by Megan Bryce
“A very pretty defense. But Nathaniel would be bored silly with a biddable wife, will never know the latest fashions either, and abhors the opera. You two seem perfect for each other. And despite all your talk I think that is what you are afraid of. You have met your match, my dear.”
Mrs. Blakesley beamed at Mrs. Jenkins. “I thought the same thing. It comforts me to know you agree, Mrs. Jenkins.”
Olivia shook her head. “It really is quite a pity then that one of the parties involved has no intention of changing her mind about this marriage business.”
Mrs. Jenkins put her cup down. She cleared her throat. She looked to Mrs. Blakesley and said quietly, “Would you mind if I had a moment alone with your daughter, Mrs. Blakesley?”
Mrs. Blakesley looked reproachfully at Olivia, then stood. “Good luck, Mrs. Jenkins.”
Mrs. Jenkins studied Olivia until the door latched. She leaned forward.
“I applaud your tenacity. If I didn’t think you were being a fool, I would congratulate you on remaining true to your principles. If I hadn’t heard with my own ears that you love my son, I would say no woman should be forced to marry. And yet, you are an idiot.”
Olivia remained silent.
“Know this, Miss Blakesley. My son finds you a fascinating challenge. I have not seen him so happy or alive in many years, and I would accept nearly any girl who could make him smile as much as you do.”
She stood. “I hope you are prepared for a siege, my dear. The Jenkins do not give up so easily.”
Eleven
Olivia crept through the darkness, cursing herself for all the foolish ideas she had ever come up with. It seemed that old age was not giving the wisdom promised. Indeed not, since this was by far her maddest scheme yet.
Nathaniel would probably not even be at home and the evening would be wasted.
Where was she to sleep tonight? She couldn’t go back home, she’d told her mother she would be staying with Mary. And how would she explain to Mary if she arrived at her house after dark?
She should have left the sneaking to Nathaniel. But that was the problem. He hadn’t done any sneaking for days, weeks, months. It felt like an eternity. She counted softly to herself. Two weeks? Was that all? She’d fallen into blithering madness because of two weeks? Nathaniel was right. The act of love was positively addicting.
Olivia peered at the number above the door, praying this was the right one. Dear Lord, what if it wasn’t?
She pulled her cloak lower over her face and silently cursed Nathaniel. This was all his fault. He had not come calling since he’d proposed; the last time they’d had any real conversation had been at the Mayes’. Instead, he sent his mother to badger her. Her entire family was pestering her. The one person she wouldn’t mind arguing with stayed away.
She missed him.
The man was going to pay.
She knocked discreetly, terror gripping her at the idea that this wasn’t his home. What if it was his home but he was not here? Where would she go?
The door was opened by a pair of shiny black boots. “Yes?”
Olivia swallowed and said in a bad French accent, “I am come for Mr. Jenkins. It is a matter of. . . l’amour.”
That was greeted with silence and Olivia wanted fervently to hide behind a bush. What had she been thinking!
“I don’t suppose you have a card, madam?”
“Um, non.”
The shiny black boots sighed. “Please follow me.”
He led her down the hall into a study and told her to wait. She looked up after he had gone, studying the comfortable chairs, books stacked on tables, and a fire burning itself out. She sniffed trying to place the scent in the air, wondering if the butler had gone to fetch Nathaniel or the authorities.
The door opened behind her and she quickly looked down again.
“How may I help you, madam?” Nathaniel asked and Olivia nearly swooned with relief.
“Oh, Nathaniel!” She ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.
“Olivia! What’s wrong! What has happened!”
She pushed away from him, glaring at him, remembering her anger.
“What’s wrong? Where have you been! I’ve been waiting for you for days, sitting in the damp for nothing!”
He guided her toward the fire, taking off her cloak. He rubbed his forehead.
“Olivia, you refused me. I was staying away to give us both time to think.”
“If you’ll remember, Mr. Jenkins, we had an agreement. And it had nothing to do with marriage!”
“Sit down, Olivia.” He walked to the sideboard, filling a glass and thrusting it at her. “Drink this.”
“What is it?” she asked as she sipped, then coughed.
“Brandy. It should warm you up.” He stared at her, a perplexed look in his eye. “How did you get here?”
“I hired a hackney from the Rutherford’s. I told Mother I was going home with Mary. I walked a distance before choosing one; you know they line up waiting to take everyone home later. I’m amazed it was so easy, really.”
Nathaniel slumped into a chair. He muttered to himself, “Is this what marriage would be like? Afraid of the next harebrained scheme my wife would come up with?”
Olivia rose in indignation. “Since we will not be married, that is not in question.”
“Then why have you come tonight, if not to accept my hand and tell me how ardently you love and admire me?”
“Don’t tease me, Nathaniel. My nerves are shot from all this sneaking around.”
“I am not teasing you, Olivia. I am simply wondering why you have gone to the trouble and risk of coming to my home at night?”
She looked at him, unwilling to admit to him that she couldn’t go two days without seeing him, two weeks without feeling him. It seemed too pathetic. Better to blame it on curiosity.
He said, “And don’t feed me a line of scientific studies. Your parents may buy that mumbo-jumbo but I do not. The stars are the only thing you study.”
She sat down. “It’s not mumbo-jumbo. I wanted to see you purely for scientific edification.”
His eyebrows raised.
“I mean I wanted to see if I could leave undetected and as you are the only one I know I chose to come here. Obviously, it worked quite well.”
Nathaniel sat in silence, gazing at her. “So you didn’t come to be kissed.”
“Of course not. It has only been a few weeks, I assure you I can last that long.”
“And you didn’t come to investigate my bedroom.”
“How shocking!”
He smiled. “I am constantly being surprised by you, my dear. I just wanted to make sure.”
“You can be quite sure I have no interest in your boudoir, Nathaniel.”
“Are you certain? Not even for scientific edification?”
Olivia clasped her hands in her lap. “Well. . . for science. . . I have actually never seen a man’s bedroom before.”
“That reassures me no end. Shall we?”
He stood, holding his hand out for her.
She took it gingerly, thankful that he had not kicked her out into the night, and thankful he had given her an excuse to stay. Perhaps she could make it up to him. He really was quite patient with her.
He guided her hand through his arm and whispered, “I missed you as well, Olivia.”
She pulled her cloak over her head, in case they ran into any servants, and Nathaniel chuckled.
“Do you think that will keep your identity hidden, my dear?”
“It will if you use a little decorum.”
“I hate to tell you this but my butler was standing outside the library door listening. I’m quite sure I used your Christian name.”
“You should never have got into that bad habit.”
“Of course. Would you have preferred me to use your family name, Miss Blak–”
“Nathaniel! Can’t you pretend I’m one of your doxies?”
“I am not in the habit of bringing wom
en to my home, Oli–” She glared at him from under her cloak and he corrected himself. “My dear.”
Olivia dug into the reticule dangling from her wrist. “I’m sure I shouldn’t show you this, since you are behaving quite poorly.”
“It’s the shock.”
“But I thought you might help me with a few scientific inquiries tonight. Since I’m here.”
“Indeed?”
She pulled a miniature book out and handed it to him as he opened his bedroom door and ushered her in.
Olivia took a step in, surveying his large four poster bed and dark masculine furnishings. His scent filled the air and she breathed deeply. She had entered the lion’s lair. Forbidden territory. It was all quite exciting.
She said, “Your bed is quite a bit bigger than mine.”
She turned to find him flipping through her naughty book. He looked up at her. “Olivia, this is a. . . This book is about. . .”
She grinned and hopped onto his bed. “It’s quite dirty, isn’t it? Page thirty-two, if you please.”
Nathaniel cleared his throat and turned to a well done drawing showing a couple in obvious ecstasy. The woman was on all fours, the man bent over behind her, his hands caressing her breasts.
“Where did you get this?”
She waved her hand in the air. “That’s not important.”
“Yes, it is.”
She sighed. “I ordered it through the post, directing it to a Mr. Oliver Balkesley. My family thought it quite diverting and insisted on calling me Oliver Balkesley for months after.”
“And no one asked to see it? They weren’t curious as to what a mysteriously misdirected package contained?”
“Nathaniel, I am constantly receiving packages in the post. I told them it was a pocket guide to the stars.”
Nathaniel folded his arms. “You have entirely too much freedom.”
She laughed. “Which is what I’ve been telling you.” She paused and looked at him expectantly.
He cleared his throat again. “I should say no.”
“Why?”
“A misguided attempt to curb your impetus?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I believe you are too far gone down this road to become morally superior now, sir.” She pointed to the little book clasped in his hands. “Have you ever performed such a feat?”
He groaned. “Olivia.”
“I suspect you have, else you would have been outraged at such a suggestion. I would like to experience it please. If you feel up to it, that is.”
She couldn’t quite keep the smirk off her face after her pun. She finally understood what that meant.
Nathaniel said, “Shall I throw you to the bed and ravish you, then?”
Olivia clapped her hands. “Oh, would you please! You be the dashing pirate and I’ll be the innocent virgin you have stolen to satisfy your diabolical lusts.”
Nathaniel laughed. “You were never an innocent virgin and the only one with diabolical lusts in this room is you.”
“Then you be the innocent virgin and I the dashing, devilish pirate. Hand me your pants, sirrah!”
He groaned. “I have no idea where half your ideas come from.”
“That’s the trouble with genius, so hard to follow. Now come here and let me ravish you.”
He obeyed. “I don’t know if it’s possible for you to ravish me.”
She pulled him closer, grabbing his backside and squeezing. “I think I’ll try, nonetheless. Shall I help you with your boots?”
He sat beside her, stroking her hair, and kissed her. Her tongue melded to his, thrusting and parrying.
She knelt before him, pulling on his boots, and said, “I think this position is in that book, too. Perhaps that is how women ravish men.”
He groaned. “I fear my heart is not quite ready for such a sight as that.”
Ah well, all in good time.
One boot hit the floor with a thud and the second quickly followed.
His breeches melded to his thighs and his arousal pressed firmly against the front. She peeled the breeches off, flinging them to the floor.
He lay on the bed, half-naked, and Olivia carefully inspected every inch of him. For once there was light enough.
“Olivia. You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”
“I can imagine. Now off with your shirt.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Twelve
Olivia woke next to a warm body, a heavy leg trapping her.
She shoved against it, whispering, “Nathaniel, I can’t feel my leg.”
He grunted and slid his leg off.
She cuddled beside him, his arm snaking around her.
“Good morning, Olivia.”
“Good morning. It’s quite nice waking up with you, even if you did crush my leg. You’re very warm.”
He grinned. “Just think, Olivia, that could be yours every morning if we married.”
“Harrumph. Why do you have to ruin a perfectly good morning.”
“It’s my nature. Would you like breakfast?”
“What about the servants?”
“I’ll have them make up a tray.” He winked. “That, too, could be yours every morning.”
Olivia sniffed. “As if I was so lazy. And I believe my waking up in a man’s bed is proof positive that I would not make a good wife.”
“As long as it was my bed you woke up in, I believe you would make a very good wife.” He began ticking off his fingers. “Because you are entertaining. You are intelligent. You are passionate. You have irresistible taste in dresses. And you make this mewling sound in the back of your throat when you come. I really can find nothing wrong with the idea of marriage.”
“I have thought of a new rule, Nathaniel.”
He murmured, “Only one?”
“No more mentions of marriage. It quite puts me off. And stop sending your family to change my mind. I have had enough lectures. I’m surprised you haven’t sent for the magistrates. Tie this girl up, she refuses to marry me.”
“I could quite easily force your hand, Olivia. You are in my bed, we have had intimate relations. Your father has the right to force me to marry you at sword-point.”
“Well, he wouldn’t force me at sword-point and I would advise you not to try either.”
Nathaniel flung the covers off and rose. He said, “If you do not wish to be forced into marriage, I would advise that you dress quickly. I’ll need to deposit you somewhere less questionable.”
“You can take me back home. I’ll tell them I woke early.”
“Lies come unnervingly quick to you, Olivia. Won’t your mother ask your sister?”
“No. I go over often enough, she doesn’t question it.”
He shook his head and muttered, “Too much freedom, entirely.”
The cold ring of steel silenced the crickets mid-song. Nathaniel pushed Olivia behind him, cursing himself for escorting her this early in the morning.
Olivia gasped. “Rufus! What are you doing?”
He answered coldly. “I could ask the same of you, Olivia. And of you, Jenkins.”
She muttered, “Oh, bother,” under her breath and attempted to push Nathaniel aside.
“He has a drawn sabre, Olivia. Please stay behind me.”
Her very angry brother-in-law gazed in fury at Nathaniel, and truth be told, he couldn’t fault the look. He deserved everything he got from the wicked looking sword. But he’d be damned if he got it in front of Olivia.
Nathaniel said, “Mr. Eliot–”
“Unless you are going to tell me the announcement has already been sent to the papers, I don’t want to hear it, Jenkins.”
Olivia shouted, “Rufus!”
“Olivia, he is escorting you home in the early morning. And you told your mother you would be staying with us last night.”
She gasped again. “You didn’t tell her. . .”
“. . .No.”
“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry, it was a dreadful thing to do, but–�
�
“It was a stupid thing to do. You are not only risking your reputation but your entire family’s as well.”
Olivia said, “Yes, well, luckily I’m the only one unmarried.”
Nathaniel interrupted. “And luckily, I have already asked for Miss Blakesley’s hand.”
The sharp end of the sword gently fell to earth. “Good. But this is still a stupid idea, Jenkins.”
Olivia tugged at his coat. “Uh, Nathaniel–”
“She however has refused me.”
She uttered a very unladylike word as Rufus speared her with his iron-gaze.
“How extraordinary.”
“Rufus–”
“If you have no feelings for him, Olivia, why are you sneaking around with him?”
Nathaniel turned to face her, secure in the knowledge that he would not be stabbed in the back by her angry relative. Mr. Eliot’s anger was directed where it should rightfully be.
“Yes, Olivia. That question has been bothering me as well.”
Her eyes narrowed, her chin rose, and she tapped her foot. “As I have explained, at length, I do not wish to marry.”
Rufus Eliot guffawed. “It seems to me that you wish very much to marry.”
Olivia blushed. “You know nothing of it, Rufus. And you, Mr. Jenkins, know what this is and why I won’t marry you. Rufus, please escort me home. It would be a disaster if anyone else saw us together.”
“It’ll give me a chance to tan your backside.”
“I dare you to try.”
Nathaniel rubbed his forehead. “I’ll leave you to it, Eliot. And you, Olivia, I shall see later.”
He spun on his heel, frustration flashing in his eyes.
Olivia sighed, cursing herself for her brainless ideas. Cursing the world in general, and men in particular, for making mountains out of mole hills.
Rufus sheathed his sabre, his jaw tight.
“Please don’t tell Mary, Rufie.”
“Why not? You don’t seem to care who knows.”
“I care! I was just stupid.”
“Olivia, you are walking a tightrope. Jenkins has every right to force you into marriage; he is being too soft-headed. One word to your father would end this.”
“Rufus Eliot, you know nothing of the matter. And not you, nor Father, nor Mr. Jenkins, will make me do what I don’t want to. So tell the whole world if you want.”
