by Anne Herries
been hurt in the past. She felt very close to him, yet there were times when his thoughts were
locked deep inside, and then she had no idea how to reach him.
The Earl of Heggan came to visit two days after they had returned to Cambridgeshire. Olivia
found him a little daunting at first, but he was kind and courteous to her, and told her that he was
very pleased she was to marry his grandson.
'I had begun to fear that Denning would never marry,' he said, with a glance at Jack. 'I am grateful
to you for making him see where his best interests he, young lady.'
Olivia had sensed that he would have liked to say more to her, but was constrained by the
presence of his grandson. She would have liked to talk to him alone, but his visit was brief, no
more than two days, and somehow they never seemed to have the chance to talk more intimately.
'I am not sure that I will be able to attend your wedding,' the Earl said before he left. 'But know
that my good wishes go with you, my dear. Denning is fortunate in his choice of a bride. I pray that
you will both find true happiness together.'
Again, Olivia felt that there was more he wished to say, but perhaps that was merely her
imagination? Yet she suspected that Jack had deliberately prevented his grandfather from being
alone with her.
After the Earl had gone, she was drawn once more into the whirl of parties and entertainment her
sister had arranged for her benefit! Presents and gifts were arriving all the time, though as yet she
had not received an answer to her invitation to Lady Burton— or Robina. She presumed that her
adoptive mother did not wish to attend, but wondered why her friend had not answered the long
letter she had sent her. However, she was too busy to worry about anything very much, allowing
herself to forget the tiny doubts that pricked at her now and then. Why should she concern herself
over small things when she was to have her heart's desire?
As the days passed and their wedding drew nearer, Jack became more passionate towards her.
His kisses were deeper, hungrier, like the one he had given her at the Regent's ball, but he never
went too far, never pressed her for more intimate caresses. Olivia knew she would not refuse if he
did, but always when she felt herself swooning, wanting his loving to go on, he drew back and
smiled at her.
'We have plenty of time,' he whispered once when a moan of frustration escaped her. 'You are
mine to cherish, Olivia, and I shall not abuse your trust.'
And so the time passed, and then four days before their wedding Jack was called away.
'I shall see you on the morning of our wedding,' he promised and kissed her lingeringly on the lips.
'Forgive me, dearest, but I must go. I have no wish to leave you, but I fear I have no choice. It
seems my father is close to death, and I am called to his bedside.'
Olivia looked at him in surprise. She had understood that nothing would take him back to his
father's house. But it was right and natural that he should go.
'Of course you must go,' she said at once. 'Does this mean we may have to postpone the wedding?'
'No, I promise you it does not,' Jack said, touching her cheek gently. 'I shall return in good time, no
matter what. My father's death will not change our plans. Indeed, I would not go if he had not sent
for me himself. It seems he is in great distress and would make his peace with me. I must go,
Olivia, though I had vowed I would never set foot in his house again...but I find that I cannot deny
him peace when he is so close to death.'
'Oh, no, you must go to him,' she said at once. 'It would not be right to deny his last request.'
'He does not deserve that I should answer his call,' Jack said, and the bleak, harsh look she had
come to dread was back in his eyes. 'But I could not live with my conscience if I ignored his plea.'
'I shall miss you,' she said, gazing up at him. Honesty made her speak out. 'I love you, Jack. I know
we were almost pushed into this marriage, but for me it was my heart's desire.'
'Yes, I know,' he said, then bent to kiss her lips. 'I never thought to love, Olivia, but you have
become precious to me. Forgive me for leaving you at this time, but I have no choice.'
Olivia smiled and nodded. She clung to him before he left her, feeling as if a' shadow had
somehow passed across her world, and something inside her made her want to call him back. She
felt instinctively that he should not go, and yet decency demanded that he answer his father's call.
After he had ridden away from the courtyard of her sister's home, Olivia stood watching until he
had disappeared into the distance. She did not turn until Beatrice came out and called to her, then
a shudder ran through her and she felt faint, almost stumbling as she moved to go into the house.
'What is wrong, dearest?' Beatrice asked as she came to steady her. 'You are so pale. Are you ill?'
'No...no, it was just the heat,' Olivia lied. 'It is very warm today, do you not think so?'
'Yes, it is warm,' Beatrice agreed. 'You should not be standing out here in the midday sun. Come
into the house, dearest. We do not want you to be ill for your wedding, do we?'
'No, no, of course not,' Olivia said and smiled at her. 'Nothing must spoil the wedding.'
Olivia spent some restless days waiting for Jack's return. One night she lay without sleeping for
hours, feeling that he was in some kind of trouble, and that his soul had cried out to hers for
comfort, but she told herself she was being fanciful.
She had just finished dressing the next morning when Beatrice walked into her bedchamber. She
looked a trifle flustered, which surprised Olivia because her sister seemed to take everything in
her stride these days.
'Is something wrong?' she asked. 'You are not feeling unwell? Nothing has happened to the baby?'
'No, indeed I am very well,' Beatrice said. 'I seem to have suffered hardly any morning sickness. It
is only that I have this minute received a message from Lady Stanhope. She writes to say she will
be unable to attend the wedding as she has received word that her husband is dead.'
'Oh, yes, I see.' Olivia nodded her understanding. 'I knew this might happen, Beatrice. Jack says it
will make no difference. He will be here as arranged and the wedding is to go ahead as planned.'
'You are certain?'
'Yes. Jack told me it would not change our plans if his father died.'
Beatrice looked relieved. 'If you are sure, dearest. Lady Stanhope could not come, of course.'
'I do not believe she intended to come,' Olivia said and frowned. 'She sent me gifts as you know,
and a kind letter—but I think she never intended to attend the wedding.'
'Surely she must have done?' Beatrice looked at her. 'Why should she not?'
'I do not know, but I have the feeling that Jack did not want her to come.' Olivia blushed as her
sister stared at her. 'Perhaps that is foolish of me, but when I offered to visit Lady Stanhope if she
was too unwell to travel he was quick to squash the idea.'
'Only because he believed you would meet at the wedding,' Beatrice said. 'Surely there could be
no other reason? After all, we received a visit from the Earl of Heggan, and he promised to attend
the wedding if he could manage it—though he may not do so now.'
Olivia shook her head but did not attempt to elaborate. Perhaps she had said too much; she might
have imagined that reluctance on Jack'
s part to introduce her to his mother? In any case, she did
not wish to discuss the matter further. She believed that, whatever it might be, the mystery lay
deep in the past, and was the reason for the shadows in Jack's eyes. One day he might choose to
tell her everything, but until that happened, she would not ask.
'I dare say you are right,' she said and kissed her sister on the cheek. 'Do not look so anxious,
Beatrice. I am sure I shall meet Jack's mother one of these days.'
They were at supper that evening when the letter was delivered. The housekeeper brought it to
Olivia, who opened it and smiled as she looked across the table at her sister.
'It is from Jack,' she said. 'He writes, that his father has died and that he will be at Camberwell
church in the morning as planned. He says that a quiet funeral was held yesterday at Stanhope, and
that his grandfather insists the wedding must go ahead—though he will not be able to attend
himself.'
'Then we can be comfortable again,' Beatrice said. 'I wondered if our plans were to be overset at
the last moment, but it seems nothing is to be allowed to spoil your wedding, dearest. We must be
grateful to the Earl for his concession. I had heard he was a stickler for convention, but this is kind
in him, and thoughtful.'
'Yes,' Olivia agreed. She wondered what the Earl had wanted to say to her on his brief visit. 'I
thought him a little daunting at our first meeting, but this shows him to have a generous spirit.'
'Yes, indeed.' Beatrice smiled at her. 'So you may sleep easily tonight, dearest. For tomorrow you
shall have your heart's desire.'
Olivia nodded, but made no answer. She was thoughtful as she went to her bed that night, and
Sleep did not come immediately.
A sense of unease was nagging at her, though she did not know why. Jack's letter had been brief,
sent only to reassure her and her sister, and did not mention his feelings. There was no hint that he
had missed her, no declaration of love or a hint of his impatience to claim his bride. Olivia was
conscious of a nagging doubt. Why should she feel that a shadow had somehow fallen across her
happiness?
Nothing had changed, surely? Jack had not been fond of his father. Indeed, she felt that his feelings
for Viscount Stanhope came close to hatred. So why should whatever had taken place at Stanhope
affect her life? It could not, of course. She was foolish to let her unfounded fears play on her mind,
and yet she had the oddest feeling that everything had somehow changed.
Chapter Seven
Jack paused in the act of tying his neckcloth. He was attempting the intricate folds of a Trone
d'Amour, but failing miserably under the critical eye of his ex-sergeant. Brett had served as his
batman in Spain, now he was both groom and the closest thing Jack had to a valet.
'You'll never do it that way, Captain,' Brett observed. 'You've ruined half a dozen cloths as it is.
Best go for something simpler or take it easy. You're in too much of a pother. Not that it's any
wonder, being your wedding day and all.'
Jack scowled but did not rebuke his impudence. They were friends. Had it not been for Brett, Jack
would probably have died at Badajoz. It was he who had scattered that pack of wolves and had
Jack carried back to safety, as he lay unconscious and bleeding from a head wound. Besides, it
was not Brett's fault that he was in a foul mood, but entirely Jack's own. He should never have
asked Olivia to marry him!
He had been warned enough over the years. Lady Stanhope had told him a thousand times that his
father was both mad and evil. The evil he had witnessed for himself on several occasions, but the
depth of Stanhope's madness had not revealed itself—at least to Jack!—until the last hours of the
Viscount's life.
He carried that man's blood in his veins! The revulsion turned his stomach so that he felt the vomit
rise in his throat, bringing a foul taste to his mouth. The madness must always have been there, of
course. Some of Stanhope's worst crimes were clearly the product of an unbalanced mind, but he
had either cunningly concealed his insanity for years or it had finally overtaken him at the last.
Even before the full extent of his father's madness had been revealed to him, Jack had believed
himself tainted. His father had, he knew for certain, killed at least one servant during a brutal
beating and maimed others. Had rank, wealth and privilege not protected him, Stanhope must
surely have ended at the hangman's noose. As he deserved!
Jack had left Stanhope's house years earlier, vowing never to return. He wished to God that he had
not! Wished that he had never seen those wild, staring, bloodshot eyes or the froth of insanity on
those drooling lips. Yet even at the end, Stanhope had retained the wits to curse his son with his
dying breath.
What to do now? Jack had asked himself the question a hundred times in the past few hours. It
would surely be fairer to Olivia if he drew back, for marriage to him might drag her down into the
nightmare world he now inhabited. Yet the hurt he must inflict by withdrawing was too terrible to
contemplate.
No, no, he could not do such a thing to the woman who had come to mean so much more to him
than he had imagined possible. Her reputation would be ruined, her chance of making a good
marriage irrevocably damaged. At least as his wife, she would have rank, wealth and the respect
of her contemporaries.
'That ain't bad, sir,' Brett remarked, breaking into his thoughts. 'It ain't a Trone d'Amour, nothing
like, but it ain't bad. I reckon it will have to do anyways, unless you was thinking of leaving the
lady standing at the altar?'
Jack swore softly as he glanced at his gold pocket watch and realised the time. If he had meant to
withdraw he had left it too late. He could not destroy Olivia by jilting her so publicly and so
cruelly. There was nothing he could do but continue with the wedding.
'You look so beautiful,' Beatrice said, looking at her sister, as she stood dressed in her gown of
pure white silk and lace. It was embroidered with little knots of pearls and diamante, and trimmed
with silver lace at the hem and on the long, tight sleeves. Olivia's hair was dressed high on her
head and caught with white roses and pins of silver set with pearls and diamonds, a little
headdress of silk gauze and lace arranged about her hair and then left dangling at the back in long
streamers. 'I wish you all the happiness in the world, dearest.'
'If I am as happy as you, I shall be fortunate,' Olivia said and kissed her cheek. 'Thank you for the
wonderful gifts you have given me, Beatrice, but most of all for loving me.'
'I have always loved you,' Beatrice said, her eyes bright with tears. 'It broke my heart when the
Burtons took you away from us, Olivia. And the way you were treated by them made me angry, but
you were brave and honest and the wheel has turned full circle. All I pray now is that you will be
able to forget all that has happened to you and live in peace with your husband.' She smiled and
touched Olivia's cheek lovingly. 'I know he loves you, dearest. I have seen the way he looks at you
sometimes, and so I am convinced that you will be happy.'
'I am sure I shall,' Olivia skid. She smiled at her sister, determinedly banishing the foolish fears
that had crept into her mind these pas
t days. She too believed that Jack loved her, and she knew
that he was more important to her than anything or anyone, even her dearest Beatrice. 'I am so
lucky to be marrying him. It is all I want, all I have longed for. I am sure I shall be happy, there is
no reason why I should not, is there?'
Beatrice shook her head. The two sisters embraced once more, then went downstairs to where the
others were waiting to see Olivia dressed in her bridal gown before setting out for the church.
All the guests had left some time earlier, and the last three carriages carried the bride and her
immediate family. A small crowd of well-wishers had gathered in the sunshine to see her arrive at
the church, a cheer going up as she went inside on her father's arm.
The lovely old church had been decked with flowers, a profusion of delicate white roses and
scented lilies. Ahead of her, Olivia could see the sun streaming through a stained-glass window
on to the stone floor in front of the altar, painting the worn flags with a rainbow of colour. Her
heart jerked wildly as she saw Jack's tall, commanding figure standing in front of the altar waiting
for her, his best man at his side to support him.
Jack turned his head to look as she came to stand by his side, but his expression was stern,
unsmiling, and a little shiver of apprehension ran down Olivia's spine. Why did he look so angry?
What could she have done to upset him?
She gave him a nervous smile and his expression lightened. He nodded as if to reassure her, but
still there was no answering smile, no gesture of greeting to indicate that he had been joyfully
anticipating her arrival.
Olivia turned her eyes towards the high altar. She must not allow her imagination to run away with
her. There might be many reasons for Jack's withdrawn manner. He might be unwell...or grieving
for his father. Sometimes people only realised they loved another person after that person had
died. Yes, it might be that, she comforted herself. He could not truly be angry with her.
Olivia answered her vows in a clear, strong voice, and Jack did the same. After the ceremony was
over they went into the vestry to sign the register, and Jack seemed more like himself as he shook
hands with the vicar. Then they were leaving the church to the sound of pealing bells, the sun
