oglemoore stuttered awake, sitting up. His once-friend blinked, his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on one point. "Hamlyn?"

  "Get up," he commanded, waiting for Oglemoore to slip from the bed. The man, still clearly foxed, stumbled before righting himself.

  "Why do I have to get out of bed?" He glanced at the clock on the mantle. "It's not half past ten. A bit early for callers surely."

  Jasper walked over to him, shaking his head. "This is not a pleasant visit between friends. I just did not want to belt you in the nose when you could not fall bac
k on your ass." He pulled his arm back, made a fist, and cracked his friend in the nose. A satisfying thwack rent the air.

  Oglemoore flew backward, falling onto his back, holding his nose and groaning.

  Jasper rubbed the bones on his knuckles, a small cut on his skin from his assault. "How dare you treat Miss Quinton with so little respect. I shall never forgive you for being so cruel."

  Oglemoore sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose to stop it bleeding. "I'm cruel? She turned Lady Athol away from me, and now I have no one. She was spiteful and did it to pay me back for not choosing her."

  Jasper shook his head, striding to the door before turning to face his old friend. "You're a fool. Anyone with a brain could see that Lady Athol is as fickle as they come. She never cared for you, you idiot, but Miss Quinton did. A foolish mistake on her part, and now you'll be lucky to have her as a friend. What you did last evening crossed a line."

  Oglemoore struggled to stand, swiping at his nose to wipe the blood from his face. "What does it matter to you? You were only pretending to help me. You're just as complicit in my hurting of her as I am."

  "I'm to Kent now to talk to her. Apologize on both our behalf and hope that my friendship with her can be saved."

  Oglemoore scoffed. "Do not tell me you have fallen for the chit. She may be rich and handsome enough, but is she worth losing our friendship over? If you chase her down, do not include me in your apology. I care nothing for her now that she has ensured the woman I intended to marry is lost to me."

  "Olivia never did anything of the kind. You're just as blind as Lady Athol. Always looking for something you believe to be better, more handsome, more flirtatious, rich, or higher on the social rank. Nothing will ever be enough for either of you. It is just a shame you did not win Lady Athol, for you would have made both your lives a living hell."

  Jasper strode from the room, ignoring the startled faces of Oglemoore's staff as he passed them by.