by Shana Galen
“You came for me,” she said, leaning closer to him.
“Damn right.” His arms went around her and she was pressed against his body, which was both familiar and mysterious to her now. Then his mouth was on her throat, his breath on her earlobe. “Can I kiss you? I’ve missed the taste of you.”
Why had she ever doubted him? Of course, he had not abandoned her. She trembled and closed her eyes. “Yes.”
His mouth was on hers before she’d even finished the word. His lips were cool and gentle, but that wasn’t what she wanted from him. She fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his head down until she could feast on his mouth, tangling her tongue with his and deepening the kiss until she forgot where she was and why.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, not nearly enough to satisfy her, when he pulled back, resting his forehead on hers. “I don’t know how I’ll walk out of here without you.”
“Then don’t. I don’t want you to leave.”
“If you stay out here much longer, you’ll be missed. Phineas is skilled, but even he can only hold a worried father off for so long. You have to go back in.”
“How will I see you again?”
“Which bed chamber in the town house is yours?”
She blinked at him. “Second floor, facing the back of the house. First window on the right. But Dimsdale will never allow you inside, and the servants can’t be bribed.”
“I think you’re forgetting who I am and what I do. I’ll find you. I just needed to know you wanted me to find you.”
“You’ll come tonight? I’ll be home soon. I have to leave. Withernsea is here.”
His hand on her arm tightened. “I know. Stay away from him, and leave as soon as is feasible. I’ll have Phineas look out for you. Now you’d better go inside.”
She didn’t move. It seemed almost impossible to step out of the safety of his arms. “You’ll come tonight?” she asked again.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you arrive home.”
She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him, then closed it again. “I’ll see you soon then.” Reluctantly, she drew away and slipped back through the terrace door and into the brightly lit ballroom.
JASPER LET HIS HEAD fall back to rest on the wall. His entire body burned for her. Touching her, tasting her, having her scent in his nose again was enough to drive him mad. He had half a mind to scoop her up and carry her out of the ballroom and never look back.
But he’d long since learned to think before acting. He had the scar to remind him daily of the folly of impetuousness. Not that he regretted going in after Peter. If given the chance, he would have done it all over again. But he might have been smarter about it next time. Found another of the troop to help him. Thrown a wet blanket over his head...
Perhaps nothing would have made any difference. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been able to save Peter no matter what he did. And perhaps no amount of watching and waiting would reveal the reason Olivia’s father had lied to her or why he would put her in close proximity to Withernsea. But he had to try to find out. And this time there was more than himself to think of. Olivia had a son and a mother who was dying.
“So you’re the reason she was out here so long,” a deep voice said.
Jasper opened his eyes, not moving any other part of himself. He went completely still, glad he had the knife in his boot, fingers itching to use it. Before him stood the Duke of Withernsea.
“You’re either a fool or an idiot for coming out here,” Jasper said quietly. “I could kill you and no one would be the wiser.” He wanted to kill the man. He wanted to do it slowly and watch as the duke died a painful death.
“So much venom. You and I haven’t even been introduced, Lord Jasper.”
“I never had any desire to be introduced to you. Your stench was foul enough even from a distance.”
“Harsh words for a man you don’t know. Don’t tell me you believe the lies that little slut has told you about me.”
“Which little slut, Your Grace? You forget I spend an inordinate amount of time in brothels and the dark alleys of rookeries. I’ve heard all about you and your...preferences.”
The duke stepped closer, and though Jasper itched to wrap his hands around the man’s throat and squeeze, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The duke was a large, strong man. He might have a multitude of vices but neglecting his health hadn’t been one of them. Jasper could kill him, but what good would he do Olivia in a jail cell? He might be the son of a peer, but there were a hundred witnesses just inside the door and they’d certainly notice two men struggling.
“At least I have appetites. They say the war took yours? Did your cock burn off with your face?”
Jasper didn’t take the bait. “Stay away from her, Withernsea. She’s under my protection now.”
“She’s betrothed to me, you deformed monster. That makes her mine. If you want to keep the half of your face that’s untouched whole, then you’ll stay away from Miss Carlisle and me. Good evening.” He turned on his heel, dismissing Jasper and slinking back into the ballroom.
Jasper almost went after him, but that would only give the duke the reason he needed to have Jasper thrown from the ball. Instead, he waited in the shadows until Phineas returned. “I couldn’t keep him out,” Phineas said. “I was conversing with Lord Carlisle when I saw him head that way. What happened?”
“A lot of sword waving. I need a favor from you.”
“More dancing? People will talk if I ask Miss Carlisle again.”
Phineas was right, and the last thing Olivia needed was more gossip. “Just keep an eye on her. If Withernsea tries to get close to her, prevent it.”
“And what do you have planned?”
Jasper went to the edge of the balustrade and threw a leg over. “A little climbing expedition.” He jumped the short distance and looked up. Phineas saluted then disappeared back inside. Jasper headed for the shadows and made his way to Brook Street.
Eighteen
Her father continued to put off their departure. He begged her to remain only ten minutes more. Then after ten minutes, only another ten. No one else asked her to dance. Olivia found herself standing by the wall while other ladies were claimed for reels and waltzes and country dances. She didn’t notice at first. Her thoughts were too full of Jasper. A dozen times she’d wanted to raise her hand to her lips to touch them. Had he really kissed her? Had she really been in his arms just moments before?
“Would you like champagne?” her father asked.
Olivia blinked and seemed to remember where she was. “I’d like to go home,” she said.
“One more glass of champagne and we will go.” He smiled at her, his eyes kindly and imploring. “I’ll return right away.”
She frowned as he walked away. How much longer must they stay? She wanted to speak to her father alone and ask why he’d lied to her. She needed answers and explanations.
But that wasn’t the only reason she was desperate to leave. She imagined Jasper waiting for her in her bed chamber. The thought was scandalous—and exciting.
She’d been so certain when she arrived that men were interested in asking her to dance, but none had approached her. The reason became clear as soon as her father left her alone to fetch her champagne. They hadn’t wanted to make her a respectable request.
The first man sidled up to her in such a way that she didn’t realize he was beside her until she felt his breath on the back of her neck.
“Miss Carlisle,” he said in a deep voice.
She was so startled she almost jumped. Only through sheer force of will did she remain calm. She turned, and seeing he was all but on top of her, stuck her folded fan between them, forcing him back slightly. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“I’ve been wanting to meet you all night.”
She recognized him as one of the men who’d been whispering with Withernsea. Had the duke sent him to harass her? “Then you should have asked my father for an introduction.”
He gave her an oily smile. “We don’t need formalities like that, do we, Miss Carlisle? May I call you Olivia? You may call me George.”
“No, thank you. If you’ll excuse me, sir.”
“But I had hoped to take you for a breath of air. I hear Lord Forsythe has an impressive library.”
“No, thank you,” she said again, moving closer to another wallflower and her mama. The women turned their backs on Olivia, noses in the air. But at least George had given up. Except that he was almost immediately replaced by another so-called gentleman. Olivia had to put him off as well. How long did it take for her father to find a footman with champagne? Should she go to look for him? She dared not leave her position.
The longer her father was away the more panicked she became. Her heart began to pound hard and sweat beaded on her temple. The last time she’d been left alone at a ball, Withernsea had taken advantage of her. She tried to close her eyes, tried not to remember. She didn’t want to think of his lips on hers, his hands ripping her clothing, forcing her legs open.
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, closing her eyes to try and calm herself.
But when she opened them Withernsea himself stood before her.
He bowed, his smile tight and knowing. When he rose, his eyes traveled over her boldly, making her wish she had a shawl to cover herself. “Miss Carlisle,” he said, his eyes finally meeting hers. “May I have this dance?”
She tried to speak, but her voice had deserted her. She couldn’t breathe, and the blood rushed in her ears so loudly she couldn’t hear the orchestra. Finally, she shook her head.
“Come now, Miss Carlisle. Do not be difficult.” He held out his hand, demanding she comply. Olivia almost took it. She didn’t quite know how to refuse. But she couldn’t stand the thought of touching him, of dancing with him, of making polite conversation with him.
“No, thank you,” she finally managed to squeeze out of her tight throat.
“You don’t mean it. Dance with me or you’ll make a scene.”
“No.”
He frowned at her. “You are making a scene. Do you want everyone talking about you more than they already are?”
She didn’t move.
“You are my betrothed. You will dance with me.” He grabbed her arm and began to pull her. She jerked back violently, almost losing her balance.
Withernsea towered over her, glowering. “Dance with me this minute, or you will be sorry.”
“No,” she said firmly. Then “No” even more loudly. “I will not dance with you.”
“Lower your voice.”
Heads were beginning to turn their way and a few ladies murmured from behind fans.
“I won’t. I will not dance with you. Not after what you did.”
The orchestra played, but those around them seemed completely uninterested in those dancing the waltz on the dance floor. Olivia could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.
“I’ve done nothing. I merely asked my betrothed to dance.”
“Oh, you know what you did.”
A few gasps and murmurs reached her ears, but she didn’t look away from his face. She stared at him hard, her glare accusing. Where was her father? How could he leave her this long? He’d promised to stand with her.
“And I think you know what you did,” Withernsea said. “I could ruin you and your father for breaking our betrothal agreement.”
She flinched back at the threat. She had no doubt he could do so, but she’d rather be ruined than spend even a moment in his company. She almost said, Then do your worst, but the image of her mother lying at home in bed, thin, weak, and ill flashed into her mind. And then she thought of her son. What would Withernsea do if he knew about Richard? How could she protect her little boy? What did the duke want from her? A dance? An apology for breaking the betrothal contract? Would an apology make him go away? But the words stuck in her throat, making her nauseous when she thought about speaking them.
The silence between them continued, the tension rising, until finally it was broken when her father appeared at her elbow. “Your champagne, my dear. Duke, how good to see you,” he said.
Olivia didn’t know how her father could greet the other man so cordially when he knew what Withernsea had done to her. She took the champagne, clutching it tightly in trembling fingers. She wasn’t shaking from fear so much as rage. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to cry. Everyone would see it as weakness, when it wasn’t weakness at all, just pent up fury.
“I wish I could say the same, Carlisle. I asked your daughter to dance, and she refused me.”
Her father turned his indignant gaze on her, and that was the moment she realized she was standing alone. Her father hadn’t just been lying about Jasper. He’d been lying about everything. He wasn’t on her side. She couldn’t believe something so vile about her papa, but with the two men standing side by side and glaring down at her accusingly, she knew coming to London had been a monumental mistake.
Her father had been manipulating her since the moment she arrived home. He pretended to be her ally and all the while he’d been on Withernsea’s side.
“Olivia, you have my permission to dance with His Grace,” her father said, as though that had been the reason for her refusal.
“I’m not feeling well, Father. I fear I would be a poor partner. Would you escort me home?” she said loudly enough for those around them to hear.
Her father looked from Withernsea to Olivia.
“Perhaps if you had a sip of champagne you might recover.”
“No.” She glared at him. “I am returning home. With or without you.”
Her father gave Withernsea a scared look then nodded. “O-Of course.”
She looped her arm through his and turned away, but Withernsea stopped them.
“This is not over, Olivia. You belong to me. We are betrothed, and you will honor that contract or face the consequences.”
Olivia turned slowly, gripping her father’s arm for what little support he could give. “Good night, Your Grace.”
Once in the carriage, Olivia let out a slow breath. She had made it through the ball, and that was a victory in itself. Jasper would be waiting for her back at the town house. She needed him to hold her after the encounter with Withernsea and her realization about her father. She felt vulnerable and scared. Withernsea had been part of her nightmares for the past five years. Seeing him here, in the flesh, was like facing her demons and realizing there was no waking up.
“That didn’t go very well,” her father said. “You could have danced one dance with him.”
The rage she’d been keeping contained boiled over. “You all but abandoned me.”
“I did not. I went to fetch you a refreshment, and when you wanted to leave, I agreed.”
But they both knew that was a lie. He had put her off over and over again.
“One dance would not have hurt and might have even helped matters,” her father said.
“How can you even ask that of me? He raped me, Papa. I cannot dance with him. I do not ever want to see him again.” She spoke slowly, trying to explain, once again, to her father. Perhaps he simply didn’t understand what must be done. “We can’t acquiesce to the duke’s wishes any longer. He must be made to realize that I will not marry him. We should cancel the betrothal contract and pay the penalty. I don’t comprehend why he didn’t marry in my absence.”
“I don’t either. I’m afraid...” He trailed off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid he may have developed a somewhat unhealthy obsession with you.”
Olivia felt the bile rise in her throat. “Then perhaps it’s better to deal with it in a straightforward manner. No placating him.”
Her father shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Livvy. He could hurt us financially.”
Her heart seemed to plummet into her belly. “The contract can’t be worth that much.”
“Your mother has been ill for some time, Livvy,” her father sighed. “I hav
en’t managed the finances as well as I might have. If it were just the cost of a lawsuit and the damages for breaking the contract, it would shake us but not topple us.”
“But?”
“But Withernsea is a powerful man. He can persuade creditors to call in debts, woo my steward away from the estate, make certain my investments don’t come to fruition. He will ruin us. He can do it.”
“I am already ruined! Lord Forsythe and his family didn’t want me at their ball. With the exception of Lord Phineas, I didn’t receive a single decent proposal while I was there. I’m seen as a fallen woman and men think they can say and do what they want to me. I won’t be treated that way. I haven’t done anything wrong, and while I don’t expect Society to believe that, I did think you would support me.”
“I do support you!”
“How? By forcing me to attend an event where I am treated like a common light skirt and forced to speak with the man who raped me?”
“Keep your voice down!”
Olivia gawked at him. They were in a moving carriage. The wheels clattered so loudly on the streets she could hardly hear herself speak. “Why should I? Maybe it’s time everyone knows what Withernsea did.”
“And do you think if you accuse him anyone will believe you?”
“Why shouldn’t they?”
“They’ll say you are lying for attention or monetary gain. He’ll call you a liar, and then it will be your word against his.”
“And why should anyone believe the word of a woman?” She spat the last word as though it were an expletive.
“I believe you, Olivia. But accusing him publicly won’t help us. He’ll only work that much harder at ruining us.”
She lifted her hands in surrender. “So if he will ruin us if I keep quiet and ruin us if I speak up, what other choice do I have?”