The Blackmailed Bride

by Mandy Goff

  The set of her mouth was mutinous. “I’m in no trouble here. I’m surrounded by people.”

  Nick stopped, and his hold on Olivia’s arm forced her to pull short as well. “Look around you, Lady Olivia. Do you think any of these people would give a farthing if you were in trouble?”

  She didn’t look around, nor did she meet his gaze.

  Nick began walking again before Finley turned and noticed they were no longer behind him. “Why did you leave me?” he asked her quietly.

  “I’m not speaking to you,” she informed him rather than answering his question.

  He snorted at her childishness. “Fine.”

  They’d made it to Finley’s coach, and the baron had already seated himself inside. Nick handed Olivia in, and she took the seat opposite Finley. Nick didn’t hesitate a moment before sitting beside her.

  “I trust you had a good time?” Finley asked Olivia, clearly intending to ignore Nick for the duration of the ride.

  “I did, thank you,” Nick answered.

  Both Finley and Olivia looked at him. Finley in annoyance, and Olivia—well, who ever knew what a woman was thinking?

  “Although I do wish you had chosen a warmer evening for the outing,” Nick continued. “It’s a bit chilly.”

  Finley looked at Olivia, seizing an opportunity to be gallant. “Would you care for my coat?” he asked her.

  “No, I have my own,” Nick said.

  “He wasn’t speaking to you,” Olivia snapped.

  Nick arched an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, you aren’t supposed to be, either.”

  The pretty brunette beside him crossed her arms over her chest.

  Nick knew he’d have to repent later, but he found too much enjoyment in agitating the baron to stop. “I daresay the next time we go out, we should try the ices at Gunter’s. I’ve not had an opportunity to stop there yet.”

  “We will not be going anywhere else in the future,” Finley said between gritted teeth.

  Nick, hoping he wasn’t overdramatizing his hand, reached over to put his arm around Olivia. “I’m sorry, darling,” he said to her in soothing tones. “Perhaps Marcus will go with us instead.”

  Olivia, apparently, had had enough. She threw her arms in the air, nearly knocking Nick in the nose with the back of her hand. “What are you doing?” she yelled.

  Nick was saved from having to answer when the coach pulled to a stop in front of Olivia’s home. Nick, who was quicker than Finley, disembarked and handed her down from the conveyance. She didn’t bid either of the gentlemen good-night before she marched up the stairs and inside her house. Nick looked around and found his own coachman waiting for him across the street.

  Nick stepped back into Finley’s carriage before the baron could signal his driver to go on.

  “What are you doing back?” Finley asked. The hostility that was barely masked earlier was now evident…and ugly.

  “Explaining something to you.” Nick didn’t speak loudly. He didn’t have to. The menace in his voice was clear.

  “Which would be what?” Finley’s own voice wavered. Just the slightest—almost unnoticeable—bit.

  “I know what your game is. You will never have Olivia.”

  Finley laughed. “That’s not your decision. Or choice.”

  Nick leaned forward. “Know this. I’m smarter than you. You try and take her, I’ll follow you to the depths of Cheapside to get her back. If you think Olivia will come to you without anyone putting up a fight, you’re wrong.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Finley said. His voice shook, however, revealing the lie.

  “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought,” Nick said as he left the carriage.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Olivia had forgotten Henrietta’s invitation to her monthly literary evening until the morning of. The very last thing she wished to do was put herself anywhere near where the marquess might be. But when she gave serious consideration to canceling her plans, she decided it wasn’t fair to punish her new friend simply because Lord Huntsford was a cad. Besides, it had been two days since she’d discovered his duplicity.

  She was past it.

  Hmph.

  She dressed with particular care. Although she’d never admit it to anyone, least of all herself, she wanted to make sure she looked stunning. In case the marquess was there.

  Not that she was trying to impress him, of course.

  She had a fiancé, after all.

  But Olivia didn’t want Lord Huntsford to think she’d spent her time weeping into her soup because she’d discovered his deceit. No, she was going to be stunning and never let on she’d drenched her pillow the past two nights before she finally fell asleep.

  He didn’t have to know how much it wounded her to discover his friendship was not genuine, was only a means to more money for him, and bragging rights to bolster his pride.

  Olivia was going to make sure he lost the bet…and some of that pride.

  Her dress was a soft blue, so pale that in the right light it might have looked silver or white. The gown was simple, with no adornments at all, but Olivia brought out the family sapphires to wear with it. Nothing like a bit of jewelry to arm oneself.

  The right set of jewels could be as effective as chain mail.

  Olivia went alone.

  Marcus had isolated himself in his study, preparing his arguments for the reform bills. The moment she walked in the door of the townhome across Mayfair, the duchess abandoned her companions and embraced Olivia warmly.

  “You manage to look lovelier each time I see you,” the woman said with a motherly smile. “I like to think if I’d had a daughter, she would have been just as beautiful as you.”

  Olivia thanked her, grateful for the kind words.

  “I believe I have a nephew in attendance who would agree with my assessment,” Henri said with a sly smile.

  Olivia’s mouth went dry, and she scanned the room.

  Of course.

  Lord Huntsford was there. He was leaning against the wall by the fireplace, watching her intently. Had he been waiting for her?

  “Shall I introduce you around, dear?” Henrietta asked, taking Olivia’s arm and leading her to the first couple without giving her the time to agree or protest. The woman could be an unstoppable force of nature, and Olivia was swept away in the tide.

  Olivia smiled and chatted, answering the endless barrage of questions the guests had for her.

  Many of the elderly ladies seemed to be unspoken members in a secret club. They whispered and chatted behind their fans, and when they thought Olivia was too far away to hear, they began to run down a list of eligible suitors they might throw at her feet.

  Olivia found herself alone, laughing at the not-so-subtle glances and furiously whispered plans taking place all around her. She saw Lord Huntsford approaching and tried to look anywhere but at him.

  “Why are you laughing?” Nick asked, standing right in front of her.

  “It’s nothing, really.” She smiled—the expression patently false—to let him know she wasn’t hurt by his ungentlemanly behavior. Not in the least.

  “I like it when you laugh,” he said, and then grimaced. “But not when you smile like that.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” she chided him as her frown settled fully into place.

  “You looked like you were in pain.”

  “Who’s to say I’m not?”

  Lord Huntsford appeared to consider whether he’d been insulted and seemed to settle on the obvious truth that he had. “So you’re speaking to me now?”

  “Only out of necessity. I’ve no wish to upset your aunt,” she told him.

  “What have I done to anger you?” he asked.

  She still didn’t answer him.

  “Please tell me,” he said, bending down and whispering the words in her ear.

  A servant appeared announcing a light dinner was to be served before she could say anything.

  Nick offered her
his arm, and Olivia wrapped her hand around it before remembering she was mad at him.

  He didn’t release her until he guided her to her place at the table. Considering Henri’s machinations, Olivia wasn’t surprised that she was positioned beside the marquess.

  What she had not counted on—but was an unexpected pleasure nonetheless—was that the gentleman on Lord Huntsford’s other side had some investment matters he wished to discuss with the marquess. Each time Lord Huntsford turned to her, his other table partner launched into a litany on the benefits of American cotton or Indian silk. Olivia enjoyed his frustration more than she would have ever admitted.

  But under the table, where no one could see, Lord Huntsford slipped his hand down to hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. She didn’t know if he meant to maintain the contact and would probably never know because she snatched her hand away and settled it firmly into her lap.

  After dinner, the gentlemen and ladies separated for a few moments before the planned gathering in the large salon. Olivia thought they were going to be reading one of Shakespeare’s plays. One of the Henrys…or maybe Richard. Perhaps, if she were lucky, they’d read one of the ancient tragedies where everyone ended up in a bloody heap, or cooked into soup.

  It would suit her mood.

  The men went into the duke’s library to discuss all manner of interesting masculine pursuits: horses, property, saddles for the horses and improvements to their properties.

  The ladies didn’t fare much better. Olivia noticed with a bit of dismay she was the youngest, and probably the only single lady in attendance. She avoided the other women in an attempt to spare herself a lecture on why she needed to marry. And quickly. Waiting until all of Henri’s guests were immersed in their conversations, she snuck out of the room.

  Once in the hallway, she sagged against the wall in relief.

  “Aren’t you worried the guests will wonder where you are?” Nick’s low voice, husky with the effort to keep it quiet, made her heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. Or perhaps that was from the shock of his sudden appearance. “Why did you leave?” he continued.

  “I needed a moment.”

  “Is something the matter?” he asked.

  “Of course not.” She smiled and knew it looked false, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Good.” He was still staring at her.

  “Is something wrong with you?” Before her lips finished forming the words, Olivia wished she’d not asked. Why should she care?

  “Me?” he asked distractedly. He ran his hand through his hair, disheveling it. “Lady Olivia,” he began but stopped immediately. His unspoken words hung in the air, making her wonder what he could possibly have to say.

  “Yes?” she prompted.

  “I have to tell you…something has been vexing me…”

  He paced the length of the room, seeming to war with himself over how to break the news to her. He stopped abruptly, turning to look at her. His eyes were bleak.

  “You have been hurt enough,” he began again. “And it was never my intention to add to your pain.” Another pause.

  She couldn’t bear to see him this way. Lord Huntsford was supposed to be charming and affable—not anguished and at a loss for words.

  “Please stop,” she said, halting his forward steps immediately. “I already know.”

  “What? You do?”

  She nodded. And fought the clawing she felt in her throat and the tears threatening to spring to her eyes. “How?”

  “I heard…”

  “You…” he trailed off, moving quickly to stand in front of her. “You should have heard it from me. I doubt it would have hurt less, but it was my responsibility.”

  “It’s all right.” She wouldn’t let him know how much her heart was breaking. And she tried to remind herself that he had done the decent thing by approaching her to tell her the truth.

  “Please forgive me,” he whispered.

  “I already have.”

  “Just like that?” he asked, with the ghost of a smile, echoing her earlier words.

  “Just like that,” she affirmed but couldn’t bring herself to return his smile. He’d easily see the pain in the expression.

  “You are a remarkable woman, Lady Olivia Fairfax.”

  Not remarkable enough, apparently. If he truly thought so, his interest in her would have been more serious than winning a silly wager. But she banished the thought before it could take hold. She didn’t want Lord Huntsford anyway. He wasn’t right for her. Marriage to someone he loved was his fate.

  It wasn’t hers.

  “I would like to ask a question, though,” she said into the ensuing silence.

  “Ask me anything.”

  “What made you decide to tell me?” She held her breath, unsure of exactly what she wanted him to say.

  “I couldn’t pretend anymore.”

  Couldn’t pretend anymore? Was the charade of being interested in her too much to handle? The feel of a lone tear slipping down her cheek was the first realization she was actually crying. She turned her head, hoping to hide the fact. She couldn’t very well pretend she was fine if she were weeping.

  Lord Huntsford had already noticed her distress, how ever.

  “Come here.” The words were commanding, but his gentle tone was more a coax than a demand.

  Her feet obeyed before she could refuse.

  “I have hurt you,” he insisted.

  She shook her head.

  He wrapped her in his arms, ignoring her denials. Ignoring the fact they were in a hallway someone might enter at any moment. As he pulled her into a tight embrace, he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

  “Please don’t cry,” he said into her hair.

  The minutes crept by, and Olivia, in spite of her efforts, couldn’t stem the flow of her tears. His waistcoat would be drenched with her sorrow. How funny, she thought, that she should be so worried over his attire. She might ruin his wardrobe, but he had broken her heart.

  Not that she loved him, of course.

  Or even liked him more than was proper.

  But she had trusted him.

  Trusted that, while he had been a spy, he wouldn’t be the kind of person to cloak his actions in secrecy…not where his friends were concerned. And while she had never encouraged his attentions, he had certainly paid them. And all the while, he had been counting on her naivete and his powers of persuasion.

  She may have forgiven him. But it still hurt.

  “Olivia?” Nick queried after what seemed an eternity.

  She nodded, wiping more tears on him.

  Gripping her shoulders, he pushed her away, and Olivia had to bite back her protest.

  “I truly am sorry. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.” He stared at her. Shame and remorse were evident in the lines on his face. It seemed he had anguished over this as much as she had.

  She tried for a smile. It was wobbly, but it made him offer his own tentative grin.

  “I care about you,” he said into the silence.

  And while the look she gave him wasn’t necessarily one of utter disbelief, it was clearly skeptical. “I do,” he insisted.

  She stared at him, finding herself wishing yet again they were two different people, or perhaps the same people in very different situations.

  She was too close to him. The nearness seemed to cloud her judgment and perception because clearly he couldn’t be doing what she thought he was. Her mind was playing some rather funny tricks on her.

  For instance, Nick appeared to be shifting nearer. She blinked several times, thinking if she did so his face wouldn’t appear to be so close to hers.

  Olivia was wrong. Before she had time to protest, or to think about whether she wanted to protest, his lips were on hers. She sighed a bit, melting into his embrace.

  His arms around her tightened, and she leaned farther into him. She was so lost in the moment that forming a comprehensible thought was impossible. This was everything she’
d imagined a kiss would be—what she’d hoped to find with someone eventually.

  What she’d never have with Finley.

  She wondered if Nick felt as lost in the moment as she…. Olivia stiffened.

  Of course he didn’t.

  This had been Nick’s plan all along. He wanted to prove, to himself and everyone else, she could be swayed by his attractions and pretty words. And she’d been more than willing to help him win his wager.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he pulled away, fear coloring his voice.

  “Get out,” she said quietly. She didn’t know with whom she was most upset, herself or him.

  “What?” His tone reflected his confusion.

  “I said, ‘get out!’” she repeated with more force and volume.

  “This is my aunt’s home,” he reminded her, still looking bewildered.

  “Shall we ask her if you should stay or go?” She was shaking with anger.

  Lord Huntsford stepped back from her but moved no farther. Truly, was her embarrassment not enough? Now he was humiliating her by acting as though she were being irrational.

  “If you don’t go, I shall…I shall…hit you.” She grabbed the closest thing off a nearby table. “With this,” she said holding up her makeshift weapon.

  “A volume of poetry?” he asked incredulously.

  “It’s Lord Byron,” she defended, looking at the spine. But really, who kept a collection of Bryon’s poetry in the hall? A candelabra would have been much more intimidating.

  “Is this a joke?”

  She knew her expression clearly said it wasn’t.

  “Well, I believe I shall take my leave then,” he said tightly. And before she could call him back—not that she wanted to—he had vanished.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nick rode hard through the outer reaches of Hyde Park. He was blissfully alone and had passed no one since leaving his aunt’s home.

  What had he done?

  Well, he knew what he’d done—the better question was why had he done it?

  Why had he thought he could get away with just an innocent, comforting kiss?