Lord of Deceit (Heiress Games Book 2)

by Sara Ramsey

  There. Her eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared a little, but she took a few deep breaths, as she always did when she was trying to regain equilibrium.

  “You should go,” she said.

  It was what he had wanted. But it was suddenly, intensely awful. He had to button his breeches and pull on his shirt and gather his belongings while she watched. She sat perfectly still, her nightrail still hiked up around her, her hair wild and her eyes deadly.

  When he was done, she held her hand out imperiously. “Pull me up.”

  He pulled her up from the floor in a smooth motion. They stood toe to toe. She kissed him, close-mouthed and final, like she was giving him a blessing.

  Then she stepped back. “You keep saying I deserve better than you. I thought you were wrong. You’ve shown me what it could be like to feel safe. You’ve given me love and pleasure and laughter. We could have built a life with that. And I still believe that life could have been wonderful.”

  “Octavia….”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “But I can’t keep doing this, Rafe. I keep knocking on your door with my heart in my hand, ready to give it to you. And every time I knock, you add another lock. So if you believe I deserve better than you….”

  She trailed off for a moment. He thought she might cry, but she took a breath and squared her shoulders. “If you believe I deserve better than you, it’s only because you fulfilled your own prophecy. I want more than you’re able to give.”

  He wanted to kiss her. Or he wanted to tell her that she was wrong. But he heard the end in her voice.

  The end he’d been afraid of — the end that he had created.

  “I wish you every happiness,” he said hoarsely. “You deserve it.”

  “You deserve it too,” she said. “I wish you could see it.”

  Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but her voice was strong.

  She’d made up her mind. And she’d done what he had wanted her to. She had let him go. She was saving herself from the inevitable wreckage of their love.

  He’d gotten exactly what he had asked for. Octavia would be safer and happier without him. In time, she would see it.

  So why did it feel like he was making the biggest mistake of his life?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  There were at least forty men at the party. By the time Octavia took her seat at the Maidenstone chapel for Callista and Thorington’s wedding four mornings later, she had received proposals from twenty-three of them.

  “Madame…er, I mean, Miss Briarley,” the viscount’s impoverished son said behind her. He leaned over her shoulder, scraping his chair against the stone floor — the chairs were a temporary addition, since the nave of the ancient chapel had never had pews. “Might I have a word after the service?”

  Octavia sighed. It would be twenty-four proposals.

  She gave him the smile she’d perfected over the last three days. “Thank you, but no. I am afraid I won’t have time after the service.”

  She resolutely returned her gaze to the front of the chapel. She probably should have accepted someone’s offer by now. She could have won Maidenstone with any one of them. Ferguson had made it clear that he would never let Callista and Thorington inherit. He also wasn’t happy that Lucy had stolen Octavia’s invitations.

  He would probably give Maidenstone to Octavia on a platter if she married anyone other than Rafe.

  Rafe stood at Thorington’s side, waiting at the altar for Callista’s entrance. Octavia had barely seen him over the past three days — they’d done an impeccable job of avoiding each other.

  She had wanted to do nothing but hide in bed after Rafe had left her. She was familiar with lying in that particular bed, staring at that particular ceiling, and mourning a life she’d lost. But if she had stayed in bed the morning after Somerville had arrived at Maidenstone, there was no telling what the gossips would have said. So she had made herself as visible as possible in the drawing rooms, writing letters to nonexistent correspondents solely so that the other women would see her there.

  Somerville had sent her a note that morning, asking her to meet him in the gardens — somewhere public enough that they could be observed, but private enough that they could talk. She hadn’t wanted to accept. She had nothing to say to him.

  But she had gone. He had complimented her appearance and asked after her health like they were old friends.

  She hadn’t had patience for any of it. “What do you want, Somerville?” she had asked, crossing her arms.

  “I wanted to warn you about Lord Rafael,” he said. “I learned some rather disturbing news about him.”

  “Was it about the caricatures?”

  Somerville was shocked. “Were you involved?”

  “Of course not,” she said impatiently. “He told me about them last night.”

  “I’m surprised he would tell you. He doesn’t seem like the honorable type.”

  “He thought he was helping his sister. That’s less self-serving than some of the other betrayals I’ve seen in London.”

  Somerville winced. He was too attuned to nuances to miss the implication in her words. “I didn’t intend for you to take it as a betrayal, Ava. Our arrangement wasn’t permanent. And you’ve always known how important my career is.”

  “I know. But if that’s the only thing you care about, you should not spare the time to meddle in my life. I assume you told Rafe to stay away from me?”

  He nodded. “He could hurt you. I still care about your happiness.”

  “More to the point, he could hurt you if he found out you didn’t use me as expected.”

  Somerville was smart enough to stay silent.

  Octavia offered him her hand — not for a kiss, but for a handshake. “Let’s agree that you will not meddle in my life again, and I will make sure no one learns anything I know about your affairs. Do we have a deal?”

  He had looked at her hand for a long moment, but then he shook it. “Agreed. I miss you, Ava.”

  Enough time had passed that she was able to say, “I miss you too. And I’m grateful for the time we had together — truly. But it’s time for me to make a life of my own. I wish you very happy, Somerville.”

  He had left Maidenstone after that. Someday, perhaps, when circumstances were different, she might be able to be friends with him. But at the moment, she was glad he was gone.

  And as soon as he left, the marriage proposals began.

  It was very nearly laughable. At least it was at first, when the first suitor — a baron with an ancient title and absolutely no money — had stammered his way through an admiring speech about her virtues.

  “We all know I don’t have any virtues,” she had drawled.

  He had gone completely red. “I’m sure that’s not true, Miss Briarley.”

  At least he remembered to call her “Miss Briarley.” Half the men couldn’t seem to remember whether she was Miss Briarley or Madame Octavia — whether they should give her the same words they would have used for an innocent lady, or whether they should proposition her as they would a mistress.

  Not that it mattered. She had no desire to marry any of them.

  But at least it had kept her amused while she licked her wounds and considered what to do about Rafe. That last night with him was going to haunt her dreams for years. She remembered every word, every gesture, every touch — reliving it all, over and over again, until it felt engraved upon her soul. She kept sifting through the memories, of that night and all the other nights before it, looking for clues that would tell her what had gone wrong, or whether she could have done anything differently.

  Ultimately, though, the truth was exactly what she had told him at the end, right before he had left her. He had believed that love couldn’t last, and he had made that belief come true.

  As long as that was how he viewed life, there was nothing she could have done differently. But it still hurt to admit that she had to give up. Octavia wasn’t good at surrendering.

  The no
ise of chairs scraping and dresses rustling brought her back to the present. Everyone turned. At the back of the chapel, Callista entered. She hadn’t looked happy the other night, when Thorington had kissed her and announced their engagement. But today, she smiled as though every dream she had ever had was coming true.

  Octavia glanced at Thorington again. His smile was almost silly, as though he kept remembering that he was expected to scowl but could no longer keep up his usual hauteur. He watched Callista walk down the aisle with barely restrained eagerness — it seemed to take everything he had to keep from running down the aisle to meet her.

  This was undoubtedly a love match.

  Somehow, that made Octavia furious. And fury, this time, brought clarity.

  She couldn’t stay at Maidenstone and marry one of the suitors — not if she was only wanted for the house. She couldn’t bear to watch Rafe across the dining room every night and wish that she could talk to him. And if he left for Brighton in the morning, as he had promised to, she couldn’t bear to look across the dining room and not see him.

  Suddenly, it felt like that day four years earlier, when Somerville had come to Maidenstone and given her a reason to leave. She couldn’t bear to stay now, just as she couldn’t bear to stay then.

  But she didn’t need anyone to give her a reason anymore. She didn’t need a rescuer. And if Rafe couldn’t love her…well, that was his problem.

  She needed to fix her own affairs and find her own path.

  As soon as the ceremony was over, she found Agnes and told her to start packing. And then, after she gave her best wishes to the bride and groom, she went looking for the first affair that she needed to settle.

  She found Lucy a few minutes later. Lucy was a little removed from the crowd that had gathered in the dining room, standing alone on the terrace outside the open French doors. The wedding had been arranged hastily, as soon as the special license was procured, and so there wasn’t time to prepare a lavish wedding breakfast. But Lucy had ordered a light luncheon for everyone before melting back into the shadows.

  Octavia marched up to her. “Can I have a word?”

  Lucy looked more fragile than usual. “Now isn’t the best time, Ava.”

  “I’m leaving Maidenstone,” Octavia said, doing nothing to soften her words. “Now is the only time.”

  Lucy stared at her. Whatever she saw must have made her take Octavia seriously. “Let’s go to the orangerie. We can be private there.”

  They walked across the gardens together. When they reached the orangerie, Lucy ushered her to the chairs at the far side of the building. This, more than anywhere on the estate, was Lucy’s domain. She looked more relaxed here than she ever did in the middle of a crowd.

  But her eyes were wary. “What do you want, Ava?”

  “I want you to inherit Maidenstone.”

  Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “Is this a trick?” she finally asked.

  Octavia shook her head. “I never should have made you go to London for our debut. Mind you, I’m still unhappy that you told Julian about Chapman — I don’t know if I can ever quite forgive that. And I wish you hadn’t tried to keep me away from this party.”

  “I tried to apologize,” Lucy said. “About Julian, at least. You know I am sorry for that.”

  “I didn’t come seeking an apology. I came to give you one.”

  “For what?” Lucy asked. “The ghost in Maidenstone clearing didn’t cause any harm in the end.”

  “Not for that. For London. I should have realized how unhappy you were during the season. And I’m sorry I didn’t help you to be more comfortable in the ton. I loved you, and I knew you were shy, and I should have done more for you. But I can help you now by letting you have Maidenstone.”

  Lucy frowned. “You thought I was shy?”

  Octavia suddenly felt off-balance. “Weren’t you?”

  “Was I ever shy before we went to London?”

  Octavia had to think about it — really think about it, because Lucy was trying to tell her something important, for the first time in almost half a decade, and Octavia didn’t want to get it wrong.

  She remembered Lucy as she had been when they’d grown up together. Octavia had charmed everyone in the neighborhood — but Lucy actually knew them. She remembered all the tenants’ names and knew when a new mother or young widow needed a basket of food. She’d always made friends easily with the daughters or granddaughters of their grandfather’s friends during summer visits.

  Lucy hadn’t been shy, at least not at Maidenstone.

  “I thought you didn’t like London,” Octavia said. She was still confused, with no clue as to what Lucy was trying to say. “I thought that was why you didn’t make friends there.”

  “Friends weren’t the problem, Octavia,” Lucy said impatiently. “Do you know how it felt to sit in all those drawing rooms and watch you charm every suitor I might have had? And Chapman….”

  Lucy broke off, looking down at her hands. She flexed her fingers with that gesture that Octavia still recognized as a sign of nerves.

  Then she looked up, a mix of resolution and heartbreak plain on her face. “Do you remember the summer before we went to London, when Chapman stayed with Julian? And you were in bed for two weeks with a summer cold?”

  Octavia remembered the summer, although she’d nearly forgotten the cold. She’d spent two miserable weeks in bed, whining and reading novels. Lucy had kept her company occasionally, but even Lucy couldn’t tolerate being Octavia’s nursemaid.

  She nodded. The first awful bit of understanding stirred through her.

  Lucy took a deep breath. “He courted me. He hadn’t met you yet, but I went to Julian’s one afternoon to get away from your sickroom, and Chapman took a fancy to me. I’d never met anyone like him before. Still haven’t.”

  She laughed a little, but it was all bitterness. “It was the best two weeks of my life. He was so sweet to me. He kissed me on the edge of Maidenstone Wood, and I thought my heart would burst. He did…other things. And I let him, because I was a fool, and I thought it was love.”

  “No,” Octavia whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Lucy shrugged. “He wanted it to be a secret. He said Julian wouldn’t like him courting me until I’d had my debut, but that we could tell Julian after I’d gone to London. And then he met you….”

  “I didn’t try to encourage him,” Octavia said quickly. “That party in London was the first time he’d kissed me.”

  “I know. You would have told me if he’d kissed you before that. But he only had eyes for you the rest of the summer after he met you. And anyway, when I got to London, I listened to the gossip better than you did. Chapman had a reputation, Ava. Julian never should have trusted him around us. And so when I found him kissing you, and you seemed to be on the verge of making the same mistake I had made — I wanted to punish all of you. But mostly Chapman, for being a cad, and Julian, for not taking better care of us. Then Julian and Chapman died, and you and I were left to suffer. Some revenge that was.”

  Octavia’s heart broke as she remembered the girls they had been. So much had come between them. But most of it had been entirely of their own making. Lucy had been too proud to tell Octavia about her broken heart. And Octavia had been too angry to understand or forgive.

  But those were the girls they had been. It didn’t mean they still had to be those women now.

  And Octavia wanted more. That included having her cousin in her life. Even if it was hard, and even if it was a risk to trust again.

  She stood up and pulled Lucy into her arms. “It never should have ended like it did,” she said, hugging her fiercely.

  All of Lucy’s fragility vanished. She hugged Octavia with equal force. “I’m so glad you came back,” she said. “I’ve missed you beyond anything.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” Octavia said.

  But their hug didn’t last long before Lucy took a step back. “You can’t possibly leave again. Not after this
.”

  “I’ll come back,” Octavia promised. “But I can’t stay right now. And anyway, you deserve Maidenstone more than any of us. You’ve always been here to take care of it.”

  “I can’t win if I don’t marry someone.”

  “With me and Callista out of the picture, that will be easy enough. But if you don’t like the crop here, make Ferguson take you somewhere else. You don’t have to stay at the house party, you know. The will says you have until the end of the year, not the end of the month.”

  Lucy sighed. “I loathe the marriage mart.”

  “You never know, Lucy. You may find someone you like.”

  “Like you’ve found with Lord Rafael?”

  Lucy had somehow always known what Octavia was up to. In the past, Octavia would have told her all about him — about what she loved about him, and what she currently hated, and why he might never come up to scratch, but why he was the only man she wanted.

  But today wasn’t the day for that. Octavia was busy putting her house in order.

  Octavia dodged the question. “Whoever you find, I hope he makes you happy. You deserve some happiness.”

  “I’ll settle for Maidenstone.”

  “Maidenstone isn’t everything, Lucy,” Octavia said quietly.

  “Briarley contra mundum,” Lucy retorted. “Maidenstone is my life. Whichever man I marry is beside the point.”

  Octavia decided that this wasn’t her fight. She was too glad that she and Lucy were on their way toward reconciliation — she wouldn’t risk it by giving Lucy a lecture.

  And she was sad, briefly, that she had already decided to leave. They had so much to tell each other. But there would be time again in the future for laughter and secrets. They’d taken the first step.

  Today, though, a new life was in front of her, waiting for her to seize it.

  She hugged Lucy again. “Take care, cousin. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Ferguson and forfeit my claim.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight