by Amanda Quick
The door was opened by a butler whose disapproving look extended not only to Jared’s unfashionable attire but to his equally unfashionable mode of arrival. It was obvious that most callers at the townhouse traveled by private carriage, not hackney coach.
“You will inform Lady Beaumont that Chillhurst wishes to speak with her,” Jared said without preamble.
The butler looked down the long length of his nose. “Your card, sir?”
“I do not have a card.”
“Lady Beaumont does not receive visitors before three in the afternoon, sir.”
“If you do not let her know that I am here,” Jared said very politely, “I shall see to the matter, myself.”
The butler glowered but wisely withdrew into the hall to carry out the instructions. Jared waited on the steps until the door opened a second time.
“Lady Beaumont will see you in the drawing room.”
Jared did not bother to respond. He walked into the hall and allowed himself to be shown into Demetria’s presence. She was waiting for him at the far end of the room, her pale blue and white silk skirts artfully arranged on a blue and gilt sofa. She smiled her distant smile at him as he approached. Her eyes were cool and wary.
It occurred to Jared that she had always watched him with that same remote expression. Three years ago he had mistaken the look for an indication of self-control and self-restraint. He had thought at the time that such qualities were precisely what he wanted in a wife.
Later he had learned that what Demetria was controlling and restraining was her distaste of him.
“Good morning, Chillhurst. This is a surprise.”
“Is it?” Jared took in the expensively decorated room with a casual glance. The walls were hung with blue silk. The fireplace was trimmed with carved white marble. Heavy, blue velvet draperies framed classically proportioned windows that overlooked a large garden. There was a cool opulence about the whole that underlined Beaumont’s great wealth.
“You’ve done very well for yourself, Demetria.”
Demetria inclined her head. “Did you seriously doubt that I would?”
“No. Not for a moment.” Jared came to a halt and studied her, aware that she was very much at home in the richly furnished room. No one looking at Demetria now would ever guess that she had once been nearly penniless. “You were always a very determined woman.”
“Those of us who were not born into wealth must either learn determination or consign ourselves to a very insecure life. But you would not understand that sort of problem, Jared, would you?”
“Very likely not.” There was no point telling her that he had learned that lesson long ago. He did not think Demetria would care to hear of how his own childhood had been fraught with both financial insecurity and the emotional chaos created by his eccentric, passionate family.
It occurred to Jared that he had never gotten around to talking to Demetria about his past. Not that she would have been particularly interested. She was concerned only with her own future and that of her brother.
Demetria rested one arm languidly along the back of the sofa. “I assume you have a particular reason for calling upon me at such an early hour?”
“Of course.”
“Of course.” Demetria’s voice held a bitter edge. “You never do anything without a particular reason, do you, Jared? Your whole life is controlled by reason, your watch, and your damnable appointment journal. Very well, then, tell me why you are here.”
“I wish to know why you and your brother and your very good friend, Lady Kirkdale, paid a visit to my wife yesterday.”
Demetria’s eyes widened guilelessly. “Why, Jared, what a strange question. We merely wished to welcome her to town.”
“Save your lies for your husband. At his age he is no doubt content to believe them.”
Demetria’s mouth tightened. “You are in no position to pass judgment on my marriage, Chillhurst. You know nothing about it.”
“I know that it was very probably inspired by greed on your part and desperation for an heir on Beaumont’s part.”
“Come now, Chillhurst. We both know that greed and the desire for an heir are the two factors which characterize the vast majority of all marriages in the polite world.” Demetria’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Surely you do not expect me to believe that your own alliance with that rather odd female you’ve got hidden away in Ibberton Street is based on more noble sentiments?”
“I did not come here to discuss my marriage with you.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“To warn you and that extremely annoying brother of yours to stay away from my wife. I will not allow either of you to play your cat-and-mouse games with her. Is that very clear?”
“What makes you think we were playing a game with her? Perhaps we were merely curious to see what sort of female had met your requirements?”
“You must be very bored, indeed, these days to bother with Olympia.”
“Is she so very dull, then?” Demetria gave him a look of mocking innocence. “What a pity. How long will she retain your interest, do you think? Or do you find a boring little bluestocking perfectly suited to your taste?”
“Enough, Demetria.”
“Have you gotten what you wanted, Chillhurst?” Demetria’s eyes glinted with cold anger. “A woman who will conform to your bloody schedule? A woman who knows nothing of passion, herself, and therefore will not notice that you are sorely lacking in such matters?”
“You need not concern yourself with my private affairs.” Jared turned to leave and then paused. “You got what you wanted, Demetria. Be content.”
“Is that a threat, Jared?”
“I believe it is.”
“You cold-blooded, arrogant bastard.” Demetria’s hand curved into a small fist on the back of the sofa. “It is so easy for you to make threats. Just because you were born with everything, a fortune and a title to go with it, you believe yourself to be far above the rest of us. But do you know something, Jared? I do not envy you.”
Jared smiled. “I am relieved to hear that.”
“No, I do not envy you in the least, my lord.” Demetria’s eyes blazed. “You are doomed to live your whole life never knowing the kind of passion that sets fire to your blood. You will never know what it is to surrender to a river of violent emotions capable of sweeping you away.”
“Demetria—”
“You will never learn the sweet joy of being with another whose soul touches your own. You, with your merchant’s heart, will never know what it is to have the power to make a lover respond, will you, Jared?”
Jared met her eyes and knew that she was recalling the same afternoon that he was. It was the day he had kissed her in the stables at the Isle of Flame.
That kiss had not been a polite, chaste caress as the others had been. It had been a desperate effort on his part to incite a response in her. He had surprised them both with that kiss, but not with the answer it had given him.
He knew that both of them had realized the truth that day. There could be no passion between them. It was the first time Jared had even acknowledged that he had wanted passion in his marriage. He supposed he owed Demetria for having opened his eyes to his weakness.
“I shall just have to manage as best I can,” Jared said. “Good day to you, Demetria. Do not let me find you pestering my wife again. And I advise you to keep your damned brother out of my sight.”
“Why?” Alarm flared in Demetria’s eyes. “You cannot hurt him. My husband is a rich and powerful man. He will protect Gifford from you if necessary.”
Jared’s brows rose. “Your husband is far more concerned with finding a cure for his unfortunate affliction than he is with protecting that fool brother of yours. Furthermore, if you want to do Seaton a favor, you will cease trying to protect him. He is three-and-twenty years old. ’Tis past time he became a man.”
“He is a man, damn you.”
“He is a boy, with a boy’s wild, uncontro
lled emotions. He is spoiled, sullen, and temperamental. You have kept him confined to leading strings by shielding him at every turn. If you would have him grow up, you must let him learn to accept responsibility for his own actions.”
“I have taken care of my brother all of my life,” Demetria said fiercely, “I do not want or need your advice.”
Jared shrugged. “As you wish. But if either you or Seaton crosses my path, you had best not depend upon me to play the gentleman a second time. I did that once, if you will recall. Once was enough.”
“You do not understand,” Demetria hissed. “But, then, you never understood. Get out of here, Chillhurst, or I vow I will have you thrown out.”
“Do not trouble yourself. I am only too happy to take my leave.”
Jared strode out into the hall without a backward glance. The butler had disappeared but Gifford was standing just outside the drawing-room door. He was pale with fury.
“What are you doing here, Chillhurst?”
“Visiting your charming sister, not that it is any concern of yours.” Jared stepped around Gifford and went toward the front door.
“What did you say to her, damn you?”
Jared hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. “I will tell you precisely what I told her. Do not come near my wife again, Seaton.”
Gifford’s handsome face twisted into an angry sneer. “We both know your threat is an empty one. You cannot harm me. Beaumont is too powerful, even for you.”
“I would not count on Beaumont’s protection, if I were you.” Jared opened the door. “Or your sister’s.”
Gifford took a step forward. “Devil take you, Chillhurst, what are you saying?”
“I am saying that if you offend me by coming near my wife, I will see to it that you pay for it.”
“I say, Chillhurst,” Gifford taunted softly, “surely you are not threatening to call me out? We both know you are far too reasonable, far too sensible, far too much of a coward to risk meeting me on the field of honor.”
“I can see that there is no point discussing the matter with you. You have been warned.” Jared went out onto the front steps and closed the door very quietly behind himself.
The hackney was still waiting in the street.
“The Musgrave Institution library,” Jared called to the coachman. “And be quick about it. I have an appointment.” He opened the door and got into the cab.
“Aye, sir.” The coachman gave a long-suffering sigh and loosened the reins.
Jared sat back against the cushions as the hackney pulled away from the Beaumont townhouse. Demetria was wrong about him being consigned to an emotionless existence, he reflected. At the moment he was wracked with an inner turmoil that exceeded anything he had ever experienced.
This was his wedding day, he should have felt calm and controlled now that his plans had come to fruition. Olympia would soon be his by all the laws of God and man. Yet he had awakened that morning with a disturbing sense of unease that was still with him.
He did not understand the feeling that gripped his insides like a vise. After all, he was on the verge of claiming the woman he wanted.
But he could not be entirely certain of precisely why she was accepting his claim.
Olympia had initially refused to marry him, yet after that scene with Demetria yesterday, she had announced that she had changed her mind.
Jared gazed out at the busy streets. Surely Olympia had not agreed to wed him simply because he could keep her household in order. He knew there was more to it than that. There had to be more to it.
She wanted him, he reminded himself. The memory of her passionate response should have reassured him, but for some reason it did not. Olympia had made it clear she would not marry him for the sake of desire alone or to salvage her reputation. She was a woman of the world, he thought wryly, such things were not reasons for marriage in her view.
So why had she finally agreed to wed him, he wondered for the thousandth time. The question had plagued him since yesterday. He was convinced that something Demetria had said or done during the visit yesterday afternoon had pushed Olympia into accepting his proposal. But that made no sense.
Unless the confrontation in the parlor had finally made Olympia realize that she was obliged to marry for the sake of propriety.
After all, Jared thought, it was one thing to talk of deceiving the world by claiming to be married; quite another to actually carry out such a breathtaking deception. In spite of her talk of worldliness, Olympia was an innocent from a tiny village in the country. She’d had no notion of what she had been about when she had blithely assumed she could falsely claim marriage and get away with it.
Of course, when she’d made her plans, she’d had no notion that she might be thrust into the position of claiming marriage to a viscount, Jared reminded himself. She had believed him to be a tutor. He was forced to admit that her plan might have worked very well had he not deceived her at the beginning of their relationship.
Jared knew that it was his own fault that he was in this outrageous situation. No doubt he deserved to be consumed with uncertainty, tormented with questions that he did not know how to ask, precariously balanced on a knife-edge of hope and despair.
Such were the consequences of reckless passion.
So be it. He smiled grimly. It was clear that nothing was for certain once a man surrendered to the raging torrent of desire. All he could do was strive to stay afloat in the swirling waters.
Tonight was his wedding night. He would let nothing stand in the way of what he craved most. Tonight when he took her to bed, Olympia would be his wife. He would revel in their lovemaking, secure in the knowledge that he at last had some tangible claim on her.
He might not be certain of her reasons for agreeing to the marriage, but he could be gloriously certain that she wanted him with the same degree of passion that he felt for her.
It was not enough to satisfy him, he realized, but it was a great deal more than what he’d had with Demetria.
The fireworks that lit the skies over Vauxhall Gardens were so spectacular that they almost succeeded in distracting Olympia from the turmoil of her thoughts.
She was married.
She still could not quite bring herself to accept the shattering reality of her new state.
Married to Jared.
It did not seem possible. The small businesslike ceremony conducted by a parson on the outskirts of the city earlier that afternoon had had an element of unreality about it.
They were bound together forever.
What if she had made a terrible mistake, Olympia thought, suddenly frantic. What if Jared never learned to love her as she loved him?
There could be no doubt that he desired her, she reminded herself. Surely she could build upon that foundation of passion.
She must build upon it.
But passion was not love. She was a woman of the world. Aunt Sophy and Aunt Ida had taught her the importance of love, they had taught her what love was and what it was not. Olympia knew very well that there was a great difference between physical desire and a deeper, more binding commitment.
She loved Jared with all her heart but she was not certain if he could allow himself to love her. Jared did not trust strong passions. He mocked his own and kept them under a tight rein.
Except when it came to making love to her, Olympia thought.
She gripped her reticule very tightly as she watched another explosion of lights in the dark sky.
Except when it came to making love to her.
Tonight she felt as bold and daring as any adventurer setting out to seek a legendary treasure. She was risking all on a wild quest to turn Jared’s passion into love.
“Ooh, look at that,” Ethan breathed in awe as a burst of colored fire cascaded down from the sky. He glanced at Jared who was standing beside him. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful, sir?”
“No,” Jared said, but he was watching Olympia’s face, not the fireworks. “I do not bel
ieve I have.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Olympia caught a glimpse of the controlled fire of Jared’s gaze. He had never looked more dangerous.
Jared’s gaze ignited brilliant, flashing sparks inside Olympia that were more dazzling than the display overhead. When he looked at her in that fashion she felt truly beautiful, a legend in her own right.
“I like the music very much.” Hugh exclaimed. “Don’t you think it is ever so exciting, Aunt Olympia?”
“Oh, yes.” Olympia heard the breathlessness in her own voice and saw Jared’s mouth curving in a knowing way. He knew full well that she was thinking of how he would touch her later tonight, not the music. “Very thrilling, indeed.”
“A siren’s song,” Jared murmured for her ears alone. “And I cannot resist it.”
Olympia risked another glance at his hard, unyielding profile and nearly melted beneath the masculine expectation she saw in his face.
Jared took her arm in his as the rousing strains of the music soared over the grounds of Vauxhall, delighting the crowds.
“There must be thousands of people here tonight,” Robert observed.
“Two or three thousand at least,” Jared said. “And that means it would be easy for any one of you to get lost.” He surveyed the boys’ excited faces. “I want each of you to give me your word that you will not stray out of my sight.”
“Yes, sir,” Robert said dutifully. He broke off to cheer as another shower of fireworks exploded in the skies.
“Yes, sir.” Ethan clapped enthusiastically, his attention on the colorful display.
Hugh stared at the orchestra, his expression rapt. “Yes, sir. Is it very difficult to play a musical instrument, sir?”
Jared met Olympia’s eyes. “It requires a great deal of time and effort,” he said softly, “but then, most worthwhile things do. If one truly wishes to succeed in a quest, one must be willing to dedicate oneself to the task.”
Olympia knew he was not talking about the task of learning to play a musical instrument. Jared was speaking directly to her. She was not quite certain what he meant, but she sensed that he was making a commitment of some kind. She smiled tremulously, aware of the heavy weight of the gold ring he had placed on her hand earlier that day.
