by Laura Landon
He grabbed his navy jacket from the back of the chair and shoved his arms through the sleeves. He’d thought it would be so easy. Thought he’d been ready to take her as his wife without risking his heart in the process. But that was before he’d held her in his arms. Before he’d kissed her.
Damien gave his satin cravat another tug and took a final look in the mirror. His gaze moved to the side of his face where the scar marred his features. He wore it like a trophy to remind him of what she’d done. A shield that would repulse her so she’d shy away from the sight of him.
Instead, she hardly seemed to notice. And last night, with his face mere inches from hers, she’d pressed her palm against his cheek, as if her touch could somehow erase his imperfections. Then she’d kissed him. She’d pressed her lips against his disfigured flesh while begging him with her eyes to tell her that he loved her.
Damien turned away from the mirror and walked out the door.
He raked his fingers through his hair and put the wall around his heart firmly back in place, then walked toward the stairs. He’d only taken the first step down before he stopped short. Olivia was below him, walking to the door.
“It’s rather early to be going out, isn’t it?”
She stopped, then looked up at him with eyes open wide in surprise. His heart jolted in his chest.
Her face was pale and dark circles rimmed her eyes. He could tell she’d slept as little as he had, but there was no triumph in knowing that. Except, it wasn’t the lack of color to her cheeks that bothered him. It was the weary look in her eyes. Eyes that were at first void of all emotion, then sparked with an emotion he wished he hadn’t been able to read.
“I’m going out, my lord. Down to Pellingsworth Shipping, if you must know.”
“Yes, Olivia. I must know. And I don’t think you should—”
She stopped his words with a hostile glare and a quick step closer. “Pellingsworth Shipping is mine! For six more days it is mine! And I will go there when I want!”
Damien noticed how close to the surface her temper seemed to hover. He held up his hands in surrender. There was something very disturbing about the frantic tone in her voice. He stepped closer to her and softened his voice.
“Then at least take someone with you. One of the footmen.”
“There’s no need. It’s broad daylight. My cousin will hardly risk showing his face in the daylight.”
“I realize that. I would just—”
He stopped when she scowled at him a final time, then she turned away and walked toward the door.
“Olivia.”
She stopped.
“We’ll attend the opera tonight. Society expects to see us together.”
“I’m not concerned with what—”
Damien held up his hand to stop her refusal. “I would like to go. It’s been a long time since I’ve been, and I’d like you to go with me.”
He saw her features soften, then saw her shoulders sag as she capitulated. She didn’t answer in words, only nodded, before leaving the house.
Damien walked across the foyer and into the dining room where breakfast was waiting on the sideboard. He filled a plate then sat.
“Did she eat?” he asked when Chivers placed a plate of tea cakes on the table within reach.
“No, my lord. I believe all the lady had was a cup of tea.”
Damien sighed heavily. “Have Cook pack a light lunch. And put some of these in with it,” Damien said, sliding the plate of cakes over to Chivers.
“Very good, my lord.”
Damien had just finished his meal when Chivers came back with a small box containing the food Cook had packed.
“I took the liberty of having a carriage brought round, my lord.”
“Thank you, Chivers. I have an appointment with my solicitor, and when I’m finished, I need to stop by my townhouse in Mayfair. It will be some while before I’ll be free to go to the shipping office myself. Send one of the footmen to keep an eye on Lady Olivia until I get there.”
“Very well, my lord.”
“And tell him if he values his life, he won’t let her see him.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Damien pushed his plate away and walked to the door where Chivers was waiting with his cloak and hat. And a cane.
Damien hesitated, then took it. His legs were stronger than yesterday, but he was still a little unsteady. “Thank you, Chivers.”
“Have a good day,” Chivers said, closing the door behind him.
Damien leaned on the cane as he walked down the path to the waiting carriage. He leaned back against the maroon velvet cushion and remembered the determined expression on Olivia’s face when she left.
. . . it is mine. For six more days it is still mine!
Did she really think he would forbid her to go to the shipping office after her father’s will became final?
A heavy pressure weighed against his chest. She did. She thought when her father’s will took effect she would lose everything: the ships, the land, the estates. Everything she’d taken care of for the last four years. Everything she loved. Because that’s the impression he’d given her.
That had been his original intent. Now . . .
Damien knew he was weakening in his resolve to make her pay for what she’d done to him. The more he was with her, the more impossible it was to think of exacting revenge for what she’d done. The love he’d felt for her before she’d betrayed him was surfacing again. His desperation to be with her, to take care of her, to have her in his life, was all that was important. No matter how hard he tried to keep from loving her, he couldn’t. His heart wasn’t dead like he thought it was. And she still possessed it.
The carriage stopped in front of Cyrus Haywood’s office, and it took longer than Damien thought to make sure the shipping concerns as well as the estates were left in Olivia’s care should anything happen to him. He knew how unexpectedly disaster could strike and wanted to make sure his papers were in order so she and any heirs they had would always be provided for. He picked up the special marriage license from Cyrus Haywood and rode the short distance to his townhouse.
He hadn’t visited with his mother as much as he should have since his return and wanted to stop to see her, as well as make sure his cousin had moved out. He’d also told Henry Lockling that he wanted to see him. This seemed the best place for the meeting.
Burnes, the butler, had the door open before he reached the house.
“Good day, Lord Iversley.”
“Good day, Burnes. Is my mother in?”
“Yes, my lord. She’s in the morning room.”
“Thanks, Burnes. I’ll see myself there.” Damien walked down the hall to the morning room.
“Very well, my lord. Will you need fresh tea sent up?”
“No, thank you. I won’t be staying that long.”
When he reached the morning room, he knocked once, then entered.
“Damien,” his mother said with a smile on her face. “What a nice surprise. I didn’t know you were coming.”
Damien walked across the room and kissed his mother on the cheek. “I just wanted to stop by and make sure my cousin has moved out.”
“Yes, Damien. I’m not sure what you said to Brian, but he arrived in quite a huff, ordered his belongings packed, and left without even saying goodbye.”
Damien sat on the sofa near his mother. “I’m glad I was effective.”
“You certainly were.”
“Now, tell me about Penelope. Is she in?”
“No. Two friends stopped by earlier, and they went for a stroll through the park.”
“What two friends?” Damien asked.
“Two very acceptable female friends, Damien,” his mother answered with a smile. “They are having their coming-out this year, too.”
“I ass
ume you sent a reliable chaperone with her, too?” he said.
“Nanny Graybill,” his mother answered.
Damien smiled. “I won’t worry, then, Mother.”
“Not with Nanny Graybill anywhere near. There’s no need.”
“No, no need.” Damien stretched his cramped legs out in front of him. “Now, what young man has caught Penelope’s eye?”
“Viscount Claremont.”
Damien tried to place the name. “I don’t believe I’m familiar with Claremont. What do you know about him?”
“He’s the Earl of Pendent’s heir.”
The name registered immediately.
His mother’s smile broadened. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
“Yes. If Claremont is anything like his father, Penelope has made an excellent match.”
“He is,” his mother assured him. “I couldn’t have picked anyone more perfect if the choice had been mine.”
“Has Claremont mentioned that his feelings for Penelope are serious?”
“Not in so many words. But he did compliment me on having a wonderful daughter, and mentioned that he thought Penelope would make a perfect Viscountess.”
Damien had been sitting long enough and needed to stretch his legs. He rose from the sofa and walked to the window and looked out. “Let me know when he’s ready to speak with me.”
“Why?” his mother asked. “So you can frighten him off?”
Damien looked over his shoulder and focused on his mother. There was a smile on her face. “I’m glad to see you weren’t serious,” he said.
“I was, to a certain extent, Damien. You need to learn to smile at least a little. I’m sure Olivia would appreciate seeing a smile on your face.”
Damien turned to watch out the window.
“Have the two of you set a date for your wedding?”
Damien braced his hand on the side of the window. “Probably within the week,” he said, knowing they didn’t have much time. “It will be a private affair. I’ve acquired a special license.”
“And do you intend to invite me to this private affair?”
Damien pushed away from the window. “Yes, Mother. I’ll let you know the time and date so you can be there.”
“Thank you, Damien. I would appreciate being in attendance when my only son marries.”
There was a knock on the door, and Burnes announced that Henry Lockling was here to see him, and that he’d put him in the study. Damien rose and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I need to meet with my steward,” he said. “Then I’ll be on my way. But I’ll come again soon.”
His mother reached for his hand and held it. “I wish you could come to task with whatever’s bothering you, Damien. I hate seeing you so unhappy.”
“Who told you I was unhappy?”
“No one had to tell me,” his mother answered. “A mother knows when one of her children is troubled. And you are exceedingly troubled.”
Damien gave his mother’s fingers a gentle squeeze, then walked away from her. “Don’t worry, Mother. It’s just the newness of being back after being gone so long.”
Damien walked to the door, but heard his mother’s last words before he left: “I wish that’s all it was.”
“So do I, Mother,” he whispered as he made his way to the study. Henry Lockling rose when he entered.
“Mr. Lockling,” Damien greeted, then walked to the chair behind his desk.
“Lord Iversley. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”
“I can imagine you are. I must apologize for leaving you with so much responsibility for so long. But I’m prepared to assume the running of the estates now so you will not have so much to do.”
“Of course I’m relieved that you have returned, my lord, but things have run relatively smoothly in your absence.”
Damien was glad to hear Mr. Lockling say things were in good order, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. How could it be with no one to manage the accounts, or give the orders as to what improvements needed to be made? “I’m sure you did as much as you were able without anyone to make the major decisions.”
Lockling twisted the old cap he always wore. “I’d like to take credit for the running of Iversley Estate and the rest,” he said, not lifting his head enough to meet Damien’s gaze, “but I can’t.”
“And why is that?” Damien asked.
“Because . . .” Lockling hesitated, then lifted his gaze. “You have to understand, my lord. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, but since you’re so close to the lady, I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“Is the she you’re talking about Lady Olivia?”
“Yes, your lordship. It’s Lady Olivia, and she’s done a remarkable job with the estates. Her improvements have made the estate more profitable than ever, and have allowed the tenants to fix up their homes more often.”
Damien paused to let Lockling’s words sink in. “Exactly what improvements did Lady Olivia make?”
“Well, there’s the drainage ditch she had built on the north corner of Cardonbury estate. That part of your estate has never been too profitable because of its lack of water. But for the past two years we’ve been able to grow an abundant crop of barley, which we’ve sold to the Burmham Brewery.
“And three years ago, she purchased a small herd of sheep, mostly Lincoln and Leicester Longwool.”
“Sheep?”
“Yes, my lord. This year we’ll harvest our second season of wool and take it to market. It’s been quite profitable, if I may say so.”
Damien tried not to look too shocked. “What else has Lady Olivia done?”
“Not too much, other than taking care of the estate books, and deciding on the crop rotation, and terracing two of the hillier fields. That’s made a remarkable difference with runoff. And we’ve just started construction on a new barn next to William Proctor’s. It will mostly be used to store wool from a new breed of sheep she bought two years ago.”
“What breed is that?”
“It’s called Merino. The wool’s in high demand ’cause it’s so soft. For babies and such.”
“I see,” Damien answered.
“You won’t tell her I told you what she’s done, will you, your lordship? She made me promise to let everyone think I was running the estates in your absence. But I could never have done such a good job.”
“No. I won’t tell her. I’ll give you the credit.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Damien rose. “Thank you, Mr. Lockling. I’m sure your help was invaluable to Lady Olivia.”
“I tried, your lordship.”
Damien stood as if chiseled from marble as Henry Lockling left. Why did it bother him so much to learn how much Olivia had done? She’d taken care of Pellingsworth Shipping, cared for her ailing father, managed his estates as well as her own, taken care of his mother and sisters, and made major improvements to his properties. Why did knowing what she’d done for him make him want to take her in his arms and take care of her, like she’d taken care of everything that was his?
Damien braced his hands atop the desk and dropped his head between his outstretched arms. The more he discovered how much she’d done while he was gone, the more she wended her way in and around his heart. How could he stay angry with her when he was starting to fall in love with her all over again?
Damien pushed himself away from the desk and walked out of the room. As he left the house, he leaned on his cane and strode toward his carriage, which was parked on the other side of the narrow street. He stopped to let a hansom go by, then put his cane down in front of him before he stepped off the low curb. The cane he’d come to rely on slipped on some loose gravel and fell to the cobblestones.
Damien leaned over to pick it up as another carriage rumbled closer. It picked up speed as it approached him. Before he rose, a bullet
whizzed past his head and the sound of a gunshot exploded in the air. Damien dove for the ground, falling into a hedge as the carriage sped past.
“Are you all right, my lord?” his driver yelled, racing over to him.
Damien struggled to his feet, then turned to look where the bullet had lodged into the trunk of the tree behind him. “Yes, fine, Johns. Did you happen to recognize the carriage or see who fired at me?”
“No, my lord. I just heard the clap.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Damien said, leaning on his cane a little harder as he crossed the street. He climbed into his carriage and sank back against the cushions.
Someone had just tried to kill him.
The who was not terribly hard to narrow to three suspects: Cassandra’s brother, his own recently displaced cousin, or Olivia’s cousin. The why was almost as obvious. But he’d be damned if he’d let any of them get away with it. Damned if he’d let Strathern kill him for something he didn’t do. Damned if he’d give his cousin another chance to squander away an inheritance he’d already proved he didn’t deserve. And damned if he’d let Olivia’s cousin have Pellingsworth Shipping.
Damien fingered the special license he had in his pocket, not sure he could give Olivia her six days.
Chapter 21
Olivia sat in the darkened opera house where only the flicker of shaded lamps on the walls gave any light and listened to the hauntingly beautiful melodies of Verdi’s La Traviata. Damien sat at her side in their private box, his chair so near that more than once his arm brushed against her. The feel of him next to her made concentrating on the opera impossible. Just as having him come to the shipping office to ensure she ate the lunch he’d brought made the food sit in her stomach like a heavy rock.
All day long her thoughts had gone back to last night. To the night she’d waited for her whole life. The night that would have been perfect if only Damien had been able to say that he loved her.
From the time her father had walked through the front door with Damien at his side, she’d known he would be the only man she’d ever love. Even when she thought he was dead, she knew there wouldn’t be room in her heart for anyone else. And when he’d walked back into her life after letting her believe he was dead, she tried to hate him. But she couldn’t. He was still the man with whom she’d fallen in love. Except now his scars on the inside were as deep as his scars on the outside. And thinking she could make him love her was as impossible as trying to find the stars in the sky while the sun was shining. His silence confirmed it. And yet . . .
