Desires of a Perfect Lady

by Victoria Alexander

  “So,” she said slowly, “in order to receive the inheritance that is rightfully mine, my late husband has decreed I should go on some sort of hunt for treasure?”

  Mr. Hollis chuckled. “I would not have put it in quite that manner, but essentially, yes.”

  She drew her brows together. “Forgive me for asking, Mr. Hollis, but is this legal?”

  Indignation furrowed the solicitor’s brow. “The terms of his lordship’s will were drawn up under the guidance of this firm. I assure you all aspects are entirely legal.” He frowned. “You have by no means been left destitute, Lady Rathbourne. In such a case the validity of the will could certainly be challenged. As it stands, you will be provided with a suitable allowance for household expenditures that exceed the household accounts currently administered by this office and, of course, personal necessities. You will also be permitted to live in this house as well as the one in the country for however long you desire. If you will address your attention to the papers we prepared for you, you will see the amounts allocated are more than adequate.”

  She glanced at the papers in her hand. Adequate was something of an overstatement. Minimal was a better description.

  “In many respects, Lady Rathbourne, your circumstances shall remain remarkably similar to those you experienced before the death of Lord Rathbourne.”

  “I see.” She chose her words with care, ignoring the way her stomach clenched with Mr. Hollis’s pronouncement although she had already realized much the same thing. “And if I complete the Rathbourne collections?”

  “Then all properties and monies become yours and yours alone.” Mr. Hollis cast her a condescending smile. “Should that be the case, it is my hope that you would continue to allow this firm to be of service in the manner in which it has well served Lord Rathbourne for many years.”

  “Of course,” she murmured although it would be a very cold day in the fires of Hell before she so much as considered putting her affairs in the hands of anyone even remotely connected to this man or his firm or her husband. Not that she would tell him that. It would not be wise to alienate the solicitor as long as he controlled her finances. “Tell me, Mr. Hollis, I assume these items are not easy to acquire?”

  “No, indeed. It is my understanding Lord Rathbourne had tried for years to locate, then purchase the items in question.”

  “And what, precisely, are they?”

  “My apologies, Lady Rathbourne.” For a moment, what might have been genuine regret flickered in the solicitor’s eyes. “According to your husband’s instructions, if you decide to pursue the articles, you will be given the information regarding the first item only. Once that has been acquired, you will receive information regarding the second and so forth.”

  She smiled in a wry manner. “And you said it was not a treasure hunt.”

  Mr. Hollis had the good grace to look slightly abashed. “I am only carrying out his lordship’s wishes, my lady.” He paused. “I confess, Lord Rathbourne’s stipulations have put this firm in an awkward position, but there is nothing that can be done about it.” He drew a deep breath. “As my responsibility is now to you and your best interest, I should tell you I did advise against this course. However, his lordship would not be swayed.”

  “He rarely could.” She thought for a moment. “Is there a deadline? A time limit for completing the collections?”

  “Not as such.” Mr. Hollis shook his head in a decidedly relieved manner. “You may take as long as is necessary.”

  She raised a brow. “The rest of my life even?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose—”

  “Very well then.” She rose to her feet. “If you would be so good as to return tomorrow, I shall tell you of my decision.”

  Mr. Hollis stood. “Your decision? I fear you have me at a loss, my lady. What decision?”

  “Why, whether or not I will pick up the gauntlet my late husband has thrown down.”

  “As I said, there is no particular hurry. I would strongly recommend you wait until a suitable period of mourning has passed to so much as consider—”

  “On the contrary, Mr. Hollis, there is a very great hurry.” She forced a pleasant smile. “Indeed, I feel that completing my husband’s collections and thus acquiescing to his last wishes to be a matter of great urgency and very much my duty.”

  “These items are not to be found in London,” he warned.

  “I did not for a moment assume they were. That would be entirely too easy.”

  “Procuring them will require significant travel as well as substantial funding.” He frowned. “Might I point out, you do not have the financial means this venture requires.”

  “There is no need to point that out, I am well aware of it. Regardless, this is something I must at least consider. For my late husband. For his memory.” She adopted an indignant note. “Surely you understand?”

  “Forgive me, Lady Rathbourne, I did not mean to imply—”

  “Of course not, Mr. Hollis. I am certain neither you nor my late husband imagined I would think for even a moment of undertaking this task he has set. But I shall give it a great deal of thought.” She shrugged. “And if I fail, I shall be no worse off than I am right now.”

  He nodded. “Aside from the regrettable passing of your husband, your life can continue on in the same manner in which it always has.”

  “I am a widow, Mr. Hollis. A woman alone. My life cannot possibly continue on in the manner it always has.”

  “I suppose not.” He studied her for a moment, then sighed and collected his papers. “As you wish, Lady Rathbourne. I shall return tomorrow.” He started toward the door, then paused. “I suspect Lord Rathbourne may have underestimated you.”

  “Good day, Mr. Hollis.”

  “Good day, my lady.” He nodded and took his leave.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Olivia’s smile vanished. Damn him and the dead man he served. She wrung her hands together and paced the room.

  She should have expected something like this. Her late husband had never relinquished an article he acquired, never given up a possession that belonged to him. She should have known even death would not change that. Should have known he would find a way to keep her in his grasp even from the grave. Rathbourne had made certain she would not have the resources to start her life anew. Mr. Hollis was right. Her life could go on exactly as it always had. Even as her late husband had breathed his last breath, he no doubt had some satisfaction in the knowledge that he had arranged for her to continue to live under his complete control. In his clutches until she grew old, alone in this house, where everywhere she turned were reminders of the man who had owned her body but never her heart, never her soul. Trapped for the rest of her days.

  Not bloody likely. Her jaw clenched. She had not survived her husband’s life only to be defeated by him in death. She would find whatever it was that the viscount had been unable to acquire and complete his collections. After all, she had far more to gain than he ever had. Still, it would be a costly venture and her minimal allowance would not allow for either travel or purchase. Nor was there anyone she could turn to for help. He’d known she would never go to her father, and she couldn’t name a single friend. Those friendships she’d had before marriage had vanished with her isolation. It seemed there was only one option left to her. And if pride made it a difficult choice to make, so be it.

  She would never give up the chance to be free of the Viscount Rathbourne, free to at last live her life. She drew a deep breath and sent a quick prayer heavenward for help, vowing in return to donate a goodly portion of her inheritance to those less fortunate. Perhaps orphans or widows whose husbands had left them with nothing save bad memories.

  But Mr. Hollis was right. Viscount Rathbourne had underestimated his wife. His perfect possession. As much a part of his collections as the antiquities and art he kept hidden from prying eyes. His late lordship had indeed underestimated Lady Olivia Rathbourne.

  And the lengths to which she would g
o.

  “I must confess, after our last encounter, I was surprised to receive your note asking me here this evening.” Sterling swirled the brandy in his glass and eyed Olivia thoughtfully. “Surprised” was something of an understatement. She’d made it clear that she wished nothing more to do with him. Only a complete idiot would fail to understand why.

  “Upon reflection, I realized my behavior last night was reprehensible. In your own way, you were simply trying to help.” She smiled in a polite manner, and his heart twisted. Good God, she still took his breath away. She sat on the sofa in her parlor, adjacent to the chair he occupied. Close enough that with little effort he could reach out and pull her into his arms, should he ever again have the courage to do so.

  “I do hope you can forgive me.”

  “That goes without saying. My own behavior was, as you pointed out, somewhat overbearing.” Still, of all the regrets he had, that was not among them. And the events of last night had proved him right. “How is your head?”

  “I have a nasty knot.” She felt the back of her head and winced, and he wondered if her hair would still feel like silk against his fingers. He ignored the thought. “But I am quite fine.” Amusement gleamed in her eye. “As it only hurts when I touch it, I endeavor not to touch it.”

  “Why did you ask me here?” he said abruptly.

  “I wished to apologize for my behavior.”

  “You did so last night.”

  “But I was not particularly gracious.” She sipped her brandy, her gaze meeting his over the rim of the glass. “Indeed, I was quite rude.”

  “You could have simply sent a note,” he said without thinking and at once wished the words back. She’d sent him notes before.

  He’d sat at his desk for long hours, well past dawn, reading and rereading her letters. It was as if once he had picked them up, he could not put them down. He had read and regretted and wondered what if he hadn’t been such a fool all those years ago. What if he had read the first note when she had sent it? The one telling him she loved him, that she was being forced to marry Rathbourne. How different their lives might have been.

  “I did send a note, my lord. I—”

  “Sterling,” he said at once, then hesitated. “My apologies. That was most presumptuous of me.”

  “Not at all.” She smiled and again his heart shifted. “We have known each other most of our lives. It seems silly not to call one another by our given names. Besides, I find it rather difficult to call you by your title as I have always thought of you as Sterling. And I did send a note, requesting you to call on me.”

  “Yes, of course.” He paused. “What I don’t understand is why.”

  “Other than offering my continued apology you mean?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re very perceptive, Sterling. I don’t recall your being quite so discerning.”

  “I don’t believe I was the least bit perceptive in my younger days. Rather, I was proud and stubborn and concerned only with myself.” He smiled in a wry manner. “One can only hope the changes wrought by the years and responsibility have tempered that.”

  “One can hope.” She sipped her brandy, her gaze considering. “I have given a great deal of thought to something you said last night.”

  “Oh?”

  “You offered me your assistance.”

  “And you refused. I believe you agreed that I was the last person you would ever accept help from.”

  “Indeed I did. However it now appears . . .” She shrugged. “I was wrong.”

  “You were wrong,” he said slowly.

  “I was.” She reached for the brandy decanter and refilled his glass.

  He raised a brow. “Will I need this?”

  “Probably.” She smiled.

  He studied her for a moment. Beneath her cool exterior, he suspected she was more than a little apprehensive. “Very well then. How may be I of service?”

  “It seems even in death my late husband is determined to maintain his grip on my life.” She paused to choose her words. “The terms of his will are such that I will not inherit what is rightfully mine unless I undertake what can only be called a hunt for treasure.”

  He stared. “Unless you what?”

  “I am sure you are aware of Viscount Rathbourne’s passion for collecting art, artifacts, and any number of other valuable items.”

  “I daresay there are few members of the Antiquities Society who are not aware of it.” He sipped his brandy. “While his collections were not displayed, I understand they are extensive and quite extraordinary.”

  “No doubt.” She waved off the comment as if she had little interest or knowledge about her late husband’s collections. How very odd. “There were apparently three such collections he considered incomplete. Until I acquire the items necessary to complete them, I am to have nothing save a minimal allowance.” She blew a frustrated breath. “My life now has come down to two choices. I may continue to live as I always have, or I can attempt to locate these items.” She met his gaze directly. “I do not intend to spend the rest of my days under my late husband’s thumb.”

  “What are the items in question?”

  “I don’t know.” She huffed in annoyance. “It’s ridiculous, and dictated by my late husband’s instructions, but I will be given that information only if I decide to seek them.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “If I were not serious, you would not be here,” she said sharply. “I hadn’t realized my late husband was quite so fond of games, but apparently he was. It’s distressing and annoying and . . .” She drew a calming breath. “Forgive me.”

  He shook his head. “No apology is necessary. I can well understand your frustration at the circumstances you find yourself in.”

  “Frustration is the mildest of my feelings. Beyond that . . .” She took a bracing sip of her brandy. “I find turning to you to be rather more difficult than I had thought.”

  He leaned forward and met her gaze directly, her green eyes dark with hope or reluctance or both. “How can I help you, Olivia?”

  She considered him for a moment, then shook her head. “This is absurd. It will never work.” She jumped to her feet and paced the room. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was mad even to consider asking for your help.”

  Sterling rose to his feet. “You have no one else.”

  She pulled up short and stared at him. “Thank you for being so gracious as to point that out.”

  “I don’t mean to be cruel. I merely think it’s practical to face the reality of the situation. Olivia—”

  “Don’t,” she snapped. “Do not take that kindly tone with me. I do not want your sympathy.” She paused to regain her composure. “You’re right of course, there is no one else I might turn to. No family save my father, and I would rot in this house for the rest of my days before I would ask him for so much as a kind word. I have no friends. His lordship saw to that.” The words were said without undue emotion. Olivia was obviously a woman used to keeping her own feelings firmly in hand.

  “You have me,” he said simply.

  She ignored him. “This is insane.” She shook her head and resumed pacing. He suspected that a hundred conflicting thoughts filled her mind. She paused and looked at him. “You understand what I’m asking of you?”

  “You wish me to help you find the items needed to fulfill the terms of the will.”

  “You realize this will likely be a costly venture. It will no doubt require a considerable expenditure.”

  He shrugged. “My finances are sound, my fortune extensive. That is not a particular problem.”

  “I intend to reimburse you for every penny.”

  “I have no doubt of that.”

  “I am certain as well these items are not to be found easily. I have been told they are not in London.” She narrowed her eyes. “Travel will undoubtedly be necessary.”

  He nodded. “I have not traveled for many years. I shall look forward to it.”


  “With me?”

  “I should like nothing better,” he said staunchly.

  “I intend for this to be an impersonal arrangement.”

  He raised a brow. “Impersonal?”

  “I do not foresee resuming the relationship we once shared. Nor do I wish for us to do so.” She shook her head. “Too much time has passed for that, and we are in agreement that we are not the same people we once were. We shall be partners in this endeavor in a most businesslike manner. However . . .” Her brow furrowed as if she were reaching a decision. “I see no reason why we cannot be friends.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Nor do I. After all, we will be spending a great deal of time together, and I would much prefer to spend that time with someone who considers me a friend rather than someone who detests the very ground beneath my feet.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “I have never detested the ground beneath your feet.” A reluctant smile curved her lips. “The ground is blameless.” She sobered. “Which brings up another point. I suggest we start our friendship anew. As if we had just met. And put what once passed between us firmly in the past, where it belongs.”

  He drew his brows together. “That is what you want?”

  She squared her shoulders. “I think it’s best.”

  “And yet it’s because of the past that you have turned to me.”

  “Yes, well, as you pointed out, I have no one else.”

  “Not all of the past was bad,” he murmured.

  “Regardless, I don’t think we shall accomplish anything if we continue to drag what happened long ago behind us like the chains of Marley’s ghost. I think it’s best to start fresh.” She set her chin firmly. “As friends.”