Chapter Thirteen

Daniel was all in a quandary. He’d done well at her house; in fact, he was exceedingly proud of the way he’d handled the whole fireside situation—an obvious trap. But though he’d avoided that particular snare, he felt he’d merely traded one danger for another.

The lie he’d told about considering her a friend had, in retrospect, been a prediction. They were actually becoming friends, and that was something he simply couldn’t allow. And now the matter had been further complicated by a shared secret between them.

Lovelace.

Oh, he’d known the odious blackguard would show up here tonight. It gave him no small amount of entirely wicked glee knowing the fellow had undoubtedly arrived early and had been waiting here in a state of damp, mounting frustration while they’d been cheerfully warming themselves by the fire and sipping wine. Luckily, the throng of eager young men at this ball had managed to stave off his pursuit, but there was no guarantee of that trend continuing unbroken throughout the evening.

He’d have to take action. The plan of finding her the ideal husband must now be set into motion. It was unfortunate that most, if not all, of the unattached men at this ball were far beneath her, but he’d find enough warm bodies to fill her dance card—and thus shut out Lovelace.

Even now the man lurked near the entrance to the dining hall, like a spider waiting for unsuspecting prey. But unbeknownst to him, Olivia had gone to have her torn gown repaired. As soon as she came out, Daniel planned to stitch himself to her side and stay there until he could provide an adequate stand-in.

The master of ceremonies announced dinner, and he began to wonder if Olivia would ever emerge. Across the way, Lovelace finally spied him. Cold eyes narrowed in an open show of dislike as Olivia finally appeared and glided over to take Daniel’s arm. Daniel’s hackles rose, but he kept it off his face, opting instead to focus his attentions on his partner.

Face reddening visibly even from across the room, Lovelace turned on his heel and disappeared into the dining room alone.

Daniel couldn’t help smiling. It was only a minor victory over his former tormentor, but nonetheless satisfying. His smugness vanished at once, however, on discovering that their capricious hostess, no doubt relishing the idea of putting “rivals” so close to one another and anticipating a good payoff for it in the currency of gossip, had seated him and Lovelace on either side of Olivia.

To her credit, Olivia gave away no hint of her new knowledge concerning Lovelace in the brief moments when manners demanded she respond to the man’s polite inquiries. But by declining to initiate conversation, she made it quite clear to everyone watching—and they were definitely watching—that her interest in him had cooled.

It would be all over the papers tomorrow. And, unless he did something quickly, it would also doubtless be noted that he, or Devlin, rather, had found his way into her favor. Turning at the first opportunity to the woman on his other side, a Miss Deering, he struck up a conversation.

To say pretending rapt attentiveness was an effort would be a gross understatement, considering her choice of topic was Lady Wadeston’s coiffure—a wig, apparently—and the shocking truth about what lay, or rather didn’t, beneath it. Daniel, accustomed to having to listen to his parishioners’ small talk and even the occasional idle gossip, though he always discouraged anything truly spiteful in nature with a disappointed look and gently admonishing quotes from scripture, managed to keep a straight face as the woman then went on to point out the cosmetic “assists” employed by nearly every female in sight.

Thus, he learned that Miss Boyle wore padding to give the appearance of possessing a far more generous bosom than had in truth been granted by her maker. In addition, he was made aware that Miss Gillesby used powder to cover unfortunate spots, Miss Bellingham applied rouge to mask a sallow complexion, and Miss Halsted used coal dust mixed with water to darken pale lashes and eyebrows.

The more his tablemate talked, the more he regretted engaging her in conversation. He could almost feel the amusement radiating from Olivia on his other side. Every glance he managed to catch was full of barely repressed merriment. Silently, he prayed for a swift and merciful end to the meal—and to never again see Miss Deering.

Being released from table brought blessed relief, but only insomuch as he was trading one threat for another.

“Miss Deering certainly seemed to take a liking to you,” commented Olivia, giving him an arch look. “I applaud your courage in engaging her. Usually, she just eavesdrops because no one will speak to her for fear of what she’ll say about them the next day, but somehow you managed to get London’s biggest busybody to talk instead.”

And now the seating arrangements made even more sense—Lady Bletchly had planted her ears and eyes most strategically indeed. “Talk?” he said with a snort. “That’s putting it lightly. I now know far more than any man ever desires concerning the artifices directed at his sex for the purposes of ensnarement. I won’t be able to look at half the women here without being haunted by her words.”

Eyes twinkling with mischief, she leaned close and stage-whispered, “Your forced enlightenment is only what you deserved for having left me on my own with Lovelace over dinner. I was obliged to grant him a dance, as there was no polite way to decline with three remaining unclaimed.”

Damn. He felt his neck grow warm beneath his cravat and sent Heaven a quick apology for the violent thoughts that flitted through his mind.

Oblivious to his upset, she tossed her curls and shot him a mock-baleful glare that almost immediately melted back into good humor again. “You can make it up to me by keeping him away between dances. Now that we’ve been tablemates, I fear he’ll attempt to attend me unless you are present.”

Daniel felt the jaws of the trap closing in again, but there was no other way. Ushering her around, he saw the remaining slots on her dance card filled and relinquished her only when manners forced him to do so. During the brief intermissions between dances, he made sure to quickly find his way to her side.

Alarmingly, her supposition about Lovelace appeared accurate. Rather than dancing, the man lingered at the periphery, watching her with dispassionate interest as she paired off with each partner. When it came time for him to claim his dance, Daniel stepped aside, but not without giving the other man a steady look that he hoped conveyed a clear warning.

Much as he’d have liked to stand on the side and solely focus on keeping an eye on them, he was obliged to pair off as well. Even so, he kept her in sight despite knowing his lack of attention was annoying his partner. Eventually, the girl gave up trying to converse with him and fell into a sullen silence as they made their way through the steps.

He hated being rude, but seeing as Lovelace had already displayed a shocking lack of manners by not dancing with anyone but Olivia, he didn’t trust the fellow not to pull her out of line and off somewhere quiet and out of sight. He’d like to hope she’d resist coercion, but he also knew she’d be loath to create a further spectacle and embarrass her father.

Lovelace wanted something, pretty desperately, or he wouldn’t have shown up here after having initially declined the Bletchlys’ invitation. What the devil can it be? Whatever it was, he clearly saw Olivia as the means to getting it, and Daniel wouldn’t put it past him to compromise her to guarantee acquisition.

The moment the music was slow enough to make his bow to his partner Daniel did so and made a beeline for Olivia. Lovelace had a hand on her upper arm and was drawing her away, his face far too close to hers as he hurriedly spoke. Daniel could tell by her expression that she found his words less than pleasing and her stiffness told him the man’s hold on her was unwelcome. Lengthening his stride, he hastened over, interrupting their conversation with an overly cheerful greeting.

Lovelace looked like he wanted to commit murder but held his peace as Daniel commented on the room’s warmth. Olivia, meanwhile, latched onto his arm and was holding it rather too snugly for propriety’s sake. He made no move to dislodge or even loosen her grip, however. If it sent an extra shot of vigor tracing through his veins and made his chest swell with a misplaced sense of pride that she would prefer to cling to him rather than placate his nemesis, well, at least he had the noble excuse of protecting her. As for how such familiarity must appear to onlookers, the gossips would say what they would say, and he’d figure out how to extricate himself from it later.

Right now, he had bigger problems. Olivia’s next partner showed up, and he was forced to turn her over to the young man, leaving him alone with Lovelace. Smoothing his expression the way he knew Devlin would, he regarded the other man coolly and took a risk.

“Manners require me to find my next dance partner in a timely fashion,” he quietly told Lovelace, “else I would be less abrupt in inquiring of you concerning what exactly it is you’re after with regard to Miss St. Peters. Any fool can see you hold no genuine affection for her, you would gain no social standing through such a union, and her father has placed severe restrictions on her inheritance.”

The other man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “My interest in Miss St. Peters is none of your concern. You have no claim on her, whereas I sought her father’s permission to court her—and obtained it. So, unless you care to openly challenge my right as a suitor, I suggest you leave well enough alone and mind your own affairs.”

It took only a split second to reach a decision. “I have no need to challenge you. The lady has already made clear her desire to part company with you. It is you who are insisting on pursuit where pursuit is no longer wanted.”

A smug chuckle preceded Lovelace’s rebuttal. “She sat beside me at table quite amiably and deigned to dance with me tonight. That hardly constitutes a rejection. If her intent is to reject my suit, then I would have it from her own lips, not yours. I am due that much deference. Now, if you will excuse me, I must pay parting respects to our hosts, as I’m expected elsewhere before the night is done.”

So help him, Daniel couldn’t stop the way his jaw clenched. “Yes, I believe I remember hearing you say you had declined the Bletchlys’ invitation and were obliged to be at a different event tonight. Doubtless, your presence is sorely missed. I do hope you have not distressed your still-waiting hosts by lingering here overlong.”

Lovelace stiffened. “They will get over it, I’m sure. Your own late arrival did not go unnoticed, by the by. Our hostess was beside herself with worry, given the condition of the roads. You almost lost your places at table.”

Now it was Daniel’s turn to smile. “Our tardiness was no design of mine, I assure you. I was at the mercy of my companion’s leisure, and she was loath to subject her gown to the tempest outdoors when I first arrived. I could hardly force her to depart, so we waited until she was satisfied that the worst of it had passed.” And that was where he left it. Let the other man guess as to how they’d passed the time.

The color in his opponent’s cheeks deepened, betraying the bent of his thoughts. “Considering her father was not on the premises, you ought to have insisted. Instead, you allowed her to willfully jeopardize her own good name. Have you no regard at all for her reputation?”

That tore it. “Don’t pretend concern for her. You worry only for yourself.”

“If you mean that I worry her association with you might taint our nuptials and sow doubt concerning her chastity among my friends, with whom she’ll be required to socialize, then yes—I worry.”

“Oh, I know all about your friends,” Daniel said softly. “I know where they go and what they do. Just as I know about you. You have a great deal of gall to imply degeneracy in another when you yourself are far from guiltless in that regard.” Immediately after the words left his mouth, he knew he’d gone too far, that anger and jealousy had made him speak rashly. He could see it in the way the color bled from the other man’s face.

Seconds passed, and the tension between them mounted until it fairly crackled.

A faint, dangerous little smile quirked Lovelace’s pale lips as he released his breath in a disdainful huff. “You would be very wise to keep any…speculation…concerning my private activities to yourself,” he warned. “I will not suffer my name being sullied by lies.” His voice hardened. “If you want the lady for yourself, I suggest you offer for her and let her choose. But I promise you won’t come out the winner. Believe me when I say that I hold the better hand.”

Bloody hell.

Lovelace’s smile broadened into a cold grin. “If you are not prepared to do so, then I advise you to get out of my way.” Not waiting for a response, the man pushed past him and proceeded across the ballroom floor, rudely walking between the couples standing at the ready.

Daniel mentally kicked himself for a fool. He’d let his mouth run unchecked, and now the fat was well and truly in the fire.

Olivia’s questioning glance skewered him. Damn. He had some explaining to do for that little display. Shaking his head subtly to dismiss her concern—for now, at least—he found his very relieved dance partner and made his bow.

…

Olivia stared into the carriage’s dark recesses, waiting, determined not to be the first to speak. Sooner or later, Devlin would have to tell her what had passed between him and Lovelace. Then and only then would she reveal what the man had said to her.

Meanwhile, she thought back over the evening’s final dance and how different things felt between them now. The way he’d behaved toward her following his tête-à-tête with Lovelace had been nothing short of territorial. His entire manner had exuded possessiveness as he’d hovered at her shoulder, and he hadn’t so much as glanced at another female in passing.

Now his demeanor was one of dark brooding. The place between her shoulder blades tingled with anticipatory apprehension.

“You must refuse him outright,” said Devlin, breaking the silence. “After what he said tonight—and no, I won’t repeat the conversation—I fear he’ll accept nothing less.”

It took the wind right out of her sails. “What of the plan for me to feign illness and—”

“You should still do so, but I doubt it will discourage him enough to withdraw his suit.”

“What can he possibly want with me?” she burst out, exasperated.

“I don’t know, but I certainly intend to find out.”

She didn’t know whether to be delighted that he’d put himself forth as her champion or angry at his presumption.

He continued before she could think too much on it, his voice endearingly laced with worry. “It became clear to me this evening that he’s desperate, and such men often act without scruples. You must take extra care in your dealings with him from now on. Do not under any circumstances find yourself alone with him. He may well attempt to either cozen or coerce you into accepting him.”

A snort broke from her lips. “I’d like to see him try.”

“I would not.”

Oh. Warmth spread throughout her body at the quiet admission. How she wished she could see his face, but the interior lamps had been put out and all she could make out in the dim light filtering through the window was the lower half of his jaw.

“He is dangerous, Olivia.”

Hearing him address her by her Christian name caused another thrill to race along her nerve endings. When she spoke, her voice sounded strangely thick. “Are not most men?”

“Indeed. When pressed, even the best of us may resort to behaving in a manner that calls into question our morality.”

She smiled. “Not you.”

“I’m hardly a shining example of rectitude,” he replied in a tone as dry as a desert.

A huff of laughter escaped her. “Not like your pious brother, then?”

There was a pregnant pause before he answered, “No. Although he, too, is imperfect and has his faults.”

“As do we all.” Sighing, she decided to lighten the mood. “If I refuse him now, he’ll surely blame you.”

“Let him.”

Another heady wave of adrenaline made her heart race. “He might seek retribution.”

“He learned long ago that crossing me comes with unpleasant consequences.”

It was said with such grim conviction that it chased away all warmth and chilled her to the bone. “Did he?” She hesitated but then thought better of her earlier decision to hold out. “I think that lesson may have somewhat faded in memory. He cautioned me to be wary of your intentions and warned that you sought only to use me.”

A harsh bark of laughter erupted from the darkness. “Even if your father had not protected his legacy against matrimonial pilfering, I would have little to gain from such a union. I have wealth already—enough that I need not marry to secure my comfort.”

The stinging heat of a blush crept up her neck, and she was glad now for the darkness that concealed them. “I don’t think that’s what he meant.” She counted the silence in heartbeats. Three…four…five…

“Ah,” came the awkward acknowledgment at last. Then, to her shock, he chuckled. “So, he impugned my honor, did he? I suppose it’s only fair, considering what I revealed to you concerning his character. It’s a hollow insult, however. I would never risk my partnership with your father by treating you with anything less than perfect respect.”

Oh, how she longed to remind him of their first meeting! But that had been before he knew who she was. Damn his partnership, and damn his perfect respect! Soothing herself with the knowledge that at least he hadn’t denied the temptation existed, she went on. “He knows this as well. I imagine he only said it to make me suspicious of you.”

“Did it work?” asked her companion in an amused tone.

“Not a bit,” she confessed, laughing.

His soft laughter joined with hers, and she was stricken by how close and familiar with each other they’d become. Until now, she’d always felt they were on opposite sides of the board, so to speak. She the hunter, and he the prey. Being together like this, co-conspirators united in purpose against a common foe, was new. It was quite nice, actually.

She didn’t want it to end.

And now that she’d had a glimpse of the real man behind the facade, a burning desire to know everything about him kindled inside her. “Let us not talk of unpleasant things anymore. Tell me, aside from your dealings with your father, what was it like for you growing up at Winterbourne? What sort of mischief did you and your brothers get up to?”

Another laugh, one tinged with understandable bewilderment at her sudden change of topic. “Much the same as all young boys, I imagine. Climbing things we’d been forbidden to climb, poking into things we’d been told to stay away from, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, come now. You can do better than that, I think,” she gently admonished.

So he began telling her of his boyhood. For the remainder of their ride, he spoke of wandering the woods and fields of his family’s estate, usually with his brother Daniel, though sometimes with one or two of the other ones as well. They’d built forts in trees and had even dammed up a stream to make a swimming pond—resulting in a good caning for them all when a farmer downstream had complained of it to their father.

His voice as he told these tales grew soft and fond. She felt the tenderness he held in his heart for his family in the way he said their names, and his affection for the place where he’d been born and raised could not have been clearer.

“It sounds idyllic,” she murmured.

“In retrospect, it was.”

How sad he sounds… “Why did you not stay? I know you had no wish to become a clergyman like your brother, but surely even without your father’s blessing you could have settled on another occupation that would have allowed you to remain near your home and family?”

Awkward silence fell. Then: “I was angry when I left and had no desire to come anywhere near Winterbourne for many years. I kept in contact with Daniel only because I did not want him to come looking for me, as he most assuredly would have done had I simply disappeared. Nor did I wish him to follow in my footsteps.”

“If I am to believe your descriptions, a man of his moral code would surely have resisted temptation.”

The dull chuckle that answered her was devoid of all humor. “Doubtless, he would have tried, but I truly feared influencing him and thus condemning his eternal soul alongside mine. I promised to write him every month as long as he stayed in Harper’s Grove—and threatened to join the Hellfire Club should he ever darken my doorstep.”

Unbidden, a tiny gasp escaped her at the mention of that infamous group.

“Once I made my fortune and word of my exploits reached home, I thought he’d give me up for a lost cause. I tried to make him give up, but he refused. He still hopes to save me from myself.”

“Such steadfast love is to be admired,” she replied encouragingly. “It is an act of great strength to persist in loving someone despite rejection.”

“It is the act of a softhearted fool!” he retorted with a surprising amount of vehemence. “I should never have—”

The air was charged with the words he’d left unspoken, and curiosity burned within her. What was that about? What was he going to say?

She waited, but the silence persisted until she was forced to break it or let the conversation fall into irredeemable shambles. “Softhearted he may be, yet you esteem your brother and look to him as your example, do you not? After all, your sister refuses your love, yet still you persist in seeking her forgiveness and reconciliation.”

His subsequent huff of disbelieving laughter only baffled her the more. Before she could inquire about it, however, the carriage drew to a halt. She was home. It was on the tip of her tongue to invite him inside to continue their discussion, but he cut short the impulse.

“It was a pleasure, Miss St. Peters,” he said, his voice now gone gruff. “I shall come tomorrow to review the hiring list with your father. Until then, I remain your humble servant and bid you good night.”

The door opened, and there was no more time for either pleasantries or further inquiry. It was highly irregular for a gentleman to let a lady out without accompanying her inside after an evening spent in her company. At the very least, she’d anticipated he would want to relay the evening’s happenings to her father over brandy while she went upstairs, but she could hardly say so with the footman standing there waiting.

His face remained in shadow, and he said no more as she debarked. He at least waited until she was at the top step and her front door open before calling to the footman to button up and make haste for home.

A small part of her wanted to be affronted, but the greater part was simply…confused. Still, she counted it a victory in spite of his obvious upset. Another layer of his armor had been stripped away. What she’d seen underneath it was encouraging—until he’d slammed the door on it to lock it up again. She hoped she could pry it open again.