by Julia London
He’d never sleep again if he could not see her, every day. He tried to imagine himself at Ashwood, existing without her. It was impossible to do, and after two days of these thoughts he felt quite unlike himself. He longed to see Olivia, but the only woman he saw was Alexa.
It appeared as if Alexa had rounded an emotional corner. As if she’d made her decision and was now settling into her future role as Harrison’s wife. She spent several hours at the dowager house, was polite and solicitous to him, and more than once, she offered to help him in any way that she could.
There was another, more subtle change in her that Harrison couldn’t help but notice, and it was one he did not care to face. Alexa’s smile was different than it had been; it was softer, more alluring. One might even say seductive.
And there were the casual, discreet little touches.
The first time Alexa had touched him, Harrison had instantly stiffened. She had smiled, had let her hand slide off his arm, and when she’d taken her leave, unwelcome images of what was to come began to swirl in Harrison’s mind. Alexa Hastings was a comely young woman, yet Harrison could feel nothing amorous for her.
Of course he’d considered that if he wed Alexa, he would need to treat her as a husband ought to treat a wife. In all respects. Including the marital bed. Harrison intended to honor the marital vows he would take . . . but he hoped for a bit of time. A few months. Perhaps a few years.
He had to somehow carve Olivia out of his heart first. Was that asking so much? Did he not deserve at least a few weeks for making this sacrifice? Given Alexa’s attention to him, he guessed that she would think it was too much to ask, and it was making him unusually cross.
The reality of his colossal mistake would come crashing down on him on the morrow, when he planned to leave for Scotland if the weather held. It had rained all week, but the sun had made a weak appearance yesterday. Alexa was right in that the rain had made the roads difficult and slow to travel, but Harrison was feeling anxious. He had only three days to address the problem of Alexa; any more than that would leave the estate management lacking in the marquis’s absence.
And for Olivia’s sake, he had to have this settled and be back at his post before the marquis returned, for his lordship would be furious if he found Harrison gone and Olivia’s sister the cause of it.
Unfortunately, today had dawned with gray and heavy skies. But if the rain held off, Harrison planned that he and Alexa would leave at dawn.
That afternoon, when Harrison went up to the main house to record the rents, he noticed a carriage from Harkingspur Grange in the drive.
In the foyer, he stripped off his wet hat and cloak and handed them to the butler. “Thank you, Brock,” he said. “I am expecting Mr. Fortaine. Best not to allow him in the front door, as he has been shearing sheep in the rain and has a peculiar smell about him. Nor can I vouch for the sanctity of his boots.”
“Yes, Mr. Tolly.”
“Who has come to call?” he asked curiously.
“Miss Shields and Lady Martha,” Brock said.
Harrison walked down the corridor that led to the offices at the corner of the southern wing. The door to the salon was open; he could hear the ladies laughing as he neared. He saw them as he walked past, gathered around a card table. Alexa’s back was to the door, seated across from Lady Martha. Olivia and Miss Shields sat on either side of her. Olivia was sitting on the edge of her chair, her gaze fixed on Miss Shields, who apparently was in the middle of a tale.
“On my word,” Harrison heard the jovial young woman say as he walked past, “the very moment Lady Rollingoke spotted Mr. Carver entering the room, she went after him like a fat little goose after bread crumbs.”
Alexa laughed gaily.
“Mr. Tolly?”
Olivia’s voice caught him off guard; Harrison jerked around. She was leaning out the door of the salon.
“Olivia!” he heard Miss Shields call. “I’ve not yet told you what Mr. Carver said to her inquiries.”
“One moment, if you please, Bernie,” Olivia said, and stepped out of the salon, walking quickly to where Harrison stood. Her eyes were full of longing; he could feel the draw in his own heart. “Alexa informs me you intend to leave on the morrow?” she whispered.
Was it his imagination, or did he hear a world of suffering in her voice?
“If the rain holds off,” he admitted.
“Oh. When will you return?”
He clenched his jaw and took her in, head to toe. “In three days.”
Olivia’s lashes fluttered as if she’d been struck. But she lifted her head and smiled. “That shall give me just enough time to find a proper wedding gift for you.”
“Olivia—”
“Mr. Tolly, I am quite at ease,” she said. “Long ago, I learned the art of accepting things as they are.”
“Then perhaps you might teach the skill to me, for I have not mastered it, try as I might.”
“It’s really quite simple. You mourn. And then you remind yourself to be grateful for what you have, and that it could be worse. Far worse.”
“Could it be worse?” he asked low.
Pain glimmered in her eyes, but she kept smiling. “Yes, it could be worse. Come now, Mr. Tolly, you’ve always been so ready with a smile.”
Mr. Tolly. She had retreated from him. “One cannot look at you and not smile, Lady Carey,” he said, and he smiled, for her.
But there is so much left unsaid. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you.
“I should like to see you off, but . . .” She shrugged lightly. “So I shall wish you Godspeed.” She turned away.
Harrison couldn’t let her go like that. He impulsively caught her fingers with his. It was an infinitesimal amount of what he needed from her, but it was all he would risk.
Olivia didn’t turn her head. But she wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed them tightly, then let go and walked on, her hips softly swaying, her head high.
Harrison stood alone in the corridor, the touch burning his fingers, spreading the ungodly heat of anger, frustration, and sheer longing through him.
“Am I right, Olivia?” he heard Alexa ask as she entered the room.
“About what, darling?” Olivia said, her voice clear and bright.
Harrison turned the other way and walked on to the office, his heart constricting tighter and tighter, until he wished it would disappear altogether.
Olivia had no idea what she’d intended when she’d dashed out in the hallway to Harrison—to simply look at him, she supposed. To see his eyes, to see his smile, which had been woefully lacking this afternoon. She had not intended to say what she had. Not until she’d seen the hunger in his eyes, the same hunger that was eating her from the inside out, and she had realized with excruciating clarity that she had to stop wanting him. For both their sakes.
It was impossible to stop wanting him, perhaps even more so now that Alexa had had such a miraculous change of heart. Her sister was suddenly chatting about the wedding and her marriage as if Harrison had courted her as any suitor would, then had offered for her hand. And the more Alexa came to accept her fate, the more Olivia felt stifled by hers. The bird in the little cage continued to grow, and she strained against the bars.
“Aren’t you going to play your card, Olivia?” Bernie asked.
Startled out of her thoughts, Olivia glanced at the table. She played her card.
“Oh dear,” Bernie said. “That won’t do us a bit of good, will it?”
Olivia looked at the card and instantly realized her mistake.
“How extraordinary,” Lady Martha said as she picked up the discarded cards. “Miss Hastings and I win again.”
“Olivia, I have never known you to play so poorly,” Bernie said, eyeing her shrewdly. “Have you something on your mind? You must tell us what it is, for the rain has washed away all our diversions.”
Warmth filled Olivia’s face. Was she so obvious?
“Don’t be shy, Livi
,” Alexa said with a sweet smile. “I hardly care if the whole world knows it.”
Olivia blinked.
Alexa’s smile brightened. “Shall I tell them, then?”
Now Olivia’s heart seized. She had said they would plant a seed. Surely Alexa did not intend to tell them—
“I am to be wed,” she said happily, and turned her smile to Bernie and Lady Martha.
“Alexa!” Olivia cried.
Lady Martha looked stunned, but Bernie cried out with delight. “Miss Hastings!” She grabbed Alexa’s hand, squeezing it. “How could you two possibly keep this from me? Who? Who has been so fortunate as to win your hand in marriage?”
“It is really the most amazing thing,” Alexa said happily. “When I returned from Spain I had only one thing in mind, and that was to see my sister.”
Oh dear God.
“But I met someone else here, and I must tell you that it was love at first sight. Well, second or third sight, really, as I had met him briefly before. But I had not had occasion to speak to him, and when I did, I was smitten.”
“Do not say it is Mr. Broadbent,” Lady Martha said, looking very ill at ease.
“No, no,” Bernie asked excitedly. “It is Baron Peterman’s son, is it not, Miss Hastings?”
“No,” Alexa said, and grinned. “It is . . . Mr. Tolly.”
Lady Martha gasped. “Mr. Tolly!” she repeated, sounding shocked.
Miss Shields squealed with delight. “Mr. Tolly! Oh, I cannot begin to say how that gladdens my heart! I have long admired him, in truth. Such a handsome, thoughtful man! And generous to a fault. Do you know that he has been paying the rent for Mr. Gaston for the last two years?”
“What?” Olivia asked. She’d never heard of this.
“It’s quite true. I am certain he is far too modest to speak of it, but I heard of it from Mrs. White. Mr. Gaston badly damaged his arm thrashing wheat and now he is quite unable to do it. When he appealed to Mr. Tolly for a bit of time until he could find someone to take his croft, Mr. Tolly wouldn’t hear of it. ‘What will you do with your children, sir,’” Bernie said, acting as if she were Harrison. “‘Go and be a good father to your children and work as best you can, and I shall see to it that your rent is paid.”
“You don’t mean it,” Alexa said.
“I do! Everyone at the church knows it. He is universally adored, Miss Hastings. You have come into good fortune with this match.”
Alexa suddenly laughed. “Greater than you know.”
“And when are the nuptials to be held?” Bernie said. “When it is warmer, I should hope. A wedding breakfast is so dreary in the wet spring.”
“Oh,” Alexa said. She looked at Olivia, who merely shrugged. Let Alexa talk her way out of this. “Well,” she said carefully, “Mr. Tolly and I thought we might just . . . just dash off and wed.”
Bernie’s mouth gaped. Lady Martha looked as if she would be ill.
Olivia sighed. It was difficult to imagine how Alexa could make this any worse, but she’d just done it. “What Alexa means,” she said calmly, “is that we cannot be certain when my husband will return, and it doesn’t seem proper that they reside in such close proximity—”
“Of course, of course,” Bernie said. “I do see your point. This spring, sometime, then?”
“Miss Peugeot is marrying this spring,” Lady Martha said, her point lost on Olivia.
“We’ve not decided as yet,” Alexa said, and shifted a little in her seat.
Olivia very much wanted to kick her in both shins for saying anything. The girl never thought before she opened her silly mouth! “But naturally you shall both be among the first to hear of it,” Olivia said. “Shall we play another round before I ring for tea?”
“Please,” Alexa said, and picked up the cards to shuffle them.
“April is a lovely time of year,” Bernie remarked. “When I marry, I should like a wedding in April. Your wedding was lovely, Olivia, but it was February, and the day was dreadfully cold and gray.” She shivered.
“Yes, wasn’t it,” Olivia replied. “Cold as ice.”
“Madam.” Brock had entered the salon and bent his head to whisper, “Pardon, but his lordship has arrived.”
That announcement stunned her—Olivia wasn’t expecting Edward for at least another week. “Here? Now?” she whispered.
“Yes, mu’um. He and his brother and some other gentlemen have just ridden into the drive.”
“What is it, Livi?” Alexa asked.
“Ah . . .” She forced a smile. “It would seem my husband has returned a little earlier than I thought.”
“Because he cannot bear to be away from you,” Bernie said blithely.
Olivia stood up. So soon! Alexa looked just as stunned; she stood, too. “I suppose we ought to . . . ?”
“We should,” Olivia agreed.
“But this is splendid news, Miss Hastings!” Bernie crowed. “Now that he has come back, there is no need to rush! You may wait until the weather has warmed and treat your family to a lovely spring wedding.”
Olivia’s knees quaked a little at the thought of Bernie saying something like that to Edward. He would explode with rage. But at the moment, her most pressing issue was greeting him and his guests, for if she were not on hand to do so, she would pay for it later.
“Please excuse me,” she said as lightly as she could and swept out of the room, unthinkingly rubbing her palms on her skirts.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Olivia stepped outside just in time to see Edward slide off his saddle and land on one knee beside his horse. He laughed as a footman rushed to help him up, then pushed the young man away before staggering up to his feet.
“Have a care you do not break your bloody leg,” his younger brother, David, Lord Westhorpe, said. The two gentlemen in their company laughed. Olivia had met them before: Lords Fennick and Keddington.
A laughing Keddington took Edward’s arm and draped it around his shoulders, then helped him to walk up the steps.
“There she is, my beautiful wife,” Edward slurred as they had tromped past. “To look at her, one would believe I am a fortunate man.”
“You are a fortunate man,” Keddington said.
“Olivia, darling,” David said, walking up the steps, his arms open. Olivia smiled at him; he wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace and kissed her cheek. “Beautiful as ever, love. How it gladdens my heart to see you.” He kissed her cheek again, then linked his arm through hers. “What news have you? I’ve heard your sister has come back from Spain,” he said as he led her into the foyer. Edward and his friends had left mud across the clean tiled floors of the entry.
“She has, indeed,” Olivia said.
“Tell me,” David began, but a commotion in the corridor caught his attention. The gentlemen had apparently encountered the ladies. Olivia could hear them begging the ladies to stay and entertain the weary travelers.
As Olivia and David entered the corridor, she saw Alexa extracting Bernie’s hand from Fennick’s grip. “Please do allow Miss Shields and Lady Martha to take their leave,” she said with a sweet smile. “Their families cannot spare them another moment.” She fairly pushed Bernie along down the hallway, who was enjoying the attentions of the gentlemen, in spite of their drunken revelry.
The one person who did not seem to find her charming was Edward, who glowered like a sullen child, leaning up against the wall as he waited for his friends to return their attention to him.
“Miss Hastings, how good to see you again,” David said, stepping away from Olivia to greet Alexa. Olivia took the opportunity to escort Bernie and Lady Martha to the foyer.
“You will have your hands full, will you not?” Bernie asked gaily as she accepted her cloak from a footman.
“I always do,” Olivia said.
The footman opened the door and Olivia was dismayed to see the rain had begun again.
“You really must convince your sister to wait to marry until the weather improves,” B
ernie said. “It’s a bad omen for it to rain on a wedding day.”
Olivia’s heart began to beat in her chest. “I will do my best. Thank you for coming!” she said cheerily, hoping to hasten her friends’ exit before they said something to Edward.
When she had seen them into the carriage, she released a sigh of relief, and hurried back to the hallway. David and Alexa were standing there, Alexa with her back to the wall, David leaning in as if imparting a great secret.
“David!” Edward bellowed from within the salon. “Where are you?”
“Coming!” David said something to Alexa that caused her to laugh.
Edward suddenly appeared at the door of the salon, his gaze hardening as he saw what kept David.
“Miss Hastings, will you join us in the salon?” David asked as he started after Edward.
“Perhaps another time,” Alexa said. “I’ve a beastly headache and must retire for now.”
“A pity,” David said, his smile charming. “I shall console myself with your lovely sister.” He held out his hand to Olivia, who quickly gave him hers, lest Alexa change her mind.
Aware that Edward was glowering at them both, Olivia said softly, “Go to the dowager house and stay there. I will come later.”
Alexa glanced at Edward, then walked quickly down the hallway.
Olivia did not look at her husband, but allowed David to drag her into the salon, where Lords Fennick and Keddington had managed to find the whiskey.
Edward followed them, accepting a glass of whiskey from Fennick. He looked at Olivia, his gaze hard. “Perhaps you might be more comfortable in your sitting room,” he said.
“Her sitting room!” David laughed. “You will deprive me of the pleasure of her company? You know my high regard for your wife, Edward.”
“You may reacquaint yourself with her over supper.”
“Yes, of course,” Olivia said. “Welcome home, my lord,” she said, and left the room.
The day didn’t improve as the rain turned into a deluge. Olivia could hear the men’s boisterous laughter echoing through the house, Edward’s voice louder than them all.
When Olivia joined the gentlemen for supper, her mood was grim. The evening was exactly as she might have imagined: her, alone, in the company of four gentlemen who had managed to while away an entire afternoon with billiards and whiskey. In the course of it, they’d drowned their table manners. They delighted in uproarious laughter over the most trivial matters.
