Scandalous Summer Nights (5 page)

A
mere hour before, Olivia had been so famished that she’d rashly followed the smell of shepherd’s pie into the inn’s taproom instead of ordering it to be sent up to her room. But now, as James glared at her with disapproving yet beautiful mossy-green eyes, she could only manage to choke down a few forkfuls of her dinner.

James was doing a lot of staring and very little talking. Perhaps he was still dazed after being blindsided by Crutcher, but Olivia got the distinct impression that he wanted to issue a sound scolding—and was valiantly attempting to restrain himself until the appropriate time and place.

Olivia dedicated herself to the task of delaying that time and place for as long as possible.

No doubt, there would be consequences for her reckless
behavior. But right now, as she sipped her ale and glanced at James from beneath her lashes, she knew the risks had been worth it.

She was three hundred miles away from London. Alone with James—if one discounted Hildy and the dozen or so villagers and travelers in the taproom who eyed them curiously.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” James wore a scowl, but the concern beneath it warmed Olivia’s heart.

“Yes.” She flashed him her most charming smile. “Are you enjoying Haven Bridge?”

He snorted. “We need to talk.”

“Very well.” She pushed her plate to the side and folded her hands demurely.

“Not here.”

“It’s too dark to stroll outside,” she said. “What venue did you have in mind, exactly?”

James ground his teeth. “I assume you have a room upstairs?”

“Of course.”

In a lower voice he asked, “Which door?”

Olivia flushed. A gentleman asking for directions to her room was shocking—even for her. “The second on the left.”

“Go up with Hildy. I’ll follow in the next hour or so. When I knock, answer quickly so no one sees me in the hallway outside your room.”

Olivia wanted to turn a cartwheel right there on the spot. She was to have a rendezvous with James. Tonight. “I understand.” She endeavored to sound cool, as though she did this sort of thing all the time. “Come, Hildy.”

As Olivia slid off the bench, James stood. She inclined
her head, determined to exit the taproom gracefully in spite of her wobbly knees.

The moment she and Hildy reached their room, the maid wrung her hands. “It’s not proper for Mr. Averill to come knocking in the middle of the night.”

“It’s only ten o’clock.” But she understood Hildy’s point, and she shot the maid an apologetic smile. Poor Hildy. Olivia had subjected her to one impropriety after another since they left London three days ago.

“I think you should tell Mr. Averill you’d prefer to meet with him tomorrow. You could go for a walk—and I would accompany you.”

“I’ll suggest it to James when he arrives, but he seemed rather adamant about wanting to talk.”

“The duke would not be pleased,” Hildy warned.

That
was putting it mildly. If Owen knew what Olivia had done, he’d probably force her to spend the rest of her life in a convent. And she shuddered to think what he’d do to James.

Which was why Owen simply must not learn of her daring adventure.

“Since we have a little time before James arrives, help me change out of this.” Olivia eyed her dusty traveling gown with distaste. What did one wear to a late-night tryst?

As though Olivia had uttered the question aloud, Hildy offered, “The white muslin?”

Her maid was, no doubt, hopeful that white would serve as a reminder to all parties that Olivia was an innocent young maiden. Although Olivia was inclined to object for that very reason, she had to agree it was the simplest dress she’d brought and the most appropriate. “Very well.”

Hildy had not had time to unpack Olivia’s things and immediately began rummaging through her portmanteau. Olivia busied herself as well, washing up and repairing her hair. An hour later, she was ready—sitting in a hard wooden chair, pretending to read a book.

When a knock sounded at the door, Hildy
tsked
and Olivia leaped to her feet.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Averill.” A slight pause. “Who else would it be?”

The rich, deep sound of his voice made her heart beat faster. She opened the door and drank in the sight of his broad shoulders, tapered waist, and long, lean legs. “Would you like to come in?” she whispered.

He propped an arm on the door frame and leaned in to look at her room. Upon spying Hildy, he shook his head. “No.” He clasped a hand around her wrist and glanced into the hallway behind him before tugging her forward. “Come with me.”

Olivia’s mouth went dry, but she turned to give her horrified maid a reassuring smile. “Try to sleep. I’ll return shortly.”

Before she knew it, James had led her into the corridor. They tripped lightly down the runner covering the old wood floor and ducked into a room two doors down on the right.

James’s room. His worn leather bag sat on the floor beside a washstand, and his hat hung on a hook beside it. The faint smell of his shaving soap tickled her nose.

He let go of her wrist, placed a large hand at the small of her back, and propelled her inside. Then he closed the door and turned the key in the lock. He pointed at the bed. “Sit.”

As a matter of pride, she ignored the command and sat on the wooden chair near the foot of the bed. James paced in front of her, although the confines of the room only allowed him to take two small strides in one direction before turning around. This seemed to vex him even more.

Olivia waited patiently, hands in her lap and ankles crossed primly.

At last, James halted and raked his hand through his hair like he wanted to pull out a fistful. “What in the
hell
are you doing in Haven Bridge?”

During the long coach ride from London, Olivia had debated how to best answer this question and hadn’t come to any clear conclusion—until now.

She had to tell him the truth.

“I couldn’t bear the way you left without saying good-bye. It felt like you were running away from me. From us.”

“Olivia.” His voice was ripe with exasperation. “There
is
no ‘us.’ ”

Ouch. That smarted. “Well of course there is.” Before he could contradict her, she added, “And it was powerful enough to drive you out of town.”

James closed his eyes. Like he needed a moment to compose himself and his thoughts. “I suppose I deserved that. I handled things badly on the night of the Easton ball.”

“You also handled things badly the next day when you visited Owen.”

“That may be true. But, Olivia, what would you have had me do? I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I did. I can’t take it back no matter how much I want to.”

Ouch again.

“I’m leaving for Egypt in a couple of months,” he
continued. “There can be no future for us. You must realize that.”

She shrugged. “I take a different view of things.”

“Let me ask a simpler question,” James said. “Does Huntford know you’re here?”

“I should say not.”

James cursed under his breath. “Where does he think you are?”

“With my aunt Eustace in Oxfordshire.” Olivia drew in a deep breath. “I made a great show of writing her a letter informing her of my plans to visit but never sent it. I didn’t want dear Aunt Eustace to worry when I failed to arrive.”

“How very considerate of you.” His sarcasm stung. “And how did you convince your coachman and Hildy to go along with your scheme?”

Olivia stared at her hands, wishing her explanations didn’t sound so shameful to her own ears. She’d told herself that the ends justified the means, but that didn’t prevent her from feeling awful. “When we stopped at an inn the first night, I casually mentioned how eager I was to see Aunt Eustace’s charming cottage near the Lakes. The coachman protested at first and said his instructions were to deliver me to Oxfordshire, but I assured him that Owen was aware of the change of plans and that Aunt Eustace was expecting me to arrive in Haven Bridge in a couple days’ time.”

“So you lied to them.”

Must he make her admit it? “Yes.”

James resumed his pacing. “How did you know I would be here?”

“I didn’t know for certain, but when you said you were
going to the Lakes, I assumed you’d take the opportunity to visit your uncle Humphrey. You once mentioned him at a dinner party. I could tell by the way you described his cluttered study and sharp mind that you were very fond of him—and of Haven Bridge.”

James shook his head. “I can’t say I recall that conversation.”

“It was some time ago,” Olivia said.

“And you remembered?” James’s forehead wrinkled, and she resisted the urge to smooth away the lines with her fingertip.

She did remember, and she treasured time spent with him—especially the moments where he confided little snippets of himself. “I thought I might like to visit Haven Bridge myself someday.”

James sank onto the foot of the bed so that his eyes—which fairly sparked with anger—were level with hers. “Coming here without your brother’s knowledge was reckless. You put yourself in peril. If you’d been accosted by highwaymen on the way here, you could have found yourself stranded in the wilderness—or worse.”

“The peaceful countryside isn’t exactly teeming with thieves. A robbery could just as easily have happened on the way to my aunt Eustace’s,” Olivia reasoned. She’d never really considered all the things that could go wrong with her plan; she’d been too focused on finding James.

“You are missing the point,” James said evenly. “If something
had
happened to you, no one would have even known. Your aunt wasn’t expecting you and God knows
I
wasn’t.”

“I see no purpose in dwelling on all the things that could have gone wrong. Nothing did.”

“Have you forgotten that a drunken farm laborer made improper advances toward you?
That
could have ended badly.”

She dared a small smile. “But it didn’t, thanks to you.”

James didn’t soften in the least; rather, he looked like he wanted to break something. “First thing in the morning, I shall send word to Huntford informing him of your whereabouts. I suspect he’ll come to retrieve you himself, which means he’ll have three days of travel in which to ponder various forms of punishment for your ill-advised escapade.”

Olivia squirmed on the hard wooden chair. “Perhaps we shouldn’t act so hastily—there are other options.”

James laughed, a hollow, barking sound. “Such as?”

“Tomorrow, I could write Aunt Eustace, let her know I’m coming, and leave for Oxfordshire the following day. Owen need never know about my detour to Haven Bridge.”

“I’m not going to lie to your brother.”

“If you want to tell him the whole sordid tale, I cannot stop you.” Olivia sighed dramatically. “But do not be surprised when he puts me on the next ship to America.”

“It would serve you right.”

Now it was Olivia’s turn to get up and pace. “And what of you? Do you not bear any responsibility? Not that I would ever dream of implicating you, but one could make the case that you encouraged me.”

“I encouraged you?”

“When you kissed me.”

“Yes,” he snapped dryly, “how could I forget?”

Ouch. Thrice wounded.

“Say what you like, James. But I
know
that kiss meant
something to you. I felt it in the way you held me—like you wanted me all to yourself.” She might have added that he looked at her like she was the last marshmallow on the dessert tray, but she saw no need to belabor the point.

He sprang up and grasped her shoulders. “Listen to me. That kiss was a mistake. I will not deny that I got carried away, but I did not expect you to be so…” He shrugged helplessly.

“So
what
?” She had to know.

“So… passionate,” he said grudgingly. “Or so skilled at kissing.”

Olivia’s cheeks heated. The compliment—reluctant though it may have been—more than made up for the barbs he’d delivered earlier. “Thank you. I thought you were quite a good kisser, too.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “Compared to whom?”

“It’s not important. Do go on.”

A frown crossed James’s handsome face before he continued. “You must realize that we are not at all suited. You are the sister of a duke. I am a solicitor who is leaving for Egypt at summer’s end. I do not want or need a wife. The sooner you accept that, the better off we both shall be.” With that, he released her arms, strode to the opposite side of the room, and stared out the small window that overlooked the inn’s courtyard.

“I would wait for you.” Olivia’s voice trembled. “Till you returned from Egypt.”

“This isn’t just about Egypt,” James said coolly. “You are my best friend’s younger sister. I’ve never been more cognizant of that fact than I am tonight.”

“Why does that sound like a criticism?”

“In coming here, you deceived your family and put
yourself in jeopardy. It was a stupid, selfish, and incredibly immature thing to do.”

Until now, Olivia had tried valiantly to imagine she was on a daring and romantic adventure. But James’s words rang true. She hated the thought of worrying her family and would never have resorted to this scheme if it wasn’t her last chance for happiness. For love. “You may be right—”

“No. I
am
right. From the time you could bat your eyes—which I’d wager was approximately the age of three—you’ve received everything your heart desired. Ponies, fancy frocks, even jewels. Which explains why it’s so difficult for you to accept what I’m saying. And it also explains why we would never suit. I could never make you happy, and you… well, you could never understand me.”

His harsh assertion echoed in the ensuing silence.

Olivia’s eyes welled and her nose stung, but crying would only confirm his low opinion of her. “I don’t think you give me enough credit,” she managed. Yes, she’d been blessed with a loving brother and sister. Yes, she’d been born into a life of wealth and privilege. But she knew heartache. She knew the horror and sorrow of finding her father with a bullet hole in his head. She knew the agony of being deserted by her own mother. People she’d thought were her friends had shunned her in her most vulnerable moment.