The Blackmailed Bride (23 page)

The question was, did he want to fight for her? He felt God had groomed him to be Olivia’s other half, and he knew God had ordained a marriage to be a lasting commitment. He also knew that as a husband he was to love his wife and be willing to sacrifice anything for her. But all of his desires and wishes would pale in comparison to whether she wanted to give him a chance to prove his loyalty and devotion to her.

But he had to try.

“She’s your sister,” Nick began slowly, wondering how his
request for information would turn out. “What do you suggest I do to make things right?”

Marcus’s smile was swift and mischievous. “How are you at wooing?”

In that moment, the camaraderie between the two men seemed to be at once perfect and unbroken. “I’ve never had to woo a former fiancée before, but I suppose it shouldn’t be too far outside the realm of my capabilities.”

“Excellent,” Marcus decreed. “I’ll wait here while you gather your things to leave.”

“O
livia,” Marcus called softly, sticking his head inside her private sitting room.

She looked up from her position on the couch, where she had been, while not quite sleeping, at least resting. After her uncharacteristic fainting spell, the servants seemed unwilling to let her do anything but walk to a place to sit down. Which she had done for the whole day. And she still had yet to be released and given freedom.

“Where have you been?” she asked in genuine curiosity.

“I’ve been out getting you a present.”

“A present?” she echoed.

“Would you like to see it?” he asked, and she wondered over the obvious laughter in his voice.

“I think so,” she said slowly. Surely this wouldn’t be like the presents he had given her when they were children, which included dead rodents, bugs and, once, a particularly fearsome-looking garden snake.

“All right. I’ll send it in, and I will leave you alone,” Marcus continued. Truly, this was growing more unusual by the second. “Oh! I’ll be downstairs should you need me.”

And with the cryptic offer, he disappeared from the doorway. Olivia started to rise, rife with curiosity and eager to see what Marcus had acquired that was making him act so strange.

Nick entered the room.

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a present,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

Olivia was speechless. She stepped backward until she could feel the couch against her legs, and then sat rather indecorously.

“Is your silence a joyous one?” he asked hesitantly.

If there were words needing to be said at that moment, Olivia could scarcely think of what they might be. All she knew was her heart seemed to be thrumming with more passion, more strength than it had for the past several days.

Nick was muttering under his breath, and Olivia had the absurd impression he was scolding himself, over what she didn’t know.

“Let me start over,” he said, coming closer to her. And when he kneeled before her, Olivia had to remind herself to breathe.

“I’ve missed you.” His words were soft, gentle and nothing like the tirade she had expected when they finally saw one another. He should be enraged! She’d broken the engagement. But there were no recriminations in his manner, no anger toward her.

“Have you?” she asked with wonder, hating the way her voice sounded so quiet, so hopeful.

He nodded. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“I thought you might like to be rid of me,” she said. The words were a test, and she held her breath, waiting anxiously for what he would say. “Never.”

She exhaled. And hope—something fragile and tenuous—budded within her.

Could it really be? Could it be that Nick, the man whom she had scorned, had treated so badly, wanted her back in his life?

“I—” she began.

“Did—” he started at the same time. A pause followed where neither one wanted to interrupt the other, so they just sat there. “You go ahead. There is plenty of time for me to say what I would like to tell you.”

“I haven’t been honest with you,” she said shakily. Could she really do it? Could she trust someone else with the information she was about to share?

Nick nodded encouragingly.

His open, honest expression gave her the resolve she needed. If she ever wanted any kind of future with this man, ever wanted to mend the bridges she had single-handedly destroyed, she had to say it.

“In fact, I’ve been lying from the moment I met you.”

Still there was no condemnation in his eyes. No shock. No horror.

Perhaps he would forgive her yet.

Olivia looked down then, not able to face him when she made the startling pronouncement. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if she didn’t have to look at his face, the words would be easier to say.

“I haven’t meant to hurt you,” she began again. “I haven’t meant to hurt anyone. And while my lies are by no means justified, you have to understand I lied to protect those I love.
Everyone
I love,” she emphasized. The cowardice had been defeated by a strain of bravery.

“It doesn’t make it right. And I can’t undo what I have done, but I want you to know my goal was to…” She took a ragged breath. Articulating her motivation was more difficult than she’d imagined. How could one put into words all of the pain
she had endured alone in order to safeguard others from the ugly truth of reality?

Nick took her hands, and while still kneeling at her feet, he brought the two, cold hands to his lips, kissing them softly. “Perhaps it would help if you tell me what you did,” he suggested with so much softness and understanding, she thought she might weep. “I know your reasons were pure.”

“I don’t love Finley.” The words were so quiet she wasn’t sure she had spoken them aloud. Were it not for his gentle murmur of encouragement, she would have sworn she’d merely thought the truth. “I never loved him.”

She chanced a glance at Nick’s face. His eyes were bright and smiling.

“Marriage to him was the last thing I ever wanted.” She thought over those words. “Nearly the last thing I ever wanted. I agreed to his arrangement because I feared what he would do if I did otherwise.”

Confusion warred with dread in Nick’s face.

“Finley knew my mother wasn’t killed by an intruder.” This was the confession that had the potential to unravel everything she had worked so hard to disguise.
Lord, give me the strength to speak the truth
. “She killed herself.”

She paused then, giving him a moment to absorb the full impact of her words. He’d announced his engagement to someone whose mother had committed the most grievous of sins.

And his reaction was as startling as she had imagined it might be…but for another reason. He rose from his crouched position and sat beside her. In one swift move, she was cradled in his strong arms.

“My darling,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m sorry.”

Unshed tears threatened to blind her, and the sobs she’d kept in for so long clawed and grasped to break free. “I made it look like a robbery,” she confessed. Listening to the steady pounding of his heart imbued her with a strength she had not
thought herself capable of. “I thought no one knew. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want anyone to ever have the vision of her I still…” She shuddered. She broke off, horrified by the memory.

“There was so much blood. So much blood. I couldn’t get it out of my dress later. I had to throw the gown away. But no one questioned. Not even Marcus. I thought my job had been thorough and convincing.”

He smoothed her hair, rubbing the errant strands back from her face. “You are very brave,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not,” she argued. Never, never did she want any one, especially Nick, to think her actions were born out of some courage she didn’t possess. The truth was much uglier. She had pretended and lied because she was so afraid of anyone finding out the truth.

“I would disagree. You shouldered this burden all alone. For years, you’ve sacrificed yourself so no one would have to know.”

She turned her face into his shoulder, not wanting him to see the tears that had slipped through.

He pressed her tighter to him. “You’ve had to carry this all by yourself for so long,” he soothed. “You must be so tired.”

The simple observation, something that was so obvious and true, caused the floodgates to open. Years’ worth of tears and grief poured out from her very soul and soaked his shirt.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat cradled in the arms of the one person she was afraid would have rejected her. And while she didn’t want to be premature, it didn’t seem as though he was going to hold the revelation against her.

After some time, she raised her head to look at him. “I never wanted to be with Finley.” Her voice held all the fervency that had been building inside her. “Never. But I couldn’t allow myself to imagine a life with you was possible. He swore he
had proof of my mother’s crime. He said if I didn’t marry him he would expose her shame.”

Nick’s arms tightened again, and Olivia could tell from the ragged intake of his breath that he was angry. Very angry.

Nick said nothing for a long time. And the fear Olivia had allowed to rule her life began to creep back. Perhaps she had imagined his understanding. They had been betrothed after all; perhaps he felt it was his duty to comfort her.

“Do you hate me?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Do I hate you?” he repeated. He sounded stunned. “Out of everything you’ve told me today, that is the one thought I can’t abide you having.” He grasped her by the shoulders, pulling her firmly around to face him. “I could never hate you. I could never—not when I love you so much.”

“You love me?” The incredulousness and wonder in her tone were hard to miss, and she didn’t bother trying to disguise her awe. She felt like someone who had been given a too precious gift and was afraid it might disappear at any moment.

“Have I not said it before?” His smile was wide. “I know I’ve thought it a thousand times.”

Olivia could scarcely believe what he said. The words were so sweet, so precious and yet so unexpected.

Nick looked at her expectantly, and Olivia thought fear colored his features. “Do I dare ask what you feel for me?” he questioned.

She moved her mouth, but no words came out. “I’m afraid to say what I feel,” she confessed. “I’m afraid because once the words are spoken I’ll never be able to call them back.”

Nick’s grin was swift and gave her the final spurt of courage.

“I never wanted to love you,” she said with a half smile. “In fact, I wanted anything
but
to fall in love with you.” She laughed, the freedom and joy of the moment suddenly impacting her more than she thought it would. “But I was an idiot,”
she said, echoing Marcus’s early sentiments. “And I do love you. So much so I can’t find the words to tell you.”

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?” Nick asked with a smile.

Olivia, true to what she said, couldn’t find the words to say yes, so she merely nodded.

Well…nodded and then pulled his head down to hers, their lips meeting and melding in a long, overdue kiss.

Finley didn’t have any furniture in his sitting room. Marcus tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the baron to appear. The butler had tried to turn him away, but Marcus had insisted on waiting until Finley returned from whatever errand he had been running.

Not surprisingly, once Marcus made it clear he wasn’t going to be leaving until he was granted an audience, the butler remembered that his master had not yet left the house.

But Finley was taking his time coming down to see him.

Marcus would have taken a seat, but there wasn’t one thing in the room to sit on.

This didn’t surprise the young earl, either.

He had known for many years Finley was living largely beyond the means his father had left for him. Years spent gambling, purchasing drink and paying outrageous amounts for smuggled goods from France had drained the modest family coffers. Finley’s father had shared with Marcus’s father—several times before either of the men’s death—his concerns over the future of his son.

Obviously, those fears had been well founded.

“Well, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Finley sneered as he entered the room.

Insults and scathing set-downs immediately sprang to mind, but Marcus had to remind himself that regardless of the person Finley was, Marcus still had a testimony to maintain.

Finley shifted his weight nervously. “Are you here for something in particular?”

Marcus would need to repent later for the amount of enjoyment he was getting from Finley’s discomfort. “I thought you wanted to marry my sister. Did you believe you’d never have to see me?”

“In a perfect world…” Finley muttered, but let his voice trail off.

Marcus reached into his coat and withdrew a thick stack of papers. “Do you have time?” he asked with more cordialness than he felt, and he held up the papers to indicate he planned on reading.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“No. But thanks for your indulgence. Just give me a moment to collect myself.” Marcus thumbed through the notes. “I’ve made quite a few trips lately on your behalf,” he said as he scanned the papers.

“You have?” Finley asked—suspicion clear in his tone.

“Yes. It’s taken me all across England it seems. Ah, here we are. The first paper here is from London Tailory. I don’t know if you’re aware, but you owe them quite a bit of money.” He named a figure, which would have made someone with half a mind blanch.

Finley managed to look abashed and angry at the same time. “And?” he asked in a tight voice.

“Well, it seems the Town Haberdashery is also waiting for you to pay your tab with them.” Marcus shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, this sum is nearly three times the other.”

Marcus leafed through another page. “Well, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t set foot inside the establishment that holds your largest note, but in the interest of finding out what kind of man wanted my sister’s hand in marriage, I made an exception. I was most disappointed in what I found.” Disappointed, but not wholly surprised, he added silently.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Finley made a quick move to try and grab the stack from Marcus’s hands. The earl, however, was able to snatch them away in time.

“I am simply trying to give you my reasons.”

“Reasons for what?”

“For refusing to allow you to so much as see my sister again.”

Finley’s grin was so self-confident Marcus wished he were a violent man. While it was certainly not proper for him to think, and certainly not to admit to even himself, he would have—in the moment—loved nothing more than to permanently erase the man’s smirk.

“That will be difficult to accomplish once we are wed,” Finley gloated.

Marcus wrinkled the papers when his fingers clenched instinctively. “It is unfortunate for you that my sister will be wedding another.”

Finley paused. “I believe you are misinformed.”

“I see you don’t read the paper.”

The muscles in Finley’s jaw ticked furiously. “That was a misprint.”

“It certainly wasn’t,” said a third man.