Tempting the Marquess (14 page)

“Yes,” he replied truthfully, “but I kissed other women before I was married, and it was different with each one.”

“But wasn’t it better with her than with those other women?”

Jason forced himself to think of Laura, bracing for the rush of pain that always accompanied such recollections.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “but the initial giddiness of being in love enhances all your feelings. And then, by the time that wears off a bit, you’ve grown used to each other and there’s a sort of comforting familiarity. After a fashion, kissing becomes an unspoken language.”

“I see,” she whispered sadly.

Bloody hell. He couldn’t stand another moment of this. He desperately wanted to take her in his arms and prove to her just how pleasurable kissing and all that ensued could be.

It wouldn’t be difficult. He could tell she had a passionate nature. If he hadn’t stopped the kiss when he had, she would know that about herself. Of course, if he hadn’t stopped the kiss when he had, they would also probably have been rolling around naked in front of the fire by now.

He was tempted.

As he’d said, it wouldn’t be difficult.

But neither would it be wise.

Mind battled body and for today, at least, mind won out.

He was going to let her go.

But he could satisfy one craving.

“What’s your middle name?”

She must have thought it an odd request, but she answered him anyway.

“Jane.”

“Olivia Jane Weston.” He tested out the feel of it.

“I’ve always thought Jane suited me better than Olivia,” she confided. “Olivia sounds like a rather grand, exotic person. The sort of person one would write novels about. Jane is a more ordinary name. A Jane would read books about the Olivias of the world and dream of having grand adventures.”

“Do you dream of grand adventures?”

“I used to. But if there is one thing I have learned in the last year, it’s that life is the grand adventure. It is up to each of us to make as much or as little of it as we wish. Holding a new baby in your arms can be as thrilling as riding an elephant. Not that I’ve ridden an elephant, mind you, but I used to dream of it.”

She smiled shyly, seemingly embarrassed by this heartfelt outpouring of emotion. She was just opening the door to leave when he found his voice.

“You’re wrong, you know. Olivia suits you. You just don’t know yet how extraordinary you are.”

“Oh!” She gasped with pleasure.

The sound wrapped around his chest like a vise.

Her hand fell away from the doorknob and she turned back to him. Her eyes, at once cautious and hopeful, searched his face.

“Truly?” Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper. “You aren’t just saying that to be kind?”

“Kind?” He let out a little humorless laugh. “Do I strike you as a kind man?”

Jason meant the question to be rhetorical, but Olivia nodded.

“You
are
kind,” she insisted. “I will concede you are disagreeable and churlish much of the time, but you are kind, too. Would an unkind man come to the rescue of two mistreated dogs? Would an unkind man tender such care on his son as I have seen you do with Edward? Would an unkind man have gone to the trouble of finding a great Danish dog for Charlotte? I know the puppy was from you because Aunt Kate would have found a way to put off getting a dog until Charlotte fixed her mind on something else. You care deeply when you let yourself.”

Her earnest belief in him was as misplaced as it was unsettling. In her bright, shining eyes, he was some sort of hero, like in one of those rubbish novels she went on about. He ought to tell her there would be no happy ending for him, but he didn’t have the heart. And, for just a little while, he wanted to live in her realm of fantasy and imagine that, just maybe, there could be.

She didn’t even mind her kissing defect.

Not much. Thinking back, she was almost certain there had been a moment when Jason kissed her when her knees had felt wobbly. Maybe she just needed more practice.

Even if she never grew faint or felt like her heart would pound out of her chest, Livvy thought she would be happy to kiss Jason Traherne for the rest of her life. Because he made her feel extraordinary.

As she dressed for the party, Olivia was a jittery bundle of nerves. Would Jason like her dress? It was new, and quite the most adult dress she had ever owned.

Aunt Kate had decided that new gowns were in order for the occasion, so they had gone to Haverfordwest one day with Charles. It was too short notice to order custom gowns, but both she and Aunt Kate had found dresses that needed only a few alterations. Livvy’s was of fine white muslin with silver embroidery and lace trimmings round the neck and on the short sleeves. The gown was banded under her breasts with a lavender satin sash that tied in a bow at the back.

The bodice was lower than she was used to, but once she was certain that she would not tumble out and humiliate herself, Olivia decided she was quite pleased with the effect.

Aunt Kate had lent her a strand of pearls with a diamond clasp and a matching bracelet. She wore no other jewelry aside from the tiny brooch pinned to her garter. She couldn’t leave it off and risk someone finding it, and in any case it had become a talisman of sorts.

The brooch somehow was at once the least of her troubles and the biggest problem of them all. After a passing glance in the mirror had revealed the vacuous grin of a besotted woman, Livvy had admitted to herself that if she wasn’t already in love with Jason, she was well on her way there. And why shouldn’t she be? He found her extraordinary. Yes, she, Miss Olivia Jane Weston, was extraordinary.

But in realizing this, Livvy also realized she needed to speak with Jason about the brooch and Laura’s diary. It was wrong to keep confidences from the man she thought she might love. She couldn’t tell him about the diary, though. He might demand to see it, and Charles hadn’t agreed to that yet. She understood his hesitation; his relationship with Jason would surely be changed. No, she could not tell him about the diary, but the brooch was another matter. The only person he would be angry with over that was her.

And he would be angry, there was no doubt about that.

She just had to trust her feelings were not one-sided and hope her eardrums could withstand the vocal outpourings of his fury. After he ranted and raged for a bit, he would forgive her transgression. He must, he simply must.

Perhaps in time he might even come to believe, as she did, that Laura had led her to find the brooch and the diary. That Laura wanted happiness for Jason and had somehow brought them together.

She would tell him tonight, Olivia decided, after all the guests had gone. She only had another week before they were supposed to leave. She couldn’t guess what would happen after that, and she didn’t want the remainder of their time together clouded by secrets.

Her melancholy thoughts were banished by the arrival of her aunt’s maid, Alice, who had come to do her hair. Alice had brought Charlotte and Edward with her, since Olivia had told them they might come to her chamber and see her done up in all her finery, as they would not be allowed downstairs.

Charlotte, of course, was not content with watching. Her sharp young eyes found every loose piece of hair that had escaped the pins, every tiny bump where the coiffure ought to be smooth, and she proceeded to point out these flaws. Fortunately, Alice was used to Charlotte. Any other servant, she feared, might have been tempted to commit mayhem with the curling tongs.

Edward, in contrast, sat quietly on the floor looking very glum.

“Are you feeling poorly?” Livvy asked, worried that all the fuss over the party might have triggered the beginnings of an episode.

He shook his head. “I don’t want you to go.”

“To the party? Why not?” Olivia asked in surprise.

“No, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay here.” With a cry, he launched himself at her and clung to her legs, burying his face against her knees.

Livvy’s heart shattered.

She motioned Alice to wait, and then drew Edward to his feet and pulled him onto her lap. He had become so dear to her, this shy, serious little boy.

He flung his arms around her neck and buried his face in her shoulder.

“My mama went away. I don’t want you to go away, too.”

A lump came into Olivia’s throat. She couldn’t speak, so she just hugged Edward more tightly.

“Your mama is living with my papa in heaven,” Charlotte explained. “It’s very far away, so they can’t come visit. Cousin Livvy isn’t going there, though. She’s only going to her home, where my other cousins live, and then she has to go to London.”

Edward raised his head. “Why does she have to go to London? Why can’t she stay here?”

“Because she’s going to get married, of course,” Charlotte sang, skipping around the room in her excitement.

Edward looked up at Olivia. “Is that true?”

“I hope so,” Olivia said, smoothing his dark curls. “I hope to have a pair of imps like the two of you someday.”

Edward’s brow knit in concentration. “So you are going to London so you can be a mama?”

“Er, well, yes, I suppose. It’s a bit more complicated than—”

“Then you don’t need to go anywhere.” Edward beamed. He slid off her lap and began to jump about with Charlotte. “You can stay here and be my mama.”

Livvy’s eyes grew wide at this pronouncement. And because Alice had resumed her task and was shoving pins into the coronet of braids she had fashioned. The maid seemed to view getting the pins to actually puncture Olivia’s scalp as a personal challenge from which she would not back down.

“Wait, Edward. She has to be married,” Charlotte insisted. “I don’t think you can be a mama unless you’re married.”

“Then she can marry my papa,” Edward countered.

Charlotte thought a moment, then slowly nodded. “All right,” she agreed. “But she did say she wanted a
pair
of imps. A pair means two and there is only one of you. How will she get another baby?”

Edward frowned. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not entirely sure how my papa got me. He got you a puppy, though, and that’s a baby dog, so I expect he could get a regular sort of baby.”

Olivia choked on a laugh and began to cough. Edward raced over and thumped her on the back. When she could breathe, Livvy decided it would be prudent to change the subject. She raised her eyes, seeking inspiration, and saw the marquess standing in the door frame between their chambers, the hint of a smile twitching at his lips.

She hadn’t heard the door open. He might have been standing there for ages.
How much had he heard?
Her cheeks flamed as she replayed the conversation in her head.

Edward followed her gaze and ran over to his father.

Lord Sheldon held up a hand. “No, Edward, we are not going to discuss how you came into existence.”

Edward thought a moment. “All right. I don’t need to know that anyway. Just whether or not you could get another one of me.”

“What? Two Edwards? Heaven forbid. I can barely keep up with the one I already have.” He ruffled his son’s hair. “See here, Edward. I want you to get it firmly in your head that I am not going to marry Miss Weston—”

“No, indeed,” Olivia agreed.

“—or any other female.” The marquess shot her a quizzical look.

“They have to fall in love first,” Charlotte declared. “People need to be in love to get married.”

Lord Sheldon rolled his eyes. “That is the stuff of cheap novels and fairy stories, and you are not to believe a word of it, either of you. People get married every day for reasons other than love.”

“But you loved my mama, didn’t you?” Edward asked.

Lord Sheldon’s face grew distant and shuttered at the mention of his late wife. “Yes, I did,” he said softly.

For a moment Livvy glimpsed the strain of years spent hiding the still-raw wounds of his grief. Beyond the sadness she sensed the vicious, bitter anger of an injured animal, unable to tell friend from foe, but ever wary of further pain. Then, just as quickly it was gone and the mask of cool reserve was back in place.

“But marrying for love is not typical,” he continued. “I don’t know what sort of foolish tales Miss Weston has been telling you—”

“Be careful, my lord, or all this admiration may go to my head,” she said dryly.

“I doubt there is room. As far as I can tell, your head appears to be filled with the nonsensical dreams you impart to these children.”

He thought she was extraordinary, Olivia told herself. That was the real Jason. This was the cool, defensive facade he presented when threatened. She must not lose her temper. At least, not while the children were around.

Alice tucked some purple silk flowers into the wreath of braids encircling her head and fluffed the curls that had been artfully (and painfully) pinned to frame her face with wispy tendrils.

“There you are, miss.”

Olivia surveyed herself in the mirror hung above the vanity table. She was entranced by what she saw. For once she looked at herself without making comparisons to someone else. The woman who stared back at her was beautiful in her own right. Extraordinary, one might even say.

“Oh, thank you, Alice. I am tempted to live with Aunt Kate forever so that you can work this magic on me every day.”

The maid gave her a fond smile. “You look lovely, Miss Olivia. Come, my lambs, it’s time you were back in the nursery.”

They protested—Charlotte a bit more vocally than Edward—but allowed themselves to be led off once Livvy promised to save some sweets for them to have on the morrow.

Once they were safely out of earshot, she faced Jason. “Was there something else you wished to say to me, my lord? Another insult to get off your chest?”

“Have I unintentionally insulted you again, Olivia?”

“I doubt it was unintentional,” she huffed. “You can hardly have thought I would be flattered to hear my head is full of nothing but nonsensical dreams. Besides, the children and I were discussing my upcoming Season. Pardon me if I fail to see how such a subject can be construed as either nonsensical or a dream.”

“Because,” he drawled, “I am certain you have been spinning stories about how you are going to fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after.”

Livvy crossed her arms over her chest. “I have said nothing of the sort.”

“But that is what you expect will happen, is it not?”

“I expect I will get married,” she allowed. “And what of you? Did you mean what you said to Edward about not wanting to remarry?”

His features grew shuttered. “I did. I have no wish for a wife.”

“Not even for Edward’s sake? Children of such a young age need a mother’s love.”

He shook his head. “You have such a romantic view of the world. Not all mothers are possessed of such loving inclinations. A great many children are raised by servants.”

“But surely your wife—”

“Oh, my wife adored Edward.”

Understanding began to dawn. “Then your own mother was cold?”

“Not deliberately, no. I don’t think she had the first clue how to be a mother. She was the youngest in her family and, from what my father said, quite cosseted and spoiled. Theirs was an arranged marriage. My mother was scarcely more than a child when she married, and she bore me almost exactly nine months from her wedding day. I think she tried in her own way, but she wasn’t suited to take care of anyone. She needed to be taken care of. She had no wish to dote upon a child; she craved the attention for herself. And she paid the price with her life.”

“What do you mean?” Livvy’s words were scarcely more than a whisper.

“My mother wanted more attention than my father saw fit to give her. Eventually she sought admirers elsewhere. When I was eight she decided to run off. She and her lover were killed in a carriage accident on their way to catch a ship to the Continent.”

Her heart ached for him. “I am so sorry. You must have missed her terribly.”

“Not particularly. I’ve a feeling having no mother is better than having a bad one.”

Livvy could tell he didn’t mean a word of it.

“Sometimes,” she said thoughtfully, “it is easier to live without that which we convince ourselves we do not want. It doesn’t truly help, though, does it? The wanting is still there, buried underneath all the fears and denials.”

“You sound as though you speak from experience. What is it you secretly long for? Love? A grand, all-consuming passion?”

Olivia struggled to ignore the disdain in his tone and to withstand his barbed taunts. She reminded herself that Jason’s hurtful words were his way of fighting his feelings by pushing her away. She assumed what she hoped was an impassive expression and airily declared, “One cannot expect more than one grand, all-consuming passion per generation in a family, and my sister has already claimed it.”

“You cannot expect me to believe that you—a young lady who has during our brief acquaintance devoured more ridiculous romantic novels than I knew existed—are not planning to marry for love.”