His Wicked Heart

by Darcy Burke

  Sevrin frowned. “I was quite shocked.”

  The dark expression on Sevrin’s face reminded Olivia of the anger she now felt about Gifford. She leaned forward. “Do you know him?”

  “I do.”

  Olivia waited for him to say something more, and when he didn’t, she opened her mouth, but he finally spoke.

  “You didn’t say what you were doing here.”

  He was questioning her behavior? Perhaps rightly so, but coming from him the query seemed ludicrous. Nevertheless, her aunt and uncle had drilled propriety into her head from the nursery, even if her actions of late was sorely lacking. She felt compelled to justify her unchaperoned, middle-of-the-night visit.

  “I am naturally concerned for Saxton’s welfare. He is…Louisa’s nephew.” And since Sevrin had employed a deflective tactic to steer the conversation, she would do the same. She wanted answers from this enigmatic man. “You’ve a bruise around your eye. Tell me about the club at the Black Horse.”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up. “A collection of miscreants—I include Saxton in that description though he’s definitely the most well-bred of the lot.”

  Olivia bristled. “Jasper isn’t a miscreant. He’s kind and generous.”

  “Indeed?” He didn’t sound doubtful, merely curious.

  “Yes, he helps people in need. Animals, too. He doesn’t like others to suffer.”

  Sevrin was silent a moment. He seemed to ponder her words. “I understand,” he said softly. “We sometimes seek to protect others from that which afflicts us most.”

  Olivia thought of the duke. Beyond the strained and perhaps even hostile relationship she saw with her own eyes, what had Jasper endured? Did he seek violence because he knew nothing else? She ached to go to him, to give him what he couldn’t seem to give himself—understanding, solace. Love.

  Jasper had told her he fought for the strategic exercise, but she knew it was more than that.

  “Why do you support this club? What is its purpose?”

  His gaze was probing, but different from the intensity of Jasper’s crystal stare. His mouth turned down. “Before tonight, I would have said it’s a brotherhood, but Gifford’s attack on his ‘brother’ would dispute that.”

  Olivia recalled the bruises on Gifford’s face the day she’d met him. “Gifford was a member of the club?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve never seen a member behave like that. But then, I’ve never tried to mix classes before.”

  “But you’re not in the same class as those men.”

  He winked at her. “In name, but in deed, I’m far worse.”

  She didn’t think he was going to elaborate, and anyway, she wanted to know about Jasper. “Why did you accept Jasper into the club?”

  “He’s an excellent fighter. He seemed to need it. Each man participates for reasons of his own. Reasons I’m not always privy to. Some fight to build confidence. Others work out their aggression. For Saxton, I think, it fills a void.”

  Olivia’s body stilled as she considered this. The room seemed especially quiet, save the deep breathing coming from the curtained bed. What was Jasper missing in his life that he filled with fighting?

  Sevrin shrugged. “Perhaps I’m mistaken. Truly, I haven’t known Saxton very long. But he seems a man of deep emotion who is looking for something. I wonder if that something might be you.”

  Her pulse tripped. “Jasper has spoken of me?”

  “As much as men do. But yes, I know how important you are to him. It’s a good thing. I think you might actually save him.”

  From what? From the duke? “He needs saving?”

  “Everyone does, Miss West. Most of us just aren’t lucky enough to find someone like you.”

  But Olivia couldn’t be Jasper’s savior. The threatening letter she’d received meant her time with Louisa—and with Jasper—was nearly at an end.

  JASPER cracked an eyelid. The room was blissfully dim, though morning sunlight burned the backs of the damask drapes covering the windows. He tried to sit up, but pain exploded in his shoulder and he lolled back against the pillow.

  “Awake at last?” Louisa stood from the chair near the bed, her face creased with concern. “How are you feeling?”

  “Ah, fine,” he lied.

  She poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. Though she was in a fresh gown, her skin was pale and dark bags barely supported her drooping eyes. “Louisa, have you slept?”

  She handed him the water. “Not much, I’m afraid. I’ve been too worried about you. You’re not allowed to leave me.”

  His wound was scarcely as dire as that, but he understood her concern. She’d lost a husband she dearly loved, and he was now the closest member of her family—until Olivia had arrived.

  “Where’s Olivia?” He took a long draught, easing his thirst.

  “It’s early. Just half-eight. I’m not sure she’s gone down to breakfast yet.”

  Jasper ignored a stab of disappointment that she hadn’t visited him in the night.

  Louisa perched on the edge of the bed. “Jasper, why haven’t you asked me for my betrothal ring? You remember my offering it to you last spring?”

  “I do.” He just hadn’t wanted it yet. For then he’d have to actually propose. And with each day, the notion of marrying Lady Philippa grew less and less palatable. Because of Olivia. How could he consider marrying someone else while he was either making love to Olivia or thinking about making love to her?

  She nodded. “If you’d rather choose something different for your bride, I’ll understand.”

  Suddenly an image of presenting Olivia with Louisa’s betrothal ring sprang into his mind. Good Lord, what a notion. He couldn’t think of a single person who wouldn’t be shocked. But only because she wasn’t expected, not because she was the bastard daughter of a courtesan. And if no one knew the truth about her, why couldn’t he marry her?

  “It’s not that,” he said. “I’m just not yet sure who she’s going to be.”

  Louisa’s eyes widened. “But I thought you were settled on Lady Philippa.”

  He hadn’t ever told her so, but Louisa knew he’d paid her specific attention over the past fortnight. “I was. Rather, the duke was.”

  “You mustn’t let him dictate your life.” She looked away and frowned. “I should have intervened ten years ago.”

  Jasper twitched against a jolt of pain in his shoulder. Merry had been the one who’d told Jasper about the duke sending Abigail and her family away. Jasper assumed Merry hadn’t told Louisa because she’d never once broached the subject. “You mean with Abigail.”

  “Yes.”

  Jasper downed the remainder of the water and replaced the empty glass on the table.

  “Do you want to know what I think?” she asked.

  Not really. He was humiliated enough that he hadn’t done right by Abigail, that she’d disappeared at the duke’s hand, and Jasper hadn’t been smart enough to stop his interference, let alone be aware of it.

  “I think you’re punishing yourself for that perceived failure,” she said.

  “Perceived? I did fail.”

  “You didn’t. That was entirely Holborn’s fault. But this isn’t about him. It’s about your guilt over Abigail. I know how grief and regret can overwhelm one’s life. But you have to move on. Maybe then you’ll actually be interested in marrying someone.”

  “I am interested in marrying someone.” Olivia’s face swam before him. Impossible.

  Louisa regarded him with wide, somewhat mischievous eyes. “Really, who?”

  He couldn’t tell her. He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself. Holborn would be furious. Furthermore, Jasper had no idea if Olivia even wanted to marry. She’d said on more than one occasion that Society made her uncomfortable, and though Prewitt had been easy enough to dissuade, who else might uncover her past?

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “So secretive.” She patted his knee through the coverlet
. “I’m sure whomever you choose will be perfect—for you. And that’s all that matters. You needn’t please me or Holborn, or anyone but you.”

  “What do you think the duke would do if he didn’t approve my choice?” Jasper could well guess. He’d be particularly livid since Jasper had agreed to gaining his approval in exchange for not meddling in Miranda’s marriage.

  Louisa tilted her head to the side. “What is it you’re really afraid of? That he won’t approve your wife or he won’t approve you? He’s never gotten over the loss of James, but that’s his grief, not yours. If Holborn’s approval is that important to you… Well, only you can decide. I only ask that you be happy.”

  Happy. He thought of teaching Olivia to ride. Watching her navigate Society with charm and grace. Sharing time with her and Louisa, like they were a family.

  He squeezed Louisa’s hand. He’d always loved her, but never more than that moment. “Thank you.”

  She stood from the bed. “You’re quite welcome, dear. If you’re able, the coach is ready to take you to Saxton House. Dr. Marsden will be meeting you there at ten. I assumed you’d be more comfortable in your own bed.”

  He’d hoped to see Olivia, but it seemed he would be rushed out before he had the opportunity. It was just as well. He needed to think. He couldn’t really be contemplating marriage with Olivia?

  “Thank you, Louisa. For everything.”

  She leaned down and bussed his cheek. “It’s my privilege to dote.”

  After she left, Jasper stared at the ceiling. Olivia was so far from the woman he’d imagined marrying. Since Abigail, he’d always assumed his wife would possess lineage, wealth, an impeccable upbringing, and the ability to serve as the consummate hostess to the future Duke of Holborn. How would Olivia possibly fulfill that role? Was it even fair of him to ask her to?

  He drummed his fingers against the coverlet, uncertain of what to do. His hand stilled. Last night they’d both shared their trust. If he truly had faith in her, he’d let her decide what she wanted and what she was capable of. Abigail had never been given that choice. Olivia deserved that and more.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  THE FOLLOWING morning was the second Sunday Louisa had taken Olivia to church at St. James. Today’s sermon about John the Baptist was both seasonal and familiar to Olivia given her upbringing at the vicarage. She’d had little occasion during the years with Fiona to attend church and appreciated the opportunity to do so again.

  As she and Louisa passed through the narthex, Lady Addicock paused, issuing an invitation to tea, which Louisa accepted. Olivia turned at the barest touch on her elbow. The Duke of Holborn peered down at her with sharp interest.

  “Miss West, might I have a word?”

  Olivia stepped away with him, just far enough away from Louisa and Lady Addicock to have a separate conversation. She dipped a brief curtsey. “Your Grace.”

  “You will not attend tea with Louisa. Plead a headache. Plead a hatred for tea. Plead whatever you wish, but I will drive you home in my carriage.”

  Olivia wanted to plead abduction at the top of her voice, but decided that might cause more harm than good. Without responding to him directly, she went to Louisa and made her apologies. Louisa’s surprise that Olivia had chosen to accept a ride home from Holborn was detectable in the slight arch of her pale brows. Olivia suspected there would be a discussion later.

  The duke led her from the church without offering his arm. “What did you tell her?”

  “That I was feeling a bit queasy.” Because she was.

  “Very good.”

  His coach was very near the entrance. A footman helped her alight and then closed the door after Holborn took the rear-facing seat opposite her.

  “The duchess isn’t with you?” she asked, reluctantly admiring the posh interior with its thick velvet squab and crystal clear windows.

  “We needn’t bother with idle conversation. I’ve arranged for this meeting in order to have a straightforward discussion about your presence in my sister’s house.”

  She gave him her loftiest stare, which she feared was nothing compared to the visual setdown he could deliver. “‘Arranged’ is a rather polite word, don’t you think?”

  “Very shrewd, but then I suspect you’re far more devious than either Louisa or Saxton give you credit for.” He leaned back against the squab, appearing as comfortable as Olivia was nervous. “You must leave, of course.”

  “Of course,” Olivia mocked, though her stomach was churning. “You sent the note yesterday.”

  His brow arched. He looked disturbingly like Jasper in that moment. “Note?”

  There would be no reason for him to lie. Olivia felt uneasy. “I received a note instructing me to leave Town.”

  “Which you ignored, I see. No, I didn’t send such a note, but I must applaud whoever did. It also gives proof to the primary reason you must leave. You will sully our name—Louisa’s name—if you do not.”

  If he hadn’t sent the note, who had? And at what point would the author share his or her knowledge with the world? Olivia had to reluctantly admit the duke was right. She could very well ruin Louisa.

  She only wanted to know how the author of the note and the duke had learned the truth, particularly when Jasper had worked so diligently to cover her tracks. “How did you find out?”

  “I have the ability to discern whatever information I desire, Miss West.” He folded his slender hands in his lap. “And since others also know of your origins, it’s safe to assume your secret—if it ever was one—is out.

  “Furthermore, your relationship with my son will not be tolerated. If he chooses to employ you as his mistress, that is his prerogative. However, for you to engage with him as you have…” He gave a stiff shake of his head. “You’re a whore just like your mother, but then I expected nothing more.”

  “I’m not like my mother.” Perhaps not exactly, but her behavior with Jasper showed they were more alike than Olivia cared to believe. She felt light-headed.

  “Why, because you don’t take money for your favors? I’m certain you soon will. Blood is everything, and blood always wins out.” He delivered this with sinister finality, as if he knew the cage she’d been born into and would personally ensure she never escaped it. Which was precisely what he was doing now. Restricting her to the life he believed she deserved.

  She glanced out at Mayfair passing. They would reach Queen Street shortly. She regarded him with sincere dislike, her fingers shaking atop her lap. “You can’t know me or my future.”

  “I’ve already told you I know anything I wish. As Holborn, I enjoy freedoms and intelligence you can’t hope to comprehend.” His pomposity would’ve made her jaw drop if she hadn’t been working so hard to maintain an icy façade of her own. “I’m not completely without pity, however. I’m prepared to give you a small purse to get wherever you need to go. Though Coventry Court is a nice walk, especially this time of year.”

  She refused to betray her anger. Anger that was slowly blunting with the approaching edge of doubt. “It is,” she said evenly, her mind working toward what, a defense? “Louisa doesn’t want me to leave.” Neither did Jasper, but only for Louisa’s sake. It didn’t bear mentioning since the duke would be less than sympathetic.

  His lips spread in an awful, patronizing smile. “My sister is soft-hearted, particularly in this. She’s always wanted a child of her own. A clever girl like you knows that and exploits it.”

  Olivia sucked in her breath. “I care very deeply for Louisa.”

  “Your feelings do not signify. I expect you to be gone tomorrow.”

  He’d come to issue demands and ultimatums. She was to have no choice, just as when her aunt had evicted her. Was she never to have a family to call her own? Time stretched as she struggled to keep her voice from cracking. “If I don’t?”

  “I shall make things very unpleasant for you, Miss West.”

  His statement evoked a trembling in her limbs. She crossed her ankles and cl
asped her hands in her lap, trying to occupy her body before it revealed her anxiety. “You can’t mean to reveal my past. To do so would only realize your worst fears.”

  He leaned forward slightly. The confines of the carriage shrunk so that she felt as if she were trapped in a small hole with the most abominable person she’d ever met. “Let me be clear, Miss West.” His tone was nauseatingly authoritative, as if he were speaking to a simpleton. “I don’t fear you, or anyone else for that matter. Arranging to have you removed from Society, whether by unfortunate compromise or some other…circumstance will hardly be a trial.”

  She stared at the duke with newfound fear. “You’re quite serious.”

  The carriage drew to a halt. “If you truly care for Louisa, you’ll leave her alone. I understand she wants to fill some void, but there are plenty of worthy young women for her to coddle. I’m certain you’ll make her understand why you have to go.” He reached inside his coat and tossed a purse onto her lap. A small amount of coins gave a muffled clink within the velvet pouch. It was a very ugly sound.

  Olivia felt the weight on her lap like manacles around her wrists. She knew she had to go, to protect Louisa, but she only wished it hadn’t come to this. Perhaps she could do one thing. “I’ll go, but I’m going to demand something in addition to this money.”

  The duke snorted. “You’re in no position to negotiate. Be glad I don’t rescind my generous offer.” He inclined his head toward his bribe.

  His arrogance was unlike anything Olivia had ever encountered. “From what I can tell, you don’t care too much for your son—your living son.” The duke’s eyes darkened, but Olivia gathered her courage and surged forward. “It’s not too late for you to appreciate the son who’s here. He’s a man you could, and should, be proud of. Will you please do your best to ensure he’s happy?”

  He sneered. “You foolish chit. Everything I do is to ensure his happiness. You think you would make him happy? You’ve no notion how to be a mistress to someone like Saxton, let alone his countess. Among a myriad of responsibilities, you’d have to be presented at court. Good God, can you imagine? I cannot.” The duke rapped on the door and it immediately swung open. “I trust you begin to understand why you have to go.”