“Oh, I am almost never warm enough.” She waved away his concern. “But do not add any more fuel to the fire. Not for me.”
That was carrying penance too far. He prodded the banked coals and added some more wood. Flames licked up at the new fuel and a heat radiated a few feet from the hearth. She sat in the chair, holding her night robe closed at the neck. Michael moved behind the chair opposite her, hoping to delect the awareness shimmering around them.
“I did hear one important conversation when I was being held.” Her expression was earnest as though she was doing her best to make up for her thoughtlessness. “Not a conversation precisely, more like a brief exchange.”
Michael listened as she told him of the comment one of the kidnappers had made and what she’d surmised. He listened not only to the words, “Her brother will give us the land on a silver platter,” but to the way she spoke them, the way her body communicated as much as her admission. She was telling the truth, or was a better actress than she was a baker.
“You have four brothers. Why do you think the kidnappers were talking about Lord Jessup?”
“Because he is the only one who is ever in trouble.”
“What do you call Gabriel’s problems in France? I would call it trouble.”
“Not really. At least not the way I mean. Gabriel was there to study science and was caught up in the war, with unfortunate consequences.”
“I will pretend I see the distinction because I know Gabriel and cannot see anything in his life now that would lead to such a horror as your kidnapping.”
“All right. Thank you. And David is as honest as lemons are tart. He would tell Lyn what the problem was in as few words as possible.”
“Yes, he would.” Michael sat down in the chair across from her and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “So it is your brother who gambles. It could be one other who is at the heart of this. The brother you forgot to mention: the duke.”
33
YOU THINK that Lynford knows more about the kidnapping than he has let on? Never.” She straightened and took offense for him. “Lyn would not let himself be put in a position like that.”
“That is a response based on your sense of his superiority. Or perhaps you have proof.” He leaned back in the chair.
“First of all, the land that he owns is his by right of the title.” She sounded vaguely annoyed as if she was explaining the obvious and was irritated by the need. “All the land is entailed. He cannot sell it even if it would mean saving the life of his son.”
It was an interesting piece of information. “He will have personal wealth. Or perhaps land his wife owns.”
“His personal wealth is not in land.”
Michael must have shown his surprise at that.
“Yes, it is not the usual, but how many times must I tell you that our father was profoundly influenced by his time in France? He had interests in any number of ventures, from mines to canals.” She threw up her hands. “And a dozen other outlandish ventures for all I know.”
“The mind boggles at what those could be.” Michael had thought the duke conservative to the point of reactionary. It was hard to imagine what of the newer developments in science and commerce might attract his interest. He caught up with what Olivia was saying too late to understand the details.
“It is a kind of oven that every cook will want—it will make accurate baking accessible to everyone.”
It seemed they were now discussing Olivia’s idea for improved baking. Food was all the girl thought about. As she chattered on, he wondered if her obsession was a substitute for a lack of other passion in her life. He cleared his throat and forced his mind back to what was important, allowing himself the pleasure of watching her mouth until she stopped for a breath.
“Lady Olivia, the hour grows late and there are still some questions.”
She nodded, altogether adorable in her desire to be helpful. He would have been happier if she had been offended by his abrupt change of subject.
“You are sure he said, ‘Her brother will give us the land on a silver platter.’ Those were the exact words?”
“Yes. Eleven words. Fourteen syllables. I wanted to be sure I would remember it exactly. It seemed an odd sort of ransom until I thought of Jess.”
“Is there any land in dispute right now?”
“No, at least I do not think so.” She raised her shoulders. “How would I know? I would only hear of it from the servants. That is not the sort of thing discussed at the dinner table.” She laughed at the thought and he smiled at her amusement. “Why do you doubt it is Jess? It makes the most sense.”
“Lady Olivia, I know you are a valued member of this family. The duke made it clear that losing you would break his heart.”
She ducked her head and shook it, touched and embarrassed by what they both knew was the truth.
“But allow me this question, my lady. Why would a London moneylender or any other less-than-honorable man send someone all the way to Derbyshire in order to threaten your brother who lives in London?”
Olivia pressed her lips together as she tried to think of a reason. There was none, so he finished his explanation.
“Lord Jessup has friends, perhaps even a mistress he has affection for. Surely they would be a more likely target and engender a more immediate response.”
“Yes, Jess is the most likeable fellow in the world. During my Season he introduced me to an endless stream of gentlemen, not a one of which Rowena would allow me to know better.”
“Rowena is the duchess who is in London?”
Olivia nodded, and continued her own line of thought. “What did the kidnappers mean, Mr. Garrett?”
“I don’t know yet. But I will find out tomorrow when I ask the duke.”
Olivia stood and stalked over to his chair.
“Tell me, Mr. Garrett. Tell me what you suspect. You are not one of my brothers and this has a direct impact on my life.”
Olivia might say she was always cold, but her body gave off the sweetest warmth. If he looked, he could see the outline of her breasts, the neat waist belted by her robe. If he looked.
He stared into her eyes and was relieved that what he saw was stubbornness and not seduction.
“In the short time I have known you I have been well introduced to your impulsive behavior, my lady. I will not discuss this with you until I have spoken with your brother.”
“I am so tired of being treated like a child. I am not a child.”
“I am well aware of that.” He glanced down quite deliberately. Only for a second. “But you do have a tendency to act like one when you are denied what you want.”
God help him, this was torture. She had no idea what she did to a man. To him. If she did not leave soon he would have to show her.
OLIVIA COULD FEEL where he glanced. Right where her night robe crossed her body. The tingling sensation settled in her breasts and made her smile in spite of her irritation.
This discussion was beginning to sound like one of those bickering matches that she never won. Perhaps she could tease him out of his aggravation. His clothes? No, that would imply poverty. She went through a list of teaseable ideas and found that none of them suited this situation.
“It is time for you to go back to your room, my lady,” he said, easing from his chair.
He was right. It would do her still-fragile reputation no good at all to be found here with him at this hour.
“All right. And while I am sleeping you will wander around all night and see if anyone is not where they’re supposed to be?”
“Yes. Inside and out.”
“I can vouch for the fact you do a wonderful job pretending to be a statue and scaring people.” There, that was the tease that would make him smile.
He did not smile or even answer. He stood as still as a stone figure. When she drew close to him he took a step back, raised a hand to his forehead.
Did he have a headache? She was not about to ask, for surely he would blame he
r for that as well. All right, she would give up trying to make him smile.
Olivia went back to the table by the door, made sure the top was tight on the inkwell. Tomorrow she would win him over with something delicious for breakfast and his pique would fade away.
Garrett moved across the room and came to her. When he put his hand on the door handle, Olivia realized all he was going to do was open the door for her.
She felt as dull as the scullery maid. If he would just look at her when he said good night. If he would smile she could leave knowing he was no longer upset with her.
“Were you a guard in the army? Who did you protect? When did you have time to sleep?”
“I served England, my lady. I slept when the opportunity arose.”
“What kind of uniform did you wear?” She eyed him like a work of art. Which he was, in a way. She tried to imagine him wearing something more colorful than his black greatcoat and worn boots. “Whatever you wore I have no doubt women found you irresistible.” She reached up, touched the small scar on his cheek and shivered at the tingle that came from him, right through her fingers. “This little scar and your ear, it is just the thing to make people realize that your uniform is more than a fine suit of clothes.”
“It is in your best interests to go back to your room, Olivia.” As he spoke, through gritted teeth, he pushed her hand from his ear.
She had just picked up the candle, but put it back down, along with the inkwell. She hated that tone of voice, as though she had pushed him to his limits. He did not know what limits were. She was the one who had been pushed enough. “I was going to leave until you commanded me. I think I will stay here and write my letter.”
“Oh no, you will not.” He came toward her until her back was pressed against the wall next to the door. “Has no one told you that you should play with fire only in the kitchen?”
He kissed her quite ruthlessly. That was the only thought she had. From that moment on it was all feeling. Beyond his mouth crushing her lips, his body pressed into hers, making her feel as though she could never have enough of this fuel that warmed her beyond bearing.
He ended the kiss and pushed her away, leaving her dizzy and abandoned.
“Go back to your room now, Olivia. Unless you do not want to go to bed alone.” He reached across her and she was shocked at the way her body responded, a rush of pleasure from her breasts to her belly. She did not want to go to bed alone. Before she could say it, Garrett opened the door and pushed her into the hall.
Olivia stumbled out of the room without her candle or the ink. He closed the door behind her. She stared at it a moment, turned and ran down the hall as if the ghost from the old castle were following her.
She could not begin to sort out her feelings until she was back in bed, the covers pulled up around her neck. She had been playing with fire. It was just that no one flirted with her. No one ever winked at her or teased her or stood too close.
Until now.
Even in London she had been every man’s friend—well, except for Viscount Bendasbrook. He was vastly entertaining to be with but would not have suited at all. Oh, and that annoying Lord Ellinger and his silly poems.
Was there not someone between the men who treated her like a sister and the Lord Ellingers of the world? Ellinger tried to sit next to her all the time. Sent a poem or flowers every day and insisted it was love that made him so giddy. Personally, she thought Ellinger was smoking hashish, and Bendasbrook must have been desperate for a wife to court her.
No one had ever looked on her in quite the right way. Never.
Until Michael Garrett, who was yet another type.
He wanted to protect her from a real menace, but also from a supposed menace she was not so sure she wanted protection from. Why could he not let her decide?
That was it! She sat up in bed and hit the mattress with her hands. No man allowed her to make up her own mind, make her own choices. She had to dance to their tune.
All right. That was the way it had been, but her life was about to change.
34
GOOD MORNING! Miss Hope!” Olivia opened the door and leaned in as she called out her hello. Big Sam settled on the bench by the front door. “Miss Hope! I have a basket with me,” she announced as the elderly lady came out of the parlor nearest the door much more quickly than usual.
“Oh deary, I saw you coming up the path and thought I might meet you at the door. It does not smell like a cinnamon bun.”
“I brought you all a salmon pie. You remember the recipe from the cookery book, the one you gave me as a gift at least five years ago?”
“Not really, Olivia. My memory…” Her words trailed off as though she had already forgotten what she was going to say.
“All right. I will remember for both of us.” She took Miss Hope’s arm and led her back into the sitting room. “Is the reverend working on his sermon?”
“Yes, and I am working on the songs.” She sat at the pianoforte and stared at the keys.
“I will leave you and take this to the kitchen.”
Miss Hope may or may not have heard her. Olivia had no idea what she was hearing in her head but Olivia was sure it would not be the hymns they sang on Sunday.
Within five minutes she and Annie were settled in the housekeeper’s rooms with a cup of tea and biscuits that were going a trifle stale. She would have to make more for them soon. Maybe the gingerbread cakes that were Miss Hope’s favorites, “because they smelled so nice.”
“Lollie.”
Annie’s gentle voice called her back to the moment. It was not nearly as pleasant a place as her imagination.
“The truth is, dearest, that people will think what they want to think,” Annie began in that gentle voice that so reminded Olivia of Annie’s mother.
“Nothing you can say will disabuse them of it. For example, that awful, awful woman who whores when she needs money tells me to let her know when the duke is bored with me and she will find some other man I can service.”
“Annie! That is disgusting. No one believes you are having an affair with Lynford.”
“In her head there is no other explanation for why I am allowed to stay here in the vicar’s house when I am divorced and disgraced.”
“Because you are as much a victim as I am? Why can no one understand that?”
“I am not as innocent as you are.” She looked down at the knitting in her lap. “I am not sure anyone is.”
“Go ahead and laugh at my naïveté.” Olivia saw her try to hide a smile. “That I am used to.”
“And your joy in the world is one of the loveliest things about you.” Annie sobered. “I am so sorry that it has been compromised.”
“It has not! I am safe and am sure that I will continue to be safe. I must think of something that will make people forget.”
“Let me know when you concoct that recipe. It will not happen until something more titillating comes along.” Annie considered the knitting that she had picked up but not started. “The truth is that no matter what you do, the incident is now part of the family lore.”
“No matter what I do?” She searched her mind for something impossibly amazing. “Even if I am the first female chef for the king?”
“One is as unlikely as the other.” Annie reached over and patted her hand. “I am content here, you know. My divorce was the oddity that we call a blessing in disguise. The vicar and his sister are so grateful for everything I do for them, and your brother is the most generous of employers.”
“So you say, Annie.” Olivia had often thought that if Lyn was that generous he would have settled money on Annie and let her create her own life, instead of making her stay here where there were constant reminders of her past.
“So,” Olivia mused, “if I were to take a lover no one would be surprised.” It was more than an idle thought.
“Olivia! I never said that.”
“You said that it does not matter what I do now. People will think what they want to think.”
“Yes, but that is not permission to live a life of debauchery.”
Now Olivia laughed. “I am not going to have a hundred lovers. But if I am never to marry I should like to know what sex is like.”
“Who says you will never marry?”
“No one, but I am not going to London again, not when the gossip is likely to follow me. And who marries a woman thought to be ruined?”
“Lollie.” Annie leaned forward, her ball of yarn falling to the floor. “Do you have someone in mind for the role of lover?”
Olivia smiled.
“Olivia.” Now she sounded exactly like Olivia’s governess, or her mother. “You will not seduce Mr. Garrett.”
“Never,” she said, trying to make her expression as frank as she could even as she thought, Oh, yes, I will.
Annie wrung her hands. “I should have lied to you. I should have told you what you wished was the truth.”
“Never lie to me, Annie. You are my most loyal friend and I count on you to be the realist.” She kissed her friend on the cheek and rose to leave. “Do not worry. He has refused me once, maybe even twice before. I am not sure he even likes me.”
It seemed to be small comfort to Annie. Olivia could almost see her friend bow her head in prayer as she closed the door behind her.
Olivia walked home as briskly as her dainty shoes would allow.
“If you are in a hurry, Miss Lollie, I can carry you and run.” Big Sam was earnest in his offer. “We would reach home more faster.”
“Thank you, Big Sam. It is only that I have this amazing idea and I cannot wait to test it.” She sped up. “I can walk more quickly if you are concerned about my safety.” For her own part she did feel vaguely uncomfortable in the open even though there was no one else about.
When they reached the castle she hurried up to her room, telling Sam that she would meet him in the kitchen and asking him to tell Cook to have someone prepare a basket of chicken soup and the cheese rolls she had made for the first time that morning.
Olivia went up to her room and surprised Kendall napping on the small bed in the dressing room.
Mary Blayney Page 47
