She stepped between them as they both swung. David’s punch caught her in the ear and Michael’s in her stomach. Stars exploded as the wind was knocked from her. She went down like a sack of flour and the world went black.
When she came to, Michael was rubbing her back. She could hear David swearing and Michael praying and knew that her hearing had not been ruined even if her ear throbbed.
“What were you thinking, Olivia?”
Even as he chastised her, Michael gathered her up in his arms and held her tight to his chest. Her stomach and ear might hurt but her heart was as light as a feather. He must love her. All right, he must at least want to hold her as though she were a treasure he was afraid to lose.
She leaned back in his arms. “See, if you had come to me, none of this would have happened.” Tears filled her eyes and she buried her face in his chest again. This time her heart was aching.
“Let me take you to your room, Olivia.”
“No!” She straightened and pushed herself out of Michael’s arms so that she was sitting on the floor of the boxing ring. “You two clean yourselves up. You look disgusting. David, you will stop fighting. Michael, I will be very annoyed if any of your blood is on this dress. It is my very favorite. The material is from a dress that was my mother’s.”
She looked down at her dress and it seemed blood-free, though there was a small tear in a side seam. That could be easily fixed. “Send Big Sam to me. He can help me upstairs.”
They actually obeyed her. Big Sam must have been nearby, for it was only a moment later that he was helping her to her feet. He wanted to carry her to her room but Olivia insisted that she would walk. She would go to bed for the night, and when she woke up in the morning she could pretend that this had not happened.
By the time she was in her room all she wanted was to lie down on her bed. She wished she could fall asleep but could only replay the stupid moment when David had found her in Michael’s bed.
When Kendall told her that the duke wished to see her, Olivia felt like she had been punched again.
Her maid made a small sound of disapproval when Olivia suggested she would not be well enough until morning.
“Nonsense, Olivia, you have never kept to your bed a day in your life. Not even with your courses. Besides, your mother would say that it is better to face the problem now than let the duke have all night to think about it.”
Kendall helped her change, never once asking what happened. No doubt she had already heard from three other sources some version of why David and Michael were fighting.
Olivia wore her favorite pink slippers even though they did not quite match the pink in her dress, and hurried downstairs to find Lyn in his study. Sitting at his desk.
His face was solemn, not a good sign. She curtsyed when what she really wanted was one of his I-love-you-in-spite-of-everything-hugs.
“Tell me what happened, Olivia.” She had not heard him speak in that tone since Jess had bet one of his horses and lost. She could feel her throat fill, and she swallowed.
“Do not start crying.”
The way he emphasized the first two words made it a command. As if she had control over her tears. All right, maybe she did sometimes.
“Start with why David and Garrett were in the boxing ring going at each other with no thought to gentlemanly rules or behavior.”
She hesitated. Even though she was a terrible liar, Olivia held on to the hope that divine inspiration would come to her. Of course, the divine probably had no idea how to lie. “How do you know that’s where David and Mr. Garrett were?”
“Winthrop had it from three different footmen. He came to me. According to Patsy, you stopped them before I could send someone stronger and more capable.”
“Patsy saw me?”
“Yes.” They both knew that was like making an announcement from the pulpit at church.
“So you are saying everyone knows that they were fighting?”
“Yes. Lovely, is it not?” He meant the opposite. “We spent a ridiculous amount of time and effort trying to save your reputation and it appears it was all for nothing.”
“All right.” She drew a deep breath. She was going to tell the truth. If she did that she would not have to try to keep her story straight the next five times Lyn asked her to repeat it. “David came to the gatehouse looking for Michael—I mean Mr. Garrett. He was not there but I was in his bed. I was fully dressed, Lyn.”
When the duke actually allowed shock to show in his eyes, Olivia tried to quell it with a raised hand and a quick explanation. “When I went to the gatehouse, I went for the express purpose of seducing Michael. He would have none of it and he left. He refused. He said no. He does not want me. Ever. Never. Do you see?”
“What I see is a girl who must have borrowed sheer stupidity from Mary. You have worked beside her too long.”
Olivia had to admit that from his point of view her behavior made no sense.
“What were you thinking, Olivia?” He shook his head, “Or was this one of your damned impulsive decisions?”
“It was not an impulse. Michael said the same thing.” She was going to call him Michael even if Lyn beat her with a whip. He was Michael to her and would be forever.
“Here is what I was thinking.” She folded her arms and took a stance. “Since my reputation is ruined anyway, I wanted to take a lover and learn what all the fuss is about. When he was done with me I would go back to the kitchen and spend the rest of my life pouring all my love into the food I make.”
“But your reputation is not—or was not—ruined.”
“Yes, it is, Lyn.” She stopped and sniffed. The touch of kindness in his voice brought the tears back. “No one really believes that I was sick at the vicar’s.”
“But they would have accepted it if you gave them no reason to doubt it.” He stood up again. “Now it is too late. There are only so many convincing lies I can tell. You are going to have to marry him.”
“Who?”
“Garrett, of course.”
“No, no, no.” This was a nightmare. “He does not even want to sleep with me, much less marry me. He does not like my cinnamon buns and told me that he could think of at least two or three things that he thinks would taste better than strawberries and cream. And you know that is not possible.”
“Your lips being one of them, I’d wager. I will not even guess more than that.”
“Oh.” She raised a hand to her mouth and felt a blush starting. She wrinkled her nose. “Do you think that is really what he meant?”
“It is worse than inappropriate to be asking your brother to explain the words of your would-be lover.” He paused for a moment. “And your future husband.”
The duke came around and sat on the edge of his desk. “Listen to me, Olivia, for I promise you I will have learned my lesson and will never play matchmaker again.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means that Gabriel suggested Garrett as a match for you when he wrote the letter of introduction. He said that Garrett needed someone like you to make him realize that there was still sweetness in this world and that it need not be boring to live the life of a civilian. One thing you are not, dear child, is boring.”
“So you are saying this was Gabriel’s idea?”
“His suggestion, Olivia. I was not very interested in considering it until you had a second London Season but it was like trying to win an argument against coal mining to convince you to consider that. Which is to say, impossible. I watched the way he talked about you, the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, and I thought that Gabriel might be right.”
“Do you think so?” She was not convinced but wanted to hear more, as much as Lyn would say.
“I hired him so that he would be around awhile and I could see what developed. But it has been such a disaster that I have learned my lesson and will never try to manipulate Cupid again.” He went back behind his desk and sat down again. “Did you know that Garrett’s father is a
bishop?”
“No.” That was a surprise. A bishop? “I do know that they are not close.”
“Did you know that he was trained at Oxford to take orders?”
“Yes.” How much did Lyn know about Michael that she did not? This might be a chance to find the answers to at least a dozen questions. “How did he meet Gabriel?”
“That is enough from me. Ask him. I will speak to the major and afterwards I will send him to you. Go to the green salon and wait for him there.”
Olivia wanted to be a dutiful sister but she could not bear it. She hurried around to his side of the desk and fell on her knees. “Please, please let me speak to Michael first, Lyn. I would sooner become a lady-in-waiting to Princess Charlotte than have him marry me if the idea disgusts him. Please, please, let me speak to him before you do.”
“Off your knees, you silly chit.” He raised her by the arm, looking shocked. “You are overdoing it.”
“It is my life we are talking about, Lynford!” She had to bite her lip to keep from adding, I do not want a marriage like yours.
“Yes, Olivia, you may talk to him first.”
Olivia had no idea why he relented, but she grabbed his hand and kissed it.
“You can talk to him, but it will not change what is going to happen.”
38
OLIVIA WALKED down to the gatehouse as sedately as she could. It was twilight now and there were few people about, but privacy was a hard-won privilege here.
Her knock was light but not tentative, and when no one answered she tried again. Michael finally opened the door, saw who it was and turned around. He did not invite her in, but he did not close the door in her face, either.
“Say what you have to say and leave.”
He sounded more tired than angry and his voice lacked the edge that Lyn used so well. Olivia pretended that was because he cared and did not want to hurt her feelings.
There was a bowl of water and a cloth on the table. She followed him into the room and took his arm to push him into the seat. When she made to dip the cloth in water he pulled it from her hand and nodded his head toward the opposite chair.
It hurt a little to have him reject her tender care, but she was not going to be distracted from what she had to say. She sat across from him and folded her hands in her lap.
“I know you think that I suffered some terrible trauma at the hands of my kidnappers and are afraid that if you make love to me I will be damaged forever.”
He rolled his eyes as though they’d had this discussion a hundred times before. “There is some truth to that, my lady, though the way you phrase it is more theatrical than necessary.”
“All right. Let me put it this way. You do not think I am being sensible.”
“Much better.”
“Here is the truth.” She raised her folded hands to the table and leaned over them. “I had quite a bit of time to think about it this afternoon while I was in your bed waiting for you to come to me.”
He raised the cloth to the cut on his cheek and winced. She tried not to feel any sympathy for him.
“Michael, making love with you and what I was afraid those men would do to me is like the difference between feeding someone and poisoning them. The act is the same but that is all they have in common.”
He put the cloth down and raised a bandaged hand to cover his damaged cheek. But he was listening.
“Besides, they did not rape me and I escaped. I saved myself.”
He shook his head, and even without words she could see he was not convinced. It was infuriating.
“Why will no one believe I can take care of myself, even in the face of that? There was no brother to rescue me. I did it. I have done it all my life. Do you think it is easy having four older brothers? Do you think it was easy to have a Season in London when I am so easily mistaken for a milkmaid? Do you think it is easy for the daughter of a duke to make a place for herself in the kitchen? Do you think it is easy to love someone when even he thinks I am too damaged to know what I want?”
“I do not think you are damaged.”
She raised her hand to stop his protest and kept on talking. “Michael, there is only one way that you are like those men who abducted me. You are a man.”
“I do not want your love. I want that understood.” He rose from the table with such force that it shifted. “Besides, love is not what you are feeling. It’s gratitude.”
“I know the difference.” Before she could say more he continued.
“For me, saving your life was the first move toward balancing the wrongs I have committed. There are so many I could live to be a hundred, doing nothing but good works, and still not be finished.”
She stood. “Are you trying to make me think badly of you? That is not possible.”
He rose from the chair, came close. Taking her by her shoulders he looked into her eyes. She was sure they were tear-swollen and ugly. That did not matter as long as he saw beyond that to the absolute conviction in her heart.
“If I wanted you to think badly of me I would tell you about the time I held a knife at a child’s throat so that his mother would tell me what I needed to know.”
She did not want to hear this. Her imagination was good enough. She tried to cover her ears with her hands but he would not let go of her shoulders.
“I tell the truth now, to displace the lie I lived for five years. I killed men so that I would not be betrayed, I slept with women so I could find out what they knew and use it against the ones they loved.”
It frightened her. He frightened her. It was not a past she could even imagine. That man was not the man she knew now. “Are you sorry for those lies and deceits?”
“Sorry? No, I am not sorry.” He let go of her and laughed as though it was the most foolish question he had ever heard. “I wanted Napoleon defeated. I wanted to avenge the lives of the men who died in service to God and king. My skills were to lie and deceive and I used them to the best of my God-given ability.”
He took the bottle of brandy off the table and gave it to her with his injured hand.
“You have lived a sheltered life, Olivia. Not all problems can be solved with chicken soup, no matter how perfect the recipe.”
“Stop being patronizing.” Olivia hoped he heard the anger in her voice. She hated losing her temper and was perilously close.
“If you want to show your gratitude, your love”—he spoke the word as if it was a complete misnomer—“open this for me and leave.”
“Of course, I’ll open it.” If he thought he was going to find the answers in a bottle of brandy he was as wrong as it was possible to be.
She took the bottle and with careful aim threw it at the wall next to the door. It missed the wall but shattered against the door, and the always appealing smell of brandy filled the air.
He raised his bandaged hand to his head and swore very quietly.
“That is quite enough, Michael Garrett. Now you will listen to me.”
She pushed him back with an index finger against his chest. He let himself be so handled until they were standing in the middle of the room.
“Brandy is never, ever a solution. I know this from my own experience. My governess abused brandy. I called her Tildy. Her name was Matilda Elderton and she is Annie’s mother. I’ve spoken of her before, do you recall?”
He nodded.
“From my youngest years she would give me a bit when she wanted me to sleep or when I had a loose tooth. When I was twelve she gave me a tablespoon every evening before dinner so that I would not be so nervous joining the adults at table.”
Olivia looked away from him so he would not see her tears at the memory of Tildy’s hugs and encouragement, of her reminders of appropriate dinner table conversation, of her insistence that her “little lady” was going to grow up to be a beautiful woman.
“That brandy before dinner was how my parents found out. They smelled it on my breath and confronted her one night when she was too intoxicated to deny it.”<
br />
“This is very touching, my lady—” he began.
“Close your mouth and listen. If you are going to dismiss me from your life, you are going to hear what I have to say first. Sit down.”
She poked him with her finger one more time and he sat on the chair right behind him. With him seated, they were almost eye-to-eye.
“Of course she was dismissed. They gave her some money and sent her away within the week. Annie stayed with us.
“When I grew older Jess told me that Tildy had begged my parents to keep Annie, to prepare her for domestic service. They did. Annie and I were both lost for so long and then they sent her to boarding school.”
She closed her eyes, remembering that last night when the two of them had planned how they would run away and start a cooking school.
“The new governess was much more interested in finding a husband than teaching me. She would tell me not to go to the kitchen but never actually check to see where I was. By the time my parents understood that I was spending all of my time with Cook, I made it clear I would run away if they made me stop my work there.”
He had closed his eyes and she nudged him. “Do not fall asleep on me.” When he opened his eyes, she stepped between his legs, took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. He did not respond and she dropped her hands, not at all dismayed. “I am coming to the important part.
“Michael.” She used his given name and filled the word with all she felt for him. “I learned so many things from Tildy, but she taught me the most important thing without ever saying a word.”
Today his eyes were that golden brown that reminded her of brandy. He probably thought they were expressionless, but she knew better.
“Michael.” She said it again just for the pleasure of it. “Even the greatest wrong can be outweighed by a generous heart. I learned from her example that love is the greatest gift you can give and receive. I loved Tildy so much and I know she loved me. I pray for her and miss her to this day. I hope she is safe.”
She kissed him again, very gently. This time his eyes closed, ever so briefly.
“Tildy shaped my life for this moment, for you. So I would know that no matter what you think you deserve, how bad your life has been, you are entitled to as much happiness as you can find. Love is what will give you the chance to right all the wrongs.”
Mary Blayney Page 50
