by Stacy Reid
“Does this mean you have some affections for your wife?”
The silence throbbed.
“Bloody hell, Tobias, do you love your wife?”
Desperately…
Christ, so desperately he was afraid of the emotions she roused. He missed everything about her—her smile, her kisses, and possibly her reckless nature. He lost his senses from the moment he met her and it seemed he would never reclaim them if he could long for any of her hoydenish ways. But he did. He was caught off guard by the tender emotions filling him. He rubbed the spot on his chest where he swore it physically ached.
Olivia was cheerfully stubborn, unconventional, but so full of life and dreams.
“Everything I have been writing is for her. It is the only way I know how to express what she means to me, through words.”
His brother nodded. “Do not wait too long to find her,” he murmured and then left.
Tobias glanced at the sheet of papers on his desk waiting for him to finish the story. He thrust his hands in his pocket, wondering what to do about his countess. Not that there was much to be done, other than for him to pull his head from his ass. His lips twitched. She was his wife…and would always be his wife. He needed to get control of his feelings for her…or embrace them in their entirety.
With her, Tobias admitted, he felt completed, a state that had been missing from the first time he spied his father slapping his mother at the age of nine.
Never have I felt such inferiority. You will never accept me for the person I am.
He swallowed. He had left her alone with such doubt and pain to fester. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he moved to his desk and sat down. He would have to show her with words how much he desired and wanted her. Maybe if he revealed the bit of himself he kept closeted from the world, even from himself sometimes, she might find it in her heart to forgive him. To love him as he adored her.
…
Tobias admitted defeat. His wife did not want to be located. He’d hired a private team of dozens of investigators to find his countess and several days later, she was still not to be found. His gut clenched in hard knots as he glanced down at the letter that never left his person.
I cannot bear living with a man who dislikes the heart of me. I know I must return…but for now I need the space to stop loving you.
He wanted to roar his anguish, but he was aware of Westfall and Grayson’s presence.
“Have you read today’s scandal sheets?” Grayson asked him, his eyes dark with concern. “They are getting more ridiculous as the days go by. When will they move on to another story?”
“I have no interest in tattle.” Yet Tobias took the paper when it was handed to him.
The Quarrel of the Season rages on! Mrs. Darwhimple has it on highest authority that the Countess of Blade has left her earl. This was after the earl himself was seen by the beau monde carrying his very daring and original wife over his shoulder from Lady Bronson’s ball a few weeks ago. London’s coldest earl has caused many hearts to flutter over his actions, but it seems his wife has no such similar sentiments. Lady Blade—
Unable to read anymore, he dropped the paper on his desk.
“Even the countryside is agog with the news of ‘the Quarrel.’ You and Olivia…you are notorious,” his brother said with a grimace. “I know how much you despise—”
“I do not give a damn about the ton or what the gossip sheets report. I do not give a damn how long the scandal lasts, the only thing I care about is that my wife believes I despise her.”
He pressed a hand to his forehead, battling back the surge of emotions.
“Despise. I’ve brought her low when I should have brought her to the highest peak of happiness life has to offer. I admire everything about her and there is nothing…nothing I would change of her character, but I do not know where she is, dozens of investigators have no clue, and my wife is brilliant enough that she could hide herself for years and not be found.”
Westfall’s golden eyes glinted with deep cynicism. “I never thought you, my friend, would fall prey to the vexing emotion of love. I do wish for you to locate your countess. There are dark whispers in the seedier parts of London being heard by lords who frequent those places and it would be better if she were found before they take root and flower among the rest of society.”
Grayson frowned. “What whispers?”
“The ones that say Lord Blade was so disgusted with his wife’s actions that he has done away with her and it is expected her body will be eventually found floating in the Thames. That like his father, he may have beaten her so severely she perished from that brutality.”
Wearily, Tobias leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes.
God’s blood.
It was all his fault, because of a fear that seemed so pointless now. It had been three weeks since she left and he had no notion when she would return. Christ, her letter had said years. Worse, she’d resolved to kill the love she had for him. A thought blasted through him and he froze.
“What is it?” Westfall murmured. “I can see the cogs turning.”
Tobias glanced at the neat pile of papers on his desk. “I know how to find her,” he muttered, his heart doubling its beat.
“How?”
“The only things she departed with of her own were her books, several volumes of In the Service of the Crown.”
Grayson blinked. “Books?”
“Yes. Not her jewels or her clothes, but her beloved books.”
“And how does that help you?”
“Simple. I will use the latest volume to let her know how I feel.”
“And how in God’s name do you plan to achieve that? Do you know the author?”
“I know enough,” Tobias said and walked from the library, ignoring the rare sight of his friend and brother speechless.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A few days later, Livvie arrived in Town to meet a cold downpour. The carriage she traveled in was surprisingly well padded and despite the anxiety in her heart, she’d actually slept for most of the journey—at least whenever she was not rereading over the passages, trying to convince herself she was not making a fool of herself or chatting dispiritedly with Sarah.
Livvie would ask Tobias if he was Aikens, and if he was not, she would rest and return to her hideaway until she was ready to inform him of their child. Dear Lord, she was being silly. He’d said, “For my countess, Lady Blade.” How could she feel so uncertain still? She prayed she would have the willpower to let him speak without dissolving into an emotional blubber. Deep in her heart, she feared she would succumb and kiss him thoroughly, and then proceed to give him a tongue lashing on his stubbornness. She grinned at the thought of provoking him to such an extent. For good measure, she would probably dissolve into tears, too.
The carriage came to a halt on Grosvenor Street and the coachman opened the door.
“Right sorry, milady, I have nothing to cover you with.”
She waved away his apology. “Thank you for coming to my aid at such short notice.”
“I will send a footman to you, milady.” Sarah made to get up. But Livvie was bursting with anticipation and could not wait another minute to discover the truth of the situation.
“That’s quite fine, Sarah, I have no issue facing the deluge, you may wait here for the footmen to come and assist you and collect our luggage.” Livvie rose and exited the carriage with the coachman’s assistance.
Rain drizzled in her eyes, and the cold bit into her bones. Tugging her coat closer, she carefully hurried to the door and sounded the knocker. A stern looking man opened the door and looked down his bony nose at her.
“I am Lady Blade, is my husband home?”
The door was flung opened with such exuberance she almost giggled. She scampered inside and shrugged from her coat.
“His lordship is in his library, my lady,” the butler said curiously, a heavy dollop of relief in his tone.
“Please send a foot
man outside to assist my maid with our luggage. She will also need a parasol.”
“Did I hear the knocker, Collins, who—?”
Tobias faltered and scrubbed a hand over his face.
When he started moving closer, a tentative smile stretched her lips, and he stumbled.
Livvie rushed forward. “Are you well?”
“Yes…you smiled,” he muttered, appearing dazed. He turned away from her and started down the hallway. He paused and glanced back. “Are you a hallucination?”
She blinked, noting he looked leaner and his eyes were red. Alarm skittered through her. “Have you been drinking?”
“No, but I have not been sleeping well. In fact, I have been awake for two days now and my thoughts are decidedly muddled.”
“Tobias, I—”
Her heart skittered wildly when her husband came toward her with clipped strides. “I’m sorry.” He cupped her face between his palms and smoothed the stray hairs from her face and kissed her cheek. “I’m so damn sorry.”
The butler cleared his throat and Tobias glanced up with a distracted frown.
A blush heated her cheeks; she had forgotten their audience. “My lady maid awaits assistance from the coach outside, and my luggage—”
Before she could complete her sentence, Tobias started clipping commands. “Carry her ladyship’s cases upstairs to her rooms and send her maid to the kitchen to have a hot drink and supper.”
“Very well, my lord,” the butler answered.
“Let us retire to the parlor,” she said, hope beating in her chest with such vigor she felt faint.
He grabbed her hand, and he fairly ran down the hallway as she hurried her steps to keep pace. Tobias opened the door and ushered her inside. She turned around and he was leaning against the closed door, torment in his eyes, before he wiped all expression from his face.
“You’ve returned,” he said mildly.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been missing for several weeks,” he said hoarsely. “I am most relieved to see you are well.”
“I anticipated that you might send me away, so I ran, for I could not endure my heart to break again.” She got right to the heart of the matter before she lost her will and launched herself at him. “You wrote these?” She held up the several slim leather volumes carefully tied together.
The dratted man’s inscrutable expression became even more closed. “Do not shy away from me.”
An eyebrow arched in outrage. “I am not shy, countess.”
“Then—”
“I wrote them.”
Though the evidence had been overwhelming, delight and disbelief filled her. She tugged out one of the book from the small pile and held it forward with hands that trembled. “You wrote these. You, the Earl of Blade, are Theodore Aikens?”
“Yes.”
Livvie’s heart started to jerk an erratic rhythm. “Aikens…writes romance—passion and secret trysts and dueling,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“But…but you would never do anything like that in reality. Your hero, Wrotham, is brilliant, wild, and unpredictable. He revels in his temper…”
“Wrotham is everything that I am that is not possible to show to society, that I cannot allow myself to feel,” he said, his voice rough with unnamed emotions.
The silence throbbed between them with intensity. The awareness of how much he would have worked to ensure his book found her ahead of his schedule bloomed. It would have taken such dedication and an atrocious amount of money. The knowledge filled her with tenderness. “The rumors said you bought a printing shop.”
He smiled. “Two. I wanted thousands of copies to flood the bookstores in London, Scotland, Paris, and Vienna. I’d hoped the fascination of the ton and readers of the series would spread across borders and countries to find you wherever you were.”
Oh!
“Writing has always been an escape for whenever life seemed turbulent. It has been most private and I want to share everything about me with you, as you have showed me without restraint who you are.”
In that moment, she realized her aloof earl was sharing a part of him he had never revealed to anyone else. It humbled her. She grabbed the latest copy and thumbed through the pages. “Lady O…that is truly me?” The idea seemed so farfetched, but Lady O and Wrotham’s courtship and romance was so similar to Livvie and Tobias’s, so fiery and passionate, so everything she wanted them to be and more.
“Yes.”
Her heart went wild. He had modeled the lady who his hero had fallen in love with on her, and she was not shy, demur, or the very picture of female respectability and correctness. In fact, his Lady O was fierce, bold, a delight to read and learn, and the passages showed how much the hero had fallen in love with his Lady O. Livvie’s throat tightened and she could only stare at Tobias in mute delight. He willingly went through such lengths to have her back at his side, sacrificing their reputation to scandal and scrutiny. “You truly love me,” she breathed in sheer shock.
Before he could respond, she thumbed the pages furiously and started to read, “‘Death had almost claimed his mysterious Lady O. Never had Wrotham felt such passion for a woman and such need. He loved her and it petrified him, for he could not lose her. She was an elite assassin who had dedicated her life to the order after the terrible way in which society had abandoned her. Could he truly risk his heart by asking her to flee this life with him, to abandon intrigue and danger, for love and happiness?’”
A smile tugged his lips and he slowly pushed from the door. “Is there a reason you are reading my words to me, countess?”
Her throat worked. “I…I was going to read the part when he confessed his love to Lady O.”
“Hmmm,” he said, prowling even closer, his eyes intent. “I already know what they say, I wrote it, but if you will recall, that volume ended without his intriguing Lady O answering his declaration.”
Livvie nodded happily. “So you love me?”
“You ensnared me from the moment I met you…intrigued me, inspired me, and I cannot bear life without you, Lady O. I have no future without you. I love you most ardently.”
At her silence, he lowered his lashes, hiding his emotions, but she was not mistaken in the flash of doubt she had seen in his eyes. How could he not realize she was passionately in love with everything he was?
“Come, Olivia, end my misery, I must have some new material for my next release.”
She laughed, launching herself at him, and with a groan of relief, he crushed her to him. “Good God, woman, you took too long to respond.”
“I love you, Tobias,” she whispered achingly. “More than my words or actions will ever express.”
His arms tightened around her. “Never leave me again, countess.”
“Never,” she promised.
“And you can cry all over me whenever you wish,” he said gruffly.
She grinned against his chest. “And swoon now and then?”
He grunted.
“I will never act with a willfulness that will taint our name,” she murmured. “I will indulge in all my passions and emotions in private. You have given up so much for me, the ton will be rabid with speculations about you, us.”
He pressed a tender, reverent kiss atop her forehead. “I do not give a fig about the ton, or anyone’s opinion but yours. All I need is your adoration and I am certain of it. I never want you to change, but my heart would appreciate the restraint.”
She laughed softly, nodding her head. “I’m with child,” she said into the soft of his neck.
He froze, and then he shifted one of his hands between them and placed it above her stomach. Emotions darkened his eyes to jade. “Are you well?”
She smiled tenderly. “Yes.”
“We will argue again. I daresay we will both have cause to find each other frustrating. But I will do all in my power to never hurt you again. I may not succeed, and I give you leave then to swoon.”
Livvie chuckled.
>
He smiled with tender amusement. “I swear I will endeavor to make you the happiest woman in all of England.”
“And I will make you the proudest man in all of England.”
He arched a brow. “Only in England?”
Tobias did not wait for an answer, nor could Livvie give him one. For he claimed her lips in a hungry kiss, which said more than even his words had done. Livvie’s fingers were already unraveling his cravat as she gloried in her husband’s love.
Epilogue
Four months later…
Livvie lay on her side with Tobias curved behind her, his hands resting on the swell of her stomach, and her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. Their baby kicked with exuberance and she felt his smile against her hair. They had been so blissfully happy despite their notoriety. The scandal that roared through the ton after Tobias’s revelations had been unquenchable. They had been flocked with so many callers, reporters, and friends, they had departed London to Grangeville Park less than a week later. The scandal sheets had even compared her and Tobias’s scandal to the duke and duchess of Wolverton’s infamy over a year ago.
Livvie had been pleasantly surprised they were admired for their daring and originality. In fact, their new fame had done wonders with the support Tobias needed in helping those suffering in England. Many now wanted to be associated with them, and had lent their support to his and Westfall’s cause. Monies poured in and several charities were established. The demand for Tobias’s books had seen thousands of copies being reprinted, with the royalties earned donated toward his, Wolverton, and Westfall’s goal of alleviating England’s suffering.
Livvie was also in the process of launching her art gallery in London with the full support of her husband. She had done several pieces to highlight the plight of England’s children, and the art critics Tobias had gotten to view them had praised her work. Pride and anticipation of opening her gallery once again welled within her.
Tobias kissed the delicate pulse just beneath her ear. “Good morning, wife.”
“Husband,” she murmured with contentment bursting in her heart.
