The Blackmailed Bride

by Mandy Goff

  So she had to be firm in her resolve. Nick would find another bride eventually. A fine lady who wasn’t forced to carry around years’ worth of her own regrets and others’ mistakes.

  Olivia didn’t need anyone to tell her she wasn’t good enough for the marquess.

  That much was startlingly clear.

  Nick had spent a few moments in shocked silence. “You aren’t planning on marrying Finley.” It was phrased as a statement rather than a question.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Nick pushed off the wall and walked to stand in front of her. “Imagine the further damage it would do to your reputation. The two of us were seen together in a compromising position, and yet you plan to marry an entirely different man.”

  “I’ve told you, I don’t care about what everyone else thinks. As long as Julian is happy, then I am as well.”

  Not entirely a falsehood. If she could keep her future husband pacified, her life would be much easier.

  “Do you really mean that?” Nick speared her with his eyes. They seemed to bore through the layers of pretense. He was searching too deep, and she was afraid of what he might see if he kept looking.

  “I do.”

  Those were the words she wished she could ultimately say to him. Olivia turned to walk out of the room, afraid if she stayed she’d give herself away. Blinking back tears, she thought she was close enough to doing that on her own.

  But Nick grabbed her hand as she tried to walk past him. He didn’t pull her back, just held it tenderly as though they were walking through the park together. She stopped.

  “Do you not feel anything for me?” he asked.

  His question would have to remain unanswered. She couldn’t lie to him. But if she told him the truth, he’d never leave her in peace. His pride and nobility wouldn’t allow it. “If you do feel something for me, how can you even consider marrying Finley?” His voice was raw, and the words grated on her.

  “He’s the man I need to spend the rest of my life with.” She tugged on her hand, but he wouldn’t relinquish his grasp. “Please let me go,” she whispered.

  “This can’t be the end of it. If you don’t want to be with me, I can accept that, I suppose. But I can’t accept you marrying him.”

  The round-and-round was making her so weary all she wanted to do was march up the stairs to her bedchamber and sleep the rest of the day. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “Do you?”

  Startled, she looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I wonder if you’ve been blinded by whatever lies Finley has told you. I can’t imagine you, or any Godly young woman, would want to tie herself to a man of his character for the rest of her life.” He brushed his hand against her cheek, where but days ago, a black bruise had marred her countenance. “He struck you. He cares nothing for you. Is that how you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life?”

  Who but God could know what she was supposed to do? And while Olivia feared God would be disappointed when she married the baron, Reverend Thomas had assured her He was a forgiving God. And surely He would see she had no choice but to do what she was planning to do. Her mother had committed a crime, and Olivia had to serve the sentence.

  “It is my decision to wed Lord Finley. Please don’t ask me any more questions.”

  “Why? Does it bother you that I don’t believe you’re in love with him?” Nick pressed.

  She didn’t answer but to whisper, “Please let me go.”

  He relinquished his grip on her hand immediately, but Olivia couldn’t find the willpower to move away from him.

  “I want us to be friends,” she said quietly. The very idea was laughable. She wanted to accept the life he offered her, a life by his side, but she couldn’t. And being his friend would mean she would eventually have to witness him losing his heart to a woman, getting married and raising a family, which would injure her beyond words. Perhaps being friends, she thought to herself, wouldn’t be such a good idea.

  Nick apparently agreed. “I don’t think I can just be your friend. Not when I’ve been expecting to be so much more.”

  “I’m sorry, then. I’m sorry I hurt you. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I lo—” She stopped herself in time.

  Had she been about to admit she loved him? Had those three little words been so close to slipping out and ruining everything?

  Olivia realized it was true.

  She did love him.

  Loved him more than she ever thought possible or ever dreamed. Which made her future all the more grim. She would sacrifice a life with the only man she’d ever loved in order to be with someone she loathed.

  Olivia almost hated her mother in that moment.

  Anger—hot, roiling and destructive—bubbled to the surface. Perhaps she’d never fully come to grips with what her mother had done to the family. She’d been so concerned with how the secret would have affected her brother she’d completely forgotten to consider her own heart could become a victim.

  One act of selfishness had enough strength and magnitude to devastate her.

  And this righteous fury gave her the cold callousness she needed to finally turn her back on Nick…to walk to the door fully expecting it would be the last time they’d ever have so intimate a conversation.

  “You can change your mind,” Nick insisted.

  “I will be marrying Julian, Lord Huntsford, and I will not discuss it further.” The words were clipped and stiff, a complement to the stiffness and rigidity of her back.

  Nick was muttering to himself, and Olivia could tell he was angry. “Your brother won’t allow the match,” he threatened.

  “I don’t need his permission to go to Gretna Green.” The two would probably have to wed in Scotland. Since she’d not been able to convince Marcus to allow her to be with Finley, he was sure to object to any union between the two of them. If he knew about it in time, of course.

  “So you’ve decided?”

  Olivia nodded.

  Nick walked past her. “I suppose I’ll take my leave, then.”

  He paused for a moment as he passed the table with the ring. In a motion so quick Olivia would have missed it had she not been staring at him, his hand snatched the engagement ring and pocketed it.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes misting over completely.

  He looked at her, narrowing his eyes in study of her features. Then he nodded, turned and left the room.

  Nick flicked the reins, spurring his horse onward. Another flick and the steed picked up speed until both animal and master were flying through the farthest reaches of Hyde Park. He couldn’t think beyond his anger. He was angry at her, angry at himself and furious with the meddling Finley who seemed to turn up at every corner. Here he was preparing to dedicate the rest of his life to a woman, something he’d never contemplated, and she’d practically thrown the ring back in his face and told him she’d rather be wedded to an unscrupulous rake.

  Nick knew he was being irrational, knew he was going to have to seek forgiveness for his sudden burst of temper, but reining in the emotion seemed impossible. Olivia should be preparing to marry him, he fumed inwardly. But it seemed Finley had bested him.

  Was that why it rankled so much?

  Was he merely feeling as though he’d been in competition and was bitter over losing?

  Were that the case, it didn’t speak too highly for him, but Nick thought there must have been something more at work.

  Olivia was a friend.

  Or she had been.

  Even now, she was the sister of his closest friend, and regardless of his own pride, he wouldn’t want any young woman of his acquaintance trapping herself in a relationship with Finley.

  And, of course, he didn’t want Olivia to have to wed someone who so obviously didn’t love her.

  A man who loved a woman wouldn’t have coerced her into going to a secluded garden.

  A man who loved her would have known even the barest hint of scandal w
ould have completely ruined the young lady’s reputation and damaged her chances at a good life.

  A man who loved her would have treated her with the utmost care and respect.

  A man who loved her a fraction as much as he did…

  Nick pulled so hard on the reins the horse whinnied in protest and slammed to a halt. But Nick was too lost in his own mind to dismount. The horse and rider sat still in the midst of a grassy field.

  Did he love her?

  Nick had never been in love before, so he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like. The poets, the ones who wrote sonnets and epics in honor of the wonders of the emotion, all seemed to think loving another gave the person wings with which to soar over the trials of life.

  But Nick had never felt so low.

  Nick had had enough sitting outside like a lovesick fool. He needed time to think about this latest revelation, time to figure out if he were simply being reactionary. Of course, he was wounded that Olivia didn’t want to marry him, especially considering he’d grown used to—and rather fond of—the idea. But this feeling of angst was something deeper than bruised pride.

  “What are you doing?” Marcus asked as he leaned against the door frame and looked into her bedroom.

  Olivia’s portmanteau was on the bed, and she was walking back and forth from her closet to the bed, carrying armloads of clothes and shoving them in the carrying case.

  “Packing,” she answered.

  “Are you planning on going somewhere?” he asked with an amused half smile.

  “Home.”

  Marcus sighed and pushed away from the door. “Are we back to this again? The wedding is less than a fortnight away. We will return home right before the ceremony.” The plan was for Reverend Thomas to officiate at the small ceremony at Westin Park.

  “There will be no wedding.” At least not to Nick, she added silently.

  Marcus came to the bed, grabbed some dresses and headed back into the closet. “Yes, there will be.” His tone was firm.

  She ignored him and continued her haphazard packing.

  He put his hand on her shoulder to stay her from returning for more garments. “It’s a sound match,” he told her. “Nick wants this wedding. He is a good man. You’ll be taken care of.”

  “Have I been so troublesome that you are so eager to be rid of me?” she snapped. Her nerves were frayed, and her tongue sharper than she intended.

  Marcus’s face fell. “Of course not. I love you, but you will marry eventually anyway. And I couldn’t think of anyone better suited to you.”

  “I’ve told you, I will not marry him.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  Olivia looked away from her brother, not wanting to see his disappointment. “Please. Would you have me marry a man I don’t love?” She was careful in wording her question.

  Marcus didn’t have anything to say. “You know what this means, don’t you? You’ll be ostracized.”

  “All the more reason to return home. I hate it here. And you’ve been gone more than you’ve been in town. Is this not best for us both?” She held Marcus’s hand, wanting the power of touch to sway his mind.

  “I can’t understand this,” he said helplessly.

  “Just trust me. My life will be ruined if I marry the marquess.”

  Marcus obviously found it difficult to argue with such dramatics. He sighed in defeat. “I will see you home, but I will probably have to return in order to finish matters at Parliament.”

  She hugged her brother, squeezing with all her might.

  “I think you’re making a mistake,” he told her. His frown, etched into his face.

  “I know,” she said as the door shut behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  On her hands and knees in their father’s old study, Olivia scoured the floor, looking for her lost earring. Where had the thing gone? She smoothed her hands across the carpet, trying to catch the feel of it before the trinket was stepped upon. Perhaps it had fallen farther under the desk. She scooted along, trying to feel ahead with her hands.

  With a few more scoots, she was completely under the desk. And still no earring.

  Were she in any mood to find humor in herself, she would have laughed at the picture she presented. Thankfully, Marcus was out and not due back at the house for some time. Not that he would be in the mood to look for her. They’d been back at Westin Park for three days, and he’d only had a handful of words to speak to her.

  And even though she’d sent the baron a missive letting him know she’d returned to Westin Park, Finley had yet to send word.

  The waiting was making her anxious.

  She began backing up, resigned to having to search all over the stupid study for the earring. Without looking, she raised up so she could stand and walk normally. Unfortunately, she had not cleared the desk.

  “Ow,” she yelled, rubbing the back of her head where it had come in sharp contact with the wood.

  There was no blood, she noted, pulling her hand down to check her fingertips. She’d certainly be contending with a headache later, however.

  There had been a clicking noise though, she thought, after she hit the wood. Her hands groped underneath the desk, looking for the place where she’d come in contact with the desk.

  There was an open compartment.

  She chuckled to herself. Marcus had become more secretive than she’d given him credit for. Curiosity over what was in the compartment was a sure temptation to her, but she resisted the urge to look. She would simply close the door back, and he would never know she’d been this close to his secrets.

  She had to smother a laugh. What kind of dire secrets could Marcus really have?

  She found out when the folded piece of paper fell out of the compartment and onto the floor.

  Something about the page looked familiar.

  Of their own accord, her hands reached out and picked up the paper, meticulously unfolding it in order to see what was contained within.

  She didn’t have to read the words in order to know what it was. The familiar slashing handwriting called to her the moment her eyes rested on it.

  It was her mother’s letter.

  The letter Finley had claimed to have.

  The letter she’d ruined her future for.

  She couldn’t process it. It was too much information to take in. How had Marcus come by the letter? Why did he never say anything to her? How had it been safe for so long when she had thought it was lost to the possession of a man who would use it against her?

  She took the letter, and on shaky legs, crossed to the sofa. Sitting down heavily, she clasped the paper in suddenly ice-cold fingers.

  Marcus found her there when he arrived home. “What are you doing?” he said on a laugh, before he saw the expression on her face.

  When he finally noticed the grim set of her mouth, the laughter died in his throat. “What do you have?” His voice was hoarse. He didn’t need to ask. He knew what was clutched in her hands—what he had tried so hard to hide from her.

  “This,” she said, holding up the page, not bothering to look at him.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Her voice was tight.

  Was she angry with him? He almost shook his head at his own foolishness. Of course she was. She’d have every right to be after what she’d discovered.

  “Mother left it for me.” There was no need to shelter her any longer, it seemed. She had read the worst of it.

  She rose and turned to look at him then, and her eyes were haunted. He hated himself for what he’d done to her. “In the rosewood box in the library?”

  How did she know? “Yes,” he answered cautiously.

  “Mother didn’t leave it there.”

  It was his turn to be confused. “She didn’t?”

  Olivia shook her head.

  “Who did then?”

  “I did.”

  “You did what?” he asked.

/>   “I put it there. I found it with her, and I hid it in the box.” Her words started coming faster until Marcus had to strain to keep up with the flow of conversation. “I didn’t think anyone used the box anymore. I thought it would be a safe place.”

  She laughed, a broken, heartbreaking sound. “I thought no one would ever find it there.”

  Marcus didn’t understand. How did she know about the letter? What was she talking about?

  Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Don’t you understand?” she asked on a sob.

  He shook his head, hating to admit he was still confused.

  “How long have you known?” she asked.

  “I found out the day before the funeral.”

  Her eyes flashed fire. “This whole time? This whole time I’ve lied and pretended, and you knew?”

  He stammered, but no words came out.

  “I’ve thrown everything away to protect you.” The words were harsh but not accusatory. “I’ve worried and sacrificed.” Marcus had the distinct impression she was no longer talking to him. It was as though she were having a private dialogue with herself, and he just happened to be in the room.

  “You knew,” she said, her voice torn somewhere between irony and horror. “This whole time, and you knew.”

  He wondered if perhaps she had run out of phrases to say.

  Marcus, ever the diligent, concerned brother, took her arm and led her to the settee.

  She waited until she felt the piece of furniture behind her legs before sitting down heavily.

  “You need to calm down, Olivia.”

  “You knew,” she said again. It seemed to be the one thing she could push past her lips. Her disbelief was so great she feared she’d never be able to form a coherent thought again.

  Marcus looked tormented. “I’m sorry I never said anything. How was I to imagine you would know as well? Mother had covered her deed so well, I thought you would never have to know.”

  “Mother covered her deed? Explain.”