by Shana Galen
Jasper didn’t set Richard down. “It’s a long story, but I need you to keep him safe for me for a few hours.”
“We always have room for one more. Is he yours?”
Jasper looked at Richard, and the boy looked back at him.
“He will be,” Jasper said. The look in Richard’s eyes was like the warmth of the sun on his face. Jasper had never felt such love.
“I’ll keep him safe,” Neil said, “but I’ll want the story.”
“Later,” Jasper said. “Over a brandy. Or three.”
Neil nodded. Finally, Jasper set Richard down. Neil went on one knee and held out his hand. “Major Wraxall. Who are you?”
Richard looked at Jasper, who nodded. “Richard,” the boy said quietly.
“Richard, do you want to have supper with my wife and the other boys? Afterward you can play. We have dozens of toys.”
Richard looked at the floor then reached out for Jasper’s leg and pulled himself behind it.
“Richard, you’ll be safe here,” Jasper told him, trying without success to dislodge the boy. “I’ll bring your Mama as soon as I can. Go.”
Neil held up a hand to still Jasper. “Have you ever petted a rat, Richard?”
Richard stopped trying to curl up behind Jasper. “Rats bite,” he said.
“Not these. These love to be petted and will eat right from your fingers.”
“Can I see?”
“Of course. We have three. You can pet them and tell me which is the softest—Matthew, Mark, or Luke.”
“No John?” Jasper asked.
“We don’t talk about John,” Neil said. Then he looked back at Richard and held out a hand. “What do you say? We feed them after supper.”
Richard looked from Jasper to Neil then back again. “You will bring Mama?”
“As soon as I can.”
The little boy nodded and put his hand in Neil’s. Neil rose and led him back toward the dining room.
“Thank you.” His throat tightened as he watched Richard led away. “Neil,” he said, voice husky. “One more thing.”
Neil raised a brow in question.
“Do you have something I might borrow to wear to a ball?”
THE DRESS WAS TOO LONG and large, and the pins holding the bodice in place pricked her skin. But Olivia held her head high. It was a small inconvenience. The fact that Draven had found her a dress, ensuring she looked presentable for a ball, was no small miracle. If she made it through the evening, it would be a huge miracle. There had been times tonight when she thought she might collapse into tears.
She did not want to face Withernsea.
But she’d do it. Richard needed her. Thoughts of Richard made her brave. Thoughts of Jasper too. Draven told her now that the rain had passed Jasper would return any hour. She just needed to get through this confrontation. She had to show the world what Withernsea was. If all she succeeded in doing was making a scandal of herself, she didn’t care. Jasper would come for her. He would help her get Richard back.
She and Draven had arrived at the ball on time, a thing that was not done. Most people preferred to make an entrance. But since so few guests had arrived, it gave Olivia and Draven time to plan where she would confront Withernsea. It must be near enough to the dance floor so that Prinny could overhear but secluded enough that they would not be interrupted. They’d walked the ballroom several times before they found a suitable location. In each corner of the ballroom, small rounded alcoves held Greek- or Roman-inspired statues. The areas seemed to replicate small ancient temples. But one alcove was missing its statue. Perhaps it had been taken for repair or moved to another area of the house. Instead a set of chairs had been placed inside, and currently two older ladies sat sipping tea and chatting quietly.
“That’s it,” Draven said.
Olivia nodded. “I believe I can tug at the blue material draping the alcove so it partially shields us.”
“It’s most likely held by a cord. When those ladies leave, make your way there and investigate.”
But the ladies sat in the alcove for the next several hours. Olivia exchanged more than one look with Draven, fearful she would have to find a new location. And when Withernsea arrived at the ball, just after eleven, her anxiety increased. She tried to make conversation with the few acquaintances who still spoke to her, but she had difficulty keeping her mind on any one topic.
And then at quarter to twelve, two things happened. The prince regent arrived with much fanfare and Draven interrupted her, pretending to claim a dance. As he spun her around the dance floor, he nodded to the now-empty alcove. “This is your chance.”
Her entire body felt cold. “Where’s Withernsea?” she asked. Her teeth threatened to chatter from fear, and her lips felt numb.
”Just over there. You know what to do, Miss Carlisle, and you can do this. You’ve been waiting five years to tell him how you feel. Now is your chance.”
She pressed her lips together. “I don’t think I can do it. I won’t be able to speak. I’ll break into tears—”
Draven gave her a hard look, the kind she imagined he’d given to countless soldiers under his command. “Carlisle, failure is not an option. You won’t accept it, and neither will I.”
He was right. She couldn’t fail. Richard needed her.
“Do you know what my men used to say before they went into battle?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t thought of this like a battle, but in many ways, it was. It had been her private battle for a long time. She was making it public.
“They would say, I have on my dancing shoes.”
“Why?”
“Because they knew that every mission might be their last. They fully expected to find themselves dancing with the devil in hell before the day was out. Miss Carlisle, you have your dancing shoes on. I know because I bought them.”
She gave him a wan smile.
“You can do this.”
“Yes, I can.” She took Draven’s proffered arm, and he led her off the dance floor. Then he escorted her close to Withernsea before pausing to engage a man he knew in conversation. Olivia listened politely, or at least pretended to, for several moments, all the while her gaze on Withernsea. The duke watched her too, the anger in his expression not difficult to read. So he hadn’t liked being left at the proverbial altar a second time. She’d use his anger against him.
Olivia excused herself from Draven and made her way to Withernsea. His eyes widened slightly at her approach, but he also stepped away from those with whom he conversed.
“Might we speak in private?” she asked.
“I’ll call for my carriage.”
“No.” Panic rose in her at the thought of being alone in a carriage with him. She spotted Draven speaking to the prince, and she knew the lieutenant colonel would lead the prince toward the alcove as soon as she was inside with Withernsea. “Let’s speak here.” She pointed to the alcove, which was still, mercifully, empty.
“You seem to forget, Miss Carlisle,” Withernsea said, leaning down so that his broad lips were close to her face, “I hold all the cards.”
“There you are wrong. You cannot force me to marry you. If you want me to agree, then humor me for a few moments.” She gestured to the alcove and started toward it. She wasn’t certain whether Withernsea would follow or not, but she didn’t look back. And when she stepped inside, he was right behind her. Her skin crawled and her belly roiled. She wanted to vomit, but she refused to give into her fear and dread.
Hands shaking, she tugged the blue drapery closed. It did not cover the entire entry, but it was enough to shield them from onlookers—and anyone standing on the other side from Withernsea.
“Well,” Withernsea crossed his arms over his chest. “This is cozy.”
“I wanted to have an intimate conversation about what happened before.”
Withernsea sighed. “Are you still on about that? I did not rape you. Everyone knows you cannot conceive a child from rape. And there’s no que
stion that boy is mine.”
“Actually, there is a question,” she said. “You see, after I ran away from London, I found myself alone and destitute. I’m afraid I had to rely on the generosity of quite a few men. Richard might be the child of any one of those.” This was a lie, but Draven had been right to suggest it. Withernsea’s face went from pink to red with anger.
“You little slut. And to think how you carried on when I took your virginity. I knew you wanted me.”
“I carried on because I did not want you,” she said loudly, hoping Draven was on the other side of the drapery. “I told you no. I fought you.”
“Oh, but that only makes it more fun. I like it when they scream and cry. I like a challenge.”
Anger coursed through her, and her hands shook not with fear but rage. “So you admit you raped me?”
“I don’t need to admit anything. You and I know the truth. You wanted what I gave you.”
“I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now.”
His lip curled in a snarl. “But I will have you. You won’t see your bastard again if you don’t marry me. You won’t run away without him. I knew I’d see you again.”
“And what happens when we marry?”
He chuckled long and low, and she actually felt the bile rise in her throat.
“You will call what happened all those years ago a blessing. You’ll come to believe rape was the least of your worries.”
She should have been terrified, but her heart pounded because she knew she had him. She’d seen movement on the other side of the curtain. Now she needed Withernsea to admit what he’d done.
“I’ll agree to marry you, but you have to admit the truth to me.”
“What truth?”
“You raped me five years ago. I was a virgin. I told you no. You forced yourself on me.”
“Fine.” He reached for her, but she snatched her wrist away.
“Say it. Tell the truth here and now.”
He gave her an impatient growl. “Very well, yes, I raped you. Yes, you said no, no, no! Stop! Please!” He mocked her cries in a high tone. “I forced you, and I liked it. You liked it too.”
“No.” She grasped the drapery and pulled it back, praying someone would be on the other side. “I did not.”
Withernsea turned toward the drapery and balked as the forms of the prince, Draven, and a dozen others stood on the other side. At some point the orchestra had ceased playing, and their voices had carried enough to attract a crowd.
At the sight of the regent, Olivia curtsied. “Your Highness.”
The prince barely acknowledged her. “Your Grace,” he said as the duke made a perfunctory bow. “I’m afraid what I heard just now is quite distressing. It’s always been rumored you were a rapist and a sadist. But to hear it from your own lips.” He shook his head with disgust. “I want this man removed from my presence.”
“Your Highness,” Withernsea said quickly, “she lies. She trapped me. I didn’t touch her.”
“I heard the words from your own lips. You admitted you raped a lady, a gentlewoman.”
“Gentlewoman.” Withernsea scoffed. “She’s a whore. She’s had a dozen lovers. Everyone knows women lie.”
“I am not lying,” Olivia said, her gaze on the faces in the crowd. Plenty looked down their nose at her, but there were a few with sympathy written on their faces. “He hurt me. I said no, and he forced himself on me.”
“She was alone with me. She let me kiss her,” Withernsea argued. “She led me on. It’s her own fault. She should have stayed with her chaperone.”
There were a few murmurs of assent, and Olivia’s face felt warm. So this was the way it would be. She would be vilified and her rapist exonerated.
“That makes no difference,” Draven said. “Rape is rape.”
The prince hesitated, sending the crowd was not on his side.
“He did it to me too,” a voice called from the crowd.
Olivia’s eyes widened. Was another woman coming to her aid?
“Who said that?” the prince demanded. At first no one moved, then the crowd parted and a woman with pale blond hair and a yellow dress made her way through. Olivia didn’t know her, but she heard whispers of “The Countess of Rockwell.”
“I said it, and it’s true.” The countess raised her chin. “Withernsea tried to rape me. I managed to scratch him and get away, but if I hadn’t, my fate would have been the same as Miss Carlisle’s.”
“That’s simply not true,” Withernsea argued. “I never touched you.”
“Will you argue you never touched me?” another woman demanded, stepping forward. She wore jewels and a dress that must have come from Paris. “I was not as fortunate as Lady Rockwell. Withernsea violated me, even after I said no and fought him off.”
“Ha!” Withernsea said, scoffing. “Everyone knows she’s a whore. The baron has been cuckolded a hundred times over. You can’t rape a whore.”
But apparently the regent had heard enough. “And you, sir, are no gentleman. I want you out of my sight. Out of my presence.”
“I quite agree, Your Highness,” Lord Ashmont, the ball’s host, said, appearing by the prince’s side. He motioned to two footmen. “Escort this man out, and make sure he is not admitted again.”
“You are throwing me out?” Withernsea screeched. “Throw her out!” He pointed to Olivia. “She’s the trash. She has a bastard. She doesn’t even know who the father is.”
“Furthermore,” the regent went on, ignoring the duke, “I want it known that I will not be in the same room, nay the same building, as that man. He shall attend no events I attend, and consider your membership to White’s revoked, Withernsea.”
“You can’t do that!”
The footmen grabbed Withernsea’s arms and began to drag him away. “Get your hands off me. You’ll pay for this, Olivia. You will never see your son again!”
Olivia felt the lump in her throat rise. This was what she’d feared he would say. Draven had assured her he would find a way to get the boy back, but what if Withernsea went home and took his anger out on Richard? What if he hurt her son or killed him?
“I think you’re the one who will never see the boy again,” came a familiar voice.
Olivia spun around and watched as Jasper stepped out of the crowd. She had no idea how long he’d been there, but she wanted to weep with joy at seeing him.
Jasper’s gaze met Olivia’s. “I have your son. He’s safe, and Withernsea will never touch him again.”
Her knees buckled, and Jasper moved quickly to catch her. Above the ringing in her ears, she heard the shouts of Withernsea as he was tossed into the street. Jasper grasped her arms and pulled her against his chest, and she rested her head against him, grateful he’d come for her. She needed his strength now. She needed his love.
“Richard is safe?” she whispered.
“Safe and well. He’s unhurt and when I left him, he was laughing and playing. I imagine he’s sleeping peacefully now.”
She looked up at him and his smile was beautiful and reassuring. There was something different about him tonight. He seemed more confident, more himself.
“I have the license,” he said.
“Then we can marry?”
“As soon as we like. Tonight even.”
“I’d like to wait until—”
“We talk to Richard about it?” He laughed. “Of course. Then if you won’t become my wife tonight, will you at least do me the honor of dancing a waltz?”
The music had started again, and the crowd around them had thinned. But there were still plenty of curious onlookers. People who stared at her and Jasper with blatant curiosity. She took Jasper’s hand, and he led her to the center of the dance floor. Taking her into his arms, he led her around the floor with a skill that left her breathless. It was only then she realized what was different about him.
He did not wear his mask.
“You aren’t wearing your mask!” she cried.
&n
bsp; “It doesn’t match this coat,” he said casually.
“But you never go out without it.” She looked about her. It was clear to see everyone at the ball was watching them and almost certainly whispering about Jasper, whose face had not been seen by any but his close family since he’d left for the war. “Aren’t you afraid people are looking at you? Talking about you?”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m done hiding. Are you?”
She scanned the room, noting the men and women who sneered at her, those who smiled, and the place where Withernsea had been dragged away. She might never be accepted into Society again. This might very well be her last ball. But Jasper was correct. She was through hiding.
“Yes,” she said. “I am. Thank you.”
His brows rose. “For what?”
“For loving me.” She gave him an expectant look. “You do love me, don’t you?” Her heart caught in her throat.
“I love you, Olivia.”
Her heart warmed in her chest and thudded hard.
“You made it impossible not to.” He smiled.
“I didn’t want to love you either.”
“But my good looks won you over.”
She laughed.
“My charm then.”
“Your kindness. Your gentleness. Your patience.”
“Are you trying to ruin my reputation?”
“Mine is already ruined.”
“Then we have nothing to lose.” And he kissed her in the middle of the ballroom before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her away.
Twenty-Three
The wedding was small. Jasper had asked Neil and Ewan to attend as well as his father and brothers. Neil and Ewan had come. His family had not. Draven had also come, standing in the back and looking rather uncomfortable. He hadn’t stayed for the breakfast, claiming he had matters to attend to.
Richard had made fast friends with one of Neil’s orphans, a lad named Charlie, and they’d invited the boy to attend so Richard might have a friend. Jasper had also persuaded Olivia to invite her mother. She had, but Lady Carlisle had been too ill. Her father had not attended either, not that he’d been invited. Withernsea was ruined now and her family safe from his vengeance. Jasper knew that as angry as Olivia was with her father, she was relieved that he would not suffer at Withernsea’s hands. He did not know if she would ever be able to forgive the viscount. In Jasper’s opinion, the man’s actions had been unforgiveable.
