‘That is very kind of you.’
‘Have you not heard? I am all that is kindness,’ she said, taking an even longer drink.
He grinned in amusement. ‘I see the wine is helping. Allow me to pour you some more.’
Glancing into her glass, Olivia raised her eyebrows. When had she finished all of her wine? It was exceptional and after the day she had, she was entitled to enjoy an excellent vintage. She handed him her glass and took in his well-made form as he sauntered over to the cellaret housing numerous bottles of wine.
Her time with Gabriel was over. She would never know a man’s touch again—unless, she took a lover.
Janvier had impressive shoulders, which were showcased nicely by the cut of his black tailcoat. His waist and hips were slim—much slimmer than Gabriel’s more muscular form. Janvier’s build was long and graceful. Gabriel’s form suggested strength and power.
What would it feel like to be held in the arms of a man Janvier’s size?
Just as she was trying to imagine such an encounter, he looked at her from across the room.
‘I would love to know what you are thinking.’
Olivia did not want to contemplate what her expression had obviously betrayed. ‘I was thinking of the wine.’
Stalking towards her with two glasses in his hands, his face became almost tiger like. ‘I am certain you were contemplating something delicious. I do not believe it to be the wine, though.’ Stopping in front of her, he stood there with a heated gaze looking down at her. ‘I know you feel this attraction between us.’
He was attractive, but Olivia hadn’t felt any desire for him. From the time he’d kissed her in his carriage, to staring into his brown eyes now, her body wasn’t flush with the need to press herself against him and feel him buried deep inside of her. Those were the feelings her foolish body had only for Gabriel. She peered closer at Janvier as if she could will herself into a state of arousal.
Why couldn’t he make her heart race and her body quiver in her most intimate places? If he had, she might have been able to transfer some of the feelings she had for Gabriel to Janvier. She was destined to die alone with only the love of Nicholas and, God willing, her grandchildren—but without a man’s love and comforting touch.
And it was all Gabriel’s fault!
The clock on the mantel began to chime and Janvier turned his head to look. In that brief instance, she studied him again.
Still nothing.
He turned back to her and again caught her examining his form. She really needed to leave before she embarrassed herself further.
‘You do feel this attraction. However, if we begin exploring our shared passion now, I will miss the performance.’
Well, that was insulting. He wanted her, but not enough to give up seeing the performance of a play.
Men were toads!
This day had gone from wonderful, to horrible, to absurd in a ridiculously short period of time. She needed to leave, return to her rooms and pack her things. Tomorrow she would be at Victoria’s house, where she could begin to arrange a new life for herself and Nicholas.
She picked up her reticule, looped the braided handle around her wrist and rose from the sofa. ‘I shall be off.’
‘Forgive me, I did not mean for you to leave immediately.’ He held out her refilled glass. ‘We should drink to friendship before you leave.’
She stared at the glass and imagined throwing the contents into his face. But after the day she had had, numbing herself with more wine sounded like a better notion. She accepted the glass and his watchful gaze never left her as he took a sip from his glass. Did he, too, wonder if she was planning on decorating his form with the ruby liquid?
Olivia raised her glass to her lips.
‘Don’t you dare drink that, Olivia,’ boomed a familiar voice from the doorway.
Her hand jerked, sloshing a small amount of the red wine over the side of the glass and down the front of the skirt of her gown. Uttering an unladylike word, she placed her glass on the table.
‘What in the world are you doing here?’ she demanded, glaring at Gabriel.
Gabriel had ridden as fast as he could through the streets of Mayfair to reach Olivia. She was his world and he was not about to lose her—not this time. He needed to increase Bennett’s wages for his discretion during her departure and for supplying Gabriel with the address she had given her coachman. He’d assumed she would be going to her sister’s house. Victoria and Olivia had always been close and he knew in his bones she would be the one person Olivia would turn to for help. But this address had been foreign to him.
When Gabriel had arrived at the nondescript town house, he had run out of the names of people he thought might occupy the building. Never in his wildest imaginings did he think his wife would turn to Janvier. It wasn’t until his knock went unanswered and he picked the lock on the front door, that he realised he was in the home of the blackguard he had been preparing to apprehend that very night—a man who Gabriel had just seen place something from a small vial into Olivia’s wineglass.
After following the sound of voices, he stood outside the doorway to the drawing room and listened to their unguarded conversation. A part of him wanted to storm into the room and remove his wife from this dangerous man. But this other part of him, this sick twisted part that would be bound forever by a sense of duty, wanted to listen and see if the Frenchman revealed his plans.
It wasn’t until he saw Olivia raise the glass to her lips that he knew he needed to interrupt the intimate tête-à-tête before his wife was poisoned. It was taking all of Gabriel’s control not to rip the man limb from limb.
‘Your Grace,’ said the Frenchman, his eyes narrowed on Gabriel. ‘I had not heard your knock.’
‘Neither did your staff.’
‘My staff is now off for the evening. I’m afraid there is no longer anyone here attending the door.’
Olivia’s attention had been focused on blotting up the wine from her skirt until Janvier uttered his last statement. ‘You had not told me you had given your staff the night off.’
The man smiled at Olivia and Gabriel’s right hand tightened into a fist.
‘You had not asked,’ Janvier replied with a smug smirk.
That was all it took. Thoughts of trapping the man in his plan no longer mattered. He was going to break his legs so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to go to the theatre. Gabriel advanced into the room, but stopped suddenly at the sight of Olivia picking up her glass.
‘I told you not to drink that.’
‘As if I have any interest in what you want.’ She brought the glass closer to her lips.
He snatched it out of her hand.
‘I am not tipsy and that glass will not make me the least bit inebriated. Give it back to me.’
‘No.’
‘No?’ She stood up and crossed her arms.
‘Your friend put something in your glass.’
‘Don’t be absurd, Janvier would never do such a thing.’
‘I resent such an insinuation,’ the Frenchman stated, placing his own glass down on the nearest table.
‘I wasn’t insinuating