A Lord for Olivia (22 page)

“And your fears about his real intentions . . .”

“All laid to rest. He has explained all.” She pulled back, looking pleadingly into Lavinia's eyes. “Please,” she whispered.

Lavinia looked no less troubled, but stepped back. “If
you are quite sure, my dear. But . . . but you won't rush into anything, will you? I mean, only yesterday—”

Olivia half screamed, “Don't remind me of yesterday. I am so ashamed. Oh!” She began to cry in spite of all her efforts. Corbright took her in his arms and patted her back.

“There, there. Edmund will get over it. He is young and handsome. I understand he has a very good chance at a much greater heiress than you, that Miss Benson. Doubtless he will be married before we are, if your family has its way.” He turned once again to Lavinia, wagging a finger at her.

“But I, for one, do not promise to let you have your way. We have been separated too long. I hope to persuade you to marry me as soon as may be. Now, my love, why do you not come for that carriage ride with me? Such a lovely day for late October. And we've a deal of talking to do, plans to make, haven't we?”

Olivia looked up and forced herself to smile. “That would be delightful. I shall get my shawl.”

Corbright followed her out into the foyer and took her arm. “Let your maid bring it out to you. I want to show you my new pair of matched blacks. Lavinia,
au revoir
for now.”

 

Edmund returned to their town house from his visit to the War Office with information that did not much surprise him. He wondered if he should tell Olivia that the Swalens were deserters, wanted for numerous crimes, or if it would just worry her unnecessarily. After all, the two had not been seen since Corbright sent them on their way. He dashed up the steps, eager to see her, but found a distracted, distressed Lavinia Ormhill pacing the drawing room instead.

Lavinia cast herself into his arms, wailing, “Oh, it is terrible. I don't believe it, not for a minute, but she said . . . Oh!” Her tears flooded his waistcoat as Edmund tried to coax her into some coherent speech.

“What is it, Aunt Lavvy? Tell me. Here.” He led her to the sideboard and poured a generous measure of brandy, then virtually forced it down her throat. She choked and gasped as he led her to the sofa. “Has something happened to Olivia? Where is she?”

“Oh, Edmund. I don't know how to tell you this.” Lavinia gulped back another sob. “She has gone for a drive with Corbright. He has won her back.”

“Won her . . . If that pup Jason has been wagering again, I'll hang him by his ears. But no. That can't be your meaning. Livvy wouldn't abide by any such wager, no more than she did when I—”

“That is not my meaning. Oh, dear boy. I know it will break your heart, but she said she loves him, always has. That it was all spite and revenge. That now he has answered all her doubts and they are to be married.”

Edmund stiffened. “I don't believe it.”

“Neither did I, but she swore it was true. She . . . she hugged him, and smiled at him, and . . . she asked me to break it to you, to say she was sorry if you were hurt.”

“
If
I were hurt!” Heslington's words came back to him then, as the taunts of his older brother always had, cutting him into ribbons too many times to remember.
In the end she won't have you, Eddie. Or if she does, she'll be miserable. She loves Franklin, you know.

He slumped backward in his seat. Words would not come.

Lavinia longed to comfort him, but how to do it she did not know. “To think that only a few minutes ago she was composing a letter to Jason and my brother, to tell them of your engagement.” The clock on the mantel ticked into a painful silence. “It isn't like Livvy,” she mused.

Edmund lifted his head. “No, it isn't. If true, I can understand why she wouldn't want to face me. But she will have to, eventually. I am not going to just slink away. I will hear this from her own lips before I accept it.” Just then Peter Barteau, red-faced and sweating, burst into the room.

“Where is Olivia?” he demanded.

“She is with your nephew,” Lavinia said bitterly. “She has decided to marry him, after all.”

“When did they leave?”

“Why, not fifteen minutes ago. Just for a short drive in the park, they said.”

“When did she decide to marry him? Last night it was—”

“I know. Apparently when she talked with him this morning—”

“I don't believe it!”

“That makes three of us, Peter.” Lavinia sighed.

Edmund sat up straight. “Why did you rush in here looking for her in such a manner, sir?”

“Because I just learned that last week my nephew took out a special license to marry her. It has been granted, too. He collected it this morning.”

“How did you . . ?”

“I . . . never mind. I think we had best go and find them.”

Lavinia screamed, “He has a license with him?”

“This gets smokier by the moment. If he applied last week, he was far too sure of himself for any encouragement she had given him, at least that I am aware of.” Edmund looked at Lavinia for confirmation.

“Indeed, no. You know her suspicions! I don't like to tell you this, Peter, but she even thought you a part of a plot for him to get all of the land in Norvale.”

“How?” Peter's eyes narrowed.

“By marrying me.” Lavinia's eyes stayed on Barteau's face, hope mixed with fear.

“Balderdash! Don't you believe a word of it! My nephew shall never see a penny of mine nor a clump of dirt from your land. Come now, Edmund. We must go after them. My curricle is at the curb.”

“Where do you think—”

“Saint George's. He told the archbishop's clerk that he was to be married this very morning at Saint George's. How he has managed to get her to agree, I don't know, but we must be sure she isn't being forced.”

“Let's go.” Edmund took Lavinia's elbow, but she pulled back.

“No. You go ahead. Peter's team will not go swiftly enough with the three of us in that curricle. I shall call for the carriage and follow. Just hurry and stop them, please!”

 

“W
as it always about my land?” Livvy asked Corbright as he tooled his curricle through traffic.

He shook his head. “Not entirely. You are a choice morsel, Olivia. And I do admire your mind. You will add luster to my project, quoting Greek to our visitors and dressing the part of an Athenian matron. But yes, since you ask, I always wanted your land. Otherwise I would have looked higher for a wife. The vision was originally my father's, you see. He said Wren Hall was the key to the whole thing. The plan is to put a palace fit to entertain royalty right there, overlooking the valley and the best view of the Parthenon.

“Even though he was made a baron, my father was still snubbed. But Prinny is a patron of the arts, especially architecture. He'll be mad for this project. Wouldn't be surprised if he wants to build his own palace nearby. I'll be made an earl. You'll be a countess, Livvy, and no one will look down on me again, ever.”

The fanatical look on his face as he spoke told Livvy more than she wished to know about his state of mind. The busy London traffic passed by in a blur as she listened to Corbright outlining the behavior he expected of her. She hardly knew where they were until they were nearly upon Saint George's church. A small knot of people stood outside, obviously waiting. To her astonishment, she knew most of them, and the expressions on their faces told her it was she and Corbright they awaited.

“Oh, no! What is this? You cannot mean—”

“To wed you this very day? Indeed, yes. No more delays, remember. What delight I have had in planning this surprise wedding for you, asking everyone to keep my secret. Many skeptics claimed you would never show; I even have some substantial wagers resting upon your appearance. Now smile, Livvy, and act the excited, happy bride.”

“I can't. Oh, I truly can't. See, I am crying again. If you must marry me today, it should be in a place where we are unknown. Too many people here know me well enough to guess at my feelings.”

He scowled at her. “I believed you would come willingly. I truly thought you would want me. That hurts me, you know.”

“Think again, Franklin. Remember that you do have feelings, and they can be hurt. Do not saddle yourself with an unwilling wife.”

He shook his head, his mouth grim. “Too late to draw back now. I'll have no more embarrassment at your hands, do you hear? Not to mention the wagers I would lose. Those tears are tears of joy, do you understand me? Unless you wish to cry tears of grief over your brother's grave.”

Olivia shuddered all over. But she fixed a smile on her face as they drew even with some dozen members of the London
ton
. Cynthia Bowers stood closest to the curb, waving to her with a bouquet of flowers.

“Livvy, you did come. We could not believe it, but here she is, my love!”

Olivia glanced at Lord Bower. His skeptical expression put her on her mettle. “Yes, I am here. It is most amazing. What a romantic surprise my love has arranged!”

By this time Corbright was helping her from the carriage. Once on her feet she turned to embrace her friend. “You are to be my bridesmaid, I hope?”

“Yes!” Cynthia giggled nervously. “But Livvy, have you been crying?”

Olivia hugged her. “Tears of joy, dearest. You have no idea how I felt when I saw Corbright again this morning. My heart suddenly knew its mind at last.”

“Ah! That is all right, then.”

“Did I not tell you how it would be, Miss Ormhill?”

Olivia turned to find Lord Heslington at her elbow, an arch look on his face.

“Very prescient of you, my lord.” She wondered just how much of Corbright's villainous scheme Edmund's brother knew.

“How did my brother take it when you told him?”

“I have not told him, my lord. I doubt not you will enjoy having that pleasure.” She turned her back on him, only to encounter Corbright's icy eyes.

“Lord Heslington is to be my groomsman, my love.”

Olivia turned back and met Heslington's golden brown eyes, so like her beloved Edmund's in color, so unlike in expression. “Perfect. You are the perfect choice for this wedding, Lord Heslington. I thank you.” She curtsied to him. He returned her a deep bow, but his expression altered to a frown.

A swirl of well-wishers engulfed them then. Olivia felt she stood in a minefield as questions were fired at her, such as the barbed compliment of one woman on her choice of wedding dress. “As I did not know I was to be wed, Mrs. Tillersby, you will excuse me for wearing a carriage dress. I thought only to go for a drive in the park.” Her voice quavered a little at this. The drive was to have been with Edmund, to select a wedding ring.

“Why are we all milling about out here?” Corbright looked sharply at Heslington. “Let us go in.”

“Not just yet. There is a wedding ahead of ours.”

Corbright muttered under his breath and glanced up and down the street. “Perhaps we should go to Saint Peter's instead.”

“Nonsense, Lord Corbright. How should we get there?” Lord Henry Aversley asked. “We sent our carriages on, to return later, and you can hardly expect us to walk.”

“No, indeed,” Mrs. Tillersby exclaimed. “In fact, my feet are hurting already.”

Corbright had come to Olivia's side and held her firmly against him with one arm. His eyes scanned the streets, and
when Olivia felt his grasp tighten painfully, she followed his gaze with dread in her eyes.

“It looks as if we are to have your uncle and my brother join us,” Heslington said, also staring at the approaching curricle.

At the same time Cynthia said in a gasp, “Oh, Livvy, how embarrassing for you. Bower, will you not go and tell Edmund he is de trop?”

Lord Bower's jaw tightened. He looked at Corbright and Heslington, then down at Olivia, who was shredding the bouquet she had been given into tiny pieces. “Is he?”

“If he ruins this, I shall call him out,” Corbright growled. “I think a word from Olivia will be sufficient, however.”

Olivia knew she must speak the words that would send Edmund away. She prayed as she approached Peter Barteau's carriage that her beloved would believe her.

Edmund alighted before the curricle had stopped, and raced toward them.

“Come, Olivia. Get into the carriage. Peter will take you home while I deal with Corbright.”

“No. Edmund, listen to me. Look at me.” She forced herself to meet and hold his eyes. “It was as your brother said. When I saw Corbright again this morning, it all came back to me: our courtship, our quarrels, my desire to be revenged. We talked it all over, and I faced what I did not wish to face, that I was throwing away my chance to marry the man I have always loved.”

Edmund looked from her to Corbright, and then to his brother. “I don't believe you.” He raised his voice so the others would hear. “She is being forced into this. He has threatened her with something truly terrifying, to make her do this.”

“Go away, Eddy. You are making a cake of yourself.” Heslington moved forward and put a hand on his brother's arm.

Edmund shook it off, giving him a look of such loathing that the onlookers gasped. “That you would do what you could to injure me, I have long since accepted. But to be a party to such cruelty to an innocent woman—well, all I can
say is that you will soon be known by the company you keep, and once that happens, few will care to keep you company.”

A chorus of sound came from the onlookers, from jeers to nervous laughs. Aversley spoke for many of them when he said, “Do go away, Edmund. You are putting a damper on things.”

“Do you really want to be a party to this travesty? I had thought you a decent man. And you, Lord Bower. You know Olivia. Do you really think her so fickle?”

“If he does, I do not.” Peter Barteau joined them, having secured his curricle. “Nephew, I suggest you give this up now. You stand to lose a great deal if you do not, and I refer not merely to your reputation.”

“What makes you so sure she doesn't wish to marry him?” Aversley asked Peter.

“Well, for one thing, her family isn't here. Deuced odd, don't you think? You know how close that family is. You remarked on it to me at my nephew's party, remember? So where is her aunt? Her brother? Her uncle, whom I certainly would have expected to be the one to marry her, seeing that he is a vicar.”

“Her brother is ill in Buckinghamshire. I brought a note from him this morning, did I not, love?” Corbright proclaimed. “He regretted that he and her uncle could not be here, but urged me to go on with the surprise. As for her aunt, she has never approved of me, which is one reason I planned this—to save Olivia the unpleasantness she would face day after day until we could be wed. Tell them, Olivia.”

“Th-that's right. I got a message from Jason this morning. And Aunt Lavinia was quite livid when she saw Corbright.”

Edmund's eyes narrowed. “So that's it. You've threatened her brother, haven't you? Or he's challenged you. It is what she fears most.”

“This is beyond insulting. Take care you don't push me too far, Edmund.”

“I will give you satisfaction on the instant. Bower, will you stand my second?”

“Not just now.” Corbright spoke hastily. “Have your
seconds call on me after we return from the honeymoon. Now, I have some friends who will escort you away from here, as I am sure you do not wish to watch me marry Olivia. You remember the Swalen brothers, don't you, Edmund?”

Suddenly two men materialized behind Edmund, clearly intending to grasp him and drag him away.

Terror raced through Olivia.
They mustn't get Edmund in their clutches.
“You shan't ruin our wedding day with a brawl, Edmund Debham,” she shouted in her sharpest tone. “Take yourself off instantly. And Franklin, love, do invite your friends to join us.” She smiled sweetly up at him, but her eyes were as hard as Corbright's as they met.

“Provided Edmund leaves, I certainly shall.”

“Go away, Edmund,” came one voice.

“Yes, do. We are almost in church, after all,” came another.

Suddenly Edmund sprang forward and slammed Corbright against the side of the building, his hand grasping his throat. His other hand came up and thrust a small pistol into his adversary's rib cage.

“Understand me, Franklin,” he said. “I will see you dead 'ere I let you rush Olivia into wedding you this day. Once I see her brother safe, and her family around her, if she still insists it is you she wants, I will disappear from your life—and hers—forever. But it won't be today. Give it up, face me like a gentleman, or die like a dog, I don't care which.”

“Don't do this, Eddy. You'll hang for it,” Heslington shouted.

“That should suit you well, dear brother. I will hang, and gladly, before seeing Olivia made miserable.” He looked over at her. “Leave now, Livvy, while you can.”

Olivia's heart was in her throat. The ferocious look on his face was the same he had worn when he told her how he fought out of anger at the sight of those he cared about falling around him in battle. He
would
kill Corbright, and then be hanged for it. She had to stop him.

“No, indeed. This isn't necessary or right. I n-never expected you to be such a bad loser, Edmund. I blame myself somewhat, for not having the courage to face you and tell
you myself. But you must accept the inevitable.” Olivia had made her way to Corbright's side, and she slid her hand down to where it met the pistol Edmund held there. Corbright pulled in his stomach and suddenly her hand was between him and the gun. Edmund looked down, then up at her, his face ashen.

“For God's sake, Livvy.”

“For all our sakes, Edmund, please go. Leave it. In fact, leave England. I wish never to see you again. I shall see that no one hires you here. I am sure Lord Marcoombe will not, once I tell him how badly you have behaved.”

“If you wed him at any other time, I will do as you ask. But not today.” Edmund maintained his grip on Corbright's throat and shifted the gun so it pointed at his temple.

“Edmund! Please don't cause the death of the man I love,” Olivia cried desperately. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

The agony in her voice gave Edmund pause. He pulled away, and instantly Olivia inserted herself between him and Corbright. He dropped his hand, the gun hanging loose. “Livvy,” he whispered. “Oh, Livvy.”
She must truly love him. How can I bear it?

Corbright's henchmen grabbed him then, wresting the gun from him and starting to bundle him off.

“Swalen brothers,” Lord Bower said to his wife.

“Stop them,” Cynthia screamed.

“A moment, if you please.” Lord Aversley stepped between them and their obvious destination, a seedy hackney cab. Lord Bower joined him.

“Get out of the way,” Arthur Swalen snarled.

Cynthia Bower confronted Corbright. “Are the Swalen brothers not the men you purported to have run from the valley for insulting Olivia?”