The Blackmailed Bride

by Mandy Goff

  So if she didn’t marry him…not that he was proposing or anything of the sort, of course…then who?

  Finley.

  Nick should march over to the man’s house and demand Finley drop the charade with Olivia. Finley had already stripped a poor young woman of her future, and a child of his father, without the smallest tinge of remorse. And this was the man Olivia had been paying an inordinate amount of attention to? Nick couldn’t conceive it. While Olivia couldn’t know the details of what had transpired at Oxford, Marcus should have been able to convince her Finley was the last man she wanted to hang her hopes and dreams on.

  Olivia, it would seem, was either more stubborn or foolish than anyone had realized.

  Fine. He fumed. He’d not waste his time panting after her like some lovesick pup. He’d not be the next unconscious body lifted from the floor of Marcus’s home. She could be his friend, and he’d not allow himself to consider anything more.

  It is a good thing I didn’t have my heart set on her, he thought to himself. And obviously, he must have misunderstood what he thought were signs from God telling him they were supposed to be together.

  No, he decided as he pushed his plate away, he didn’t need Lady Olivia in his life. Sure, she might have made it more interesting, might have given him something to laugh about every day—she was an amazing wit, after all—but he’d done without that for years. And he could continue to do so.

  He wasn’t hurt by this latest, blatant refusal to a question he’d not had the time to ask. He was fine.

  As he slammed his chair back up to the table, he wondered who’d believe that story.

  He certainly didn’t.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I’d like you to meet a few of my friends before you run along and find some nice young fellow to dance with.” Henri, somewhat less than resplendent in a chartreuse gown, motioned for Olivia to follow her after they had been announced at Lord and Lady Ashburn’s. The duchess had brought her carriage and accompanied Olivia to the ball since Marcus was away, yet again.

  They walked toward the matrons’ lair—the corner of the ballroom where the dowagers sat and nitpicked over every minuscule thing about everyone. They had no bias on whom to torment, and Olivia doubted she would be spared their commentary.

  “Speaking of young, unmarried, especially handsome gentlemen—have you seen Nicholas yet?” the duchess asked as they walked. Olivia wasn’t sure they were necessarily discussing that topic, but she didn’t argue.

  Olivia could see the group of dour-faced women looming ever closer. “He has more important things to attend to, I’m sure.”

  “Bah” was the elegant retort.

  Henri sighed as she sank down into one of the chairs along the wall. She was then greeted effusively by her friends.

  This naturally was followed by greetings from all five of the ladies to Olivia, with each one firing off a rapid succession of questions.

  “I hear you and Huntsford are having the banns read this week,” from one.

  “Have you decided to forsake men and remain unwed?” This, asked a little too eagerly, from a staunchly proud spinster. Olivia wanted to roll her eyes—she was only twenty.

  “You should meet my grandson. He’s probably about your age,” another said.

  “I don’t know what all this other nonsense is. I heard you were engaged to Viscount Danfield,” from the last.

  Olivia gave up. She looked at her friend with all the pleading she could muster into one single, heartfelt gaze. After a small show of pretense, Henri released her.

  “I know it’s wrong to poke fun, but you’re too amusing when you’re flustered for me to resist.” Henri gave her a quick, impulsive hug, and Olivia bid farewell to the matrons and left to find some peace in the ballroom.

  The room was decorated in shades of blue and gold, and the candlelight reflected off the gleaming crystal and glass candelabras, casting the room in a romantic glow. Olivia sighed wistfully, wishing she were like some of the other young women in attendance who could feel nothing but pleasure at the prospect of a ball. She looked around enviously.

  Olivia might have escaped the dowagers but didn’t have time to celebrate her victory, or fully enjoy her surroundings, before the Marquess of Huntsford grabbed her hand as she walked past him.

  “Lady Olivia,” he said as she stopped.

  “Yes?” She tried to extricate her fingers from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Dance with me.” His voice was husky and sent a chill skittering down her spine.

  “It wouldn’t be wise.” She didn’t think she needed to explain why.

  He didn’t release her. “Just one dance.”

  “Why?” Why must he press the issue? Couldn’t he simply let me walk away?

  Apparently not.

  “Because you look especially beautiful tonight, and because I wish it,” he whispered.

  She should reprimand him and walk away—quickly. In stead, she merely said, “You shouldn’t say those things to me.” But the statement was whispered as well and lacked conviction.

  “It’s only a dance, Olivia.”

  “You shouldn’t call me that, either.”

  “One dance,” he repeated, ignoring her.

  She acquiesced.

  Still holding her hand, Lord Huntsford led her to the floor with the other couples. The dancers lined up at the beginning strains of a quadrille.

  The marquess bowed to her, and Olivia curtsied in return. Then, letting her body take over, she began moving along with the other women, circling and turning with Nick.

  “Would you like to talk about the weather?” he asked with a smile when they came close together.

  She looked at him as though he were a lunatic.

  “We’ve seen a full three days without rain. I’ve yet to check any scholarly writings, but I believe the event would classify as a phenomenon,” he said.

  Olivia didn’t have anything to say but was saved when the steps of the dance took her far enough away she couldn’t hear him.

  “I do fear, however, if the tide of weather fortune does not turn, the beauty of the park will soon wither and die,” he continued when she neared again.

  “Did you really ask me to dance with the intent of speaking about a drought?” she asked.

  Lord Huntsford pondered the statement. “I don’t believe I would classify a three-day lack of rain as a drought.”

  Olivia sighed in a large rush of air. “Lord Huntsford—” she began but halted as she moved away again.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you started calling me Nick?” His voice dropped to a low, devious whisper. “You’ve done so before.” He reached for her hands, and they circled each other.

  She glared at him.

  “Obviously not,” he muttered.

  The couple moved into a turn, and Lord Huntsford gripped her tighter in order to guide her in the change of direction. Olivia ignored the fact that her skin underneath his hand felt scorched in spite of the many layers she wore.

  “You smell like flowers,” he announced suddenly.

  “I don’t think that’s an appropriate vein of conversation, either, my lord,” she chastised.

  He leaned his head down until he was speaking almost directly into her hair. Olivia had to force her attention to her feet so she didn’t lose her steps.

  “You didn’t enjoy my assessment of the weather, yet I’m not permitted to discuss anything personal. Why are you so standoffish?” Nick asked.

  “I’m being proper,” she defended.

  “I wish you’d forget about being proper all the time.”

  She should rap him with her fan for suggesting something so scandalous. Instead, she admitted, “I wish I could.”

  Lord Huntsford furrowed his brow and stared into her eyes. “I wish I understood you.”

  “It’d be a waste of your time to try and figure me out,” she warned.

  “You wouldn’t be willing to share any secrets, would
you?”

  She shook her head, wafting the smell of flowers around them.

  “I enjoy a good mystery,” he said conversationally.

  “I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

  The dancers spun around them, each one seemingly lost in his or her own world. She glimpsed Finley’s cousin Anna talking with a rather handsome gentleman on the other side of the floor. The sighting confirmed her fear that Finley would be lurking somewhere in the shadows. He was probably watching her and Lord Huntsford, seething with rage at her continued disobedience.

  “I have to go now.” The words, while hushed, came out in a rush.

  “We’re still dancing.” His face betrayed his confusion.

  “I’m sorry, I really must go. Now,” she added, in case that part wasn’t clear.

  Nick’s hands tightened on hers. His eyebrows pulled low, and his teeth were clenched. “You’ll cause a scene if you leave now.”

  And she would. Olivia might not have spent her life twirling around the glittering ballrooms of London, but she was fully aware abandoning her partner in the midst of a set would put every tongue in attendance wagging.

  But it might stay the one person’s who worried her the most. There was a chance that she could still remove herself before Finley saw either of them. The hope was feeble, and the optimism most likely misplaced, but Olivia had to try.

  “I’m sorry if I said something amiss.” Nick’s voice broke into her plans. “I promise to be on my best behavior.” His disarming smile was genuine. But Olivia couldn’t risk another moment in his arms.

  “Good evening, Lord Huntsford,” she said quietly, pulling her hand away from his.

  Olivia didn’t look back as she left the marquess stranded in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by still-dancing pairs.

  Lord Huntsford stalked away somewhere, and Olivia could hear the whispers following her as she found a lonely place to stand against the wall. She jumped as someone rushed up to her side, grabbing her arm. Turning quickly, Olivia was surprised to see Anna. The younger girl looked strikingly different. Her hair was artfully arranged, and she was dressed in an evening gown that complemented, without overwhelming, her pale complexion. It was evident that whoever had chosen the dress had superb taste.

  “Olivia, isn’t this wonderful?” Anna practically twirled beside her.

  Obviously, Anna hadn’t seen the debacle on the dance floor, nor been exposed to the murmured suggestions filtering through the crowd as to the reason why. Otherwise, she would have begun the conversation by asking if Olivia was in her right mind.

  Olivia could have answered the question without hesitation.

  She certainly wasn’t.

  Olivia smiled wryly, wondering if something was wrong with her for never having been so enthusiastic. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “I think I’ve had more fun the past hour than I have my whole time in London.” Anna’s eyes were positively twinkling.

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time.” At least one of them was.

  “Oh, yes. It’s my first ball ever. I’m so glad my mother let me come, and Cousin Julian agreed to escort me.” Anna pulled a face at the last comment then shrugged. “Mama wasn’t coming so it had to be him, or else I’d still be sitting at home.”

  “I’m sure he’s honored to escort you.” Olivia didn’t believe that, but perhaps it would make Anna feel better.

  Anna looked down shyly, reminding Olivia so much of the girl she had seen just days ago. “He’s afraid I’ll embarrass him. He’s already told me what will happen if I do.”

  Olivia wondered what would happen, but she didn’t want to upset Anna. Apparently Finley spent most of his time threatening others.

  She put her arm around Anna’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ve been to these events before. I’ll help you if you wish.”

  Anna smiled in response.

  They stood in companionable silence for several minutes, watching as the dancers took the floor for a waltz. Luckily, since Olivia and Henri had arrived late, she still had spaces on her dance card, which meant she didn’t have to worry about going anywhere for a while. She was content to stand there and do nothing.

  “The waltz is next. It always looks so romantic.” Anna sighed.

  This made Olivia laugh. “It’s not quite so romantic when you’re worried about your partner crushing your slippers. Or if the gentleman doesn’t like bathing. There are drawbacks to being so close to someone.”

  Anna wrinkled her nose. “Still, I should think I’d like to be held in a man’s arms as he twirled me around the room.”

  Olivia laughed again, wondering if this was what it was like to be an older sister, getting to hear such unguarded, humorous statements.

  “I should probably warn you—” Anna interrupted her thoughts “—my cousin is planning to seek you out this evening.”

  “Oh, really?” She tried to keep her voice light, but dread filled her.

  “Yes. He told me if I saw you I was to come and tell him immediately.” Anna chewed on her lower lip. “He’ll probably be upset when he realizes I didn’t do as he told me.”

  Olivia wrapped her arm around the young girl. “We won’t worry over that.”

  “But—”

  Olivia laughed uncomfortably. “He won’t be mad at you.”

  The reassurance was enough to calm Anna’s nerves, and she relaxed her grip on Olivia’s arm.

  “Olivia,” Anna whispered insistently. “Olivia.”

  Olivia turned to follow with her gaze where Anna was discreetly pointing. Her heart pounded an irregular beat when she noticed who her friend was motioning at. Lord Huntsford.

  “Why is that man staring at you like that?”

  Olivia tried to feign ignorance. “Like what?”

  Anna dropped her voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Like he’s planning on marching over here and sweeping you away.”

  Olivia really wanted to ask Anna how she recognized such a look, but then stopped herself.

  “I think he must be looking behind us,” Olivia offered, to distract from her furious blush.

  Anna took her statement in earnest and turned around searching for someone standing behind them. “There’s no one back there, Olivia.” A pause. “He is rather dashing and handsome,” she sighed.

  “No, he’s not,” Olivia said automatically.

  “Are we looking at the same man? Because I can’t really tell how anyone wouldn’t think he was handsome.”

  Olivia did everything she could think of to turn the conversation. The last thing she wanted Anna accidentally letting slip to her cousin was that the marquess was glowering at her from across the ballroom.

  “I’ve seen you with him before—at the theater,” Anna said, finally realizing why Nick looked familiar.

  “Oh,” Olivia muttered. “I guess you’re correct.”

  “Of course I am.” Anna grinned. “I have an extremely lucid memory.”

  Marvelous.

  “So, is he courting you?” Anna asked.

  Olivia fanned herself, feeling incredibly warm. “No. He’s simply a friend of my brother.”

  “That doesn’t really explain the look.” She gasped again. “Maybe he’s secretly in love with you. How wonderful! He’s so handsome, maybe he’ll ask you to marry him. I can already see it. The wedding will be beautiful.” Olivia wouldn’t have been surprised if the young girl began twirling around the room.

  “I don’t think we’re going to be getting married.” She forced another laugh, trying to keep her voice light.

  Anna’s face fell. “It’s because of my cousin, isn’t it?”

  It would be so simple, and would solve so much, to tell her yes, but Olivia couldn’t bring herself to do it. “It’s because he’s nothing more than a friend.”

  Anna pondered that for a while, her lips pursed as though she were trying to solve all the problems of the world.

  “Are you sure it’s not my cousin?” Anna
finally asked again. “I’d hate for you to waste your time with Julian, when you could be with someone like him,” she said, pointing out Nick again.

  “My relationship with your cousin has nothing to do with the marquess.”

  “If you say so,” Anna said doubtfully.

  Olivia remained silent, too unnerved by Nick’s steady survey of her to concentrate on much else. She wished he would go away. He certainly was causing a spectacle. Several other attendants at the ball had already noticed his rather focused gaze. That, coupled with her leaving him in the midst of the quadrille would have the gossips overwhelmed with work.

  There were no doubt many ladies already tittering behind their fans, predicting the procurement of a special license. Henri’s friends would claim that the marquess and the earl’s sister would be the unequalled match of the Season. Two extremely powerful families, melding together. It was almost Shakespearean. Like Romeo and Juliet, perhaps.

  It would do everyone well to remember they all died in the end of that one, though.

  Anna’s partner for the next dance, a charming young man, came to claim her, and Olivia was left standing awkwardly by herself.

  Olivia felt the burst of breath against her bare neck before she realized someone was behind her.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You shouldn’t be standing all alone,” Lord Finley whispered into her ear. She was grateful they were concealed in the shadows. “Unless you’re hiding, of course,” he continued.

  “Sometimes I enjoy solitude,” Olivia muttered.

  “You don’t seem very happy to see me. I would have thought a couple of days without my presence would have had you pining for me.”

  “You would have thought incorrectly, then.”

  He growled something unintelligible, but Olivia was fairly certain it was a rather vehement curse. “You don’t want to make me angry, do you, Olivia?”

  “No,” she said automatically. She might want to, but doing so wouldn’t be wise.