His Wicked Heart (40 page)

Louisa’s head perked up, but she said
nothing. They left the ball in utter silence until they were firmly
ensconced in Louisa’s coach.

Louisa turned to look at her. “Now, dear,
please tell me why you asked to go home. I don’t believe for a
second it’s due to a headache, though I daresay you may actually
have one now.”

Olivia smoothed her skirt, searching for what
she might say.

“Please don’t lie, dear. There’s no reason
to. You know I love you, don’t you?”

Olivia’s throat constricted. She nodded, and
tears filled her eyes. She blinked furiously. “That man that Jasper
hit is someone from my mother’s past. I met him in a shop not long
before you found me. He…propositioned me.”

Louisa’s mouth pursed. “The blackguard. So
that’s why Jasper hit him.”

“I’d thought so, but perhaps Clifton did
insult Lady Philippa.”

“That’s indeed possible but doubtful. The
coincidence of him approaching Jasper, and his connection to you is
too great. No, I’m certain he said something to insult
you
.”

“But why would Jasper behave like that on my
account?”

“Isn’t it obvious, dear? My nephew is quite
in love with you.”

Olivia nearly choked even as a joyous thrill
shot through her. “He’s not.”

“He certainly appears to be to my eyes. I can
tell you one thing for certain. I don’t think he plans to marry
Lady Philippa.”

“Why?”

Louisa looked happily smug. “Because he told
me.”

“What did he say?” She was nearly breathless
hoping Louisa was right.

“That he wasn’t yet ready to marry.”

Olivia noticed Louisa hadn’t said anything
about Jasper making a verbal commitment to Olivia. For now, this
was all Louisa’s—perhaps hopeful—speculation. She likely adored the
idea of her two favorite people being together. Olivia’s heart
ached—she adored it too.

“He didn’t speak of me, did he?”

Louisa lifted a shoulder in nonchalance. “No,
but I know my nephew. And, fool that I’ve been, I’ve finally
noticed the way he looks you. It’s the way Merry looked at me.”

Olivia wanted it to be true more than she’d
ever wanted anything. But she knew shared affection wouldn’t be
enough for them—it hadn’t been yet, despite the times they’d made
love. If Jasper had ever meant to make promises or declarations,
the opportunity had come and gone.

She thought of the duke’s ultimatum. The time
had come to put an end to this entire farce. “I have to leave.
Tomorrow.”

Louisa’s brow furrowed. “Why? I thought we
agreed you wanted to stay with me. We’ll get things sorted out with
Jasper and then you two will go to York for an extended
holiday.”

Olivia smiled sadly. “There’s nothing to sort
out, Louisa.”

“Don’t you want Jasper?”

“I do. I love him, but we can’t be together.
I will always be who I am, and I’m not a countess or a
duchess.”

“Nonsense. You can be whatever you like.
You’re the smartest girl I know, and Jasper loves you. He won’t let
you go.”

“He will,” Olivia said firmly.

“I promise you he won’t. I know him better
than you, dear. He made a mistake long ago, and he won’t make the
same mistake twice.” Olivia knew she spoke of Jasper’s first love.
Was it possible he would defy his father, his very duty, and marry
her instead of Philippa? She could scarcely countenance such a
reversal.

“What about the duke?”

“Oh, piffle. He’ll be furious, but he’ll have
to get over it. You’re not afraid of him, are you, dear?”

Not for herself, no. But for Louisa and
Jasper… “He paid me money to leave. If I don’t, he said he would
ruin me.”

Louisa’s features darkened, and her lips drew
back in a sneer. Olivia had never seen her look angry. Or more like
the duke. “My brother is a self-involved ass. He’ll do no such
thing.”

“Louisa, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself
if my presence somehow ruined you.”

“Ruined me how? So the Lady Badbys and Lady
Lydias of the world ignored me? That, my dear, would not be a
hardship.”

Olivia couldn’t help smiling.

“And I don’t think we care if you have the
opportunity to marry well since you’ll be marrying Jasper.”

She longed for Louisa to be right. “How can
he marry me if Society knows about my mother and that I’m a
bastard?”

“It’s all gossip and rumor, dear. There is
nothing to substantiate any of this. You are charming and
intelligent, and you will win every single person over with your
grace and poise. Soon people will laugh about the far-fetched
notion that you’re the daughter of a courtesan. Especially when
Holborn will refute it.”

“But he won’t.”

“Olivia, dear, please allow me to deal with
my brother. Occasionally, he needs reminding as to who is the elder
sibling—duke or not.”

Could this really come to pass? Louisa
convincing the duke to keep quiet? Jasper marrying
her
? Did
he really love her? Her heart flipped over.

The coach slowed, and they pulled onto Queen
Street.

“I know it will be difficult, Olivia, but do
try to get a good night’s sleep. In the morning we’ll get this all
sorted out, and before you know it you’ll be the Countess of
Saxton.”

Olivia wouldn’t sleep a moment.

JASPER stepped out of his coach into the
warm, late summer night air, eager for the gin that would dull the
ache in his shoulder and the pain in his heart. At last, he’d won
the approval of the duke, but at what cost?

Though his mind knew marrying Philippa to be
the correct choice, his heart—and regions south of that—ached for
Olivia.

It was early for the club, but Jasper went
directly to the low-ceilinged back room. He fetched a bottle of gin
and a cup from the bar and settled himself at a battered table set
with four chairs. A butcher, Hopkins, came in a few moments later
and joined him. He set his ale-filled tankard on the table.

“Tom said you were back here. Wasn’t
expecting you tonight—Sevrin told us what that bastard Gifford did
to you. How’s your shoulder?”

Jasper poured the gin into a chipped cup.
“All right.”

Hopkins bared his teeth. “I’m only sorry that
son of a bitch is in Newgate. Might have to break him out so the
club can show their disapproval.”

Saxton raised the cup in appreciation of the
man’s sentiment and downed a healthy swig. The noxious liquor
burned a hole straight to his gut.

“Gin?” Hopkins asked. “I thought ye were a
whiskey man.”

“Tonight calls for stronger libation.”

“I see.”

They drank in silence a moment, Jasper
filling a second cup, before another man came in. He also sat at
their table, and soon he and Hopkins were detailing the manner in
which they’d school Gifford if he ever crossed their paths. That
these common men would jump so quickly and completely to Jasper’s
defense was a bit surprising…and touching.

Sevrin strode into the room and made his way
directly to their table. “Saxton, what the hell are you doing
here?”

Jasper set his half-empty cup on the table.
“Seems as though you expected me to be here, since here you
are.”

The other men chuckled.

Sevrin hauled Jasper to his feet. “You’re
going home.”

Jasper shook him off then grimaced as pain
radiated from his shoulder.

Sevrin cringed. “Christ, I forgot about your
shoulder. What the hell were you thinking hitting that man at a
ball?”

Both Hopkins and the other man gaped at him
then broke into laughter. “You hit someone at a
ball
?”
Hopkins pounded the table with his fist.

Jasper actually wanted to laugh with them,
but perhaps that was due to the effects of the gin. “You were
there?”

Sevrin nodded. “According to rumor, you’re
either fighting a duel at dawn, about to announce your engagement
to Lady Philippa, or both. What the devil is going on, and how does
Olivia West figure in all of this?”

“I’m not fighting a duel, though I’d
considered it. You’ll be happy to know I’d selected you as my
second.”

“I’d have done it if he refused,” Hopkins
interjected. He and his tablemate were riveted on the
conversation.

Jasper continued, “My engagement to Lady
Philippa will be announced soon. There’s to be a dinner on
Saturday. I’ll make sure you’re invited.” He turned to the men at
the table. “I regret to inform you I cannot invite either of you,
unfortunately. I mean no offense.”

Both men laughed again. “None taken!” Hopkins
answered.

“You have yet to mention Miss West.” Sevrin
looked and sounded irritated. In fact, his good humor was glaringly
absent.

“There is nothing to say about Miss West.”
The words were acrid on his tongue.

Sevrin’s eyes narrowed. “You great ass,
there’s plenty to say. Why are you marrying Lady Philippa when
you’re clearly in love with Miss West?”

What did Sevrin know about any of this? “You
of all people should understand the vagaries of marriage and why
one would choose one bride over another.”

“Actually, I understand why one would choose
no
bride over being leg-shackled, but we’re not discussing
me. You can choose whomever you like, and you like Miss West.”

“It’s none of your bloody business, but I
can’t marry her.”

Sevrin arched a brow. “Can’t or won’t?”

“It hardly signifies.”

“Wait.” Hopkins held up a hand. “If you love
this West girl, why are you marrying someone else? I understand you
lords have your own set of rules, but it seems to me that marriage
is marriage regardless of your address. Unless, of course, you’re
just as happy marrying this other gel.”

He wasn’t, but that didn’t signify either.
“Yes, we have our own rules, and the rules say I should marry this
other ‘gel’.”

“Nonsense.” Sevrin scoffed. “Who did you
hit?”

“Someone who can make Olivia’s life
miserable. But I’ve rectified all of that. Her secrets are
safe—forever.”

Sevrin gave him an incredulous look. “What
deal did you make with the devil?”

What an apt description of the duke.
“Olivia’s secrets will remain inviolate, and I’m going to marry
Philippa. It’s done.”

“It’s not done, but when it is, you can’t
undo it. You’ll be married to her
forever
.”

“I’m willing to do it for her.” He’d do
anything for Olivia.

Sevrin’s eyes narrowed. “You do love
her.”

“More than anything.” Even though she’d lied
and continued to lie. But he didn’t care. She had to have a reason
for keeping that letter from him. He knew she did. They couldn’t
have shared what they’d shared otherwise. She’d said she trusted
him—and he knew in his bones that she did.

Sevrin gave a half smile and shook his head.
“You really are a great ass. Whatever deal you’ve made, unmake
it.”

“I can’t. The duke has given his full
support. Olivia will be safe behind his protection.”

“Protection he’d have to offer his
daughter-in-law, the future goddamned duchess. Saxton, are you
really that stupid?”

“It’s not that simple,” Jasper argued. The
warmth of the gin was wearing off.

“I’m with Sevrin,” Hopkins said. “You’re a
right nodcock.” The other man nodded his agreement.

Sevrin poked him in the chest. “You seem to
forget you’re the future Duke of Holborn. Whatever power your
father wields, you have at your disposal.”

“But what if it’s best for everyone if I
marry Philippa? What if that’s what Olivia prefers?” And perhaps
this was the true heart of why he’d made the deal with Holborn. He
didn’t really know what Olivia wanted. Had no idea if she loved him
the way he loved her.

“Concern yourself with what’s best for you
and Olivia. The rest will fall into place.”

OLIVIA had tried to sleep, but after tossing
and turning the past two hours, she’d finally abandoned the
enterprise. Despite everything Louisa had said, she couldn’t
imagine Jasper arriving tomorrow and declaring his eternal love.
Even if he did love her, she felt certain he’d do as he ought and
marry Lady Philippa. A well-born and estimable woman who would make
an excellent countess.

She entered her dressing chamber and went to
the armoire. Inside hung the trappings of a lady. A lady Olivia
could never hope to be. Whatever she learned, however she managed
in Society, she would always be the bastard from the country whose
mother had made a name for herself by spreading her legs. Others
might not be aware of it, but Olivia was, and the shame at times
was overwhelming.

Louisa didn’t want her to go, and truthfully
Olivia didn’t want to leave her. But neither could she remain here.
She felt confident Louisa would help settle her in a nice village
somewhere. Not Devon. Not Cheshunt. And definitely nowhere near
York or anywhere else Jasper would take his bride.

Olivia pulled her old valise from the corner
and laid it atop the rose and cream cushioned bench. Methodically,
she extracted pairs of stockings from the dresser and folded a half
dozen into the valise. Then she moved on to chemises, taking but
two. She was so engrossed in her task that she failed to hear the
intrusion into her solitude.

“Where are you going?”

Olivia jumped. She turned briskly, clutching
a chemise to her chest. Jasper lounged against the doorframe,
resplendent in his evening clothes, despite the fact that his
cravat had been loosened. He crossed his arms and wore a deep
frown.

She purposely ignored his question—and the
heady desire coursing through her body. “What are you doing here?
It’s practically the middle of the night.”

“Practically, yes.”

He came into the room, his presence engulfing
the small space. His familiar scent of pine teased her senses. The
need to go to him, to touch his beloved face, kiss his delectable
lips was visceral.