Sighing, Michael rubbed his hand along Olivia’s arm. “She had just told me Arthur was courting her. I was wishing her happy,” he replied in a whisper. “And I was so relieved, Olivia. I cannot tell you how good it felt to know I no longer had to be her protector.”
Relief, indeed. After a quiet moment, the smile disappeared and Olivia pressed her lips together. “So, may I ask how it was you had to provide protection for her in the first place?” She braced herself, thinking he might be embarrassed by her query or that he might simply go quiet and leave her to her overactive imagination. He surprised her by doing neither.
“Do you remember the first time we ever met?” Michael murmured as he leaned back and began stroking her shoulder.
Olivia nodded into his neck. “I was ...sixteen. You saved me from being kissed by Eli Blaylock,” she replied, not understanding why he asked.
“I thought you were so pretty.”
Olivia inhaled sharply. “You did?”
“Oh, yes. Still do, in fact,” he added as he continued to rub her arm with his hand. “And your father knew it immediately. Told me in his study that I wasn’t to go near you for three years,” he spoke quietly. “It was quite an effective threat.”
“It’s been ... five years,” Olivia stated as she lifted her head to look at him, not sure if she believed his claim.
And shouldn’t she be offended that he took so long to climb into her bed?
Michael sighed, and he chuckled softly. “As I said, it was a very effective threat,” he repeated. But he sobered a bit. “Over the years, though, I’ve been a bit put off by the thought of marriage, my love,” he answered in a whisper.
My love? Olivia repeated to herself. She rather liked it when he used endearments like that.
“And you never seemed to show any obvious interest in me,” he accused with a shrug. “At least, not that kind of interest,” he amended quickly when he felt her body go rigid.
“I conversed with you during dinner,” she countered, a bit too indignant with her response. “I read books to you. I played the piano-forté for you. I walked to Shipley with you.”
Michael pretended to ignore the comments. “Your sister was another matter, though.”
Olivia stiffened even more as she realized to what he was referring. Eloisa was always quick to offer him tea, to engage him in conversation, to volunteer to serve him first at dinner. Her flirting was a testament to her attraction to the man. If asked directly, Eloisa would admit out loud to having a crush on Michael Cunningham. And although Olivia, too, had a crush on him, she wouldn’t admit it.
Sometimes not even to herself.
“Tell me, did your sister wish to come to London because she didn’t have any marriage prospects in Shipley?” Michael wondered, the back of one finger brushing along Olivia’s neck. She shivered a bit at his touch but left her head resting against his shoulder.
“Eloisa always had admirers in Shipley. And West Grinstead. And all around Horsham,” Olivia replied with a shrug. “But she made it very clear before she was even seventeen that she had no intention of marrying a barkeep, or a farmer, or a miner or anyone involved in smelting.”
Michael grunted. “That doesn’t leave a lot to choose from,” he murmured, his fingers combing through the hair near her temple. He felt her smile as she continued to lean against him.
“No, indeed. She wanted a gentleman in town. Nothing else would do,” she sighed, wondering what it was about London that made country girls give up their perfectly acceptable situations and take the risks that some did to have a life in the world’s largest city.
“Did you know that I have an older brother?” Michael asked then.
The change in topic caught Olivia off-guard. “Y ... Yes. But what has ...?”
“Patience, my sweet. There is much to tell if you really want to know how I came to be Eloisa’s protector.” At Olivia’s hesitant nod of agreement, Michael continued, “Last May, I received a note from Marcus asking me to meet him at a brothel over in Covent Garden.” He felt her body stiffen again at his mention of the brothel. “I just went for the brandy,” he added quickly, not wanting her to think that he would indulge in such behavior, even if he was a bachelor. “I’m sure Marcus would have engaged one of the harlots, but he had actually shown up the night before. I read the note a day later than he intended me to.”
There was a long minute before he heard her say, “Oh.” Then she relaxed back into his arm.
“While I was enjoying my brandy, I noticed a girl crying in the corner. At first glance, I thought she was you ...”
Olivia suddenly pushed herself up from Michael’s body and stared at him, her mouth open in shock.
“Ouch,” Michael growled as he leaned forward, his free hand going to the large bruise on his rib.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” Olivia spoke quickly, pulling her hand away from his chest. Her eyes were as wide at having hurt him as from the implication of his comment. Serves you right! she found herself thinking, surprised she could be so spiteful when her husband really was in a good deal of pain.
Michael pulled his leg up and around Olivia so that he could sit up straighter on the settee. “I’ll live,” he said with a sigh. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him again. “It was your sister, although she looked very ... different,” he winced as he recalled the bruise on her cheek and the short petticoat she wore.
Olivia inhaled sharply, her brows furrowing and her face a statement of her confusion. “But, she was a governess ...” Wait! No, that’s not right, she remembered from her earlier conversation with her sister. Eloisa said she had come to London to get married.
“No,” Michael stated with a shake of his head. “She came to London believing she had landed a position as a governess, but it was a ruse to get her to the brothel. The madame there is quite unscrupulous when it comes to how she acquires her girls,” he explained with a sour expression. He paused for several seconds before adding, “Virgins fetch a higher price with certain clients.”
Her hand suddenly covering her mouth, Olivia thought at first she would be sick, her breathing quickened so.
When Eloisa announced she’d been offered a position as a governess the year before, Olivia had been stunned. She had been pursuing positions for nearly a year and not been hired while her sister’s quick reply to a posting at the local mercantile resulted in an immediate offer. I was so jealous! Olivia remembered thinking as she recalled Eloisa’s excitement about moving to London.
Seeing her distress, Michael cupped Olivia’s cheek with a hand. “She was ... sporting a bruised cheek, but otherwise ... well, she was fine once I paid off the proprietor and got her out of there,” he assured her quietly.
Meeting his gaze, Olivia tilted her head. “But she was already ...” She stopped, not knowing what to say. Ruined seemed inadequate somehow, especially compared to her own ruination at the hand of Michael.
How had her sister kept this from her? And why hadn’t Edward said anything about this when he was telling her everything else?
“She had already lost her virtue, of course,” Michael said quietly. “And enough men had probably seen her that night at Lucy’s so that she was unable to live a completely respectable life by herself, at least for a few months. But I did what I could,” he said quietly.
“Then, you bought her the townhouse?” Olivia wondered, realizing now that everything in her sister’s life made more sense.
“I leased the house on her behalf. Set her up with a maid ... and although she was very insistent that I should be ... compensated, I suppose one could say, I refused to take her as my mistress,” he explained with a sigh, not surprised when Olivia flinched at the last bit. “It wouldn’t have been right.”
“Did you ... do you ... feel affection for her?” Olivia asked, her hands suddenly trembling as much as her lower lip.
<
br /> Michael took both her hands in his. “I felt ... responsible for her. I was never in love with her,” he clarified, his voice very insistent.
Olivia nodded her understanding. “And Mr. Huntington? How did he come to ... meet her?”
Smiling, Michael sat up straighter. “Actually, I arranged that,” he said, a bit of pride in his voice. At Olivia’s raised eyebrow, he added, “I knew Arthur to be a widower and quite lonely. We talk occasionally at White’s and at Gentleman Jackson’s, where we fight, and he mentioned a day he’d seen me walking with a woman. He wanted an introduction. Seems he had been sweet on her since the moment he’d seen her shopping. Eloisa always wore black when she appeared in public, so he guessed she was in mourning. He asked about the fate of her husband, and I came up with a plausible story that made your sister seem respectable enough. On a day I knew he would pass us while we were walking, I introduced him to your sister. He subsequently declared his intentions to call on her.”
Olivia inhaled and stared at Michael. “Now, what is this about her having been married?” she wondered, remembering she was about to gain a brother and needed to know more about her sister’s fabricated past. Eloisa had mentioned her marriage to a William Smith, but very few details about the man or their short life together.
“Everything in her life is as you know it except that when she left for London, she married an army infantryman who then went off to France to fight, and he died on the battlefield. Now she’s a widow living off her husband’s meager pension. And she’s just come out of mourning,” Michael stated automatically, as if he’d repeated the story several times.
Smiling, Olivia sighed and regarded her husband. “And her married name was truly Smith?” she said with a quirked lip.
Michael grinned. “It was the best she could come up with on short notice.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “And Mr. Huntington believes all this to be ... true?” she wondered, deciding perhaps the story was believable enough and far better than hearing her sister had been an unwilling lady of the evening.
“Oh, yes. He’s quite taken with her,” Michael said with a nod, recalling the look in his banker’s eye when he challenged Michael.
“Have you seen the ring he has given her?” Olivia asked, raising her left hand to indicate she meant an engagement ring.
Michael grimaced when he caught sight of the iron ring still on Olivia’s finger. “No, but then I have not seen your sister since we were in Shipley,” he replied with a shake of his head. “But, I can tell you it had better have a very large gemstone on a very pretty precious metal band,” he added emphatically, thinking the banker could afford some finery for his wife-to-be.
“A sapphire,” Olivia replied with a nod. “On a gold band. She’s very happy. And she says Mr. Huntington seems very in love with her, too.” She sighed and sat back in the settee as she considered everything her husband had told her. She frowned. “So, why did you have to fight Mr. Huntington?” Olivia asked suddenly.
A loud sigh emanated from Michael before he leaned back in the settee. “The sparring match was his idea, but I thought it best he prove himself worthy of your sister. I couldn’t just pawn her off on him without knowing his true intentions. And I wanted Eloisa to know how much Arthur wants her.”
Biting her lower lip, Olivia nodded at the odd logic. “And do you believe my sister to ... want Mr. Huntington?” Olivia remembered Eloisa’s excitement at her future with the banker, but she wondered if Michael knew of her sister’s enthusiasm for a life with the man. She hoped he did.
Michael smiled. “I believe so. She’s ... she is in love with him,” he stated, his expression not indicating how he felt about it. For at that moment, he felt a great deal of jealousy. Not because Arthur had taken Eloisa from him or because Eloisa loved Arthur instead of him. He was jealous of Arthur because of how Eloisa felt about him.
Will Olivia ever truly love me? he wondered suddenly.
He shook himself from his reverie, knowing Olivia was watching him closely. “Arthur will be able to keep her in fine style. And since this is a second marriage for both of them, he plans to get a special license, get married, and introduce her to his friends at a ball given in their honor. I expect that will happen in the next few weeks,” he said confidently.
Olivia’s eyebrows popped up. Eloisa hadn’t mentioned a ball, so Arthur must not have mentioned it to her. “And who is hosting the ball?”
Michael pulled Olivia into his arms and took a deep breath. “I am thinking we should,” he replied, his manner very guarded.
“But, we have no ballroom!” Olivia replied, her eyes wide with surprise at his suggestion.
Michael regarded her for a moment. “Well, not in this house, but there is one in the family house in Cavendish Square,” he said casually.
“Oh,” Olivia replied, stunned at the information. I have a key to the house in Cavendish Square! “So, you are neighbors with Mr. Huntington?”
Michael nodded. “His house is directly across the square.”
Olivia smiled, feeling a sense of relief and calm she hadn’t felt in a very long time. “Do you have other family houses besides the one in Mayfair?” she asked, suddenly wondering where the properties of the viscountcy were located.
“A few, I suppose,” Michael murmured after he’d given it a bit of thought. “But there is just one in the country in which I would ever live myself,” he added quickly. “Iron Creek. The one we talked about at dinner the other night.”
“Twenty miles from?” Olivia asked, her hand rubbing lightly over the top of his chest as she remembered them discussing the property over dinner. A little cottage with twenty rooms on twenty-hundred acres ... And now that she thought about it, she’d heard mention of that estate before. Somewhere near home.
Michael placed his hand over hers and stilled it. “Horsham District, near Crawley Down,” he replied, watching her face closely as he said it.
Pushing herself up so that she could see his eyes, Olivia stared at him. “Because of the prize-fighting?” she wondered. Her lips quirked, thinking that, of course, he would like living near where he could watch bare-knuckle mills.
Grinning, Michael shook his head, “Well, there is that,” he agreed, surprised she would make that connection.
But Olivia’s eyes widened as she thought of the areas around home. Of the lands and estates in Horsham. “Is your father truly Viscount Cunningham?” she asked suddenly, her curious expression a source of amusement for Michael but her misplaced hand on his ribs a source of extreme pain.
“Yes, he is,” Michael replied with a nod and a wince. “A title my brother shall someday inherit if he does not die before my father, but one I’ll probably be stuck with since he seems quite intent on ending up in debtors’ prison,” he added as he pulled her hand away from its perch on his ribs.
Olivia gasped as she sat up straighter. “Please, forgive me,” she said as a hand covered her mouth. “Is there anything I can do?” she wondered as her eyes fell again on his worsening bruises.
Michael leaned back into the corner of the settee and closed his eyes. “Tell me you’ll host a ball in your sister’s honor three weeks after they are wed,” he answered evenly, still grimacing from the pain and breathing carefully so as not to make it worse.
“I will,” she agreed, realizing Michael was quite serious about the ball. “I’ll ask Jeffers to assist me with the plans,” she added, her face brightening as she thought about planning her first ball as a married woman. “But you must help me with a list of the people to invite.”
“I will,” he replied, his arm wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her back to his chest. There was silence for a moment as Michael pondered how to ask Olivia about her feelings for him. If she even had any. Besides despising me. “And you?” Michael wondered, his head bent so he could see her face as his fingers caressed her temple and threaded the
mselves through her long hair. “Who did you want?”
Olivia stared back for a moment before tearing her eyes from his. Had she ever wanted anyone other than Michael Cunningham? Had she even imagined wanting anyone else? Had she ever imagined herself being held by anyone other than Michael? Had there been anyone else she thought about touching? Holding? Kissing?
You, she thought silently. It has always been you I wanted.
And here she was, in his arms being stroked and held and comforted despite her earlier proclamation of hating him and despite her jealous behavior regarding her sister. He really must have feelings for me or he wouldn’t put up with me like this, she considered. He has said as much.
Olivia returned her eyes to his, noting the expectant look on his face. “You,” she admitted finally, letting out a breath she’d been holding far too long. “It has always been you ...”
“And not just because I am in such severe pain?” he asked in a quiet voice, heartened by her reply.
She looked up at him and sighed. “I have been bewitched by you since the day I met you,” she admitted finally.
Stunned at her response, Michael tried to sit up straighter and winced at the sharp pain it caused. “You have?” he questioned, surprised. “For five years?”
Olivia nodded. “Indeed. You saved me from Eli Blaylock,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “I feel affection for you, too, if you must know,” she added with a sigh.
Michael pulled her closer, wincing when her body pressed against his bruised rib. But he ignored the pain in order to kiss her hard on the lips, to claim her as his own and hold her protectively in his arms. And she allowed it, even returning the kiss after a moment of surprise passed. Lifting her, Michael carried her to the bed and turned so that he could sit on the edge of the mattress. With her head on his shoulder, Olivia found herself sitting on his lap. Holding her with one arm, Michael drew the fingers of his free hand down her arm and captured her hand in his. “I had to know,” he whispered, his face angling so that he could kiss her lips, taking her lower lip between his and nibbling gently. His hand moved to the side of her breast, his thumb gently pressing against the nub that he felt under her night rail, rubbing around it until he felt her sharp intake of breath and her eyes lifted to meet his. Her mouth was suddenly against his, her arm wrapped around his neck, her thumb against the space on his jaw just behind the bruise that was still darkening there.
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