When Olivia heard the front door close behind Lord Dugdale she turned to her aunt, who was pouring herself another cup of tea. Agatha looked far too comfortable and much too pleased with herself to suit Olivia.
And Olivia had a feeling she knew why.
She walked over to her aunt and sat down in the chair that Lord Dugdale had just vacated. “You are serious about this, aren’t you?”
Her aunt remained silent, but her expression spoke volumes.
Olivia was aghast. “You want to force Lord Dugdale to marry me. Why?”
Agatha took a dainty sip of her tea before focusing her attention on her niece. “He’s an earl. It’s what he must do, considering he compromised you. Society would demand it even if I didn’t.”
This was incredible.
Olivia saw her dream of a quiet family man for a husband slipping away. “Doesn’t it matter to you that I was in that room for you, looking for Lord Pinkwater’s ghost? Doesn’t it matter that I don’t want to marry Lord Dugdale?”
Her aunt looked directly, firmly into Olivia’s eyes and said, “No, my dear, it doesn’t.”
Olivia felt as if she’d been struck across the face. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do,” Agatha said, keeping her matter-of-fact tone.
“You’re telling me that what I want doesn’t count? You’ve never done that before.”
“I’ve never had to. If I had been alone when I saw you and Lord Dugdale together in his room, or perhaps even with Claudette there, maybe we could have prevented this and settled it between our two families. As it is, with Dorothy and Lady Lynette knowing and now the scandal sheets no doubt on the verge of telling all, it’s impossible for this to go away without your reputation being ruined. The only thing that will save you is marriage to him.”
Olivia didn’t understand. They had only kissed. True, it was more than one chaste little kiss, but their aunts didn’t know that.
“What about happiness, Auntie? How can I be happy with a rogue who was forced into wedlock? My mother married a man of Lord Dugdale’s reputation and lived a life of loneliness and regret. You were jilted by such a man and never loved again. How can you want me to marry a man like Lord Dugdale?”
“I’m not saying I want you to marry him. I’m saying you must marry him.” She placed her delicate cup on the tea tray and turned a serious expression on Olivia. “And as for happiness, Livy, no man can make you happy. That is something that comes from within you. Only you and the way you feel about things inside here.” She lightly touched Olivia’s chest just above her heart. “Right here in your heart is the only place where you can find true happiness.”
Surprising Olivia, Agatha then relaxed her straight shoulders and sat back in the settee and smiled. Her aged gaze affectionately brushed Olivia’s face.
“You think that because I’ve never loved but one man that I haven’t been happy all these years?” She laughed gently, briefly. “Nothing could be further from the truth, silly girl. You have brought me more happiness than I could have ever imagined. I have never regretted leaving London to be your guardian.”
Her aunt’s words touched Olivia’s heart warmly. She had always felt Agatha’s love and concern for her even though it had seldom been voiced over the years.
Olivia leaned toward Agatha and said, “Then why would you want me to leave you and marry a man I don’t know, a man who will never love me?”
“That is life. All species give up their young. I must, too. If I consent to Lord Dugdale’s wishes, all your life you will be considered a ruined woman unless you marry someone right away. I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed you to carry that shame. Society will never forget, and you would never be welcomed in anyone’s home again if you don’t marry. On your mother’s grave, I won’t allow that to happen.”
“I would agree to all you said if I had intended to make a match here in London to a titled gentleman such as Lord Dugdale. My reputation is ruined beyond repair, but I want to go back to the country and marry a man like Mr. Yost.”
“Do you really think that would be possible, Livy?”
“Yes.” She smiled, thinking her aunt might be willing to consider seeing this her way.
Agatha settled more comfortably on the settee. She seemed to ponder Olivia’s words carefully before saying, “Truly, dear girl? You think Mr. Yost or someone like him will want to marry you after he hears that you were caught with Lord Dugdale in his bedchamber?”
Doubt suddenly clouded Olivia’s enthusiasm. It seemed so distasteful when Agatha put it that way. “But Mr. Yost never comes to London. He wouldn’t have to know, would he?”
“There’s mention of the incident in Lord Truefitt’s column. It’s only a matter of time before everyone knows the lady in question is you, whether or not it’s ever mentioned to your face. And even if someone like Mr. Yost agreed to marry you, do you think he would find himself at times wondering if Lord Dugdale’s lips had touched yours with passion, or if his strong hand had caressed your soft cheek, or if he held you close and whispered lovely words in your ear? Don’t you think Mr. Yost would wonder what went on during the time you were alone with the earl in his rooms?”
Olivia’s throat grew tighter with every word Agatha spoke. All the things she mentioned had happened. It was as if Agatha had witnessed her moments alone with the earl. How could she have known—but suddenly Olivia had a pretty good idea how her aunt knew.
Agatha had loved a man just like Lord Dugdale. Lord Pinkwater must have been every bit as charming and enchanting to Agatha as Lord Dugdale had been to Olivia. No doubt she and her aunt had had similar experiences with the two men.
Olivia slowly shook her head. Agatha was right. Mr. Yost wouldn’t want to marry her. No man would. She wasn’t innocent any longer. She had let Lord Dugdale kiss her and touch her and enchant her.
“What will happen to you if I marry? What about my helping you find Lord Pinkwater’s ghost?”
Agatha’s eyes brightened. The concerned expression faded from her face and she picked up the teapot and poured a splash into her cup. “Oh, I will still need your help with that, my dear. I do believe Lord Pinkwater’s ghost is in Lord Dugdale’s house. I think he was disturbed that so many people were in the house when he sensed my presence last night and that’s why he caused the vase to fall. Don’t you think that’s why he didn’t show himself to either you or me?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said, feeling the weight of her intimate interlude with Lord Dugdale on her shoulders.
“It will be different the next time I am in the house. I’m certain Lord Pinkwater will try to contact me again.”
A funny feeling stole over Olivia, and she was beginning to have a vague apprehension that somehow her aunt had a grand scheme that Olivia didn’t understand.
“Auntie, why do I get the feeling you might be pushing me into this marriage just so I can live in Lord Dugdale’s house and help you find that ghost?”
“Heaven’s angels, Livy, that’s not true,” Agatha said adamantly, placing her cup on the table once more. “I’ve never heard anything so outrageous. I had no way of knowing that you and Lord Dugdale would end up in his chambers at the same time when I agreed you could go in search of Lord Pinkwater’s ghost. However, I do feel this was meant to be.”
It was true that her aunt couldn’t have known that she and the earl would have a chance meeting in his rooms. And they wouldn’t have if Olivia hadn’t felt that mysterious pull to linger and look over his chamber rather than to leave immediately. If she hadn’t been overcome with the desire to touch his things, smell his soap, and feel his presence all around her, this wouldn’t have happened.
No, she really couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this predicament. She hadn’t planned it, but it was her fault.
“I’m insisting on this marriage partly as my duty to your mother and your father. It’s what they would have done. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do this for you. I’ll see you wed, and then I’ll continue my search for Lord Pinkwater.”
Olivia rose from the chair and walked over to the window and looked out. A sudden chill shook her body. She felt trapped.
Was there any way she could avoid this marriage?
***
A light rain fell on Andrew’s hat and his shoulders but he paid it no mind as he stepped down from his curricle in front of his town house. The gray afternoon matched his mood. It had been less than ten minutes since he left Miss Banning and Miss Loudermilk. Their leased abode was decidedly too close to his for comfort.
There was no telling what those country-rustics might come up with next. Who the hell did they think they were to try to force him into marriage?
“Relatives to the Duke of Norfolk,” he mumbled begrudgingly to himself as he strode up the walkway.
Just his luck, he thought. They might as well be related to the prince himself. The cranky old duke didn’t approve of anything that went against convention. And the duke could make trouble for Andrew if he ever decided to take his place in Parliament or if there were ever any disputes about his lands or holdings.
He was dealing with a beautiful, desirable, but devious young lady who was well-connected. He supposed he should feel privileged she chose him to try to leg-shackle, but her reasoning was too close for comfort for him to be amused or flattered.
Miss Banning was a mixture of self-confidence, innocence, and audacity. And for some reason he was attracted to all three. She was definitely the kind of young lady he would have pursued if he were interested in giving up his bachelor status.
He couldn’t help but wonder why she wanted to catch him in the parson’s mousetrap if she wanted the attention of another man. Andrew supposed she used the man waiting in Kent as a ruse so he would think she really didn’t want to marry him. The clever lady had thought of everything.
Andrew sprinted up the steps and opened the front door of his Mayfair town house and stepped into the foyer. His gaze immediately scanned up to the landing where the heirloom vase used to sit. Thankfully a disaster had been avoided last night when the damned thing crashed. He hoped Whibbs had gotten to the bottom of who left the urn so close to the edge that it fell.
He took off his damp hat, gloves, and cape just as Whibbs came walking into the vestibule. Whibbs had been his manservant, butler, and valet all neatly rolled into one for more than ten years. He was a short, efficient man with thin, graying hair. His round face made him appear heavier than he actually was.
Whibbs was professional to a fault, keeping check on the housekeeper, the cook, the gardener, and the groom. Sometimes Andrew thought Whibbs must stand at the window and watch for his carriage to drive up because whenever Andrew came through the front door, his man was only a step or two away.
“Good afternoon, my lord. I trust you had a pleasant afternoon.”
“No, Whibbs, I didn’t,” Andrew said, having always felt comfortable saying whatever he pleased to his servant and having all trust it would never be repeated to anyone.
“Then perhaps I made a mistake.”
Whibbs picked up the wet coat and gloves from the foyer table where Andrew had laid them and draped them over his arm.
The last thing Andrew needed was another disaster to deal with.
“About what?”
“A Mr. Howard Thompson is here to see you, your lordship. I told him you were out and I didn’t know when you were expected to return. He insisted he needed to talk and asked if he could wait for you. It appeared urgent so I showed him into the parlor. I’ll dismiss him right away.”
“No, don’t. You did the right thing. I want to see Thompson. Give me a minute to get to my desk and then show him in.”
Whibbs nodded once. “Yes, my lord.”
Andrew walked into his book room and sat down at his desk. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder with the name Willard Hawkins marked on it. He hoped the Runner had some good news for him about the man’s whereabouts. After last night and his visit with Miss Banning and Miss Loudermilk a few minutes ago, he could use some.
Those two ladies were hell-bent on upsetting his well-planned life. He hadn’t come back from a quiet year in the countryside to spend a quiet life in London. He was ready to resume his life as London’s premier rake.
A couple of minutes later, Whibbs showed the Runner into the book room, where Andrew spent the majority of his time in his house when he wasn’t sleeping.
Thompson was a tall, broad-shouldered fellow with a full head of dark brown hair and not a wrinkle in his face even though Andrew knew him to be past fifty. Andrew had been most impressed with the Runner’s knowledge of how to find a person who didn’t want to be found and the fact that he had several men working for him who could search for Hawkins.
Andrew had talked with three different men before settling on Thompson as the person best able to nab the man who had embezzled from the estate for the better part of five years.
“Have a seat,” Andrew said, pointing to the wide-striped upholstered chair in front of his desk. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“No, thank you, my lord, I’m fine.”
Andrew gave the nod to Whibbs that he could leave, then immediately said to Thompson, “Tell me what you have for me.”
“Nothing, I’m afraid,” Thompson said with all the self-confidence of a man who’d had complete success.
“Then what the hell are you doing here?” Andrew said, a bit more angrily than he intended, but his frustration was running high.
Thompson’s wide-set eyes showed no sign of offense at Andrew’s irritation as he said, “We’ve been in Derbyshire over a week. We’re watching the house where Mr. Hawkins’s mother lives and keeping watch at the taverns and inns, but so far there hasn’t been any sight of him.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“I know that, my lord. I’ve stationed men at all three homes where Hawkins has relatives. There have been no reports of anyone coming and going except the people who live at the houses. If he is holed up in any of them, he’s not coming out and showing his face.”
Andrew made a low sound in his throat that he realized sounded like a growl. Thompson didn’t flinch. Andrew liked the fact that he didn’t intimidate the Runner. That meant Hawkins wouldn’t either.
“Maybe your men are missing him. He could be disguising himself and coming and going at will,” Andrew said, knowing that was highly unlikely as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
“I don’t think so,” Thompson said. “Hawkins is well known in the area. I realize we’ve only watched the houses for a few days and he could still turn up. If he’s in Derbyshire he’ll have to show his face sooner or later and we’ll get him, but I’m beginning to think he left the area.”
“You stand by the trustworthiness of your men on their watch?”
“I do,” Thompson said, not backing down an inch. “I hire only the best. You mentioned that Hawkins had been stealing from you for years. Have you given thought to the idea that he might leave the country and make a new life for himself abroad?”
“With the money he stole from me? I suppose that’s a possibility. In the months I stayed at my home in Derbyshire I heard talk that he gambled heavily. If that’s true, I’m not sure he had enough blunt to get very far.”
“I’ll see what I can find out about any debts he left owing or if anyone owes him.”
Andrew nodded. “That might give you some lead as to his whereabouts.”
“I’d also like to have your permission to widen my search and check out other towns, the hells of London, and even some of the seaports to see if anyone remembers him boarding a ship.”
Andrew hadn’t forgotten what it felt like when Hawkins’s shot grazed his arm.
“By all means, Thompson, do whatever you must. I don’t care if you have to bribe one of the scoundrel’s family members to tell you where he is. I want the man found.”
“Thank you, my lord. I’ll get right on it.”
“Stay in touch.”
Andrew looked up and saw Whibbs waiting in the doorway. He nodded for him to enter and speak.
“The Viscountess Collingsworth has arrived and would like to speak to you, sir. She’s waiting in the parlor.”
Andrew let out a heavy sigh and whispered a curse under his breath. He didn’t have to wonder what his aunt wanted to talk about. He might as well see her and get it over with.
“After you’ve shown Thompson out, tell her ladyship I’ll be right in.”
“Yes, my lord.”
His aunt couldn’t possibly have had time to talk to Miss Loudermilk and then get here, but no doubt she wanted to discuss what happened at the party last night, especially since she had been his hostess for the evening.
Aunt Claude was the matriarch of the family, and she wore her well-earned title with strength. Getting caught with a young lady in his room was not the kind of thing she wanted to happen, but then neither had he.
As much as he hated to do it, he had to face the fact that for the first time in his life a lady had outsmarted him. He didn’t know if she was a trickster or a lunatic—neither of which he wanted to marry.
And he had to decide what he was going to do about it.