His Wicked Heart (31 page)

Jasper scanned the low-ceilinged chamber and
found Sevrin standing near the makeshift bar with Gifford. Sevrin
raised a hand and Jasper cut through the spectators, eager for a
glass of whiskey.

“You’re late,” Sevrin said.

Gifford filled and handed him a glass.

Jasper accepted the brew. “I was at the
Haymarket talking with the manager, Colman.”

“Ah, what news?” Sevrin asked.

“After I explained myself, he was most eager
to keep Miss West’s employment secret. He also understood the
benefits of handling any inquiries about her mother with the utmost
discretion.”

Sevrin arched a brow. “You ‘explained
yourself’? Why do I think that’s a euphemism for bribery?”

Jasper threw back his shoulders in mock
affront. “I don’t need to stoop to such tricks. I merely explained
the advantages of having the support of the Earl of Saxton.”

Gifford snorted. “Sounds like bribery to
me.”

Sevrin laughed, and Jasper couldn’t help but
smile with him. It
had
cost him a hundred pounds, plus he’d
offered his support if Colman ever needed it. Colman—eager for any
sort of patronage—had been more than amenable. He wouldn’t say a
word about anyone named Olivia West and would ensure his staff
didn’t, either. The latter would be difficult to guarantee, but it
was the best Jasper could do. He doubted anyone would go to the
trouble to question theatre employees. Anyone that wasn’t Holborn,
that was. He had to consider outright telling his father about
Olivia and asking him to leave the matter alone.

Jasper wasn’t sure he wanted to lead that
untamed horse out of its paddock.

“Why are you bribing the theatre manager?”
Gifford asked.

“He’s trying to make sure his aunt’s ward
isn’t revealed as Fiona Scarlet’s daughter.” Sevrin looked at
Jasper. “I spoke to some of the women who come around. One or two
knew Olivia was Fiona’s daughter, but didn’t think much of it. I
imagine to them, a mother like her is the same as any other.”

Jasper was pleased with this news, though he
wished Sevrin hadn’t mentioned Olivia’s mother in front of Gifford.
The less people who knew—regardless of their station—the
better.

Gifford set his glass on the bar. “It’s
coincidental you’re talking about her. Miss West, I mean. I saw her
just this afternoon.”

Surprised, Jasper moved closer to Gifford in
order to hear him better. “You know her?” He suddenly recalled
Gifford saying her name had sounded familiar that night they’d gone
to The Locust.

Gifford gave a light shrug. “I couldn’t place
the name before, but later realized she’d sold some things in my
mother’s shop—before she went to live with your aunt.”

Jasper feared he was about to catch Olivia in
another lie, and he didn’t like it. “Where did you see her?”

“She came back to the neighborhood to
visit.”

Olivia had explained the same to Jasper, but
was there more to it than that? Gifford wasn’t a bad looking chap,
and Jasper liked him well enough. Did Olivia have some connection
to him? Jasper felt a stab of jealousy. “She came to see you?”

“Not exactly, though she’s promised to do so.
She visited some old woman who worked in the theatre. I knew you
wanted the truth from her, and so I stood below the window and
listened to their conversation.” Shamefully, Jasper didn’t admonish
him for eavesdropping. He was too interested in what Gifford would
reveal. He tensed as Gifford continued, “You said she’d claimed to
be Lord Merriweather’s cousin, but from what I heard, she’s told
your aunt she’s more than his cousin. She says she’s his bastard
daughter.”

Jasper actually sighed with relief. No new
lies. “I already knew that, but thank you for sharing what you
overheard.” Because the information wasn’t helpful, Jasper felt
slightly less charitable toward Gifford for eavesdropping.

“Do you also know she really has no idea who
fathered her? She was interviewing this woman in the hope of
discovering her paternity. Your uncle is only one of several
potential men.”

Sevrin leaned forward. “The devil you
say.”

Jasper had lifted his glass to take a drink,
but now dropped his arm, causing whiskey to slosh from the glass
onto his hand.
She’d lied after all
. All this nonsense about
a painted box pointing to Merry as her father.

Jasper had thought they were past the lies,
that she’d been honest with him the day they’d made love. But he’d
known she was hiding something with her unchaperoned walk. He
should have demanded the truth.

Gifford coughed, drawing Jasper’s attention.
“As long as I’m telling you this, I should also mention that she
seems to be her mother’s daughter in every sense of the word.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jasper’s throat
constricted, forcing the words out in an angry rasp.

Now Gifford turned slightly to face him.
“She’s looking for the wealthiest title she can find. A girl from
her station with the
ton
at her feet… She’s taking full
advantage of her new position.”

No, no, that couldn’t be true. Surely she
would’ve tried to snare
him
by now. His blood ran cold. He’d
lain with her. Was she hoping he might compromise her and force a
marriage? No, she couldn’t be that calculating. But he recalled her
plan to swindle him. She’d been precisely that calculating.

Sevrin laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sax, do
you really believe that about her?”

“I heard her say it, Sev.” Gifford took a
draught of his ale. “She made some comment about being smarter than
her mother and doing better for herself.”

Jasper’s fingers encircled the glass like a
vise. “She’s the daughter of a whore. The night we met, she
concocted a scheme to defraud me using her body. Then, just the
other day, she gave herself to me, probably in the hope of
garnering a marriage proposal. Yes, I have to believe it of
her.”

Gifford set his tankard on the bar with a
thud. “I’m fighting next. Saxton, join me in the ring. You could
use a good bout.”

The lure of violence beckoned most fiercely,
but the siren’s call was even stronger. Jasper knew he shouldn’t,
but he was going to see Olivia. Right now.

He set his glass down. “Next time.” He turned
to go.

Gifford grabbed his arm, surprising Jasper.
“Why not now?”

“Another time.” Jasper shook the younger
man’s grip away and strode toward the back door.

“Wait.” Sevrin caught up to him and followed
him outside. “Where are you going?”

“None of your concern.”

“Right.” Sevrin ran a hand through his dark
hair. “Still, remember who you are. If you’re caught with her, she
wins. That is, if you really do believe she’s out to trap you.”

Jasper couldn’t believe anything else, no
matter how much he wanted to. His chest ached.

“I won’t get caught. I want her away from my
aunt. Tonight.”

Sevrin nodded. “Godspeed, then.”

Jasper turned and left. His carriage waited
at the mouth of the court. His feet were leaden with betrayal and
despair. He had only himself to blame. He knew he couldn’t trust
her and yet he had. He’d taken her lies like a child gathers
sweetmeats. And, as with too much sugar-laden food, he now felt
sick.

OLIVIA sat upright at the sound of her door
opening. It was quite late, but she hadn’t been asleep. She’d
stayed up working on Jasper’s waistcoat until her eyes were beyond
tired, but she was nearly finished.

“Who’s there?” she called, her heart racing.
The lantern next to her bed didn’t cast enough light to see the
door.

The door clicked shut, and a shadow fell
across her bed. “Get up.”

Jasper. Olivia cringed at the fury in his
tone. “Jasper? Why are you here?”

“Get up. Now.”

Fear pulled at her insides. She threw off the
covers and stood beside him. “What’s the matter? Is there an
emergency of some kind? Louisa—”

He grabbed her arm and plucked up the lantern
then dragged her toward her dressing chamber. “Just stop. You don’t
give a damn about Louisa.”

What had happened? Why was he treating her
like this? Olivia dug her heels into the carpet just outside her
dressing chamber. “Let go of me, and explain yourself.” She tried
to pull her arm free, but he tightened his grip.

“You don’t get to issue orders. I’ve had more
than enough of your lies, and you will leave. Now.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Tell me what’s
happened. Why are you acting like this?”

He pulled her into the dressing chamber and
set the lantern on a table. “Get dressed.”

“I’m not doing anything until you tell me
what’s going on.” She shook her head. “No, even then I’m not doing
anything. I’m not leaving Louisa.”

He wrapped his fingers around her other arm
and held her in front of him. “You’ll do exactly as I say. I’m
through with your lies and your machinations. It all ends now. I
know you’ve tried to pass yourself off as Merry’s daughter, taking
advantage of Louisa’s kindness and vulnerability. You’ve no idea
how Merry’s death devastated her and for you to purport to be his
daughter, to give her hope for some kind of happiness with someone
of his blood...” He thrust her away. “You make me sick.”

Oh, God. He knew Merry might not be her
father. She closed her eyes, hating herself for not telling him.
Like Louisa, she should have trusted him. “I’m sorry. I should have
told you.” She opened her eyes, but the fury in his gaze made her
look away from him. “Everything I told you before at Benfield was
true. I just didn’t tell you there was a chance Merry wasn’t my
father.” She flicked her gaze back to his. “It was too
humiliating.” And painful. Her heart ached to claim him as her
father.

His eyes were colder than every long winter’s
night. “It doesn’t matter. Your lies are finished. You can’t stay
with Louisa another day. Get dressed.”

“No! She doesn’t want me to. She knows all of
this.”

He froze. “What?”

“Louisa knows. She doesn’t care. She still
wants me to stay.”

“Tell me everything. And don’t lie.” He
stepped toward her, his features dark with angry menace.

Olivia stood her ground. She deserved his
ire. “I told you I visited my aunt.” He gave one very stiff nod.
“She’d thrown me out when I was four and ten upon learning her
husband had sired me. Since then, I believed my uncle was actually
my father. Until Louisa found me in that shop and connected my
handkerchiefs to Merry’s paintings.”

Jasper’s hands were fisted, but he listened
in stoic silence.

“Louisa sent someone to Devon to speak to my
foster parents, but my uncle had died, and my aunt had relocated to
Cheshunt. I went to visit her to tell her Merry was my father.
She’d been so furious upon learning of her husband’s infidelity and
that he’d sired a child with my mother. I wanted to alleviate her
pain, but she insisted Louisa was mistaken, that her husband was my
father, not Merry. Neither my aunt nor Louisa could verify my
paternity beyond a doubt, so when we got back to Town I talked to
people who knew my mother before I was born. I was hoping one of
them would know the definitive truth.”

“But none of them did.” His voice was flat,
emotionless. At least he didn’t sound angry anymore.

Olivia’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
Retelling this only underscored the fact that she’d never know the
truth. She looked down at her hands. “There’s a third man, an
actor. And who knows how many more.” Tears threatened, but she
refused to break down in front of him. He likely hated her after
discovering yet another lie and wanted her as far away from the
only person who’d probably ever truly loved her.

She regarded him with a pleading look. She
may not want to cry in front of him, but she had no problem
begging. This was too important. “Please don’t ask me to leave
Louisa. She wants me to stay, and I want to, too.”

He said nothing and the silence grew until it
filled the room as if it were another being.

His brows were drawn, and his hands were
still fisted. He didn’t look as angry as before, but lines of
anguish bracketed his mouth. “Why did you give yourself to me?”

She hadn’t expected that question, wasn’t
sure how to answer it. At length she said, “I needed you.” It was
the most honest thing she’d ever told him.

“You have no ulterior motive? No scheme to
somehow trick me?”

Of course he would go back to that. He still
hadn’t forgiven her for trying to swindle him. She shook her head.
“No, nothing.” She still wanted him. Boldly, she stepped toward
him. “There are no tricks, no plots, just me wanting you.”

He flinched. “How can I trust you?”

“I swear there are no more secrets between
us. I’ve told you everything, more than I’ve ever shared with
anyone. No one knows about my mother, about my aunt, about
my…shame.”

She watched the emotions play across his face
as he hesitated—compassion, wariness, determination. Finally,
desire. He took two steps and touched the side of her face. “That
is not your shame, but theirs.”

He tipped her head back and kissed her. His
lips were gentle yet demanding. She needed no persuasion to open
her mouth and meet his tongue with eager licks. One of his hands
cupped the back of her head while the other pressed her lower back
taut against his hardened frame. Her hands encircled his neck and
held onto him as if her life depended on it. And maybe it did.

Suddenly, he broke away from her and stepped
back. “I can’t.” He turned and went back to the bedroom.

Olivia followed fast on his heels. “Please
don’t go.”

“I have to. I can’t do this with you again. I
have more honor than that.”

“Your honor isn’t at stake—I’m no Society
miss. You’ve been more honorable with me than I’ve probably
deserved. I want you to stay.”