Captive (17 page)

“Please will not work here, Charlotte. It does not please me to speak on this subject. I bid you cease.”

The chit had never obeyed him. He should have known she would not leave him be simply because he had asked it of her.

“Livy says she knows why. She wouldn’t tell me the first time I asked, but eventually she will. I can be very persuasive … for a bird-witted female.”

Denbigh snorted.

“I’d rather hear the story from you,” she said in a winsome voice.

Denbigh tried to remember everything he had said to Olivia that night at Denbigh Castle. He had stayed at the dining room table long after supper and drunk bottle after bottle of claret until he was so disguised he could not stand by himself. She had heard a crash, thought a window had blown open somewhere in the house, and come downstairs to find him literally crying in his cups.

He had taken one look at the shock on her face and tried to hide his own. It was too late. She had seen his tears.

She had come to him and put her palms on either side of his face, looked down into his eyes, and told him everything would be all right. Wrapped in the comfort of her arms, he had laid his head against her bosom and cried like a lost child.

He must have told her everything.

He simply could not remember. He had woken up in his bed late the next day and felt ashamed. He had not been able to face his sister. He had returned to London without speaking to her, only writing a note to thank her for being there for him when he needed her. The next time he had come to Denbigh Castle was at the insistence of his neighbor, Mrs. Killington, to deal with his fractious ward.

“I suppose you don’t owe me any explanation,” Charlotte said. “But maybe if you told Braddock the real reason why you killed his brother, he would be able to forgive you.”

“No man wants to believe his brother is a blackguard.”

“Aha!” Charlotte crowed. “So Lord James did do something worth getting shot for!”

“In my opinion, he did.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what it was?” Charlotte begged.

“No.”

“I’ll ask Livy,” she threatened again.

“I hope you get the chance,” Denbigh said in solemn tones.

As soon as he entered the house, Denbigh’s fears seemed foolish. Evidently
I have her
had not had some nefarious meaning, after all. Olivia’s mantle was draped across a table inside the door. However, the fact it had not yet been put away meant she had not been home very long. And Braddock had been alone with Olivia for the entire ride back to Grosvenor Square. Anything might have happened.

“Where is Lady Olivia?” he asked Stiles.

“I believe she is with the duke and duchess in the drawing room, milord.”

Denbigh headed for the drawing room with Charlotte on his heels. They were both breathless when they entered the room and found Olivia sitting on a stool at her grandfather’s feet, laughing at something he had just said.

“You’re a sly boots,” the duke said when he spied his grandson, “sending your sister home ahead of you, so you could have time alone with your future bride.” The duke gave him a broad wink.

Denbigh flushed with mortification, but there was nothing he could do to deny the story without exposing Olivia, and he didn’t want to do that before he had a chance to find out exactly what had happened between her and Braddock.

Denbigh tried to catch Olivia’s eye to see why
she had told such a danker, but as usual, she kept her gaze lowered.

“I take it Braddock delivered Olivia here,” Denbigh said.

“That he did,” the duke said. “Just moments ago. Livy has been telling us how much you enjoyed the play, Charlie.”

Denbigh nearly choked when he heard the duke using that deplorable male nickname for his ward. A correction was on the tip of his tongue when he glanced at his grandmother and saw the loving concern in her eyes for his grandfather.

For his grandfather’s sake, his grandmother pretended the gout was what kept him bedbound so much of the time. The truth was much more harrowing.

The doctor had said his heart was failing. The Duke of Trent did not have much longer to live.

Denbigh realized he would miss the old man’s bluster when he was gone. He looked at the picture of his grandfather sitting before the fire, with Olivia perched on a stool at his feet and Charlotte—the impossible baggage—on the floor beside her, and knew it was a memory he would one day treasure.

Right now, however, he would have given his eyeteeth for five minutes alone with his sister.

Charlotte must have had the same idea. To his chagrin, she did something to arrange it.

“I’m tired, Grandpapa,” she said. “I hope you’ll excuse me and Livy.”

“I haven’t heard Livy say she’s tired,” the old man said.

Charlotte shot him a charming grin. “To tell the truth, I’m not tired, either. But I’m anxious to hear about Livy’s evening with Braddock and to tell her about my own. You don’t mind, do you?”

Denbigh watched with disbelief as Charlotte wound the Duke of Trent around her little finger. Not only was she abandoning his company for that of Olivia, she expected him to be happy about it!

“Ah, to be young again,” the duke chortled. He waved a hand at Olivia and Charlotte. “Go. Go and talk. Myself, I’m looking forward to some time alone in front of the fire with your grandmother.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Denbigh was appalled at this public allusion to private romance between two people old enough to be his grandparents. Two people who
were
his grandparents!

Charlotte was obviously no more offended by his grandfather’s comment than the duke had been by hers. No wonder. They were birds of a feather. Neither believed that rules were made for them.

The duke’s arrogance was easily explained. He was at the top of the social order in England, second only to the king and queen. And Charlotte … 
Charlotte was second to no one. The bird-witted female believed she was every man’s equal.

Annoying as it was to admit, so far he had seen nothing to disprove it.

The end result, however, was that Charlotte and Olivia left the drawing room and headed upstairs, leaving him alone with his grandparents. At which point his grandfather, glaring at him from beneath white, beetled brows, made it plain that he was
de trop
.

Good lord, he thought. The old man really did have designs on his grandmother!

Denbigh made as graceful an exit as he could.

He could have gone to his club, but he did not want to take the chance of running into Braddock before he could speak with his sister. And now it looked like that discussion would have to be postponed until morning.

On the way to his room, he was surprised to be accosted by Olivia in the hall.

“I thought you were with Charlotte,” he said.

“I must speak with you,” she said. “Can we talk in your room?”

It was a bit unusual, but then, since Charlotte had come into his life, nothing surprised him anymore. “Certainly,” he said, opening the door for her.

Once she was inside, and the door was closed
behind her, he gestured her to a chair near the window. “Would you like to sit down?”

He had never seen her pace, and it was disturbing that she did so now. Her lopsided gait made it difficult to focus on her face, but she was clearly troubled.

His heart sank as he became more and more certain that the duke had importuned her. He leaned back against the door, his arms crossed. “What happened, Olivia?”

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “What did the duke’s note say? The one Charlotte said he left for you.”

“It said ‘I have her.’ ”

“And you thought he meant he had kidnapped me?” Olivia asked. He nodded.

“What, exactly, did you think he was going to do with me?” she demanded.

She seemed incensed that he could think badly of Braddock. So he told her the truth. “I thought he would take you to a house somewhere, whatever place he has for his doxies, and keep you there overnight.”

She gasped and put a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. “Oh. Oh, no.” She seemed to be struggling with some revelation, and it was obvious she was not happy with the conclusions she was being forced to draw.

Denbigh came away from the door and took a step toward her, but she shook her head furiously to indicate she did not want him to come any closer.

“What did he do to you, Olivia?”

“Nothing,” she said in a paper thin voice. “We rode around for a while in the hackney, and then we … and then he brought me home,” she corrected herself.

And then we … what? Denbigh tried to fill in the blank. It came to him like a bolt of lightning and was equally devastating. Then we
stopped at a house
.

The duke had done exactly what Denbigh had expected him to do, but for some reason he had not gone through with his dastardly plan. Why? Had this merely been a trial run, to see how difficult the deed would be to manage? Had Olivia said something that had changed the duke’s mind? Had Braddock merely wanted to show how impossible it was to keep Olivia safe, so Denbigh would not sleep another night in peace?

The simple solution was to challenge the man to a duel and kill him. But before tonight, he’d had no reason to kill Braddock, even though his brother had deserved to die.

Maybe Charlotte was right. Maybe he should tell Braddock the truth. Maybe that would make a difference.

Maybe it would not.

“Why did you leave the theater with Braddock,” he asked his sister.

“I … I had the headache. He offered … I didn’t think …”

She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with tears. “Nothing happened,” she said again.

Once too often to be believed, he thought. Something had happened. But she was not going to tell him what it was.

The knock at the door shouldn’t have surprised him. Or the fact that Charlotte hit him in the back of the head with the door when she opened it without waiting for her knock to be answered.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were standing there,” she said as she edged her way inside. “Livy!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Talking to Lion,” Livy said with a watery laugh.

“He’s made you cry!” Charlotte said, giving the earl a reproving look.

“What are you doing here?” Denbigh demanded.

“I was worried about Livy, because she said she wasn’t feeling well and went directly to her room,” Charlotte replied. “Why did you drag her in here? What did you say to her?”

“Wait a minute. I’m not the villain here,” Denbigh protested. “Braddock is. And I haven’t said anything, but I was just about to.”

Charlotte put a supporting arm around Olivia’s waist and said, “All right. We’re listening.”

“This doesn’t involve you,” Denbigh pointed out.

“Livy’s practically my sister!”

Denbigh glared, because the chit knew perfectly well he had no intention of marrying her, and that there was no way he could say so in front of Olivia.

“Very well, then. This is what I have to say: For your own good, Olivia, I cannot allow you to see Braddock again.”

Olivia’s chin sank to her chest. When she blinked, a tear slid down her cheek. “I understand, Lion. You may tell Stiles …” She swallowed hard and continued, “You may tell Stiles that when … if … the duke calls again, I am not at home to him.”

“Oh, Livy, you can’t turn Braddock away,” Charlotte cried. “It’s all a foolish misunderstanding. You’ll see. At least give Braddock a chance to explain to your brother what happened.”

“I … I don’t believe there can be any explanation,” she said in a quavery voice. “Not for what … not for …”

She pulled free of Charlotte and ran, her limp almost painful to watch, as she dashed tilt-legged for the door.

“Livy, wait!”

Denbigh caught Charlotte before she could stop
Olivia. “Let her go, Charlotte. She needs time to be alone.”

“She needs Braddock!” Charlotte said. “She needs her hopes and dreams! You’ve taken them all away from her.”

“Braddock is a scoundrel.”

“Braddock is an angry man. You killed his brother for what he believes was no good reason. And you refuse to tell him the truth. Why shouldn’t he be furious with you? Why shouldn’t he want to hurt you and your family? But Livy loves him, Lion. She—”

“
Loves
him? That’s absurd.”

“It’s not in the least absurd for your sister to fall in love. Especially with a man as handsome as the duke.”

“Love is for fools.”

“Only a fool would deny himself love,” Charlotte countered.

“Braddock wants only one thing from my sister. And love doesn’t enter into it.”

“So you say. I’ll bet if anyone bothered to ask, they’d discover he likes Livy a great deal.”

“The man is a notorious rake. He’s had some of the most beautiful demi-reps in London as his mistress. No woman has managed to bring him up to scratch in more than a dozen seasons.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t fall in love when the right woman comes along. Who says Livy isn’t
the most beautiful woman he’s ever known—inside, where it counts? Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you let Livy fly free?”

‘Olivia can barely walk, let alone fly! I’m just trying to spare her the pain and heartache of loving someone who will only betray her in the end,” he said heatedly. “I know that pain, because I’ve endured it myself!”

Denbigh was appalled he had revealed so much. He saw the wheels begin to turn in Charlotte’s head, putting together all the pieces of the puzzle he had given her so far with the latest revelation. Had he ever thought her bird-witted? Far from it. The chit was entirely too clever.

“There is only one way a woman betrays a man,” she said. She looked right into his eyes and said, “With another man.”

Denbigh hissed in a breath. Clever? She was sharp as a whip. He said nothing to confirm or deny her assumption, but that did not deter her from deducing the rest.

“Lady Alice betrayed you with Lord James,” she breathed, her wide eyes searching his features to see whether she had guessed right. “Oh, I’m so sorry—”

“I don’t want your pity,” he said defensively.

Her hands landed in balled fists on her hips. “Just because you had one bad experience doesn’t mean the same thing will happen to Livy.”