Olivia Twist

by Lorie Langdon

  The man’s thin lips pressed together, his eyes shifting away. He was entirely too proper for his own good, Olivia thought as she turned toward the staircase. But his next words made her pause.

  “The man is dangerous, Miss Olivia.” Olivia rotated to face the old butler. She’d known him since coming to live with Uncle Brownlow, but this was the first time he’d shared anything resembling a personal opinion.

  Thompson cleared his throat, and his face appeared pained, as if a struggle between his brain and his mouth preceded his next statement. “I do not trust the fellow. He looks the part, but … he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, is what he is.” He cleared his throat again and turned away, pink staining his weathered cheeks.

  Touched by the man’s concern, Olivia gave his arm a brief squeeze. “Thank you, Thompson. I shall take that under advisement.”

  He nodded, but kept his face averted as she turned and mounted the stairs. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, indeed. Olivia didn’t need to look at the seal on the letter to know Thompson was referring to Jack MacCarron.

  Unable to help herself, she paused on the staircase, turned the envelope over, and stared at her name written in decisive strokes. Her stomach did a funny little flip. The bold handwriting was exactly what she would’ve expected. Running the rest of the way, she made it to her bedroom, shut the door, and slumped against it, before she ripped open the envelope with shaking hands and began to read:

  Olivia,

  I have come by some information concerning you, which is of an urgent nature. Meet me at Golden Square at midnight tonight. Come in disguise.

  Yours,

  Jack

  Olivia wandered over to the window, reading the short note again. Yours? Did this mean he’d forgiven her for her deception? Or was this his standard roguish salutation? She could picture him leaving notes at bedsides all over London. Jolly good romp, luv. Until next time. Yours, Jack

  Why all the secrecy? Was it a ploy to get his money back? An excuse to see her?

  Before she could stop herself, plans spun out in her head. She’d need at least twenty minutes to make it to Golden Square. Eleven thirty was earlier than she typically ventured out, but if she ensured Mrs. Foster’s tea was spiked after dinner, perhaps she could—A light flashed in her eyes, stilling her thoughts. Max’s ring, the heavy diamond capturing the sun, circled her finger like a tether.

  Her stays seemed to tighten around her ribs as she read Jack’s letter for a third time. As the future Mrs. Maxwell Grimwig, she could not keep secret assignations with unsavory gentlemen in the middle of the night. The sad fact was she couldn’t trust herself around Jack any longer. Despite the questionable nature of his present vocation and his abandonment of her, she couldn’t seem to stop seeing him as noble. The boy who’d rescued her off the streets had left too indelible a mark. Which meant the danger he posed to her heart and soul outweighed any information he could offer.

  Before she changed her mind, Olivia rushed to the fireplace, crumpled the letter into a ball, and tossed it into the glowing embers. She watched the edges blacken and curl as her heart thrashed against her ribs. Her eyes closed as she tensed against the pain of loss. There would be no more sensual dances or kisses that left her breathless.

  She would make the right choice this time.

  CHAPTER 10

  The moment Jack walked into the party, his eyes found Olivia. In her cream silk gown edged in black lace, and the sides of her hair braided and twisted up into a graceful fall of curls down her back, he couldn’t fathom how this enticing young woman could be the same urchin he’d found sneaking out in the rain six nights past—or the orphan boy Oliver Twist, for that matter.

  “So you finally deigned to grace us with your presence,” a droll voice pronounced.

  “Hullo, Topher.” Jack didn’t spare his counterfeit relative a glance, his gaze fastened to the sway of Olivia’s skirts as she exited through the far door on the arm of an unknown gentleman.

  “The ladies have been positively flummoxed by your absence, cousin. But I must admit, it has been amusing inventing excuses for you. One of my favorites was the creeping rash of unknown origin. That one should get a few marriage-minded maidens off your tail.”

  Jack turned to Topher with a sardonic smile. “Excellent. I can’t thank ye enough.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Topher arched one brow. “Would you like to take my elbow, or shall I take yours? It seems our late arrival leaves us to escort each other into dinner.”

  Jack chuckled and shook his head as he followed Christopher out of the room. The self-centered tosser was actually growing on him. When he wasn’t digging into Jack’s fabricated history, that is.

  If the sheltered toff ever discovered the truth, it would make his perfectly pomaded hair stand on end. Hell, Jack would erase his past if he could. Being born on the wrong side of the blanket was bad enough, but when one’s own mother attempted to sell her seven-year-old son to feed a raging opium addiction, one tended to avoid those memories at all costs.

  Seated at the far end of one of the longest dining tables he’d ever seen, Jack glanced down the row of guests, but could not find Olivia. In fact, he’d been unable to catch her eye since arriving. His hand clenched in frustration. Speaking with her was the sole reason for his attendance at this god-forsaken crush.

  He’d waited for her at Golden Square in the drizzling rain for three nights in a row. His notes were ignored, his attempts to call on her during the day met with the blasted butler refusing to even open the door to him. In the wee hours of the third night, he’d arrived at the Brownlow house intent on getting to her any way he could. But all the entrances were locked tight, and the trellis by her bedroom window had been removed from the building. He’d considered breaking in through a first-floor window, but with the butler on high alert, it was too risky.

  Olivia’s deception still sat in his gut like a rancid meat pie, but for some reason he couldn’t bear the thought of that bludger Monks getting his claws into her. How much longer until the bloke realized Olivia was his sister? And what would he do once he figured it out?

  “Jack, old man, I believe that mutton is already dead. No need to bludgeon it with your utensils.”

  Jack shot Topher a glare, but endeavored to calm his raging emotions. He knew from experience that losing control only made him vulnerable. He needed to approach this like a complex heist—pick it apart, analyze every piece of available information, and then lay out a plan.

  By the time dinner ended, Jack had reached a place of cold determination. And when it was announced that a game of blindman’s bluff would follow in the parlor, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

  Jack rose from the table and waited by his seat as people filed out of the room, sluggish after the heavy meal. Topher followed Olivia’s cousin, Francesca, as she passed by, worming his way between the girl and her escort. Toph had game, Jack had to give him that. One would almost think they were truly related.

  A footman stood at the door, prompting each guest to draw a folded paper out of a hat. The unlucky one who drew the piece marked with a black dot would act as Seeker during the first round of tonight’s entertainment. The parade paused while a giggling trio of young ladies made a spectacle of choosing their papers. Jack didn’t care who found the black dot, as long as it wasn’t Olivia or himself. He searched the crowd for his mark and found her almost directly across the table.

  She turned and met his intense stare, jerking back as if seeing a ghost. Jack enjoyed an instant of satisfaction until that familiar honeyed gaze narrowed, and her pert nose lifted in an expression of blatant disdain. So, that’s how she wants to play it, Jack thought as he returned her look with a glacial one of his own.

  A squeal sounded from the doorway, and a girl with platinum hair waved a piece of black-dotted parchment in the air. With the Seeker chosen, and the need to select a paper unnecessary, the rest of the participants paraded out of the dining room quickly. In the parlor, Jack positioned
himself in the shadows of a dark corner.

  Olivia stood next to her escort and chatted with another couple. Jack watched the elegant movement of her hands, her animated expression, and the way the little group seemed enraptured by her every word. Where was Grimwig tonight? Had he given up his suit? If so, he was more of a nitwit than Jack thought. No way would I give up so easily. Hypothetically, of course.

  “The best hiding spots are through the south door,” a voice purred near his ear.

  Jack turned to find Francesca Lancaster so close he could see the kohl lining her eyes and the stain of rouge on the apples of her cheeks. So much for going unnoticed. Feigning ignorance to her invitation, Jack said, “Thanks for the tip.” Then turned to watch the hostess as she blindfolded the Seeker with a black silk cloth.

  Francesca’s fingers squeezed his forearm. “The most fascinating spots, that is.” Her lashes beat like hummingbird wings as she gazed up into his face.

  Jack suppressed a sigh of impatience and gave her his best roguish grin, hoping she would take it as a confirmation and move away. To her credit, she grasped the hint and headed toward the south entrance with a quick nod.

  As footmen extinguished the lamps and candles, Jack’s gaze slid back to Olivia. But she was gone. His breath caught as he scanned the room. The hostess began to spin the Seeker, and chaos erupted.

  “Five!” Everyone joined in the countdown as they scurried to hide.

  Surely, Olivia’s light-colored dress would be easy to spot even in the partial darkness. “Four!”

  Jack began to work his way around the perimeter of the room.

  “Three!”

  Where could she have gone? There! The swirl of light fabric behind a sofa. Jack rushed over, but found an older woman crouched with her back to him.

  “Two!”

  Jack turned in a circle, his pulse accelerating as he searched the nooks and crannies along a wall of bookcases. Could she have left the room?

  “One!”

  Spying a servant’s entrance in a far corner, he headed in that direction, wondering if she could’ve slipped into the hallway. Then just to the right of the door, he spotted a twitch of cream silk behind a potted tree.

  As the Seeker yelled, “Stop,” and the guests froze in their hiding spots, Jack grasped Olivia’s gloved arm, opened the side entrance and forced her through, the call of “Blindman’s …” cutting off as he closed the door behind them.

  “What are you doing?” Olivia hissed, attempting to pull herself from his grip.

  But he was not letting go until he’d had his say. Pushing open the first door they came to, he guided her into the room and released her long enough to turn the key and drop it into his pocket.

  “Jack! This is highly inappropriate.”

  He leaned back against the closed door, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Details began to emerge, and it became clear they were in a water closet.

  Olivia stood in the middle of the cramped room, her arms stick straight, hands clenched at her sides. He pushed off the door and advanced toward her. “Then perhaps next time you won’t ignore my requests for a meeting.”

  “Give me one honest reason why I shouldn’t scream.” She propped her fists on her tiny waist and leaned forward. “Besides the fact that you’re an arrogant prat who expects women to fall at his feet!”

  “I may be arrogant, but you’ve been lying to me since the day we met. What right do you have to an honest response from me?” In two paces, he towered over her. “I thought we were friends.”

  “Friends are just enemies in disguise. You said that to me once, but I was too naive to know you were referring to yourself.” She poked him hard in the chest. “We ceased being friends the day you deserted me so I’d take the fall for your crime. Dodger.” She sneered his old name like it left a bad taste in her mouth.

  He stepped back and shoved a hand through his hair.

  So that’s what this was all about. She thought he’d betrayed her to the coppers that ancient day, and she still didn’t trust him. That’s why she hadn’t responded to his notes or requests for a meeting. Buying time, he walked past her and opened the drapes, flooding the small space with moonlight.

  When he turned, Olivia’s eyes burned with gold fire, her hair glistening with flecks of starlight. And a long-buried memory struck him like a physical blow: The night he’d escaped from his mother, he had run until his legs refused to take him another inch. Lost and alone, he’d looked up into the glowing eyes of a stained glass angel, beckoning to him, offering shelter. He snuck into the church and curled up on a pew under her watchful gaze. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  Until now.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  Jack realized he’d been staring at her in silence for several moments. With a sigh, he glanced down at his boots. It was time to come clean. “I’m no bloody hero.”

  “Clearly.”

  He raised his head and met her gaze. “But I did not abandon you that day.”

  Olivia glared at Jack’s heart-stoppingly gorgeous face and thought this must be what it felt like to be tempted by the devil. He stepped toward her, and the moonlight caught in his eyes, making them appear to glow an unearthly blue. His raven hair fell across his forehead, bringing back memories of the boy he had been. A boy she had trusted with her life. Part of her longed to hear him out, but he would just wrap her up in lies, as he always had.

  “I have to go.” She extended her hand. “Give me the key.”

  “Oll—I don’t even know what to call you!” His left thumb rubbed across the pads of his fingers, betraying the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

  But Olivia wasn’t ready to make amends. “I’m Olivia. I might pretend to be a boy at times, but underneath I’ve always been a girl.”

  “I know what you are—who you are.” He swallowed, the muscles in his broad throat constricting as he took another step. “But I swear I didn’t abandon you.”

  Olivia closed her hand in a fist and dropped it to her side. “I saw you! After the copper caught me, you met my gaze and I knew I was saved. But then you turned tail and ran without a backward glance!”

  “But you were saved … Your uncle—”

  “You know that now—”

  “Let me bloody well finish!” He reached for her, but then seemed to change his mind and shoved the hair off his forehead instead. “I wasn’t familiar with the courthouses in that part of the city. So after they carted you away, I followed at a distance. I knew I couldn’t help you if we were both pinched. I also knew my priors would ensure my own death sentence. I’d hoped with your youth and no prior record …”

  He stared out the window a moment, lost in thought.

  “Once I saw where they took you, I found that toff we robbed—your uncle—and gave him back his wallet, then led him to the courthouse. I stuck around until I knew he’d saved you from the drop, and then I ran before they could pin the crime on me.”

  “Why didn’t you come find me after?”

  “I did.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I spied on the townhouse for days. After I got my quota for the day, I’d sneak over to Kensington and hide in the park across the street. I wanted to check on you, at least speak to you once. But your uncle found me and convinced me you’d be better off with a clean break.”

  Olivia stood frozen to the spot. His story didn’t add up. Why would her uncle never mention getting his wallet back or tell her he’d spoken to Jack?

  “I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms under her chest and lifted her chin. “You’re not getting your money back. It’s long gone. So you might as well save your pretty stories for one of those dimwitted debutants who think you can do no wrong.”

  He stared at her for several long moments, his face an impassive mask, before answering, “It’s easy enough to verify. Ask your uncle when you return home.”

  Olivia vehemently wished she could be as cold as he
appeared. But standing this close to him—hyperaware of his every move, his every breath—she felt as bristly as an alley cat. With a sudden desperation, she knew she needed to get out of that tiny room. “The game has to be over by now. We’ll be missed.”

  “They’ll have chosen a new Seeker and started another round. We have time.” He leaned back against the door and crossed one booted foot over the other. “Are you ready to hear me out?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Oh, you always have a choice,” Jack drawled, as his wintery eyes lingered on her lips, a wicked half smile tilting one side of his mouth. “We could always do what everyone will assume we are doing.”

  Heat rushed through Olivia’s veins and pooled in her gut. Her eyes swept over the finely molded lines of his body, highlighted by the precise cut of his suit—broad shoulders filling out his jacket, his waistcoat flat against his abdomen, and strong thighs outlined beneath his trousers.

  She glanced at her hand for strength, but Max’s ring wasn’t there. They’d agreed to keep the engagement a secret until the ball. Curses!

  The sooner Jack started talking, the sooner she could get away from him. “Fine. What is so blasted urgent that it can’t wait?”

  All signs of flirtation gone, a muscle ticked in the line of his jaw and some unreadable combination of emotions darkened his eyes. “Are you missing a locket, by chance?” He lifted his hand, forming an oval with his thumb and forefinger. “About yay big.”

  Olivia’s heart stuttered, and she resisted the urge to clutch the empty spot against her breastbone. “How did you …” Her voice gave out, and she blinked at him in shock.

  “A few nights back, I was gambling at Langdale’s—”

  “In Holborn?” she interrupted. Langdale’s was a stone’s throw from the Hill Orphans’ hideout.

  “Yes, the warehouse on Holborn.” Then he told her about seeing the locket during his poker game. “Turns out, the bludger who bought your necklace goes by the name Monks.”