by Darcy Burke
Louisa’s mouth pursed. “The blackguard. So that’s why Jasper hit him.”
“I’d thought so, but perhaps Clifton did insult Lady Philippa.”
“That’s indeed possible but doubtful. The coincidence of him approaching Jasper, and his connection to you is too great. No, I’m certain he said something to insult you.”
“But why would Jasper behave like that on my account?”
“Isn’t it obvious, dear? My nephew is quite in love with you.”
Olivia nearly choked even as a joyous thrill shot through her. “He’s not.”
“He certainly appears to be to my eyes. I can tell you one thing for certain. I don’t think he plans to marry Lady Philippa.”
“Why?”
Louisa looked happily smug. “Because he told me.”
“What did he say?” She was nearly breathless hoping Louisa was right.
“That he wasn’t yet ready to marry.”
Olivia noticed Louisa hadn’t said anything about Jasper making a verbal commitment to Olivia. For now, this was all Louisa’s—perhaps hopeful—speculation. She likely adored the idea of her two favorite people being together. Olivia’s heart ached—she adored it too.
“He didn’t speak of me, did he?”
Louisa lifted a shoulder in nonchalance. “No, but I know my nephew. And, fool that I’ve been, I’ve finally noticed the way he looks you. It’s the way Merry looked at me.”
Olivia wanted it to be true more than she’d ever wanted anything. But she knew shared affection wouldn’t be enough for them—it hadn’t been yet, despite the times they’d made love. If Jasper had ever meant to make promises or declarations, the opportunity had come and gone.
She thought of the duke’s ultimatum. The time had come to put an end to this entire farce. “I have to leave. Tomorrow.”
Louisa’s brow furrowed. “Why? I thought we agreed you wanted to stay with me. We’ll get things sorted out with Jasper and then you two will go to York for an extended holiday.”
Olivia smiled sadly. “There’s nothing to sort out, Louisa.”
“Don’t you want Jasper?”
“I do. I love him, but we can’t be together. I will always be who I am, and I’m not a countess or a duchess.”
“Nonsense. You can be whatever you like. You’re the smartest girl I know, and Jasper loves you. He won’t let you go.”
“He will,” Olivia said firmly.
“I promise you he won’t. I know him better than you, dear. He made a mistake long ago, and he won’t make the same mistake twice.” Olivia knew she spoke of Jasper’s first love. Was it possible he would defy his father, his very duty, and marry her instead of Philippa? She could scarcely countenance such a reversal.
“What about the duke?”
“Oh, piffle. He’ll be furious, but he’ll have to get over it. You’re not afraid of him, are you, dear?”
Not for herself, no. But for Louisa and Jasper… “He paid me money to leave. If I don’t, he said he would ruin me.”
Louisa’s features darkened, and her lips drew back in a sneer. Olivia had never seen her look angry. Or more like the duke. “My brother is a self-involved ass. He’ll do no such thing.”
“Louisa, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if my presence somehow ruined you.”
“Ruined me how? So the Lady Badbys and Lady Lydias of the world ignored me? That, my dear, would not be a hardship.”
Olivia couldn’t help smiling.
“And I don’t think we care if you have the opportunity to marry well since you’ll be marrying Jasper.”
She longed for Louisa to be right. “How can he marry me if Society knows about my mother and that I’m a bastard?”
“It’s all gossip and rumor, dear. There is nothing to substantiate any of this. You are charming and intelligent, and you will win every single person over with your grace and poise. Soon people will laugh about the far-fetched notion that you’re the daughter of a courtesan. Especially when Holborn will refute it.”
“But he won’t.”
“Olivia, dear, please allow me to deal with my brother. Occasionally, he needs reminding as to who is the elder sibling—duke or not.”
Could this really come to pass? Louisa convincing the duke to keep quiet? Jasper marrying her? Did he really love her? Her heart flipped over.
The coach slowed, and they pulled onto Queen Street.
“I know it will be difficult, Olivia, but do try to get a good night’s sleep. In the morning we’ll get this all sorted out, and before you know it you’ll be the Countess of Saxton.”
Olivia wouldn’t sleep a moment.
JASPER stepped out of his coach into the warm, late summer night air, eager for the gin that would dull the ache in his shoulder and the pain in his heart. At last, he’d won the approval of the duke, but at what cost?
Though his mind knew marrying Philippa to be the correct choice, his heart—and regions south of that—ached for Olivia.
It was early for the club, but Jasper went directly to the low-ceilinged back room. He fetched a bottle of gin and a cup from the bar and settled himself at a battered table set with four chairs. A butcher, Hopkins, came in a few moments later and joined him. He set his ale-filled tankard on the table.
“Tom said you were back here. Wasn’t expecting you tonight—Sevrin told us what that bastard Gifford did to you. How’s your shoulder?”
Jasper poured the gin into a chipped cup. “All right.”
Hopkins bared his teeth. “I’m only sorry that son of a bitch is in Newgate. Might have to break him out so the club can show their disapproval.”
Saxton raised the cup in appreciation of the man’s sentiment and downed a healthy swig. The noxious liquor burned a hole straight to his gut.
“Gin?” Hopkins asked. “I thought ye were a whiskey man.”
“Tonight calls for stronger libation.”
“I see.”
They drank in silence a moment, Jasper filling a second cup, before another man came in. He also sat at their table, and soon he and Hopkins were detailing the manner in which they’d school Gifford if he ever crossed their paths. That these common men would jump so quickly and completely to Jasper’s defense was a bit surprising…and touching.
Sevrin strode into the room and made his way directly to their table. “Saxton, what the hell are you doing here?”
Jasper set his half-empty cup on the table. “Seems as though you expected me to be here, since here you are.”
The other men chuckled.
Sevrin hauled Jasper to his feet. “You’re going home.”
Jasper shook him off then grimaced as pain radiated from his shoulder.
Sevrin cringed. “Christ, I forgot about your shoulder. What the hell were you thinking hitting that man at a ball?”
Both Hopkins and the other man gaped at him then broke into laughter. “You hit someone at a ball?” Hopkins pounded the table with his fist.
Jasper actually wanted to laugh with them, but perhaps that was due to the effects of the gin. “You were there?”
Sevrin nodded. “According to rumor, you’re either fighting a duel at dawn, about to announce your engagement to Lady Philippa, or both. What the devil is going on, and how does Olivia West figure in all of this?”
“I’m not fighting a duel, though I’d considered it. You’ll be happy to know I’d selected you as my second.”
“I’d have done it if he refused,” Hopkins interjected. He and his tablemate were riveted on the conversation.
Jasper continued, “My engagement to Lady Philippa will be announced soon. There’s to be a dinner on Saturday. I’ll make sure you’re invited.” He turned to the men at the table. “I regret to inform you I cannot invite either of you, unfortunately. I mean no offense.”
Both men laughed again. “None taken!” Hopkins answered.
“You have yet to mention Miss West.” Sevrin looked and sounded irritated. In fact, his good humor was glaringly absent.
&nbs
p; “There is nothing to say about Miss West.” The words were acrid on his tongue.
Sevrin’s eyes narrowed. “You great ass, there’s plenty to say. Why are you marrying Lady Philippa when you’re clearly in love with Miss West?”
What did Sevrin know about any of this? “You of all people should understand the vagaries of marriage and why one would choose one bride over another.”
“Actually, I understand why one would choose no bride over being leg-shackled, but we’re not discussing me. You can choose whomever you like, and you like Miss West.”
“It’s none of your bloody business, but I can’t marry her.”
Sevrin arched a brow. “Can’t or won’t?”
“It hardly signifies.”
“Wait.” Hopkins held up a hand. “If you love this West girl, why are you marrying someone else? I understand you lords have your own set of rules, but it seems to me that marriage is marriage regardless of your address. Unless, of course, you’re just as happy marrying this other gel.”
He wasn’t, but that didn’t signify either. “Yes, we have our own rules, and the rules say I should marry this other ‘gel’.”
“Nonsense.” Sevrin scoffed. “Who did you hit?”
“Someone who can make Olivia’s life miserable. But I’ve rectified all of that. Her secrets are safe—forever.”
Sevrin gave him an incredulous look. “What deal did you make with the devil?”
What an apt description of the duke. “Olivia’s secrets will remain inviolate, and I’m going to marry Philippa. It’s done.”
“It’s not done, but when it is, you can’t undo it. You’ll be married to her forever.”
“I’m willing to do it for her.” He’d do anything for Olivia.
Sevrin’s eyes narrowed. “You do love her.”
“More than anything.” Even though she’d lied and continued to lie. But he didn’t care. She had to have a reason for keeping that letter from him. He knew she did. They couldn’t have shared what they’d shared otherwise. She’d said she trusted him—and he knew in his bones that she did.
Sevrin gave a half smile and shook his head. “You really are a great ass. Whatever deal you’ve made, unmake it.”
“I can’t. The duke has given his full support. Olivia will be safe behind his protection.”
“Protection he’d have to offer his daughter-in-law, the future goddamned duchess. Saxton, are you really that stupid?”
“It’s not that simple,” Jasper argued. The warmth of the gin was wearing off.
“I’m with Sevrin,” Hopkins said. “You’re a right nodcock.” The other man nodded his agreement.
Sevrin poked him in the chest. “You seem to forget you’re the future Duke of Holborn. Whatever power your father wields, you have at your disposal.”
“But what if it’s best for everyone if I marry Philippa? What if that’s what Olivia prefers?” And perhaps this was the true heart of why he’d made the deal with Holborn. He didn’t really know what Olivia wanted. Had no idea if she loved him the way he loved her.
“Concern yourself with what’s best for you and Olivia. The rest will fall into place.”
OLIVIA had tried to sleep, but after tossing and turning the past two hours, she’d finally abandoned the enterprise. Despite everything Louisa had said, she couldn’t imagine Jasper arriving tomorrow and declaring his eternal love. Even if he did love her, she felt certain he’d do as he ought and marry Lady Philippa. A well-born and estimable woman who would make an excellent countess.
She entered her dressing chamber and went to the armoire. Inside hung the trappings of a lady. A lady Olivia could never hope to be. Whatever she learned, however she managed in Society, she would always be the bastard from the country whose mother had made a name for herself by spreading her legs. Others might not be aware of it, but Olivia was, and the shame at times was overwhelming.
Louisa didn’t want her to go, and truthfully Olivia didn’t want to leave her. But neither could she remain here. She felt confident Louisa would help settle her in a nice village somewhere. Not Devon. Not Cheshunt. And definitely nowhere near York or anywhere else Jasper would take his bride.
Olivia pulled her old valise from the corner and laid it atop the rose and cream cushioned bench. Methodically, she extracted pairs of stockings from the dresser and folded a half dozen into the valise. Then she moved on to chemises, taking but two. She was so engrossed in her task that she failed to hear the intrusion into her solitude.
“Where are you going?”
Olivia jumped. She turned briskly, clutching a chemise to her chest. Jasper lounged against the doorframe, resplendent in his evening clothes, despite the fact that his cravat had been loosened. He crossed his arms and wore a deep frown.
She purposely ignored his question—and the heady desire coursing through her body. “What are you doing here? It’s practically the middle of the night.”
“Practically, yes.”
He came into the room, his presence engulfing the small space. His familiar scent of pine teased her senses. The need to go to him, to touch his beloved face, kiss his delectable lips was visceral.
“I came to tell you about my engagement. I wanted you to be the first to know that the banns will be read next Sunday.”
Olivia’s vision tunneled. She knew marrying Philippa was for the best, but having him here in person to deliver the news hurt unbearably. She could find no reason for pleasantries. Not when her heart ached. “You came here at this hour to tell me that?”
“Of course.” He smiled, a rather magnanimous affair that revealed nothing of his thoughts. Olivia grew suspicious.
“You still haven’t told me where you’re going.” He moved closer and peered over her shoulder into her valise.
His proximity sent her pulse hammering. “I don’t know yet.”
He was close enough to kiss. If she wanted to. And how she wanted to. But she kept herself stiff.
“Might I suggest York? It’s especially lovely in the fall. By October, the leaves are simply gorgeous.” His gaze raked her from head to slipper as he drew out the last word.
Olivia pulled her wrapper more tightly about her body. “I don’t think I’d like York.”
“Really?” He tucked a curl behind her ear and traced the outline of her jaw. “I love it there and can’t imagine anything I’d rather do than spend the autumn there with my bride.”
She found difficulty swallowing. “Then you should take her.”
He searched her gaze. “But you just said you wouldn’t like it. Perhaps I can convince you.” He kissed the side of her neck, gently at first, then sucked at her flesh. He pulled back. “Do you think I can convince you?”
Olivia had completely lost track of the conversation. “Convince me to do what?”
“Marry me, of course.”
She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him. Heat suffused her limbs as she leaned up and poured all of her heart and all of her soul into their embrace. He returned the kiss, his lips and tongue blistering her mouth with sweet precision. His hands scooped her close, bringing her up against his hardened frame. His erection pulsed against her abdomen, hot and heavy through the thin layers of her wrap and night rail.
She loosened her hold and pulled back, but he wouldn’t let her go far. “Jasper, why?”
“I love you.”
Her knees turned to jelly, and she sagged against him. “Oh, I love you, too.”
“Is that a yes?”
She wanted to hear him say it. “I didn’t realize you’d asked me a question.”
He looked at her expectantly, his blue gaze piercing all the way to her heart. “Marry me, Olivia. Please?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Excellent.” He bent his head to kiss her again.
She put her finger between their lips. “But how? What about Lady Philippa? What about the duke?”
His tongue darted out and licked the tip of her finger. “Philippa will underst
and.”
Olivia tried to ignore the decadent sensations shooting up her arm and spreading through her body. “You haven’t told her yet?”
“I thought it was more important I speak with you first.” His tongue continued its work against her flesh.
“And the duke?”
“Will be livid, but I don’t care.” He sucked her digit into his mouth. Heat flooded Olivia’s core.
Jasper pushed open her wrapper and clasped her waist. Her nipples pebbled as his gaze locked on her barely covered body with ravenous hunger. He leaned down and latched his mouth on her breast, his tongue dampening the cotton covering her flesh. His hand came up and cupped her, holding the mound to his lips. Olivia closed her eyes in ecstasy.
He reached behind her, and she heard the valise fall to the floor. He guided her to stand on the bench, and she opened her eyes, curious as to what he was doing. He peeled off his coat and sucked in his breath as it slid from his shoulder.
“Your wound?”
“Is healing.”
She helped ease his coat off, and it fell to the floor. He unbuttoned his waistcoat, and she gently pushed it from his torso. Then she tugged his cravat free and dropped it atop his other discarded garments.
He moved closer; the top of his head came to her breasts. He slid the cotton of her night rail up her legs, the soft fabric grazing and sensitizing her skin as it ascended her thighs and then her belly. He pushed it up past her breasts and then pressed his lips between them. His hands released the gown and cupped her. He flicked his thumbs over her nipples and gave each a light pinch. Olivia gasped and pulled the night rail over her head. He moved his hands up and pressed her raised arms back against the wall, keeping them elevated. Standing on his toes, he sucked a breast into his mouth, his lips and tongue working the nipple into a tight frenzy. Olivia clutched the night rail in her fists as her body thrummed with need.
Jasper continued his assault on the other breast, keeping her pinned against the wall with her body open to him. He licked and sucked, driving heat to her belly and moisture to her core. She moaned, and he released her arms.
His mouth descended. Between her breasts, along her belly, past her navel—pausing just to swirl his tongue inside the slight indentation. Belatedly, she realized she could lower her arms. She dropped her night rail and clutched at his head.
