Oliver was aware of the sudden silence in the music room, utterly devastating and destroying at once. Ana had looked pale as parchment as she’d passed him on her way out, and he was more of a fool than he’d thought because he’d desperately wanted to reach for her. Instead he stood stock still, struggling to understand how his entire world had shifted on its axis.
One moment Ana was in his arms, and the next she was revealed to be Lord Woodbridge’s long-lost daughter.
Inner torment gnawed at his gut, and every muscle in his body tensed. How was it possible? He’d searched for her to right his father’s dastardly deed but had not been able to find her.
Because she’d changed her name, her very identity.
Had she known who he was when she’d first approached him at the Silver Chalice dressed in seductive scarlet? Lady Malvern had accused Ana of attempting to trap him into marriage, and the notion had caught him off guard.
Another reason was just as disturbing.
Good God, had revenge been part of her plan all along? To make the son of the man who’d stolen from her family fall for her charms, then destroy him in one damning, devastating moment?
If that was her intention, then she’d succeeded.
“My lord.” At his grandmother’s voice, his gaze dragged from the now-empty doorway to the trio of remaining women in the music room. His grandmother. Lady Malvern. Lady Penelope.
He wanted nothing to do with them. Rather, he wanted a full bottle of scotch, a glass, and the solace of his study.
But the bothersome women remained.
“I’d like to speak with my grandson alone,” the dowager said, her voice full of authority that one could only garner with age.
Thin-lipped, Lady Malvern took Penelope by the arm. “Rest assured, Miss Gardner—or whoever she really is—will be punished. No one will have that tart in their home now.” She ushered her daughter from the room.
The woman’s cruel comment caused his fingers to fist at his sides rather than ease the tension in his stomach. He was truly a fool.
“Oliver.”
He turned his attention to his grandmother, and he asked the first question that came to mind. “Did you know who she was before? Today is not the first time you saw her.”
“No,” the dowager said. “Like I said, I didn’t recognize her at my needlepoint gathering. She looked different just now. So did you.”
His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“I was foolish to think someone as young as Lady Penelope was the reason behind your recent happiness.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and glared at her. “It had nothing to do with the girl. As for my recent ‘happiness,’ it was all based on lies.”
She walked forward until she was within arm’s-length distance and met his hard gaze. “I suppose. From what I recall, you searched for Miss Gardner after your father lured her father to the gaming tables. It was easy for him to fleece Lord Woodbridge.”
“I did search for her, but she made it difficult to find her, didn’t she?” Christ, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how Ana had duped him. She had plenty of opportunities to tell him the truth. Their nights together seared his mind, his thoughts, his very being.
Tell me about your family.
She whispered the request as seductively as a siren after they’d made passionate love. Oh, he’d told her all right, told her all about his lonely childhood, a little boy desperate for his mother’s affection and his father’s approval. She’d stiffened in his arms when he’d first mentioned his father and even his brother, and he’d sensed an unease about her, but he’d thought her reaction was simply sympathy for him.
I want to learn every inch of you.
Oh, how he’d craved her exploration of his body. She was eager and focused, a quick learner. The trail of her luxurious hair across his chest, her teasing lips searing a path down on his abdomen, then lower and lower until he burned with desire.
And more. So much more. He admired her bravery, her courage, and had cared deeply for her. Meanwhile, she’d never uttered a word.
Was it all an act?
“She is the worst kind of liar, one who manipulates for the sole purpose of revenge.” His voice sounded cold to his own ears.
The dowager let out a huff. “I’m not so certain that’s true. I caution you not to act rashly.”
“It no longer matters.”
“Of course it does. What will you do?”
“What I should have already done. Choose a bride based on pedigree. Produce an heir. Live separate lives, precisely like my own parents. What else is there?”
…
There was only one place Ana could think to go. She knocked on the door of the respectable-looking building and prayed the proprietress would be home.
A young woman opened the door. From her demure blue dress and hair bandeau and a smudge of dirt on her cheek, Ana suspected she was cleaning.
“Yes, Miss?”
“I need to see the madame. Please tell her Miss Ana Gardner is here.”
“Are you in trouble, Miss?”
Trouble? More than the girl standing in front of her could ever understand. Her life had been upended in a flash. Her employment. Her security. Her brother’s future at school.
Her heart.
“Yes. I’m in trouble.”
She was led into a parlor and settled on a striped sofa. Once she was alone, she bent over, clutching her stomach, as pure misery settled into her heart, her head, her very bones. Her mind was sluggish, and she still could not comprehend everything that had transpired. She could not even go to Queenie since the dear lady had passed away.
He will either be your salvation or your ruin.
Considering her current dire situation, the latter had come true.
Madame Crescent sailed into the parlor, looking exquisite in a blue silk morning dress and sapphire necklace. She took one look at Ana and settled her hands on her hips.
“What’s amiss?”
The words came freely. At least here she wasn’t worried about judgment. “I was discovered in an intimate embrace with Lord Drake. Lady Malvern dismissed me on the spot.”
“I see. And how did Drake respond?”
“Not well. He thinks I used him in the worst way.”
“To trap him into marriage?”
“For revenge against his family.” The tears she’d been holding back came in a rush, and she covered her face with her hands in humiliation and pain.
Madame Crescent sat and patted her hand. “Every woman is entitled to her secrets,” she said, her voice gentle.
Ana looked up. “You already know my secrets. Most likely, they are worse than any of the women that work here.”
The woman cocked a brow and gave her an I-don’t-think-so look. “Oh, you would be surprised.”
Ana’s throat ached with defeat, and a stifled cry escaped from her lips like that of a wounded animal.
Madame Crescent withdrew a silk handkerchief from her skirt pocket and handed it to Ana. “There. There. Tell me everything, and then we will see about planning your future.”