by Ava Stone
“Miss Kane, I am certain that you are busy. I only wanted to ask if you’d seen my husband.” They were some of the hardest words she’d ever spoken.
With a warm smile, Miss Kane shook her head. “The last time I spoke to Kelfield was before your wedding.”
Livvie was relieved, but her heart still sank. She was wasting her time here.
“But I do know where he is, or at least where he spends most nights.”
“Where?” The words were wrenched out of her.
“Do you love him, Your Grace?”
Not that it was any of her concern, but Livvie was tired and emotionally drained. “More than life, though he doesn’t believe me.”
Miss Kane nodded her head. “I thought so, when I saw the two of you at the performance. He loves you as well.”
Tears spilled down Livvie’s cheeks. She was surprised when she heard herself say, “He’s never said those words.”
Miss Kane smiled sadly. “I’m sure he hasn’t. That’s not like him. But I could tell it the last time we spoke. And I could see it in his eyes as he watched you that night in the box and not the stage.”
Livvie swiped at her tears, trying to be stronger than she knew how to be.
“He’s in bad shape, Your Grace. Are you certain you want to find him?”
Livvie’s head bobbed up and down, imploring the actress to tell her what she knew. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“Will…er, Lord Haywood is a friend of mine, and he has seen Alex many times.”
“Where?”
“Mrs. Lassiter’s. She runs a gaming hell, and whenever Haywood has attended in the last few weeks, Alex has been there. Apparently deep in his cups and half out of his mind.”
“But we’ve been there. They told Coleman he wasn’t there.”
Miss Kane snorted softly. “These aren’t your sort of people. They don’t tell the truth, Your Grace, and you shouldn’t expect it.”
“Mrs. Lassiter’s,” Livvie repeated, rising from her seat, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “I can never thank you enough, Miss Kane.”
“Take care of him. Love him. I only want his happiness.”
Livvie threw her arms around the actress’ neck. “So do I. I will forever be in your debt.”
Alex was right. Coleman was right. Sarah Kane was very kind. Livvie opened the door and grinned through her tears at the coachman. “Mrs. Lassiter’s.”
Livvie stepped inside Mrs. Lassiter’s entryway. Smoke billowed from the nearby drawing rooms, raucous laughter and high pitch twittering filtered into the hallway. She looked around with an elitist frown. This was certainly not a place she would have ever envisioned herself a month ago.
A butler stepped forward and looked her up and down. “Yes, my lady?”
“I’m looking for Kelfield.”
The butler shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. His Grace is not here this evening.”
How many other times had this man lied to her and Coleman over the last few weeks? “I know that my husband is in here, and I’m not leaving until I find him.”
The butler grimaced and stepped closer to her. “You’re the Duchess of Kelfield?”
At her nod, he continued, “Your Grace, to gain entrance you must have been invited. I’m afraid I cannot let you in.”
Livvie took a deep breath. “My good man, I have not come to make a scene, but I will make one if you turn me away. I just need a quick word with my husband.”
“A quick word?”
“On my honor. I will leave after I’ve spoken with him.”
The butler frowned. “Very well, Your Grace. I will ask the duke to see you.”
Livvie waited for what seemed an eternity. Men she had seen in fashionable drawing rooms roamed past, some drinking, some smoking, most taking in her form with appreciative leers.
Finally the butler returned, and shook his head. “I am terribly sorry, Your Grace, but Kelfield will not leave his table.”
“Then I shall go to him.” Livvie didn’t wait for the butler to stop her. She followed the path down the hallway she had seen him take before. As soon as she entered a small drawing room, she could sense him.
Alex sat at a far table, his back towards her. Livvie’s heart flipped in her chest. Heavens, she missed him. Then she wanted to kill him when she realized that a giggling blonde tart was draped across his lap. This was how he spent his time away from her while she cried her eyes out over him every night!
Before she could stop herself, Livvie stalked up to the table and tapped the tart’s arm. “I believe you’re sitting on my husband.”
The blonde’s big, blue eyes widened in surprise, but Alex didn’t even glance up from his cards. “Olivia, I told Peters I was busy at the moment.”
“Unbusy yourself,” she snapped back.
He dropped his hand to the table and flashed his silver eyes up at her. Livvie sucked in a breath. He was still so devastatingly handsome and she loved him with all her heart. Still this had to be done. It was for the best. And she didn’t know how else to get through to him, so she kept her eyes leveled on his and held her ground.
Alex pushed the blonde from his lap. “Janie love, go on.” Then he inclined his head to the other men at the table—two beady-eyed fellows and Lord Haywood. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
He clapped an unsteady hand around her arm and began to tow her towards the hallway, and Livvie feared he was simply going to throw her out without talking to her at all.
“Alex, stop! I need to speak with you.”
“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” he replied as his whiskey-scented breath assaulted her nose.
He pulled open a small parlor that was being utilized by a randy fellow and another blond. Livvie decided right then and there that she actively disliked blonds. “Who is Janie?” she demanded after Alex cleared the room.
“I have no idea. I only met the woman this evening. What do you want, Olivia?”
She folded her arms across her chest and tried not to cry. She tried not to envision Janie sprawled across Alex’s lap, her hands twirling through his inky locks. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find you?”
“Obviously I didn’t want to be found. But since you’ve done so, what do you want?”
“I have had to search you out in bawdy houses—”
“I don’t visit those anymore,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Then I enjoyed a charming tour of gaming hells across London, and when I’d run out of hope I finally I went to Drury Lane to speak with Miss Kane, and—”
“Oh, God,” he groaned, pinching the bridge above his nose.
“That awful butler here lied to me.”
“Well, h-here I am,” he slurred, raising his hands as if presenting himself as a gift.
Yes, there he was. Still the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Still the only man who could make her heart race with just his smile. But she had to do this. She couldn’t keep wondering where he was at night. Hearing the gossip the next day. Hoping he’d come home.
Livvie squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’m leaving you, Alex. I thought I should tell you in person, since I have no idea where to post you a letter.”
“You can’t leave me,” he responded with a mocking laugh. “I’ve already left you, Olivia—hence the reason you’ve had a difficult time locating me.” He slurred the last of his words, and her heart ached to see him like this.
She thrust a letter, explaining everything, against his chest. “You can read that if and when you ever sober up. I don’t know when Poppy and I will return, but thought you were owed an explanation for our disappearance.”
Even through the fog of his drunkenness, Alex’s grey eyes narrowed to dangerous black slits. “You and Moore are not taking my daughter anywhere.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Philip has nothing to do with this. I’m certainly not leaving Poppy with you. I love and care for her too much to allow her to see you like this.�
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“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I’m not hiding from you, Alex. Just leaving you. Poppy and I are going to Everett Place. I have yet to see the house, but feel it will be a much more conducive environment for us than London is at the moment.”
“Everett Place?” he echoed with a note of panic in his voice. “Absolutely not! Why would you consider such a thing?”
She hoped that he’d remember this conversation in the morning. Her plan relied on him remembering. “Because women in my condition are generally confined to the country. I figure one of us should follow society’s dictates.”
He blinked at her. “Your condition?”
Livvie rubbed her brow. She prayed this would work, because if it didn’t, it was certain to kill her. “Don’t follow me there, Alex. I’ll forever wonder if you returned to me because you loved me or because of the babe. I don’t want to live like that—never knowing for sure. I’m certain you, of all people, can understand that.”
If Mrs. Lassiter’s hell had come crashing down around him, he could not have been more stunned. The babe? Olivia was going to have his child? The air whooshed out of Alex and he had to struggle to remain standing.
“I’ll send word through Staveley when… Well, after the blessed event.” Then she reached up to touch his cheek, nearly scalding him with her fingertips. “I do so love you, Alex. I wish things had been different. Please take care of yourself. You look a mess.”
And then she was gone. As if she’d never been there in the first place. Only the letter clutched in his hand and the lingering scent of lilacs were proof otherwise.
He blinked his eyes, trying to focus on the letter and broke the seal.
My dearest Alex,
I am not sure how things have turned out so badly for us, but I suppose we were doomed from the start. Our inauspicious beginnings aside, I have loved you with all my heart and soul, more than I have ever loved anyone, but I cannot continue like this. The anxiety of our separate lives is not healthy for me. Doctor Watts has been very clear on that matter. I cannot spend any more of my nights wondering where you are, if you are safe, and if you will ever return to me.
Though I know you will not believe me, I will love you the rest of my days, Alex. I only wish that it was enough to make things right between us. However, my wanting it alone is not enough. Since you have given up on me, it is rather clear that this battle is lost. I wish it had ended differently.
I hope Poppy and I will find peace at Everett Place, and I hope you find your own peace—whatever it might be. My thoughts and prayers are with you.
Your devoted wife,
Olivia
Devoted? An interesting word from a woman who was leaving him. No, he’d left her first. There was no mention of Philip Moore in the letter. No mention of his duel. No mention of their child.
Alex had never felt so empty in all his life.
Dear God, Everett Place! He couldn’t let her go there.
Alex nearly stumbled on his way to the front door. He dashed down the steps and stared blankly at the busy street. Carriages and hacks were everywhere. He squinted at all the conveyances, but couldn’t spot the one that belonged to him. Where the devil was she?
It took longer than he expected to hail a hack. He barked, “Kelfield House,” to the driver and sat back on the seat with a thump. A whirl of thoughts darted in and out of his inebriated mind. Olivia. Everett Place. Poppy. A babe. His mother. Dear God.
He closed his eyes as the hack traveled into Mayfair. He had to stop her before she went to Hampshire. She didn’t know about his mother, and he’d really rather keep it that way. The old woman was spiteful and angry. Who knew what her reaction would be to Olivia and Poppy?
He should have said something when she’d told him her plans, before she escaped Mrs. Lassiter’s—but his mind was in such a fog, especially after the mention of their child. Though, none of that was an excuse. He should have forbidden her to go.
The hack came to an abrupt halt. He paid the driver and started up the walkway to Kelfield House. Something was not right. The entire house was dark, as if it was in mourning of some sort.
He climbed the steps, waiting for Gibson to open the door, but it remained immobile. Alex turned the knob, but it was locked. He pounded on the door, but there was no answer. What the devil was wrong with Gibson? Is this how he took care of things while Alex was away? He would have quite the earful when Alex got a hold of him. The butler would be lucky to maintain his bloody post.
Alex stomped around to the back of the house. Everything was eerily quiet. He reached the servant’s entrance, but it was locked as well. He pounded on the door, bellowing for someone to let him in. It was all pointless. The place was closed up tight. They were all gone.
Panic raced through him. How could she possibly be gone already? He rushed to the front of the house and down Park Lane to Upper Grosvenor. He was out of breath when he reached Haversham’s home, but he wasn’t about to stop. The butler, Simmons, opened the door, gaping at him as if he had three heads.
“Simmons,” he panted, “have the marquess’ coach readied for me.”
“Your Grace?”
“Now!” he barked.
The butler took off at a sprint.
While Alex waited for the coachman and groom to prepare Haversham’s conveyance, he jotted a note to his friend, apologizing for the theft and promising to make it up to him at a later date. When the driver was ready, Alex handed the letter to Simmons and boarded the traveling coach.
“Driver—” he began.
“Anderson,” the driver informed him, as if he cared at the moment.
“Anderson,” Alex growled, “if you get me to Hampshire with no stops I’ll pay you a year’s salary.”
The driver’s eyes lit up. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Olivia probably had an hour’s lead on him. With any luck, he could catch them. “Be on the lookout for my coach. If you can reach my wife before we reach Brockenhurst I’ll double your salary.”
They were off within moments.
Alex still couldn’t understand how she had moved so quickly. One minute informing him of their child and the next she was gone without a trace.
The glow of a small lamp lit inside the coach, and Alex slipped Olivia’s letter out of his pocket and read it again.
She loved him? He’d spent the last month trying to get over her, with no success.
She wished him peace, but he could never have peace without her. The memory of her laugh and shining hazel eyes lifted his heart a bit. Why had he let her walk out of Mrs. Lassiter’s?
Her letter was filled with pain. The same pain he’d endured himself this last month, and he cursed himself for not having realized it sooner, for not having sought her out.
Olivia fled him in the dead of night, enceinte…
He was suddenly enraged. She left in the dead of night? When Alex caught up to them, he’d sack Coleman on the spot. There was no reason to go fleeing off into the countryside in the middle of the night. It was too dangerous. The coachman definitely knew better. They could have an accident or be set upon by highwaymen, or any number of other terrible things. If one hair on Olivia’s head was harmed, he wouldn’t sack Coleman—he’d kill the man.
Thankfully Anderson took him at his word about the year’s salary and raced through the night.
It was late when Livvie and Coleman arrived at The Golden Arms. It was such a relief to have found Alex, to have given him the letter. Now she only hoped that he would come for them. Livvie thanked the coachman again for aiding her over the last few weeks, then she climbed the stairs to Poppy’s room.
Livvie unlocked the door and quietly slid inside. Moonlight illuminated the little girl’s pretty face, and Livvie was so relieved to see her again. It felt like forever since the cheery child had talked to her about unicorns and handsome princes. Tomorrow they’d start for Hampshire, and Livvie prayed she’d done the right thing.
Tire
d and achy, she slipped out off her dress, threw on her nightrail, and climbed into bed next to her step-daughter. If all went as planned, Alex would meet them at Everett Place in a few days, maybe even tomorrow. Between now and then, she had to find a way to convince him to stay. She had to find a way to prove her love.
As daunting as that seemed, it was the first time in weeks that hope filled her heart.
Anderson drove straight through and only stopped once to acquire fresh horses. The sun was just starting to rise when Everett Place became visible on the horizon. With a throbbing headache from the previous evening’s over indulgences, Alex stared out the carriage window at the baroque mansion in the distance. He hadn’t been there since he was seventeen, right after his father had died of the pox—which was not surprising to anyone who knew the man.
Alex had wanted to put the estates to rights, so he’d ridden from London to Brockenhurst on his own. He never could have imagined what—or rather who—would greet him upon his arrival. His dead mother stood in the drive as he approached, angry and bitter. At first he’d thought that he must be dead himself, because people simply didn’t return from the grave, and his mother was very clearly in front of him.
The shock had worn off quickly as she’d skewered him with her acidic words and biting tongue. He’d vowed never to return.
With every mile he traveled in Haversham’s pilfered coach, Alex became more and more concerned about Olivia. He’d felt certain they should have caught up to her by now. But they hadn’t seen a Kelfield coach anywhere along the way. How fast had Coleman driven his wife in the dead of night? Was the man unaware of her delicate condition? Traveling at those sorts of speeds was reckless. He’d have the coachman’s head on a platter.
Alex closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, wishing he hadn’t imbibed so heavily the night before. It would be so much easier to think clearly now.
He winced at the idea of Olivia arriving at Everett Place only to be greeted by his vindictive mother. She would be stunned that he hadn’t told her, led her to believe the woman was dead. It would be one more thing to widen the chasm that existed between them.
