His Wicked Heart

by Darcy Burke

Though he’d fallen prey to Olivia’s lies before, he’d have to be as cold as his father not to sympathize with her desperation. Add Louisa’s longing for a child of her own, and he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to ruin their sudden connection. Finally, and perhaps most of all, meddling in Louisa’s choices felt dangerously like his father’s interference in Jasper’s life ten years ago. He’d yet to be grateful.

  Louisa returned with the water. Olivia peered at Jasper over the rim of the glass as she drank. When she was finished, she handed the empty glass to a concerned Louisa, who placed it on the table.

  “Are you feeling better now, dear?” she asked.

  Olivia nodded and offered a weak smile. Her gaze kept shifting to Jasper. He read the anxiety—and fear—there and resigned himself to allow this charade for the time being. He turned to his aunt. “What plans do you have for Miss West? May I accompany you somewhere?”

  Louisa arched a brow at Jasper. He realized he was still rubbing Olivia’s back. Abruptly, he dropped his hand and moved it to his lap. Louisa nodded, thoroughly approving his change in attitude or perhaps the removal of his hand from her charge’s person. “That would be lovely. Olivia requires a new wardrobe, so we’re going to Bond Street tomorrow. Do you believe she can sew her own gowns? Design them, too!”

  He didn’t know how to comment on any of that without encouraging a familial connection that he didn’t believe existed. So he said nothing but, “I’d be happy to escort you tomorrow. And the day after that. In fact,” he gave Olivia a purposeful stare, “consider me at your utter service.”

  “Lovely.” Louisa grinned at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I know you only have my best interests at heart. I assure you, dear, Miss West is exactly who she claims to be. You have my word.”

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have Olivia’s. Her fingers flexed and Jasper remembered them caressing his bare chest, disrobing him, brushing against his erection. She’d coerced him into a blindfold, tied him to her bed, and left him to the ministrations of someone else. Miss Olivia West was a master of deception, and he meant to uncover every lie.

  THE following morning, Jasper—Louisa always referred to and addressed him as Jasper and so Olivia had already taken to first-naming him in her head—arrived sharply at ten of the clock to escort them on their shopping excursion. The rest of their visit yesterday had gone quite well, with no further mention of her origin. Nevertheless, Olivia remained on her guard.

  His appearance in the Rose Room had shaken Olivia to her very roots. Louisa hadn’t said a word about his insinuations, for which Olivia ought to be grateful, but she couldn’t shake a niggling dash of guilt. She should tell Louisa the truth, that she had been on stage at the Haymarket, but fear of losing what she’d only just discovered kept her mouth firmly closed.

  Their first stop was Deacon and Bothe, one of the largest linen drapers in London. Olivia’s steps dwindled to nothing as she entered a seamstress’ wonderland. Fabrics of every kind, color, and pattern filled the store. Her fingers longed to stroke every piece. Her feet twitched to dance between each vibrant display. Her eyes couldn’t fix on just one thing, instead devouring everything with a child’s Twelfth Night-glee.

  Jasper and Louisa came abreast of her in the shop.

  “Where shall we start, Olivia?” Louisa asked.

  Overwhelmed by the need to wrap herself in every square inch of fabric, Olivia tried to focus. “Chronological, I think. Day gowns?”

  With a crisp nod, Louisa led the way to a display of muslins and cottons. They spent over quarter of an hour discussing patterns and styles. An employee came to their assistance, noting which fabrics and the quantities they wished to purchase. They moved on to other areas, ultimately finding themselves at a table of rich silks.

  Olivia’s eye was immediately drawn to a silvery blue shot with dark indigo stripes.

  Louisa noted her interest. “You like that? It’s rather masculine, but I suppose it would make a nice skirt.”

  Olivia did like it, but not for herself. The color—minus the stripes of course—reminded her of Jasper’s eyes. She snuck a glance at him only to find their full attention upon her. The look he directed, as if they were the only people in the draper’s, was dangerous.

  She turned back to Louisa. “This would make an excellent waistcoat for Saxton.”

  Louisa studied the fabric. “You’ve such an eye. It certainly would.” She motioned to the employee trailing them to mark this down on their list of purchases. “Do you have a design in mind? I didn’t realize you fashioned men’s clothing as well. How extraordinary.”

  And probably inappropriate. No, she’d never designed men’s clothing before, but the fabric was too perfect for him. A picture of his bare, muscular chest rose, unbidden, in her mind and a design for the waistcoat came along with it. Was it horribly scandalous for her to think of him wearing it without a shirt?

  Yes.

  She bowed her head to hide her overheated cheeks, hoping Louisa and Jasper wouldn’t note her reaction to her thoughts. After a moment in which she composed herself, she said, “I haven’t constructed any men’s apparel. I’m certain his tailor can manage it.”

  Jasper removed his glove and stroked the silk. The gesture was more than a bit provocative. He looked at Olivia. “I’d rather you made it.”

  If she were honest, she’d thank him for the opportunity. The challenge of designing something new was incredibly tempting. Of course, she’d have to measure him and conduct one, perhaps two, fittings. All of that meant time with him. Time touching him.

  Louisa perhaps sensed Olivia’s hesitation. “You should do it if you like. I’ll chaperone, of course.”

  She did want to. And if Louisa would chaperone, well then it would be perfectly safe, wouldn’t it? “All right, then.”

  They concluded their business at the linen draper’s and exited the shop. Louisa gestured down the right side of the street. “I thought we’d visit the boot maker next. You’ll need several pairs, including riding boots.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Olivia said. “I don’t ride.”

  “You don’t like riding, dear?”

  “No, it’s not that. I’ve never done it.” Olivia hated admitting this in front of Jasper. He would likely interpret this information as support of his theory that she was lying about being Merry’s cousin. Certainly, the cousin of a viscount would have ridden a horse. Except that Louisa had advised her not to lie, and so she wouldn’t. She decided to add, “My parents had but one horse.” Which was true—her aunt and uncle had possessed a rather ancient nag. “We preferred to walk most everywhere. The country is like that, of course.”

  Louisa nodded. “Well, a riding lesson shan’t come amiss then! She’s also to have a watercolor lesson in a few days’ time, Jasper.”

  But Jasper didn’t seem to be paying attention any longer. He was staring at a boy—perhaps ten years old—struggling to carry far too many packages for his tiny frame. He seemed to be trailing a pair of women who’d no idea he’d fallen behind to pick up a parcel he’d dropped. He bent at the knees, trying to keep the remaining packages balanced in his arms when—crash—the lot went tumbling to the sidewalk.

  The two women turned with identical faces of shock and dismay. Identical because they appeared to be twins. “Logan! You pathetic whelp! Pick up those packages at once!” one of them ordered, while the other approached him with her umbrella outstretched. She couldn’t mean to…

  The umbrella landed on the poor child’s back as he knelt to pick up the parcels. She lifted the weapon a second time, but it didn’t fall. Jasper’s hand clutched the end of it and pulled it from the woman’s grasp.

  She sucked in her breath and raised her head to look at Jasper. “Of all the audacious—” As soon as her gaze connected with Jasper’s, the words died on her lips. Lips that suddenly stretched into a grotesque attempt at a smile. “Goodness, my lord. I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry, is our boy in your way?”

 
“Not at all.” He still held the woman’s umbrella. With his other hand, he helped the lad to his feet. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, my lord.” He kept his gaze firmly on the ground.

  Jasper seemed to know the boy. “Logan, I should like you to call at Saxton House on Upper Brook Street. I can see this assignment isn’t for the best, and I’ve something else in mind. Here.” He removed a card from his pocket and gave it to Logan. “Give this to my butler—Thurber is his name—and tell him I sent you.”

  Finally, the boy looked up at him, his huge hazel eyes brimming with tears. “But my lord, my mother...”

  “This new arrangement requires your mother, too.”

  The boy swiped his hand over his eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Very well, then.” He turned his gaze, now frost-laden, to the twins. “Please have the Logans’ things delivered to Saxton House as soon as possible. Logan, do stop to fetch your mother on the way.”

  The boy smiled tremulously. “Thank you, my lord.” He dashed off.

  “But,” whined one of the twins, “who shall carry our things?”

  Jasper toed one of their packages with his gleaming black Hessian. “That is none of my concern.”

  Olivia knew how frigid his stare could be, but couldn’t feel sorry for the women given how they’d treated young Logan. She could, however, gaze in wonder at Jasper. He really was a decent sort. So different from any other man of her experience. Which made her deception all the more painful.

  Olivia looked at him with a burst of respect. “That was most kind of you.”

  Louisa nodded as she patted Jasper’s forearm. “It seemed as though you knew that boy.”

  “Just someone with a pitiful plight. I recently employed his aunt and had thought to arrange a good situation for him and his mother. Clearly I was unsuccessful with the first try.” The grim set of his mouth told Olivia he was not used to failure and it rankled him most fiercely.

  Then it hit her—Mrs. Reddy. That was Mrs. Reddy’s nephew. Not only had he helped her, he’d also made certain her sister and child didn’t suffer.

  “Where will they go?” she asked, curious to see how Saxton would ensure their care, but also knowing he absolutely would.

  A hint of a smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. “As it happens, I know a boot maker whose family is in need of a new housekeeper.” He stared at her in unspoken communication.

  Did he mean The Beattys? Had he helped them too? She couldn’t help but smile at him. In fact, she had to repress the urge to hug him.

  Her smile faltered—she hadn’t wanted to hug a man since her uncle, and that had been years and years ago. Her guard was failing, and though Jasper was different from her mother’s men, she still couldn’t afford to trust him.

  Chapter Eight

  SEVERAL EVENINGS later, Louisa’s carriage halted in Berkley Square before a large townhouse at precisely eight o’clock. With its glowing windows and cheerful guests marching up the stone steps, it seemed inviting. However, Olivia was reminded of the Lord’s Prayer, which she’d oft repeated in her youth. Lead us not into temptation…

  “Are you ready, dear?” Louisa patted Olivia’s arm while Jasper stepped from the coach.

  She summoned a smile but felt as though it might break her face. “As ever.”

  Louisa nodded and climbed down with Jasper’s assistance. Olivia slid to the other end of the cushion, her nerves tightening. Over the past several days, she’d done her best to prepare for this debut into Society, but now, confronted with her imminent presentation, stark fear glued her to the seat. Though Louisa had assured her this was a tiny dinner party, perfect for a first foray, Olivia’s stomach knotted with dread.

  Jasper held up his hand. Despite her overly tense state, little shivers skittered along the bare flesh above her glove and beneath the puffed sleeve of her silk gown. They’d spent plenty of time together in recent days, but never alone, and his unanswered questions burned between them.

  “Are you coming out?” He gave her a half-smile that made her heart miss a beat.

  “Yes.”

  Olivia gathered her skirt between her fingers and stepped down with his aid. The trio ascended the steps to Lord Farringdon’s townhouse where they were admitted into an entry chamber glistening with polished marble, and then to the drawing room where the other guests mingled. Olivia clung to Jasper’s arm. So many people. Over thirty. More than she’d anticipated. Next time she would ascertain from Louisa what she meant by “tiny.”

  Jasper leaned down and spoke near her ear. “Don’t be nervous. If anyone can maneuver these people, it’s you.”

  Louisa still clutched his other arm and immediately struck up a conversation with the first person they encountered. Introductions were made, and Olivia did her best to remember the gentleman’s name, Sir Barnaby Addicock.

  Jasper offered to fetch drinks. Olivia watched him complete the task. In the meantime, others joined their circle, which meant more introductions and more names.

  “And where is it you hail from, Miss West?” asked Sir Barnaby, wielding a quizzing glass.

  “Devon.”

  “Goodness, that’s quite far.”

  The woman next to him—his wife, Lady Addicock—tapped his elbow with her fan. “My mother grew up near Exeter.” She peered at Olivia with interest. “Are you familiar with Exeter?”

  “I’m from a very tiny village.”

  Jasper returned with glasses of sherry for both her and Louisa. Olivia accepted her glass, her fingers brushing his.

  Lady Addicock asked, “Do you know Whitestone?”

  Olivia shook her head, glad the woman hadn’t said Newton Abbott.

  “Mother married out of there as soon as she could and never looked back. How are you finding London?”

  “Splendid, thank you,” Olivia said with more courage. The conversation wasn’t going badly at all. Jasper was right, she could manage this.

  The woman winked at Louisa as she said, “Lady Merriweather must be treating you to all the sights. Vauxhall yet?”

  Olivia shook her head again. She’d been to Vauxhall many times, but never to the boxes these people surely visited.

  “The theatre? Of course not, it’s summer. Oh, but the Haymarket is running.”

  A surge of anxiety crested in Olivia’s chest, squeezing down on her lungs. She purposely avoided looking at Jasper, instead sipping her sherry. Gulping the amber liquid suddenly held great appeal.

  The woman turned to her companion. “Isn’t Colman a friend of yours?” The man nodded.

  She looked back to Olivia. “Colman manages the Haymarket. Lively fellow.”

  They knew Colman. Olivia knew Colman. He’s the one who’d sacked her. It was too close, too disturbing. She looked about the room, desperate for some sort of escape. A young woman close to Olivia’s age stood near their host. She offered Olivia a kind smile.

  Lady Addicock continued on. “In fact, why don’t we all see a play at the Haymarket tomorrow evening? It would be a dashing good time!”

  Olivia snapped her attention back to the conversation around her just as Jasper bumped her elbow, sloshing sherry down her front. “Pardon me, Miss West. I’m not usually so graceless.” He regarded her intensely.

  She dabbed at her bodice with a handkerchief. That was no clumsy accident. He’d intervened to stop the discussion, but why? To protect her? She looked up at him, but his pale blue eyes revealed nothing.

  “Come dear, we’ll find the retiring room,” Louisa said, taking her elbow.

  As they crossed the room, a young woman greeted them. She was slightly taller than Olivia, with a cheery, round face framed with curls the color of the rich chocolate Olivia had enjoyed at Louisa’s that morning—such a luxury. “Good evening, Lady Merriweather. Grandfather told me you were bringing your new ward. This must be her.”

  “Yes, Audrey, dear, this is Miss Olivia West. Olivia, this is Mr. Farringdon’s granddaughter, Miss Audrey Cheswick. I wonder, Audre
y, if you wouldn’t mind showing us to the retiring room. I’m afraid my nephew was a bit clumsy with his drink.”

  “It’s no trouble.” She took Olivia’s arm. “You’re welcome to stay here, Lady Merriweather, I’ll have Miss West sorted out in no time.”

  “Thank you, but I should probably accompany Olivia.”

  While Olivia was grateful for Louisa’s concern, she wanted to show Louisa she was capable. Perhaps she even wanted Louisa to feel proud of her. “Why don’t you stay and enjoy yourself? This won’t take but a trice.”

  “You’re certain?” Louisa gave her a searching look, underscoring her question. Her awareness and sensitivity to Olivia’s nerves was touching.

  “Absolutely.” She gave Louisa’s hand a comforting pat and then allowed Miss Cheswick to lead her from the room.

  Miss Cheswick guided her back through the entry hall to a marble staircase. “Grandfather says you’re new to Town.”

  Olivia ascended with her. “Yes.”

  “Is it overwhelming? I’ve lived in London my whole life, save summers, of course. Well, except this summer. I stayed with Grandfather instead of retiring to Sussex with my parents.” Small swathes of pink colored her upper cheeks. “Sorry, sometimes I ramble. That’s why I’m here and not in Sussex. Mother thought I could do with a bit more Town polish.”

  Olivia’s tension eased at Miss Cheswick’s familiarity. Perhaps Louisa had been right, and she’d already made a friend.

  At the top of the stairs, Miss Cheswick led her to the right and then into a chamber. “This is the retiring room. Actually, it’s the upstairs sitting room. And just through there,” she gestured to another door, “is a small office my grandmother used to draft correspondence. She was a great letter-writer.” Miss Cheswick smiled fondly.

  Her casual reminiscences of family reminded Olivia how fortunate she was to have found Louisa. Instead of someone else’s happy recollections eliciting a hollow ache, she felt warm contentment spreading through her.

  Miss Cheswick frowned down at Olivia’s dress. “That’s quite a stain. Saxton spilled his drink on you?”