Led Astray by a Rake (16 page)

N
ic didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this total rejection. Once again Olivia had surprised him. He realized he’d grown used to her strength of character and total belief in her own sense of purpose where he was concerned, and to see her reduced to feminine hysterics was rather a shock. He would have liked nothing better than to follow her up the stairs and persuade her to his point of view—and he knew he could—but he doubted he’d get more than two steps before Theodore would be screaming at him for daring to further sully the name of his beloved.

“My daughter needs time to consider her—her feelings,” Mrs. Monteith said, looking as if she’d sustained a shock, as indeed she had. “I’m sure you will be patient. There is a great deal for her to consider.”

Her blue eyes, so like Olivia’s, met Nic’s and slipped away again. But it was long enough for him to read a myriad of emotions in them—pain and regret and fear. He’d warned his mother that
the past would interfere in any proposal he made, and clearly it was so.

“Miss Monteith has made her feelings for you very plain, Lacey,” Theodore interrupted, his jowls quivering in outrage. “You should leave.”

“I don’t think she was overjoyed by your proposal, either, Theodore,” Nic said with quiet scorn. “Perhaps it was the thought of marrying you that sent her sobbing to her bed.”

He shouldn’t have said it, but Nic couldn’t seem to help himself. Theodore was the ideal person on whom to vent his feelings.

“You cad,” Theodore blustered. “Get out before I throw you out.”

Nic raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you can?”

The two men eyed each other like dogs fighting for a bone, the one coolly dangerous and the other red-faced and panting with rage.

“Oh please, stop it!” Mrs. Monteith’s voice rose shrilly. “I want both of you to leave. Hasn’t enough damage been done? I—I must go and comfort my daughter.”

Theodore shot Nic a look of triumph.

“After you, Theodore.” Nic limped to the door and stood waiting there.

“I want to stay and help comfort Miss Monteith,” Theodore said stubbornly.

Mrs. Monteith threw up her hands in despair and hurried up the stairs, leaving them to it.

“Come, Theodore, admit defeat,” Nic said with a wicked smile. “Miss Monteith doesn’t want either of us to comfort her today.”

Theodore stared at him. They were about the same height, and although Nic was broad-shouldered and slim-hipped, Theodore’s bulk made him seem the more dangerous. And now there was a depth of feeling in his eyes that surprised Nic.

Theodore hated him.

The other man strode from the house, and Nic followed him outside. Lady Lacey would be expecting success and he would have to tell her he’d failed. At least for now. He admitted that this was not the outcome he’d imagined when Abbot helped him dress earlier. Olivia had wanted to marry him, so he’d assumed she would agree with alacrity.

There was her family to consider, and the awkwardness of past scandals, as well as the impending scandal. But Nic fully expected to soften the blow with his title and position. “Lady Lacey” had such a nice ring to it, and he was certain the Monteiths would come around soon enough, and put practical considerations ahead of old memories. Now that he’d been rejected, he wondered how long it would take Mrs. Monteith to persuade her daughter she had no option but to marry. Someone.

Nic used his cane to strike the heads off a couple of flowers in the border along the drive, and felt a mixture of shame and satisfaction that he’d let his temper show. What was wrong with him? He’d never wanted to marry Olivia—he’d fought against it from the moment she turned up
at his door and let her hopes be known. He should be relieved she’d said no. He should be glad Theodore was willing to make her his wife, scandal and all.

But the thing was, he wasn’t glad.

“You don’t want to marry Olivia.”

Nic looked up and saw that Theodore had stopped in front of him, and he looked as if he’d worked himself up for something.

“I said—”

“I heard you. I take it you do want to marry her?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Well then, may the best man win.” Nic stepped around him.

Theodore hurried after him. “You know you don’t want her, Lacey. You’re only going after her because of bloody-mindedness. You’re bad for her. Let her go. In fact, why don’t you go away? Once you’re gone she’ll see me, waiting, willing to step in, and she’ll marry me.”

“You don’t rate yourself very highly, do you, Theodore?” Nic mocked softly.

“I know I don’t have the gloss you do,” Theodore snapped. “Your reputation makes you attractive to women, God knows why. But I will stand by her and adore her.” He took a breath. “Well, what do you say? Will you step aside?”

“I’d like to oblige,” Nic said, “but I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because despite what you think of me, Theodore, I want her, too.” Nic held out his hand. “Shall we wish each other luck?”

For a moment he thought the other man was going to refuse him, and then Theodore clasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. He gave a strange little laugh. “Why not?” he said, his eyes wild. “May the best man win, Lacey.”

“Olivia, please…?”

The frustration in her mother’s voice was growing and Olivia knew she should explain—try to explain—but she already knew her mother would never understand. She took a deep breath and made the attempt.

“It is true, Mama. I was at Castle Lacey last night. I was with Nic. But I was there because I wanted to be there, not because he forced me in any way.”

“Olivia, I don’t know how you could have been so selfish. So irresponsible and—and foolhardy. Your sister…” But whatever she was going to say about Sarah was never said. She shook her head. “All these years we’ve tried to keep you safe from…from men like Lord Lacey, and now you tell me you threw yourself at him! I can hardly bring myself to believe it. Ruined, that’s what you are!
Ruined
…”

That stung. “I do not see wanting to live my own life in my own way as selfish, Mama, and if I am ruined it is entirely my own fault.”

“You have a duty to your father and me…” An agonized sob caught her voice. “You cannot live your life your own way, you silly girl. Your sister said exactly
those words to me, exactly those words, before she…she died. I will not let it happen to you. You will marry Mr. Garsed and be safe. Do you hear me, you silly girl? You will be safe.”

Olivia felt the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. “But, Mama, I don’t want to be safe.”

“No, Olivia. I won’t listen to such nonsense. You will do as you are told.”

Olivia knew that in the past women were expected to deny themselves their own happiness, to sacrifice themselves for the sake of their families, but she had hoped that with Victoria on the throne things might change. Olivia could feel her heart aching at the idea that she should be tied down and forced to go through life like an automaton, to lock her feelings away from the light of day, and playact her way through it. And that was exactly what would happen to her if she obeyed her mother and married Theodore Garsed.

Then why, oh why, had she refused Nic’s offer?

“Mama, you don’t understand, you don’t want to understand,” she cried. “I was with Nic because I want to marry him. I want to live my life with him.”

“But, Olivia, you refused him!”

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” She choked on a laugh.

Her mother stared at her as if she were insane.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I know I have disappointed you.”

Mrs. Monteith waited, and Olivia knew she was waiting for her to admit to her mistake, submit to her parents’ wishes, but Olivia couldn’t bring her
self to that. Despite what had happened she did not intend to change the course by which she’d already chosen to steer her life.

Mrs. Monteith stood up, her back stiff, her eyes bleak—there was no sympathy or understanding in her face. “I will leave you to consider your future, Olivia, but be warned, I won’t allow you to ruin your life, or ours. Mr. Garsed loves you and he wants to marry you, despite this—this shameful episode with Lord Lacey. You must see that marrying him is the best, the only, solution.”

The door closed behind her, and Olivia fell back onto her bed and closed her eyes. Her head ached, her throat ached, and she wondered what on earth she was going to do. She needed time to think and plan, to discover why some stubborn worm had entered her brain and was preventing her from taking her happiness in both hands and running with it. Did she really expect Nic to be madly in love with her, just because she felt that way about him?

Perhaps she was hoping for too much from her rake.

When Nic called at the gatehouse on the way home, Lady Lacey kept him waiting only a moment. She looked as weary as he felt, and Nic wondered whether she had slept last night after they parted. He had tossed and turned all night, painful memories and wild thoughts filling his head and preventing him from closing his eyes for more than a few minutes at a time.

“Dominic?” A smile trembled at the corners of her lips before it faded away at the sight of his face. Nine years without speaking and she could read him like a book.

“She turned me down, Mother,” he said, tapping the cane against his leg, trying not to sound as if he cared. “She turned down Garsed, too, so I can take comfort in that.”

“Garsed?”

“Yes, Theodore Garsed. A fool with more money than sense, but a fool the Monteiths prefer to me. He was there, too, offering her the protection of his name to save her from disgrace. She turned us both down. I won’t go into detail, it was all rather humiliating.”

“She turned you down?” she gasped. “But the girl is ruined. What does she expect to do if she doesn’t marry you?”

“Miss Monteith is a strong-minded woman.”

“No matter how strong-minded she is, she cannot restore a reputation that has been lost. Only marrying you can do that.” Lady Lacey’s haughty tones rose, as if she could hardly believe what she was hearing. “I will speak to her and insist on her doing as she ought.”

“No, Mother. I am grateful, but I will deal with Miss Monteith in my own way.” Nic glanced at the decanter but resisted helping himself to a swig of brandy. Brandy wasn’t going to help what was wrong with him.

“You must try again,” Lady Lacey insisted. “I want you to try again, Dominic.”

“And if she will still not have me—”

“She will have you and be grateful that a Lacey would condescend to marry a village girl.”

Nic’s mouth twitched.

Lady Lacey caught his eye, and waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, she has beauty and education, and that is some compensation for her lack of good family. And she will give you healthy children. Castle Lacey needs an heir and it is past time you provided one. Here is your chance to redeem yourself. If your father were here—” But she stopped and looked away, unable to go on.

“I will make her marry me,” Nic promised, to fill the silence. “If I have to drag her to the altar, then I will marry her. I give you my word, Mother.”

Lady Lacey straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, her proud face calm, once more masking any emotion. “I am glad to hear it, Dominic.”

He hesitated beside her, and then bent to brush his lips against the top of her graying hair. She stiffened, and he thought she would withdraw, but then she reached up and patted his cheek.

“You will come for supper tonight, Dominic. We will discuss this again.” She gave the invitation—more like an order—as if it were something they did every night.

Nic wondered if he should point out to her that he hadn’t had supper with her since 1828, but decided against it. They were talking again, and it was best not to question it.

He smiled. “Yes, thank you, Mother, I will come to supper.”

O
livia sat on the swing in the garden, disconsolate, in disgrace. She’d loved this swing as a child. She could remember Sarah pushing her, laughing when Olivia squealed, and cuddling her when she fell off. Now here she was, a grown woman, seeking consolation from a thing of rope and wood.

She’d made her decision.

When she really thought about it there’d only ever been one decision all along. Nic Lacey. She would accept him. She hadn’t told her mother yet, and she didn’t look forward to doing so. This would make her even more upset and angry, and it was possible she might never talk to her daughter again. Olivia knew her parents wanted to protect her, but it wasn’t her fault that Sarah had died, and there was nothing she could do to change that. And they couldn’t live her life for her, nor did she want them to.

She felt better now that the choice was made, as if her fate was set. No going back now. She had always wanted live her life to the full rather than
make do with second best, and now she would. Nic Lacey would be her life. Moody and difficult, charismatic and wild, and so sweet, he was and always had been the man for her.

Memories of their moments together made her smile dreamily. In fact she was so caught up in some particularly heart-stopping parts of those memories, she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her across the lawn until she was no longer alone.

“Miss Monteith, you are looking good enough to eat.”

Olivia started and turned her head. Nic was standing behind her and to the side, smiling, his dark eyes watchful. She wondered if he could read her heated thoughts and instantly set her face into a polite and chilly mask.

“I’m not sure if that is a compliment, Lord Lacey.”

“Oh, it is, believe me.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“Estelle told me. She saw me approaching the door and saved me from another meeting with your mother.”

Olivia looked away, swinging idly. “You can’t blame her for being angry and upset. I have caused a great scandal in Bassingthorpe, probably the worst scandal the village has ever seen.”

Nic didn’t answer her, but she didn’t notice his silence.

“I’ve never been notorious before,” she went
on. “It isn’t very pleasant. I can understand why women go off and live in seclusion.”

“Yes, I can see you hiding yourself away in a small cottage on a windswept coast, wearing a veil and standing mysteriously on the cliff top.” He sounded sarcastic, and she turned her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why have you come, Nic?”

“You know why.”

She tightened her grip on the sides of the swing. “If you’ve come to ask me again if I’ll marry you, then yes, I will.”

He snorted. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“I…It’s just that this isn’t how I envisaged it would be. I feel as if I’ve forced you to make a decision rather than coming around to it on your own. I’ve always known we would be a perfect match, but you didn’t. Now you might never discover it. You might feel resentful.”

He came up close behind her and she tilted her head back toward him. “Very resentful,” he murmured, and bent to kiss her lips.

He tasted wonderful and she felt her body grow warm and languorous, eager for more of his kisses. But Nic was already putting distance between them. She watched him through her lashes as he moved around to stand in front of her.

“You told me you wanted to live your life in your own way. I accept that. I won’t demand an
accounting for your spending and I won’t ask where you’ve been and with whom. As my wife you will have that freedom.”

His expression was intent, watchful, and she wondered what he expected her to say. Olivia knew he was being very generous. Such a life as he described would be free indeed in comparison with that of most married women, and yet…Was she very ungrateful? Or just perverse? She must be, because she would have preferred him to tell her he wanted her at his side, under his eye, for the next twenty years, and that he would become unbearably jealous if she even looked at another man.

That he was offering to allow her to go where and with whom she pleased meant she could hardly object if he allowed himself the same freedom.

Olivia smiled her polite smile. “Thank you, Nic.”

“There’s just one thing,” he added quietly. “My mother has informed me I must provide her with a grandson and myself with an heir.”

“Your mother…?”

“Yes, she is speaking to me again.”

“Well, that is a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is a good thing.” He stretched out his hand toward her, and when she clasped his fingers, helped her down from the swing. “I mention the heir because I do have one stipulation, Olivia. Any child you provide must be mine. Unquestionably mine. Other than that, you can live, and do, as you wish.”

Again Olivia felt that ache in her heart.
No
,
no
,
that’s not what I want. I want you
,
only you
,
and I want you to want me.
But of course she said nothing of the sort. Who would have thought the freedom she’d longed for could feel like a small, dark prison cell?

“Of course. I agree.” She smiled, her calm mask firmly in place.

There was no hint of triumph in his smile. “Then come. We will return to your house and I will speak with your father.”

Olivia slipped her hand into his arm. She knew she wanted to be with Nic, whatever happened, whatever the future held. She’d always wanted to be with him. And she still believed that she could win him to her, bind his heart to hers, no matter how unlikely it seemed to everyone else.

Nic was with her father for more than an hour, and when he’d gone, Mr. Monteith seemed rather bemused by the whole matter. “Lord Lacey was very generous,” he admitted. “I won’t bother your head with the details, Olivia, but he made no argument with anything I suggested. I must say I was surprised. I thought a man like that would drive a harder bargain.”

Mrs. Monteith wasn’t happy. “You should have refused him. You know his reputation. He can never make Olivia happy. I can hardly bear to think of it.”

They exchanged a meaningful look.

“Well, she has accepted him,” her husband
said, “and in the circumstances, I think marriage is the best solution. A scandal like this will not go away, and despite his reputation, Lord Lacey is a good catch. A very good catch. I expect my credit in London will rise tenfold when they hear Lacey is to be my son-in-law. And in time the past difficulties will all be forgotten, you’ll see.”

Mrs. Monteith looked at him as if he were insane. “‘Past difficulties,’” she repeated in a shaky voice. “Is that what you call them? How can you talk about—about ‘credit’ and ‘good catches’ when we are selling our daughter to the man who—”

“Mrs. Monteith, remember what you’re saying,” he said sharply, glancing at Olivia.

She swallowed, shook her head. “He will take her away from us.”

“Don’t be foolish. Castle Lacey is his home and it will be Olivia’s home, too. I’m sure, with Olivia’s steadying influence…” He paused, perhaps recalling that Olivia had been anything but steady recently. “With Olivia’s influence, Lord Lacey will set aside his wild ways and take up the reins of his estate, instead of traveling half the year and leaving the running of it to others. His father was a good master and a canny landlord, who spread his profits into investments rather than wasting it on his back, as so many of the upper classes tend to do. I’m sure his son will be just as good, or even better.”

Olivia hid her smile. Her father was a businessman through and through, with little time for the wastefulness of those of the gentry who believed show was everything. He had raised his family
from a comfortable position to a wealthy one, and he was scornful of those who were too idle or thought themselves too grand to see the mercantile opportunities awaiting them. His one vanity was his position as a self-made man, and the respect it brought him from his peers.

His wife wasn’t as easily convinced. “You know there are objections, Mr. Monteith. You are choosing not to see them for reasons of your own. Well, I can’t pretend everything has ended well. I am not so pragmatic as you.”

And she burst into tears and left the room.

Olivia and her father were alone in the study. Mr. Monteith rearranged his papers, embarrassed at the display of emotion. “Your mother will come to accept the inevitable,” he assured her gruffly. “It is just that she had her heart set on Mr. Garsed.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, Father.”

He looked up at her under his shaggy brows, his eyes keen and intelligent. “I expect you will do the Laceys proud. I admit that if I have a weakness it is to see my daughter with a title. Lady Lacey. Yes, I will enjoy boasting about you to my business colleagues.”

Olivia smiled. “I’m glad to be able to oblige.”

“There’s something I should tell you about your sister, Sarah,” he began hesitantly, then stopped. “Or perhaps it is best to let matters lie sleeping?”

“Sarah, Father?”

He met her gaze and then looked away. “Perhaps another time, my dear.”

Olivia waited, in case he changed his mind, but
he said no more, evidently distracted by something he saw in the papers on his desk. He sat down, frowning, and picked up his pen. Olivia left the room quietly and closed the door.

There was one more thing to do and she didn’t look forward to it. She’d received two proposals of marriage, and Theodore deserved to be told the outcome before news leaked out.

Theodore took a mouthful of the mousse à la Garsed, his chef’s latest dish. The rich, creamy dessert seemed to stick in his throat but he forced it down, and forced a smile. “Delicious,” he managed, beaming. “You have outdone yourself this time, François!”

Satisfied, the chef returned to his domain. Theodore put his spoon down. He felt ill, his stomach was churning with emotion. It was all Lacey’s fault.

Olivia had come to see him after he’d proposed, and he’d known as soon as he’d seen her face that she was going to marry Lacey. Theodore had put on a sad but brave face, his manner disappointed but understanding, while inside he was boiling with jealousy and rage.

“The scandal is nothing to me,” he’d assured her. “I want to marry you, Miss Monteith. Please, I beg you will not marry Lord Lacey because you believe he is the only one who will have you now.”

Olivia seemed so touched by his words, there were tears in her eyes, and her soft pink lips trembled as she strove to reply. He’d never loved her more, and his heart ached.

“I have accepted Lord Lacey, Mr. Garsed. I’m sorry to cause you pain, and I will always remember your kindness and generosity. But it is all arranged.”

Theodore thought he said the right things, he hardly remembered what it was, and she said her good-byes.

“I don’t know how you can eat that pap,” Alphonse drawled from his position by the fire.

Theodore had forgotten he was there, but now he glanced over at his brother. With his swarthy good looks he was very like his Italian mother, Theodore’s father’s second wife. Theodore could remember seeing his new half brother for the first time and finding something rather repellent in the mewling bundle, but as time went on he’d learned to accept and even grow fond of Alphonse. There was a bond of blood between them.

“If the woman doesn’t want you, Theo, then she is a fool. Do you really want to marry a fool?” Alphonse was holding up his glass of claret to the light, watching intently as the color changed.

“You don’t understand,” Theodore retorted. “Olivia Monteith would have been the perfect wife. She would have given my table and my home an elegance it lacks. Why, she’s almost as interested in François’s creations as I am!”

Alphonse smiled.

“What is it?” Theodore said hastily. “Have I said something to amuse you?”

“Not at all, brother.” Alphonse set down his glass. “I am very fond of you, Theo. You do know that?”

“Alphonse, I don’t want you doing anything awkward,” Theodore began uneasily, then he put a hand to his stomach and grimaced.

“I can see you have one of your stomachaches, brother. I think you should go to bed. You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

Theodore sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I always have your best interests at heart. You know that, don’t you, Theodore?”

Theodore rose to his feet, paused at the door and looked back. Alphonse was watching him expectantly. “Thank you, Alphonse.” He said the words his brother was waiting to hear.

“My pleasure, brother. My pleasure.”

Alphonse waited until he heard Theodore’s door close, and then he went to find paper and pen and ink in the desk in the library. When he was at school Alphonse had forged a letter of credit from their father to the bank, and no one had ever found out. The money had got him—and Theodore—through a difficult time. There had been other situations in which he’d helped his brother—the dancer who tried to blackmail Theodore and whom Alphonse had dealt with—rather too enthusiastically, some would say.

He’d always looked after Theodore and he always would.

Alphonse began to compose the notes that would draw their prey into the web.

Originally, he’d planned to send one note only,
to Nic Lacey—he’d found Lacey’s handwriting on a polite note of refusal to one of Theodore’s soirees—but as he carefully copied Lacey’s writing, Alphonse decided it would be a good idea to have Olivia there, too. She could witness her lover’s death. That should ensure she never strayed from Theodore again.

Alphonse’s jaw tightened. Theodore was far too much of a gentleman to stand up for himself. He preferred to suffer in silence. Well, Alphonse would make certain he didn’t suffer for long. If Theodore wanted a fairy-tale ending with the woman he loved, then he’d have one, and everyone would believe it a horrible accident that Lacey had died. A poacher’s bullet going astray…or even a gamekeeper’s.

Wilson, the Lacey’s gamekeeper, is a most unpleasant fellow, far too zealous for his own good.
Alphonse could hear Theodore’s voice in his head from earlier in the day, when Alphonse had expressed the intention of going for a stroll.
Don’t go into the woods, brother, whatever you do. He’s just as likely to shoot you and ask questions later.