by Julia London
Fortunately, Alexa’s chatter left Olivia to her own thoughts. When the main course had been cleared and Brock returned to set puddings before them, Olivia looked up and her gaze met Mr. Tolly’s. He was watching her. Olivia’s heart sank deeper into her despair. He knew her well, this man. He knew her better than anyone.
And as if on cue, as if to reassure her that he did, Mr. Tolly smiled at Olivia. It was the same reassuring smile he’d given her nearly every day for the past six years. The same sort of smile that had made her love him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After supper, they retreated to the salon. For what? Harrison wondered. More talk of trousseaus and teas that had already set his teeth on edge? He stood near the hearth, counting down the minutes until he could escape this interminable evening.
He could see that Alexa was trying to wrap this wedding about her like a rope, something secure to hold on to, yet she still did not seem to fully grasp how perilous her situation was. She rattled on about it as if Harrison had gone down on one knee and asked her to join him in conjugal felicity. Even now, she was speaking earnestly to Lady Carey about a gown. She was so intent on what she might wear that she didn’t seem to notice how distant Lady Carey was.
Harrison had clearly expressed his reservations to Alexa after her surprising turn. He’d been frank that marriage was not his desire, but necessary to save her from banishment, save her sister from the marquis’s wrath, and then save the Carey family from damaging scandal. Alexa had assured him she understood, and that she was very grateful for his generosity and his help, and that she would endeavor to be as good a wife to him as he deserved.
What he deserved was to be kicked in the head for having kissed Lady Carey in the garden. He’d taken an unthinkable liberty with her, yet here he stood, still unable to take his eyes from her. That kiss had done nothing but make his absolute hunger for her grow. Harrison had warred with himself all day—he’d imagined himself inside her warm, tight sheath, her legs around his waist, her eyes glistening with the carnal pleasure she had been denied for so many years, and that he would be very happy to show her. Bloody hell, his body began to swell at just the idea of giving her that pleasure.
He turned his back and pretended to look at some books on the shelves, forcing down his desire.
Lady Carey stood at the window, peering out into darkness, as if she might leap into it at any moment. He couldn’t blame her; her life was spinning wildly out of control. So was his. For a man who had made his own way in this world, who had been master of his destiny at a very early age, he was now a slave to a situation that was not of his making, but one into which he had rashly entered. He could all but hear the iron gate banging shut behind him and the key turning in the lock. He would have liked to join Lady Carey at the window and contemplate jumping, too.
Then suddenly—or perhaps not so suddenly, for Harrison had ceased to hear what was being said—Alexa stretched her arms high above her head and yawned. “Please excuse me, but I am quite fatigued.”
“I shall see you to the dowager house,” Harrison said instantly, anxious to be away from this distressful tableau.
“I think I am too tired to walk there. And really, I should return to the main house while the marquis is away, should I not? I hardly think Rue qualifies as a proper chaperone. May I, Olivia?” Alexa yawned again.
“Hmmm?” Lady Carey said, turning from the window.
“I prefer to sleep here.”
“Yes, of course,” Lady Carey said with a slight but dismissive flick of her wrist. “Whatever you like.”
“Thank you,” Alexa said, and stood up, crossing the room to kiss her sister’s cheek. “Good night.” She smiled at Harrison as she walked across the room, her hands pressed against her back as if it pained her.
He and Lady Carey watched her go from the room in silence, both of them rooted to the floor. Harrison’s pulse ticked up as he heard Alexa’s step on the stairs. He had a moment, if that, to explain what had happened after he’d left the garden. He turned around to Lady Carey.
Her blue eyes widened. She put her hand to her nape, a gesture she made when she felt unsettled. She looked at the open door and suddenly started toward it, walking briskly. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Tolly, but I must bid you a good night as well—”
Harrison was not going to allow that—he moved quickly, beating her to the door and closing it firmly. He turned about, his back to the door. “Are you trying to escape me?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, and whirled around, retreating from him.
“Lady Carey—Olivia,” he said earnestly.
She kept her back to him, but her shoulders lifted with a deep breath.
“Olivia,” he said again, his voice softer.
“You mustn’t call me that.”
“At least allow me to explain—”
“There is nothing to explain,” she said, and moved again, deliberately putting a chair between them. She put her hands to either side of her face, pressing her fingers into her temples.
“I think perhaps you fear that I kissed you in the garden as I did, and then turned about and pressed my suit with your sister,” he said, advancing carefully. “No, Olivia. She caught me completely unawares, as I am sure she did you.”
“Mr. Tolly!” she cried, throwing up her hand. “Do not speak of it!”
Harrison impulsively reached out and caught her hand. She tugged against his hold, but he would not release it. “Harrison, Olivia. My name is Harrison.”
“Stand back!” she said sternly, and tried to pull her hand free and turn away from him, but Harrison caught her face with his fingers and forced her to look at him. “Olivia, listen to me—”
“Do not say my name!” she cried, and gasped as if the words had taken the wind from her.
“How am I to help it?” he asked, his gaze skating over her face, as beautiful to him as any he’d ever seen. “I have kissed you, and I—”
She hit him square in the chest with her fist. “Do not say it!” she said, her breath coming in gulps. She hit him again. “Do you hear me? Do not say it, Harrison Tolly! I forbid you to say my name, for every time you say it, I shatter.”
Harrison grabbed her up into his arms and held her tightly. She gripped his arms, her fingers curling into the fabric with the strength of a drowning woman. “Do not say it, never say it,” she begged him. “I did not mean for it to happen, but now that it has, I cannot bear it. I cannot bear it,” she said again, and hit his arm with her fist.
“Be still,” he soothed her. “And for God’s sake, breathe.” He held her, his cheek pressed to her temple, until he could feel her breath calm and steady. She didn’t let go her grip of his coat, but he felt her begin to soften, the tension easing from her body. At last she turned her head, laid her cheek against his shoulder, and sighed wearily.
They stood that way a long moment until she straightened, dabbed beneath her eyes with one knuckle, and drew a steadying breath. “Well,” she said. “This is rather awkward.”
“It is not.”
She smiled and touched his cheek. “It is. You know it as well as I do. Mr.—” She hesitated. “Harrison,” she said carefully, testing his name. “I have thought of little else other than what happened in the garden. I did not mean for it to happen. I never dreamed something like that could happen. But my defenses deserted me, and I felt . . . I felt . . .” She closed her eyes, her lips slightly apart with the exhalation of her breath.
Harrison braced himself. He expected her to say she’d felt guilty or compromised, while he had been lifted up by that kiss. He’d felt himself soar in that kiss, and he would not apologize for it. Not to her, not anyone.
“I felt alive,” she said, and opened her eyes.
He blinked with surprise. His heart began to swell in his chest. “Olivia—”
“But I have no right to feel that way!” she exclaimed, and let go of him. “I am married and when I thought of what would happen if my husband—my husband, the
man to whom I have sworn my fidelity, for better or worse. You know, you know better than anyone that it has been for worse. What would happen if he were to discover that kiss?” she exclaimed in anguish.
“It would not go well for either of us,” he agreed. “I never meant it to happen, either, Olivia. And it will not happen again; I give you my word. I will keep my distance from you—”
“I do not want your distance!” she cried. “God help me, I know I must have it, but I do not want it.”
Harrison was at a complete loss. He didn’t want to keep his distance, either, but he had no choice. To be near her was to court disaster; he’d already discovered that the wall he’d built around his heart over the years was as weak as a house of cards. “Tell me what you want and I will do it, whatever it is,” he said. “I will help you in any way that I can.”
She made a sound of frustration. “If you could help me, you would have done so long ago. I am beyond help.”
The truth in that statement sliced through him, made him feel like less than a man. He could not save the one person who meant more to him than any other. Harrison shoved his fingers through his hair and desperately sought his footing. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to touch her again, to take her in his arms and into his bed.
“Do you know what I truly want?” she asked, her voice soft and breathless.
“What? Tell me, and I will give it to you,” he said earnestly.
“But I want what I can never have—I want you, Harrison.”
He caught his breath. It was the last thing he’d thought he would ever hear from her. A week ago, he would have rejoiced at her declaration. He would have swept her away from Everdon Court, as far away as he could take her. But now . . . now everything was different. He took her hands in his, his gaze on her slender fingers.
“I have astonished you, haven’t I?” she said. “You cannot imagine how I have come to depend on you. You have been my rock these years, Harrison. You are the one who has kept me breathing.”
His heart constricted. What a sad pair they were. He lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Those words fill my heart with equal joy and despair. They are words I never dared to dream of hearing from you.”
“And today,” she said, “today, I knew a few moments of bliss. There are no words to describe how devastated I am to know that I will never feel that again.”
“If only I had known,” he said. “You must know, you must have sensed that I have adored you these many years, from the moment you first appeared at Everdon Court wearing that sunny yellow gown and pearls.”
Olivia looked up with surprise. “You remember what I wore?”
“I remember everything,” he said. “I remember the day you went riding, and you returned with twigs in your hair and your hat missing, lost when you attempted to negotiate a low-hanging limb. You laughed and called it a fool’s daring. I thought you were so vibrant.”
“Oh, Harrison.”
“I recall one summer day when you hosted a tea in the gazebo, and Miss Shields told you a tale that had you laughing so soundly that your hands were pressed against your abdomen and tears filled your eyes.”
“How can you recall that?” she asked, smiling with pleasure. “You were not there.”
“I watched you from an open window in the study. I remember the occasion of your first anniversary, and the silver gown you wore. You looked every bit a princess, and in the middle of the dancing, you caught my eye and winked.”
She smiled softly. “You seemed rather forlorn, standing to the side all alone.”
“Not forlorn,” he said, his gaze on hers. “Mesmerized. Always mesmerized.”
Olivia blushed. “By me? I have always felt so uninteresting.”
“You?” He shook his head. “Never. Do you recall a night, two or three years ago, when a heavy snow fell and we played Écarté? You soundly bested me and took three crowns from me.”
“You were so cross about it,” she said, and grinned up at him. “What else do you remember?”
Harrison’s smile faded. “I remember the joy that shone out of you like sunlight when you believed yourself to be with child, and the despair that darkened your face afterward. And I could not . . .” He swallowed. “I was helpless to remove the pain of it.”
That sober reminder caused Olivia to look away and pull her hand free. “You remember so much.”
“I remember it all, Olivia. Every moment, because I have admired you most ardently from the moment I first saw you.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
“Tell you?” He smiled and shook his head, brushed his knuckles against her cheek as he had longed to do a thousand times. “How could I? As you say, you are a married woman. You are above me in society, in matrimony, in every way a woman can be above a man. And I esteemed you far too much to put you in jeopardy with my feelings. Until today. Today it was quite beyond my power to resist you.”
“Harrison . . . it was I who could not resist you,” she murmured. Her eyes began to glisten with tears. “I wish . . . I wish I could steal a moment in time. I wish I could carve out a few days of happiness, all to myself, with you. Alas,” she said, her gaze falling to his mouth, “that is not my lot in life. Or yours. It is imperative that what happened between us today never happen again.”
But her gaze belied the words she spoke. Her gaze didn’t leave his mouth, and it was heating his blood. He touched his fingers to hers, lacing them together.
“It is best for all concerned,” she said, as if trying to convince herself. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, and Harrison’s pulse began to throb. It was a supreme act of self-control to keep his hands from her.
“We must endeavor to put this behind us,” she said. “We must. But Harrison, I cannot live without your friendship. If I don’t have that at least, I shall perish here in this drafty old house and this dark marriage. Promise me. Promise me that we shall always be friends.”
A small, hairline crack snaked its way across Harrison’s heart. Without question, he would always be her friend. The idea that he would never have more with her was cruelly disappointing. It felt a bit as if he’d run the race, but had fallen just short of the finish line. It was an unsatisfying request of a desire that had now been opened up to the heavens. But Olivia’s expression was so earnest, he said, “Not only will I be your friend, I shall always be close. And I will always hold you in my heart, Olivia.” He lifted his hand to his chest, pressed it against his breast.
“Oh dear,” she said, her smile tremulous. “How can such tender words sting so? My good and loyal friend.”
She was trying to climb above her feelings and put their regard for one another in its proper place, but Harrison did not want them there. He wanted her as his own. And he wondered how he would ever put down that desperate, soul-devouring want.
For her sake, however, he would. He smiled. He leaned in. And he let his lips brush her temple. He inhaled her scent, his mouth on her hair, her hand in his. He could feel the draw of her breath and the warmth of her sigh on his neck. It whispered through him, spreading tiny little vines through him, attaching to his veins, his bones.
He was loath to leave her, loath to leave this moment behind—but he let go of her hand and made himself walk away from the only woman he would ever love.
As he reached the door, Olivia said, “Harrison?”
His heart winged with foolish hope; he turned around.
“I already miss you.”
It took every ounce of his strength to walk out the door, to leave her standing there. Olivia, sweet Olivia. He walked, and he did not look back. Yet his heart was still divining, still seeking her, and he felt the acute pain of having lost her when he’d never even had her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Olivia awoke the next morning with a start. In that state between dream and consciousness, she’d felt an invisible weight bearing down on her and had bolted up, looking around the room.
There was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything looked just as it had when she’d turned in last night.
Olivia pressed her hand to her chest. What had awakened her, she realized, was extraordinary sorrow and anger and frustration with everyone and everything about her.
She missed Harrison more than she believed was possible.
She buried her face in her hands. She’d lain awake for a long time last night with an aching head, her thoughts on how Alexa had come round to this marriage, and had somehow embraced it completely, wanting even a wedding. It was heart-wrenching. Completely, utterly heart-wrenching.
But Olivia couldn’t fault her for it. Her own marriage had been arranged, and she’d embraced hers as well. It’s what young women in their position did—they were trained to want the best match in fortune and social standing, not the best match of affections.
Olivia lifted her head and leaned back against the pillows. At eighteen years of age, she’d been astounded when the Marquis of Everdon had expressed an interest after one supper at Everdon Court. Edward had sent Harrison Tolly to negotiate her dowry. She remembered how he’d ridden up to their home, his cloak flying out behind him. He’d leapt off his mount and swept his hat off his head and had grinned at Olivia and Alexa, who stood behind Lord Hastings on the drive.
Her stepfather had brought him into their home, had offered him tea. Harrison had sat at the small tea table, the cup looking like a toy in his large hand. “If I may, Miss Hastings,” he’d said to Olivia, “Lord Carey is a fortunate man.” Olivia could remember her blush of pleasure and the smile he had given her. She’d thought him handsome and charming. She’d believed Harrison was an omen, a portent of what was to come at Everdon Court. She’d believed her life was on the verge of opening like a rosebud, the petals of it stretching out, reaching for all the world had to offer.
