Mary Blayney (47 page)

32

I
CANNOT COUNT
how many times the courier has been here since I wrote and I have had no response from Jess. It has been at least six weeks.” Olivia was in bed and Kendall was busy tucking in the covers as though her charge was a baby in swaddling clothes.

“He is a busy man, my lady.”

“That is no excuse. It was very, very important. I expected him to come home immediately.”

Kendall straightened suddenly. Well-trained maid that she was, Kendall did not ask for details, but Olivia knew she was curious.

“I want him to tell me how Rowena is doing. I want to hear it in person, and I am sure that the duke would like to hear his opinion as well.”

It was such a good lie that Kendall nodded approval.

“You should write him again. The courier leaves in the morning.”

“I’ll do that first thing, Kendall. Then to the kitchen. I have almost perfected the dry spice for the salmon. If it is cooked as slowly as possible, the spices will flavor the entire fillet.”

Her maid yawned.

Olivia pretended that was the end of the discussion. She should have asked when they could expect the material they had ordered from London. If that had been the subject, there would have been no yawn. How many times did she have to witness the fact that not everyone was interested in what they ate and how it was cooked? “Good night, Kendall.”

“Good night, my lady.”

As soon as the door was closed, Olivia drummed her feet to loosen the covers and thought about the letter to Jess. She should write it tonight. That’s what she would do, so the letter would be ready in plenty of time for the morning courier.

Olivia tossed the covers back. The sound of the wind beating against the window was a reminder to put on her robe and slippers. Holding an unlit candle in her hand she went into her boudoir.

Her writing desk was as tidy as ever. She lit the candle and reseated the globe. With a piece of paper in front of her and the nib sharpened, she opened the inkwell to find that the ink was no more than a dried lump at the bottom of the well. Oh dear. Should it not last more than six weeks?

All right, that was an easy enough problem to solve. She would run down to Lyn’s office and use his ink, or she could bring the ink up. It would only take five minutes to fetch it.

Olivia dashed out of the room and was halfway down the stairs before she realized that the castle was completely dark at this hour. She was not afraid, but it did not look or feel nearly as comfortable now as it did in the morning.

The shadows were the same, she insisted as a tingle of fear settled next to her bravado. Except for the new statue at the other end of the hall. When had that been put in place? Making a mental note to ask in the morning, she set the candle on the table outside the study.

In the second between placing it there and opening the door someone grabbed her from behind, his hand over her mouth.

Panic gave her strength and she kicked back, aiming for the place between his legs but missing it completely.

“Olivia!”

How did he know who it was? Probably the same way she knew it was Michael Garrett. The way his hand felt on her mouth, the way it made her feel warm all over, the way she wanted to fit her whole body against his.

“Oh for God’s sake, Olivia. I’m sorry. Shh. Shh.” He smoothed her hair with his hands, turning her into his chest. She was shaking and mad at herself for being so missish, but she could not stop or move away.

Her ear was pressed against his heart and she could feel it beating, steadily but hard, as though he was angry.

What right did he have to be angry? This was her house, not his. She leaned back to look him in the eye, irritation taking the place of fear.

“What are you doing here? You almost scared me to death.”

“You didn’t do my heart any good, either, my lady. What are
you
doing here?”

“I asked first.” Olivia took a step back, out of his arms. It didn’t make any sense to let him hold her if she was going to argue with him. “I came to find some ink so I could write to my brother Jess this evening. There is a courier to London tomorrow and I wanted to be sure that my letter went out as soon as possible.”

“What is so urgent that the letter must be written tonight?”

“Nothing,” she lied, looking away from him so he would not see it in her eyes. “I could not sleep, and it occurred to me that I should make use of the time by writing to Jess.” She was proud of that; it was the complete truth. As long as he did not ask her what she was writing to him about.

“You are one of the worst liars I have ever met.”

“Really? But I’m not lying.”

“Then you are not telling me the whole truth.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You are not going to put anything about what happened in your letter, are you?”

“No, of course not. It’s only that I think he should consider coming home to give Lyn support.”

“The duke seems to have all the support he needs.” Michael folded his arms and considered her from his superior height. “You are telling me that all you will have to do is ask your brother to come home and he will leave London immediately, make the trip on miserable roads without any idea of what is so important.”

“He will if I ask him.”

“Do tell me the magic words, Lady Olivia.”

“I am his sister and he loves me. He would die if anything happened to me.”

“But you are safe now. Why do you have to tell him anything?” It was a moment before he said, with great certainty, “You think he had something to do with your abduction.”

“No.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “Absolutely not.” Olivia gave him a quick look from under her lashes. “I have no idea what worrisome story may make its way to town. I am going to reassure him and suggest that he could be of help here. That is all.”

“How thoughtful, and what a bag of nonsense.” He took her by the arm and pulled her into Lyn’s study. “Tell me what Lord Jessup has to do with this.”

“How do you know that what I said isn’t the truth?”

He shook his head.

“You can truly tell when someone is lying?”

“Yes, and do not ask me to teach you how to lie or how to tell when someone is. Your duke brother would love that. He would tie me to a cart and drag me in the dirt.”

“I was not going to ask you to teach me!”

“That is another lie.” Michael rubbed his jaw. “I will not teach you to lie, but you can keep trying and when I do not catch you in one you will know you have succeeded.”

“It might take forever.”

“I devoutly hope it does, Lady Olivia. Telling the truth is so much easier than nursing lies. After a while it is hard to tell truth from story.”

“How do you know?”

“Experience.”

She wanted to know more about his life before she met him but now he was acting like David. Answering her questions with more of his own. Questions she did not want to answer.

“I must go.” She reached around the door and picked up the candle and went to find the ink. He followed her.

She had the inkwell in hand before her annoyance faded enough to let other thoughts take shape in her head. “What are you doing here, Mr. Garrett?”

“Lord David has not found a new night porter yet, so I am making a circuit of the inside as well as the outside to be sure all is as it should be.”

He sounded like an officious butler.

“Lady Olivia, you can ask me questions until dawn. I will wait you out and go back to the one you have not answered. Why is it so urgent that you must write to your brother in London?”

Where was the man with whom she had traveled? That man had been kind and only a little autocratic.

Was it because it was just the two of them in the almost dark that his looks were an enticing mix of fascinating and forbidding? If he thought he could intimidate her he was wrong.

“It is none of your business.”

“Convince me.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Write the letter and show it to me. I will give it to the courier myself to make sure it is the only letter you send.”

“That is ridiculous. You are not my father, my brother or my guardian. Go away.”

He did not answer her, but stayed right where he was, watching her until she began to be self-conscious. She was wearing only her night robe and while it covered more of her flesh than her gowns did, she was not wearing a corset. The lack of it made her feel indecently dressed. She could feel a blush starting and hated her lack of sophistication.

“You are blushing because it has only now occurred to you how inappropriate this meeting is?”

“Not at all. It is warm in here.”

“Tell me why you are writing to your brother.”

“Women learned all they know about nagging from men.”

“You are going to learn something else in a minute, Lady Olivia.”

She made a face at him, picked up the candle and headed for the door. Garrett reached it before she did, blocking her exit. Olivia turned and walked toward the door that led into the library. Garrett stayed where he was. Good. He would learn that he could not treat her like a child.

“Your brother may tolerate it when you act like a child, but I will not.”

She slowed a little but did not turn around.

“You are behaving like a selfish chit. It is not only your safety that is at stake here. There are at least a hundred people in and around the castle every day and God knows how many in the village. Any one of them could be at risk.”

She stopped and, still with her back to him, winced at the truth of what he was saying.

“While I am convinced that you are no longer in any physical danger, I still know nothing about the men who took you. Nothing. If someone is hurt because you will not tell me what you know, you will have to live with the guilt. Not to mention my disappointment in you.”

“I am so sorry, Garrett. So sorry.” Mortified, embarrassed and discomfited. None of those words summed up exactly how she felt. “You are right. There are others to think about. Not the need to protect my reputation or spare Jess from Lyn’s anger. I could not live with the guilt. I still feel terrible about Big Sam searching for me that night.”

Ashamed was more like it. Ashamed that she had only thought of her brother Jess and not the possibility that others could be in danger.

“Please, let me explain.” She put the candle and ink on the table nearest the door, walked toward the fireplace and stood as close to the fading warmth as she could.

S
HE REALLY DID LISTEN
to reason. Amazing. Michael tried to count. It was the second or third time that she had listened to what he had to say and stopped just as he thought a tantrum was brewing. “Will you be warm enough?”

“Oh, I am almost never warm enough.” She waved away his concern. “But do not add any more fuel to the fire. Not for me.”

That was carrying penance too far. He prodded the banked coals and added some more wood. Flames licked up at the new fuel and a heat radiated a few feet from the hearth. She sat in the chair, holding her night robe closed at the neck. Michael moved behind the chair opposite her, hoping to delect the awareness shimmering around them.

“I did hear one important conversation when I was being held.” Her expression was earnest as though she was doing her best to make up for her thoughtlessness. “Not a conversation precisely, more like a brief exchange.”

Michael listened as she told him of the comment one of the kidnappers had made and what she’d surmised. He listened not only to the words, “Her brother will give us the land on a silver platter,” but to the way she spoke them, the way her body communicated as much as her admission. She was telling the truth, or was a better actress than she was a baker.

“You have four brothers. Why do you think the kidnappers were talking about Lord Jessup?”

“Because he is the only one who is ever in trouble.”

“What do you call Gabriel’s problems in France? I would call it trouble.”

“Not really. At least not the way I mean. Gabriel was there to study science and was caught up in the war, with unfortunate consequences.”

“I will pretend I see the distinction because I know Gabriel and cannot see anything in his life now that would lead to such a horror as your kidnapping.”

“All right. Thank you. And David is as honest as lemons are tart. He would tell Lyn what the problem was in as few words as possible.”

“Yes, he would.” Michael sat down in the chair across from her and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “So it is your brother who gambles. It could be one other who is at the heart of this. The brother you forgot to mention: the duke.”

33

Y
OU THINK
that Lynford knows more about the kidnapping than he has let on? Never.” She straightened and took offense for him. “Lyn would not let himself be put in a position like that.”

“That is a response based on your sense of his superiority. Or perhaps you have proof.” He leaned back in the chair.

“First of all, the land that he owns is his by right of the title.” She sounded vaguely annoyed as if she was explaining the obvious and was irritated by the need. “All the land is entailed. He cannot sell it even if it would mean saving the life of his son.”

It was an interesting piece of information. “He will have personal wealth. Or perhaps land his wife owns.”

“His personal wealth is not in land.”

Michael must have shown his surprise at that.

“Yes, it is not the usual, but how many times must I tell you that our father was profoundly influenced by his time in France? He had interests in any number of ventures, from mines to canals.” She threw up her hands. “And a dozen other outlandish ventures for all I know.”

“The mind boggles at what those could be.” Michael had thought the duke conservative to the point of reactionary. It was hard to imagine what of the newer developments in science and commerce might attract his interest. He caught up with what Olivia was saying too late to understand the details.

“It is a kind of oven that every cook will want—it will make accurate baking accessible to everyone.”

It seemed they were now discussing Olivia’s idea for improved baking. Food was all the girl thought about. As she chattered on, he wondered if her obsession was a substitute for a lack of other passion in her life. He cleared his throat and forced his mind back to what was important, allowing himself the pleasure of watching her mouth until she stopped for a breath.

“Lady Olivia, the hour grows late and there are still some questions.”

She nodded, altogether adorable in her desire to be helpful. He would have been happier if she had been offended by his abrupt change of subject.

“You are sure he said, ‘Her brother will give us the land on a silver platter.’ Those were the exact words?”

“Yes. Eleven words. Fourteen syllables. I wanted to be sure I would remember it exactly. It seemed an odd sort of ransom until I thought of Jess.”

“Is there any land in dispute right now?”

“No, at least I do not think so.” She raised her shoulders. “How would I know? I would only hear of it from the servants. That is not the sort of thing discussed at the dinner table.” She laughed at the thought and he smiled at her amusement. “Why do you doubt it is Jess? It makes the most sense.”

“Lady Olivia, I know you are a valued member of this family. The duke made it clear that losing you would break his heart.”

She ducked her head and shook it, touched and embarrassed by what they both knew was the truth.

“But allow me this question, my lady. Why would a London moneylender or any other less-than-honorable man send someone all the way to Derbyshire in order to threaten your brother who lives in London?”

Olivia pressed her lips together as she tried to think of a reason. There was none, so he finished his explanation.

“Lord Jessup has friends, perhaps even a mistress he has affection for. Surely they would be a more likely target and engender a more immediate response.”

“Yes, Jess is the most likeable fellow in the world. During my Season he introduced me to an endless stream of gentlemen, not a one of which Rowena would allow me to know better.”

“Rowena is the duchess who is in London?”

Olivia nodded, and continued her own line of thought. “What did the kidnappers mean, Mr. Garrett?”

“I don’t know yet. But I will find out tomorrow when I ask the duke.”

Olivia stood and stalked over to his chair.

“Tell me, Mr. Garrett. Tell me what you suspect. You are not one of my brothers and this has a direct impact on my life.”

Olivia might say she was always cold, but her body gave off the sweetest warmth. If he looked, he could see the outline of her breasts, the neat waist belted by her robe. If he looked.

He stared into her eyes and was relieved that what he saw was stubbornness and not seduction.

“In the short time I have known you I have been well introduced to your impulsive behavior, my lady. I will not discuss this with you until I have spoken with your brother.”

“I am so tired of being treated like a child. I am not a child.”

“I am well aware of that.” He glanced down quite deliberately. Only for a second. “But you do have a tendency to act like one when you are denied what you want.”

God help him, this was torture. She had no idea what she did to a man. To him. If she did not leave soon he would have to show her.

O
LIVIA COULD FEEL
where he glanced. Right where her night robe crossed her body. The tingling sensation settled in her breasts and made her smile in spite of her irritation.

This discussion was beginning to sound like one of those bickering matches that she never won. Perhaps she could tease him out of his aggravation. His clothes? No, that would imply poverty. She went through a list of teaseable ideas and found that none of them suited this situation.

“It is time for you to go back to your room, my lady,” he said, easing from his chair.

He was right. It would do her still-fragile reputation no good at all to be found here with him at this hour.

“All right. And while I am sleeping you will wander around all night and see if anyone is not where they’re supposed to be?”

“Yes. Inside and out.”

“I can vouch for the fact you do a wonderful job pretending to be a statue and scaring people.” There, that was the tease that would make him smile.

He did not smile or even answer. He stood as still as a stone figure. When she drew close to him he took a step back, raised a hand to his forehead.

Did he have a headache? She was not about to ask, for surely he would blame her for that as well. All right, she would give up trying to make him smile.

Olivia went back to the table by the door, made sure the top was tight on the inkwell. Tomorrow she would win him over with something delicious for breakfast and his pique would fade away.

Garrett moved across the room and came to her. When he put his hand on the door handle, Olivia realized all he was going to do was open the door for her.

She felt as dull as the scullery maid. If he would just look at her when he said good night. If he would smile she could leave knowing he was no longer upset with her.

“Were you a guard in the army? Who did you protect? When did you have time to sleep?”

“I served England, my lady. I slept when the opportunity arose.”

“What kind of uniform did you wear?” She eyed him like a work of art. Which he was, in a way. She tried to imagine him wearing something more colorful than his black greatcoat and worn boots. “Whatever you wore I have no doubt women found you irresistible.” She reached up, touched the small scar on his cheek and shivered at the tingle that came from him, right through her fingers. “This little scar and your ear, it is just the thing to make people realize that your uniform is more than a fine suit of clothes.”

“It is in your best interests to go back to your room, Olivia.” As he spoke, through gritted teeth, he pushed her hand from his ear.

She had just picked up the candle, but put it back down, along with the inkwell. She hated that tone of voice, as though she had pushed him to his limits. He did not know what limits were. She was the one who had been pushed enough. “I was going to leave until you commanded me. I think I will stay here and write my letter.”

“Oh no, you will not.” He came toward her until her back was pressed against the wall next to the door. “Has no one told you that you should play with fire only in the kitchen?”

He kissed her quite ruthlessly. That was the only thought she had. From that moment on it was all feeling. Beyond his mouth crushing her lips, his body pressed into hers, making her feel as though she could never have enough of this fuel that warmed her beyond bearing.

He ended the kiss and pushed her away, leaving her dizzy and abandoned.

“Go back to your room now, Olivia. Unless you do not want to go to bed alone.” He reached across her and she was shocked at the way her body responded, a rush of pleasure from her breasts to her belly. She did not want to go to bed alone. Before she could say it, Garrett opened the door and pushed her into the hall.

Olivia stumbled out of the room without her candle or the ink. He closed the door behind her. She stared at it a moment, turned and ran down the hall as if the ghost from the old castle were following her.

She could not begin to sort out her feelings until she was back in bed, the covers pulled up around her neck. She had been playing with fire. It was just that no one flirted with her. No one ever winked at her or teased her or stood too close.

Until now.

Even in London she had been every man’s friend—well, except for Viscount Bendasbrook. He was vastly entertaining to be with but would not have suited at all. Oh, and that annoying Lord Ellinger and his silly poems.

Was there not someone between the men who treated her like a sister and the Lord Ellingers of the world? Ellinger tried to sit next to her all the time. Sent a poem or flowers every day and insisted it was love that made him so giddy. Personally, she thought Ellinger was smoking hashish, and Bendasbrook must have been desperate for a wife to court her.

No one had ever looked on her in quite the right way. Never.

Until Michael Garrett, who was yet another type.

He wanted to protect her from a real menace, but also from a supposed menace she was not so sure she wanted protection from. Why could he not let her decide?

That was it! She sat up in bed and hit the mattress with her hands. No man allowed her to make up her own mind, make her own choices. She had to dance to their tune.

All right. That was the way it had been, but her life was about to change.