“I can pay you for the proof,” she offered.
“Tempting,” he said, “but you wouldn’t be able to give me enough. I’m getting more from this than just the money you’d bring me.”
The hand that had been lingering on her cheek moved lower to caress her jaw, the side of her neck, settling eventually at the base of her throat. His fingers were smooth—and cold—but there seemed to be steel underneath the skin. He squeezed, the tiniest bit, and without any real pressure. The intended message, however, was clear. She was powerless against him.
“I need time,” she stammered.
He looked at her, and his eyes were skeptical.
“To prepare,” she rushed on, but a new thought was forming. A small, minuscule seed of hope that was barely visible through the haze of her despair. Perhaps he was bluffing about the letter. He might have seen it but not taken it.
“My brother will not be happy to hear of this,” she continued. “I wish for some time to try to change his mind about you. I would rather not have my brother and future husband—” she gulped at the word “—at odds for the rest of their lives.”
Finley considered the wisdom of eventually attaining Marcus’s blessing and nodded his assent. “Fine. I don’t wish to wait forever, though,” he warned.
“A few days, that’s all I require,” she affirmed. Olivia desperately wanted to clutch at this delay. Once she convinced Marcus to take her home, she could see for herself whether the letter was safe. If what she hoped were true, she could return to town and challenge Finley.
If the baron was telling the truth…well, she would think of what to do then.
“I expect to hear from you within a few days,” Finley reminded her as he took his leave.
Olivia was proud of herself. She waited until the front door clicked shut before bursting into tears.
Nick and Marcus were preparing to play a game of billiards when Marcus’s sister nearly ripped the door from its hinges.
“Marcus,” she gasped. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and Nick thought she must have raced her way up the stairs.
Nick snapped to attention when she entered, some instinct driving him to want to protect her from her obvious distress.
Marcus obviously agreed with Nick’s silent assessment. “Do you need a physician?” her brother asked.
“I need to go home,” she said. Her eyes darted frantically around the room. And when Nick shifted from his place in the shadows, she noticed his presence for the first time. He could tell from the subtle widening of her eyes.
“Please, Marcus.” Her voice dropped lower.
“What is wrong with you?” her brother asked, shaking his head.
Before she could answer, Marcus’s butler opened the door to the room. The servant’s gaze swung around and landed on his mistress. “My lady, Lord Finley left before retrieving his hat and gloves.” The butler let the statement dangle in the air. “Would you like me to send them with a messenger?”
“Finley was here?” Marcus growled. Nick understood the anger. He wouldn’t let Finley anywhere near his sister, if he had one.
“Briefly,” she answered. The look she gave the butler was withering.
“When did Finley arrive in town?” Marcus asked the room in general.
Gibbons shrugged. “I work for you, my lord, not him.”
Nick didn’t know, and Olivia didn’t appear to be open to sharing.
His friend muttered something unintelligible. “Go pack your things,” he told her shortly. “I will take you back to Westin Park.”
Marcus’s sister looked so relieved, Nick thought she might faint, or worse, cry. Before she could turn to leave, however, Marcus grabbed her hand, stopping her flight.
“Did Finley say something to upset you?” he asked.
She shook her head and tugged herself free from his hold.
Nick stared after the beautiful woman as she departed. The gentleman in him knew that the proper thing to do would be to ignore her distress, and let her have the comfort of believing her discomposure had gone unnoted. But he couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that wanted to go after her, to hold and comfort her until she was no longer afraid.
What was wrong with him?
Marcus still had his attention focused after his sister. “I’m sorry for that,” he said. “She’s not usually so…frantic.”
Nick brushed aside the apology. “When will you leave?” he asked.
“I guess at first opportunity. Perhaps in the morning. It’s several days’ journey to Westin Park.” Marcus put away his cue. The game of billiards now forgotten in the wake of Olivia’s appearance. “Can you spare the time?” Marcus asked.
“I suppose so, why?”
“Come with us. We’ve known each other for years, yet you’ve never seen my home.”
Nick considered the offer. He had no wish to intrude upon the siblings’ time together, but he couldn’t deny there was something infinitely alluring about escaping the scrutiny of town for a few days. And while he could have easily visited his country estate, Nick wasn’t ready for that yet. Wasn’t ready for whatever memories awaited him there.
“I don’t guess anyone will miss me.” And Nick was surprised to find he was swayed by the thought of having more time to study the fascinating Olivia.
The idea appealed to him more than it should.
Chapter Three
It wasn’t there.
The letter she’d believed would be in the rosewood box in the library at Westin Park was missing.
For a moment, Olivia could think of nothing. She stared at the dark velvet lining of the empty container as though the parchment would somehow mysteriously reappear. Olivia watched for several moments, waiting for one of the miracles Marcus so believed in to happen.
It didn’t.
The severity of her predicament overwhelmed her.
What was she going to do? Unfortunately, there were few choices…and none of them held much appeal.
Ignoring Lord Finley was definitely what she would prefer to do. Perhaps if she could keep her distance from him, making sure that he never had cause to be alone with her, he would give up his quest to make her his wife. But even as Olivia thought that, she knew the baron wouldn’t cave so easily. He would expose them. For herself, Olivia didn’t much care. She had no use for society or its good opinion. Marcus, however, would be laughed out of the House of Lords, unable to push through the legislation he’d been working on. And when her brother decided it was time to marry, no eligible woman would want to link her name with such a damaged and scandalized family.
So pretending she and Finley had never even talked wouldn’t work—much as she might have wished otherwise.
That left confessing this to her brother. But what would he say when he realized the secret she’d been harboring for years? Telling him the truth was the only option, wasn’t it? With Marcus’s help, she could devise a way to nullify Lord Finley’s threat and prevent their family disgrace from becoming common knowledge. Perhaps her brother could write him a bank draft. Or maybe they could figure a way to get the letter back, which would make Finley’s accusations—should he make any—seem like nothing more than spiteful fabrications.
But what would