The Perfect Spinster: A Regency Romance (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 2)

by Annabelle Anders

  Olivia waved her fan in front of her face. She could not abide having to dance with Lockley. “I’m afraid I must decline. I’m dreadfully weary this evening, and we have a long journey tomorrow. I believe I shall retire early.”

  Louella’s brows rose.

  Olivia sensed approval in Gabriel’s expression, whereas, Lord Lockley scowled.

  “But thank you, My Lord, for the kind offer.”

  She was rescued from having to make any further explanations when a few footmen arrived at that moment and began moving the furniture around. They were equally as efficient rolling up the gigantic carpet that appeared more work of art than something to soften one’s steps.

  Olivia sighed. She’d not really wanted to go to her bedchamber early. It was her last night at Sky Manor. Her last night to watch Gabriel from across the room.

  She would likely torture herself thinking about him until the early morning hours. Even worse, she’d need to lie in her bed feigning sleep, since she shared a room with Mary.

  Mary, who’d spent hours and hours in the kitchen with Lady Kingsley’s cook. She’d chastised Olivia for attempting to include her in the party. “I’m not quality. Plain and simple as that.” She had, she promised Olivia, learned dozens of delightful recipes that she’d like to attempt when they got home.

  Home.

  The prospect was welcoming and yet somewhat disheartening at the same time.

  Perhaps she’d go with Louella to London this spring after all. There would always be men like Lord Lockley, and ladies such as those who’d gossiped about her in the retiring room last spring. She was not one to delude herself. But there might be others like Miss Shipley, and Lady Priscilla and Gabriel’s mother and brothers as well.

  She might not be the outcast she’d been raised to believe herself, after all.

  She rose from her seat, having given herself no choice but to retire for the evening.

  Likely, the next time she saw Gabriel, he’d be a married man. Miss Shipley would carry his children. He’d have a family.

  She excused herself and slipped into the foyer.

  But she did not go directly to her chamber. She made her way to one of the other drawing rooms, one where the ladies had spent so many hours arranging ribbons on vases.

  She slipped out into the garden.

  A wrap would have been nice, as spring hadn’t arrived in truth, quite yet, and she would have asked one of the servants, but then she’d risk her intentions becoming known to the others. And they’d insist she had a chaperone.

  She took a deep breath.

  Oh, Gabriel.

  She’d already spent a good deal of time walking in this garden and knew the exact path she’d take. One, in particular, led up a gentle slope. At the top, one of the previous earls had had a small folly built and it looked down on the trees and shrubs that grew almost naturally.

  Not nearly as grand as Crawford’s sprawling gardens, Olivia preferred them, nonetheless. It gave particular meaning to the name ‘Sky Manor.’

  She’d quite fallen in love with this estate. And Lady Kingsley, who’d somehow managed to show her more kindness than her own mother ever had.

  Olivia lifted her gown, a bright yellow muslin with a high waist emphasized by a lemon-colored satin bow.

  She loved the delicate lace on her sleeves and at the hem. In fact, she was coming to feel quite proud and pleased with most of the gowns Louella had insisted they order.

  Mary was doing all sorts of new things with her hair as well. Olivia almost felt like a lady.

  Her slippers, however, were most impractical for a late-night walk down a dirt path. Made of delicate silk, they were quite femininely whimsical. The same style ribbon as on her bodice, tied in crisscrosses up her ankle. She lifted her dress to peer down at them and sighed. She would need to be careful not to ruin them. They were so very lovely.

  Even if the soft leather sole made it so that she could feel every rock and lump almost as though her feet were bare.

  She picked her way along the path, determined to get to the top. It was her last evening here. She wanted to drink it all in, create a memory so that in the future she could imagine him looking down with pride at his estate, sooth herself knowing he could be content.

  She’d never hate him, although it might have made her future seem less dismal.

  She loved him and always would. She could no longer deny it.

  Upon reaching the folly, she simply stood at the edge gazing down at the manor, the distant fields, and all the trees that had not yet begun to flower. More stars than she could ever count sparkled above. They seemed almost close enough to reach out and touch.

  A lazy cloud drifted so that it partially blocked the moonlight.

  She would sit on the bench for a moment and then make her way back down. She was quite alone and farther from the manor than she ought to have gone.

  Just as she lowered herself onto the ornate wooden bench, a rustling sound drifted through the leaves. An animal?

  She shivered. She’d meet her death for certain if it was a wild boar. Perhaps it was only a squirrel… or a bird.

  But then definite footsteps, heavier than an animal. Perhaps if she sat very still, no one would be the wiser.

  Perhaps it was Gabriel.

  “My horrible little liar. Weary, indeed. I thought this was what you had in mind.” The voice was not Gabriel’s. Olivia’s spine shot up straight when she realized she might not be as safe as she’d assumed she would be.

  Lord Lockley had finally managed to get her alone.

  After her blatant lie about being tired, Olivia had withdrawn from the room but most definitely had not turned in the direction of her chamber. Gabriel had watched her exit to the left, but then just as quickly change direction. Her yellow gown was difficult to miss as she’d tiptoed past the open door.

  This might be his best opportunity to speak with her privately.

  And his intentions were honorable. He’d noticed that she’d done everything possible to avoid Lord Lockley over the course of the house party.

  Was it possible the man had said something to her? Offended her? By God, if he’d laid so much as a finger upon her…

  But if he was not mistaken, she had avoided the man quite successfully.

  He wished Prissy had the same instincts.

  With a quick examination of the room, he wondered if his own departure could go unnoticed.

  Victoria was familiarizing herself with the pianoforte while Gil appeared for all the world as though he’d turn the pages for her. Gabriel vaguely wondered if Gil would play. An excellent musician in his own right, he tended to hide it, as many considered it an unmanly pursuit.

  Victoria would not miss him if he were to go after Olivia.

  His mother sat in an aminated conversation with Lady Shelton. Most of the younger set, including Nathaniel and Prissy, were taking part in a flurry of activity in deciding how they would utilize the improvised dance floor. Some of the older guests looked interested in participating as well.

  Seeing this might be his best chance, Gabriel slowly backed out one of the French doors onto the veranda.

  The party was to end tomorrow and in less than three weeks’ time, he and Victoria would marry.

  Gabriel tugged at his cravat.

  Stepping away from the terrace, he contemplated whether the minx would have taken the path that descended to the brook that ran across the property or the more difficult climb to the folly.

  The piano took up and lively music drifted from the house, urging him into action. The water would entice her. He was almost certain and so set himself along the path that headed for the brook. All week long, he’d avoided her proximity, and even so, he’d always been aware of her location, what she was doing, her mood.

  She seemed to have enjoyed herself, and members of his family had mentioned how pleasant a lady she was more than once.

  She was unlike any other woman he’d ever known.

  He’d known he
r far better than he should have. He knew what she looked like caught up in the throes of passion, the sounds she made.

  He knew the texture of her skin and the taste of her lips.

  He ought to regret it, but God help him, couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

  With each step, urgency built in him to find her.

  Was he really only following so that he could discuss Lord Lockley and his sister with her? Damnit, he’d thought he had been.

  But his arms ached to hold her. His lips craved to kiss her. He’d made love to her once. He’d been given the key to heaven only to guiltily throw it away.

  God help him, he simply wanted to be with her.

  Impatience set him running. He knew this path like the back of his hand. Where was she? Halting, he paused to see if he could hear any footsteps.

  Nothing.

  He ought to have caught up with her by now. Slowing, he stepped into a clearing and turned to gaze upward. In the distance, he could just barely make out the silhouette of a person at the folly. Movement. A flash of something light. Her hair?

  Damnit, he’d been wrong. That was her. Sitting alone.

  And then not alone. Who? Hopefully Nathaniel.

  Only that wasn’t Nathaniel’s gait. It was neither of his brothers’ postures.

  Gabriel’s heart constricted. He’d not guessed correctly and now she was alone with Lockley. Desperate to get to her, he took off running up the path.

  Chapter 28

  No!

  As the baron lowered himself onto the bench beside her, Olivia chastised herself for not following her intuition. She should have told Gabriel what she’d seen that afternoon in the Abby. She should have shared her misgivings.

  Lockley was a predator. Something inside of her had realized this but she’d been fooled by his fine manner and speech; by the fact that he could put the word ‘lord’ in front of his name as though that gave him the right to take what he wanted… or who.

  She went to rise from the bench, but he grasped her by the wrist.

  “You cannot leave me all alone, Miss Redfield, when I’ve gone to all this trouble now, can you?” He tugged on her arm.

  Hard.

  She had no choice but to fall back.

  Only he did not pull her onto the bench. He pulled her onto his lap.

  “There now. Isn’t that better? You’ve played games with me all week. Don’t tell me you don’t want this.” One hand began drawing the hem of her gown upward. “Now close your eyes for me, gel, so I don’t have to look at that crazy one while I make love to you.”

  “I don’t want—” But her protests were silenced by his mouth. She would not call this a kiss. It was an attack. An invasion.

  She pushed at him with all her might, only to realize her efforts were fruitless. His arms had clamped around her in a savage vise.

  Twisting and writhing, she managed to free her mouth. “Let me go!” She went to scream, and he ground his teeth against her lips again.

  In a moment of clarity, she knew she was not helpless.

  The monster thrust his tongue past her lips, and instead of pushing back on it with her own, she clamped down with her teeth. Feeling like a vicious animal, she only released him when the blood trailing down her throat stirred a gagging sensation.

  He pulled away. “You bitch!” he spat contemptuously. But all she could think was to escape. With the coppery taste of his blood in her mouth, she again tried evading his roving hands.

  But he was strong. So much stronger than her.

  Frantic, but knowing she couldn’t panic, she made a fist with one hand and shot it forward at the tip of his nose. He grunted and loosened his hold somewhat.

  And then she pushed one of her thumbs into his eye. “Damn you!”

  The next moment, she landed painfully on the dirt. Not taking even a second to consider if she’d injured him, she was only aware that he’d lost his hold. He could not be allowed to capture her again.

  On all fours, she crawled away, scrambled to her feet, and then took off running.

  That delicate cloud had covered the moon completely, extinguishing its earlier light. With tears blurring her vision, she could hardly make out where she stepped. She only knew to keep running. Toward the manor. Down. Away from him. Away from him.

  Into the trees. She was halfway to her freedom. She needed to keep moving.

  And then…

  Whoosh! The air left her body when she collided with another person. A man. And again, she fought. How had he caught up with her?

  “Olivia. Stop, Love.” Hands pinned her hands to her side, but they were gentle. Familiar. He was not the baron! It was Gabriel!

  “Where is he? What did he do?” Gabriel demanded.

  “Lockley,” she gasped into his shirtfront. Knowing she was safe, she suddenly felt ice-cold, so cold. “He didn’t. I didn’t. I fought him and I g-g-got away b-b-before...”

  She was shaking so badly that he could hardly understand her words. But he understood enough. Her dress was smeared with dirt and torn nearly halfway up from the hem. Her hair had come undone and hung wildly around her face. Blood dripped from her mouth.

  And she practically climbed him in her panic.

  “You’re safe, love. I’m here. I’ll take care of it. That’s it, let it out.” He held her trembling body against his and spoke soothing nonsensical words into the top of her head.

  All the while, white-hot anger built in every fiber of his being.

  “I shouldn’t have gone out. I wasn’t supposed to go alone. But I didn’t want him to follow me. I swear! I never asked him to follow me.” She cried the words into his jacket between a few gulping sobs.

  I’ll kill him.

  “I’m sorry, Gabriel.” She tried swiping at her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry to be so much trouble.”

  What on earth?

  He held her away from him, meeting her gaze. “You need not be sorry. This is not your fault. It’s Lockley’s fault. And my own. You ought to have been safe on my property.”

  She ought to have been.

  She deserved to be safe everywhere.

  “Is this wench making up stories?”

  Gabriel straightened his spine as a grating male voice dared utter such bile in his presence.

  Without addressing the baron’s question, Gabriel leaned down to address Olivia. “Go back to the house now. Enter through the library and go directly to your chamber.” He couldn’t take the chance that one of his mother’s stickler guests witness her circumstances. “Lock the door. Mary is awaiting you? You will not be alone?”

  He didn’t want her to witness what he needed to do.

  She pulled back, gazed up at him and then, seeming to understand what he needed, nodded.

  “Good girl.” He set her away from him toward the trail to the manor. Only after she disappeared did he turn back to Lockley.

  “I never would have poached, my good man, if I’d known you’d be so unwilling to share.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?” But then he remembered that Lockley had appeared when Gabriel had been alone atop the abbey with her.

  “It’s obvious to me. She’s your whore.” He shrugged. “I recognize these things, you know. Takes one to know one?” And then he laughed.

  The words landed like no physical blow ever could.

  And as vile and disgusting as Gabriel thought the man to be, Gabriel was worse.

  “She’d be a pretty little thing, too. If not for that crazy eye of hers.”

  The stinging in his fist and the sound of cracking bone registered before Gabriel realized he’d landed a punch to Lockley’s left cheek. The man staggered backward until running into the trunk of a tree.

  “What’d you do that for, Kingsley? Don’t you have a fiancée to defend? I’ve left her well enough alone!”

  Gabriel stepped forward, placed his fingers around the baron’s neck, and pinned him against the tree. “You will pack your bags and leave. You
will never speak to Miss Redfield or my sister again. I’d hazard to guess I have more friends in high places than you. So much as look at either of those ladies again and you’ll be on the first packet out of England looking to find a new homeland. Is that understood?”

  The baron desperately tried peeling back Gabriel’s fingers but to no avail.

  “Is that understood?” Gabriel squeezed tighter.

  At last, the man blinked and attempted to nod. Without Gabriel’s hands supporting him, he slid slowly to the ground.

  “Be gone before morning.”

  Gabriel spun on his heel and left the man gasping for air. Not before, however, the blighter uttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like the word fiancée…

  Lockley was lucky Gabriel didn’t return to kill him, by God.

  “Are you going to inform your sister of the true reason for Lockley’s departure?” Crawford asked later that night, reclining on the long sofa in Gabriel’s study.

  Gabriel shook his head. “Best she believes he’s lost interest. I don’t wish to put Olivia— Miss Redfield’s—reputation in jeopardy.” He’d spilled the night’s events to Crawford knowing he could trust him.

  Not with everything, though.

  Not everything, by far.

  But when Gabriel returned to his study, nearly shaking in his anger, to find his old school chum freely imbibing his finest scotch, he’d spilled every detail of Lockley’s unpardonable behavior. And the consequences he’d delivered.

  Gabriel had wanted to go to Olivia but instead sent one of the maids to ascertain that she was resting comfortably.

  It would not do for him to arrive at her chamber this time of night. He’d already done enough.

  It’s obvious to me. She’s your whore.

  Gabriel winced as the words replayed in his mind. He’d thought he’d been so careful. But the truth of Lockley’s insult shook him.

  His treatment of her had been deplorable! He lifted a glass to his lips and stifled a surprising sob that threatened to embarrass him.

  Olivia had said she’d fought Lockley. How on earth? The baron outweighed her by half. She’d had blood dripping from her lips.