Barely a Lady (30 page)

“My arms are red.”

“I know, sweetheart. You need to lie down.”

He was pressing it against her face. It hurt.

“The cut goes all the way down her neck,” the duchess was saying. “You’ll need to get her necklace off.”

Olivia lurched up, yanking her hands free. “No! No, you can’t take it off.”

“We have to, dear, or the doctor can’t patch you up.”

Olivia felt tears welling in her eyes. “I’ve never taken it off. Not once.”

“You can hold it in your hand. Is that all right?”

And Jack’s hands were at the back of her neck. Somebody was pressing a pad to her cheek and she remembered. Oh, yes. The knife. The man had cut her. He’d wanted a list. He’d almost killed her.

Jack was staring down at the locket where it lay in his palm. “But I gave this to you.”

“Give it back!” she pleaded, knowing how shrill she sounded. “Give it to me!”

She saw the confusion in Jack’s eyes, the pain. She didn’t care. She had to hold her locket, or… or…

She sobbed when Jack slipped the little chased gold oval into her hand. She clutched it as if it were her only link to life. As it was. As it always had been.

“It’s all I have,” she sobbed again, and was surprised that she’d said it out loud.

“Of course it isn’t,” Jack soothed. “You have all of us.”

She jerked back from him, and this time she faced the sorrow in his eyes. “No,” she said definitely. “I don’t.”

“Jack,” Lady Kate murmured, “she’ll do herself damage if she doesn’t settle. You might want to help the men.”

“No, wait, ” Olivia said, grabbing his arm in her anxiety. She knew she might not ever be able to return to him, but she could do this one thing, no matter what it cost her. She had to do this. “Not yet. Jack, you have to promise.”

He looked frightened. She thought he was trembling. “Anything.”

“If something happens to me, you’ll find Georgie. You’ll go to her. Promise me, Jack.”

“Find Georgie? What do you mean?”

She was shaking again, but she felt better. He would protect them if she couldn’t. She at least knew that much. “Promise me,” she begged, clutching his arm. “You’ll find her.”

“Of course.”

She nodded. Good. If he found Georgie, he would learn the truth.

“Oh,” she muttered. “My head hurts.”

“What did he want, Livvie? Do you know?”

“Not now, Gracechurch,” Kate said. “Let her rest.”

“No,” Olivia disagreed. “I need to tell you.”

Grace appeared in her sight. “And you will, dear. After we fix you up. Jack will be in the next room, won’t he?”

Livvie heard them all shuffling around. “Don’t let me forget. He wanted a list. I need to tell Jack.”

And then Grace was kneeling next to her, gently dabbing her face with something cool and sharp.

“He heard me, didn’t he, Grace?” she asked, suddenly afraid she’d only thought it all.

“Of course he did, dear.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Good. Then it will be all right. He’ll protect him for me.”

“Who, dear?”

“Jamie. Jack will see that Jamie is all right if I can’t.”

“And who is Jamie?”

She smiled, but tears continued to slide down her cheeks. “Our little boy.”

Chapter 21

J
ack had been about to walk out of the library when he heard what Livvie said. Stunned, he whipped around.

She was just lying there, her eyes closed, her poor, hurt face hidden beneath a cloth. Grace, her eyes a bit wider, was looking at him in warning.
Not now
, she was trying to say.

Yes, now. His
son
?

But Lady Kate had him by the arm and was dragging him out of the room. “She’ll tell you when she trusts you, Jack.”

“When she
trusts
me?” he demanded, turning on her. “Did you hear her? My son is alive, and she hasn’t thought to even tell me, and you say I need to wait?”

Lady Kate leveled him a steely glance. “Oh, really, my lord earl? You’ve decided without proof that it is indeed your son? What exactly has changed?”

She stopped him right in his tracks. She was right, of course. It had been the last and worst accusation he’d leveled at Olivia.

Suddenly, like a knife slicing through his heart, he remembered the glow in her eyes the moment she’d whispered the wonderful news. They were to have a child. She’d been feeling ill, she said. She’d suspected, of course, but she’d wanted to give Jack this present on his birthday. They had laughed and danced around that old parlor like a pair of gypsies, parrying ridiculous names and planning futures.

Three months later to the day, he’d forbidden her his front door with the words “let your lover raise his brat.”

Had he really done that to her? Could he truly have been so cruel to the woman he’d sworn to protect? Could he have honestly trusted anyone more than his Livvie?

He didn’t remember everything, but he remembered this much. He had been a coward. He’d failed her.

“You knew?” he asked, his anger shriveling into misery.

Sadly, Lady Kate shook her head. “We all thought the babe had died. As frightened as Olivia is of Gervaise, I wonder if she hasn’t spread that tale to throw him off.”

“And just left her child with my scapegrace sister?”

Lady Kate shook her head. “Oh, you do have a lot to catch up on, don’t you, my dear?” Leading him inexorably along, she continued. “We might as well share some Madeira over it.”

She settled him in the Chinese sitting room and plied him with wine. “Are you all right, by the way? You were getting quite physical out there.”

He’d damn near pummeled the bastard to death. “I’m fine.”

“Can you tell me why you called for Earl Drake?”

He looked blankly up at her, then managed a small grin. “Because it’s all his fault, of course. He’s the one who recruited me.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Recruited you? For what? You remember?”

“Some of it. But that can wait. Tell me of Livvie.”

For a moment, he thought she might deny him. She simply sat on her settee sipping at her wine.

“My poor Olivia,” she finally said with a slow shake of the head. “Can you imagine what these last years must have cost her? In the time I’ve known her, she has never once betrayed that baby by so much as a whisper. She had to be so afraid.”

He couldn’t take it all in. A son. He had a son. That babe who had once been no more than a flutter beneath his hand was now four years old. And Livvie was acting as if he didn’t exist.

He remembered the sheer panic in her eyes when he’d tried to take away her locket. Was Lady Kate right? Was Olivia so afraid that she kept herself isolated even from her own child? Could there be any threat so awful? Dear God. He had to find him. Jamie? Why had she called him Jamie? There was no one in his family named James.

He knew why, of course, and the anguish of it seared him. Exactly why should she name her baby after him? He’d thrown her out with no more thought than that it served her right.

Where had she gone? How had she survived?

“Georgie must have found her,” Lady Kate mused, as if hearing his question.

He lifted his head. “Then she must have rebelled against the entire family.”

He saw the quick anger in Lady Kate’s eyes and knew he wasn’t going to like her answer.

“She didn’t have to,” Kate said. “They threw her out too.”

He could only stare. “No,” he said, the idea incomprehensible. “Not Georgie. She’s everybody’s favorite.”

“Yes, Georgie. About four years ago.”

“But why? What could she possibly have done?”

“She fell in love with a naval captain.”

He frowned. “Was he unacceptable?”

“You mean a commoner? Heavens, no. He was Cox’s youngest.”

“Then why?”

“Because he wasn’t the Earl of Hammond.”

Jack knew he was gaping like a fool. “They were going to marry Georgie off to that doddering fool? He’s sixty if he’s a day.”

“And already buried two wives. But he also had ten thousand a year and a title.”

He couldn’t seem to breathe. “But Georgie…”

Lady Kate sneered, and Jack suddenly remembered about her marriage. “Do you really think they cared any more for Georgie’s wishes than they cared for yours?” she demanded. “Coming so close on the heels of your misalliance, they were out of patience. Not only did they disown her, but your father also convinced Cox to do the same.”

“But a naval captain isn’t exactly destitute.”

“He was killed two years ago while on blockade.”

He closed his eyes, the revelations of the last few minutes collecting like sins in his chest. “Do you think Georgie and Livvie have been supporting each other?”

“I think that your wife has been supporting all of them and that I don’t pay her nearly enough.”

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think past the fact that he’d done this to Livvie. She should have been running across the back lawns of the Abbey, laughing and chasing her lively son. She should have been holding Jack’s hand as they watched their little boy sleep.

He had sent her into exile.

He had sent her into hell.

“Do you really believe Gervaise is capable of what she said?” he asked.

There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation. “Yes.”

He looked up again to see a sympathy he never thought to find in the eyes of the sharp-tongued duchess.

“Oh, I didn’t when she first told me,” she said. “It makes me realize why she chose to hide. Gervaise is such a charming character, not a care in the world. The perfect dinner companion. But… I’ve seen him watch her, and I think she’s right. He’s always wanted what you have, and he figured out how to get it.”

Jack blinked. “What do you mean? He can’t be earl.”

“Of course not. But what about your reputation? Your friends and your lovely young wife? Your child? You have to admit that if he did orchestrate Livvie’s downfall, he did it brilliantly. Not only was she left with nowhere to turn but him, but also you were no longer the golden boy. It’s been Gervaise who has been your stepmother’s escort. Gervaise who helped pop off the twins. I assume if you’d been here, it would have been your task.” Slowly she shook her head. “I think it would take an exceptional woman to keep him at bay.”

For a very long time, Jack could only sit there staring at the thick red liquid in his glass. Absently, he noticed that the blood Livvie had spilled on his hand was much the same color. He wondered what color redemption would be.

“How do I make it up to her?” he asked.

And heard only silence. When he looked up, he saw that the duchess was thoughtful. “I don’t know if you can. I don’t know if Livvie will ever be able to truly trust you again, Jack.”

“But I didn’t know!” he insisted. “How could I?”

He thought her smile was the saddest thing he’d ever seen. “Oddly enough, women expect trust to be based on faith. Not evidence. She’d hoped you loved her enough to take her word.”

“How could she?”

“Need I remind you that she took you in and cared for you when all she knew was that she found you on a battlefield in an enemy uniform?” The duchess shrugged. “She chose faith over evidence.”

He’d thought the pain of memory was too sharp to bear. It was nothing compared to the despair that followed. He had forsaken his own honor. He had condemned an innocent woman and killed the man he blamed. And by the time he’d realized it, Livvie had disappeared. His work in France had been nothing more than his own purgatory.

He wasn’t certain how long he sat there, the empty goblet clasped in his hands. He knew the doctor was seeing Livvie. He’d wanted to go in and hold her, but she wouldn’t let him. Harper had come to report that he’d found their guards unconscious. Livvie’s attacker was still in the same condition.

“Thrasher says he’s the Surgeon, all right,” Harper said. “Won’t be doin’ much surgery soon, the way you left him.”

The second attacker, unfortunately, had escaped, although he’d lost a ring in the fight. Harper laid a signet in Jack’s hand. Jack looked down at the ruby that glinted from a field of old gold and knew that he could feel worse after all.

It came to him then. That moment sitting on his horse on the beach, looking out over the water. And he knew why he’d forgotten. Why, rather, he’d refused to remember. He could so vividly feel that grim taste of betrayal, of shame, of despair. He’d believed the wrong person, and it had cost him everything.

He remembered too late what it was he’d been carrying.

“You know the ring?” Harper asked.

He nodded and slid it into his pocket. “I’ll deal with this myself.”

“You might want to wait a bit. I’m to tell you that your lady is anxious to talk to you.”

The goblet fell to the carpet as Jack sprang to his feet. He was wobbly, and he hurt all over. He thought maybe he’d broken a rib again. He’d deal with that later.

“You’ll be kind to her,” Harper warned.

Jack glared. “Get out of my way, you redheaded lump of potato, or I’ll show you exactly how I left the Surgeon the way I did.”

The Irishman gave him a huge grin and stepped aside.

Jack ran into the library as if his life depended on it. Livvie still lay on the couch, her skin a sickly gray, her hair matted and damp. A line of stitches ran from her right ear all the way to the neck of her dress. His insides twisted. How could she have borne what that doctor had just done? He hadn’t heard a whisper during those long, awful moments.

He knew someone else was in the room, but he saw only Livvie as he dropped to his knees beside her. “Oh, Liv,” he managed on a thick whisper, taking her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right.” She flinched from him, and he tried to ignore the stab of pain.

He kissed her bloodstained hand. “No, it’s not. You were almost killed, and it’s because of me.”

“Because of a list,” she said.

He felt a faint shudder in her hand and wanted desperately to pull her against him. To feel her heartbeat and know she was safe. To be allowed to keep her protected and happy.

“She’s afraid she looks a sight,” Grace said behind him.

He saw Olivia shoot her friend a glare. He lifted a hand to trace the ragged cut on her poor, bruised cheek. “You’re lovely,” he whispered. “Nothing can ever change that, Liv.”

She gave a weak tug on his hand. He refused to let go.

“My God, Liv,” he continued, lifting that hand for a kiss. “You were so brave. I have a feeling if I’d been awake while being stitched up, you would have heard me a mile away.”

She gave her head a small shake. “I had quite an example set for me in Brussels. Couldn’t shame myself in such company.”

Tears he hadn’t remembered weeping in years crowded the back of his throat. He didn’t deserve her. Not his brave, beautiful Livvie. How could she talk of shame, when it was he who had let her down?

“He was looking for a list, Jack,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, nodding absently, focused more on the tangled hair he was stroking. “There is a list. Of lions. But that can wait, Liv. You can’t.”

“I’m afraid I have to disagree with you, my friend,” he heard from behind him. “That list can’t wait at all.”

Turning where he knelt, he beheld Kit Braxton standing in the doorway. But he wasn’t the one who’d spoken. That had been the man standing behind him: tall, brunet, wickedly elegant Marcus Belden, Earl Drake.

“About time you got here,” he snapped, struggling to his feet. He didn’t let loose of Livvie’s hand, though. He had the most irrational fear that if he let her go, he’d lose her altogether.

“The doctors told us to leave you alone, old son,” Marcus said quietly. “We thought it was safer that way.”

Jack’s temper flared. “Really, Marcus? To whom? My wife, who just came within amesace of having her throat slit?”

Drake strolled into the library as if entering a ballroom, but Jack saw real distress in his eyes. “My sincere apologies, ma’am,” he said, bowing. “This isn’t the thanks we should offer a lady of such courage. We did have people watching the house, but they were… disabled. Did you see your attacker?”

“Her attacker is in the wine cellar,” Jack said. “He was looking for the list I carried back for you.”