The Seduction of Lady X (20 page)

Olivia glanced at her soup bowl. “I think we simply say that the two of you had occasion to meet and it was love at first sight.” She managed to say it without choking on the words. Mr. Tolly looked away. “And that as we had no idea how long the marquis would be away, you could not bear to wait. It is a . . . love story.” Her heart was breaking. “We might invite a few ladies for tea and plant the seed,” she added as an afterthought. Dear God, was she actually saying these words?

Alexa mulled it over, then smiled. “I think it is a splendid idea, Livi.”

“There, then, Alexa, you have your explanation,” Mr. Tolly said. “Now let us discuss when we will make the trip to Gretna Green.”

Alexa and Mr. Tolly proceeded to speak of it as Olivia picked at her meal. She noticed that the familiarity between Mr. Tolly and Alexa was not limited to names; they’d struck up some sort of friendship at the dowager house, the sort of acquaintance where they might have an intimate discussion such as this without inhibition. Olivia tried to convince herself that their familiarity was good and necessary. The situation was difficult enough as it was; they needed a certain comfort with each other to weather it.

When Olivia had married Edward, she’d been timid, uncertain when to ask questions, when to speak her mind. As a result, she’d always felt anxious around him.

What a young little fool she had been.

What a hardened woman she was now.

Her private and deeply personal loss keened through her, swelling in every vein. Mr. Tolly had been her friend, her confidante, and she would never have that again. Because of their kiss, she would now always be cautious, careful not to reveal too much. Because of Alexa, Olivia could never reveal her true feelings to anyone. It was a devil of a place to be, frightened of being alone in Mr. Tolly’s company, and frightened that she never would be again.

The worst torture of all would be to watch her sister grow and bear Mr. Tolly’s children, while she wasted away at Everdon Court with a brute of a husband.

“Is the meal not to your liking, Livi?”

“Pardon?”

Alexa looked at Olivia’s plate. “We’ve been nattering on about the arrangements, and there you are staring at your lamb. I will agree it is not the best roast Miss Foster has made.”

“There is nothing wrong with the lamb. I simply do not have much of an appetite.”

“Oh, Livi,” Alexa said sympathetically. “I know how difficult this is for you, but I do mean to put it all to rights, straightaway.” She patted Olivia’s hand.

Olivia smiled thinly, looked at her plate, and imagined hurling it across the room. “Have you decided when you will depart, then?” she forced herself to ask.

“Not yet. I shall need at least a few days to gather my wits about me and put together a trousseau,” Alexa said.

A trousseau. Good Lord.

“I should think by week’s end,” Mr. Tolly said quietly.

“So soon?” Alexa asked, forcing a smile.

“Have you forgotten that you’ve agreed to abide by my decisions until we are certain that the scandal has been held to an absolute minimum?”

“I did not realize that extended to my wedding.”

“It
begins
with your wedding,” he reminded her.

Alexa opened her mouth to argue, but quickly closed it. She glanced at Olivia from the corner of her eye. “All right, then. To assure you I will be as dutiful a wife as any woman is meant to be, I will agree.”

Mr. Tolly said nothing. He turned his attention back to his meal. Olivia couldn’t help noticing that he’d not eaten much, either. Alexa, bless her, seemed entirely incognizant of the strain around that table. She was too occupied in her attempt to put as much dignity and pageantry to her wedding as possible given the unfortunate circumstances, and chattering to fill the silence around her.

Fortunately, Alexa’s chatter left Olivia to her own thoughts. When the main course had been cleared and Brock returned to set puddings before them, Olivia looked up and her gaze met Mr. Tolly’s. He was watching her. Olivia’s heart sank deeper into her despair. He knew her well, this man. He knew her better than anyone.

And as if on cue, as if to reassure her that he did, Mr. Tolly smiled at Olivia. It was the same reassuring smile he’d given her nearly every day for the past six years. The same sort of smile that had made her love him.

A
fter supper, they retreated to the salon. For what? Harrison wondered. More talk of trousseaus and teas that had already set his teeth on edge? He stood near the hearth, counting down the minutes until he could escape this interminable evening.

He could see that Alexa was trying to wrap this wedding about her like a rope, something secure to hold on to, yet she still did not seem to fully grasp how perilous her situation was. She rattled on about it as if Harrison had gone down on one knee and asked her to join him in conjugal felicity. Even now, she was speaking earnestly to Lady Carey about a gown. She was so intent on what she might wear that she didn’t seem to notice how distant Lady Carey was.

Harrison had clearly expressed his reservations to Alexa after her surprising turn. He’d been frank that marriage was not his desire, but necessary to save her from banishment, save her sister from the marquis’s wrath, and then save the Carey family from damaging scandal. Alexa had assured him she understood, and that she was very grateful for his generosity and his help, and that she would endeavor to be as good a wife to him as he deserved.

What he deserved was to be kicked in the head for having kissed Lady Carey in the garden. He’d taken an unthinkable liberty with her, yet here he stood, still unable to take his eyes from her. That kiss had done nothing but make his absolute hunger for her grow. Harrison had warred with himself all day—he’d imagined himself inside her warm, tight sheath, her legs around his waist, her eyes glistening with the carnal pleasure she had been denied for so many years, and that he would be very happy to show her. Bloody hell, his body began to swell at just the idea of giving her that pleasure.

He turned his back and pretended to look at some books on the shelves, forcing down his desire.

Lady Carey stood at the window, peering out into darkness, as if she might leap into it at any moment. He couldn’t blame her; her life was spinning wildly out of control. So was his. For a man who had made his own way in this world, who had been master of his destiny at a very early age, he was now a slave to a situation that was not of his making, but one into which he had rashly entered. He could all but hear the iron gate banging shut behind him and the key turning in the lock. He would have liked to join Lady Carey at the window and contemplate jumping, too.

Then suddenly—or perhaps not so suddenly, for Harrison had ceased to hear what was being said—Alexa stretched her arms high above her head and yawned. “Please excuse me, but I am quite fatigued.”

“I shall see you to the dowager house,” Harrison said instantly, anxious to be away from this distressful tableau.

“I think I am too tired to walk there. And really, I should return to the main house while the marquis is away, should I not? I hardly think Rue qualifies as a proper chaperone. May I, Olivia?” Alexa yawned again.

“Hmmm?” Lady Carey said, turning from the window.

“I prefer to sleep here.”

“Yes, of course,” Lady Carey said with a slight but dismissive flick of her wrist. “Whatever you like.”

“Thank you,” Alexa said, and stood up, crossing the room to kiss her sister’s cheek. “Good night.” She smiled at Harrison as she walked across the room, her hands pressed against her back as if it pained her.

He and Lady Carey watched her go from the room in silence, both of them rooted to the floor. Harrison’s pulse ticked up as he heard Alexa’s step on the stairs. He had a moment, if that, to explain what had happened after he’d left the garden. He turned around to Lady Carey.

Her blue eyes widened. She put her hand to her nape, a gesture she made when she felt unsettled. She looked at the open door and suddenly started toward it, walking briskly. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Tolly, but I must bid you a good night as well—”

Harrison was not going to allow that—he moved quickly, beating her to the door and closing it firmly. He turned about, his back to the door. “Are you trying to escape me?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, and whirled around, retreating from him.

“Lady Carey—
Olivia,
” he said earnestly.

She kept her back to him, but her shoulders lifted with a deep breath.

“Olivia,” he said again, his voice softer.

“You mustn’t call me that.”

“At least allow me to explain—”

“There is nothing to explain,” she said, and moved again, deliberately putting a chair between them. She put her hands to either side of her face, pressing her fingers into her temples.

“I think perhaps you fear that I kissed you in the garden as I did, and then turned about and pressed my suit with your sister,” he said, advancing carefully. “No, Olivia. She caught me completely unawares, as I am sure she did you.”

“Mr. Tolly!” she cried, throwing up her hand. “Do not speak of it!”

Harrison impulsively reached out and caught her hand. She tugged against his hold, but he would not release it. “
Harrison,
Olivia. My name is Harrison.”

“Stand back!” she said sternly, and tried to pull her hand free and turn away from him, but Harrison caught her face with his fingers and forced her to look at him. “Olivia, listen to me—”

“Do not say my name!” she cried, and gasped as if the words had taken the wind from her.

“How am I to help it?” he asked, his gaze skating over her face, as beautiful to him as any he’d ever seen. “I have kissed you, and I—”

She hit him square in the chest with her fist. “Do not
say
it!” she said, her breath coming in gulps. She hit him again. “Do you hear me? Do not say it, Harrison Tolly! I forbid you to say my name, for every time you say it, I
shatter.
”

Harrison grabbed her up into his arms and held her tightly. She gripped his arms, her fingers curling into the fabric with the strength of a drowning woman. “Do not say it, never say it,” she begged him. “I did not mean for it to happen, but now that it has, I cannot bear it. I cannot
bear
it,” she said again, and hit his arm with her fist.

“Be still,” he soothed her. “And for God’s sake, breathe.” He held her, his cheek pressed to her temple, until he could feel her breath calm and steady. She didn’t let go her grip of his coat, but he felt her begin to soften, the tension easing from her body. At last she turned her head, laid her cheek against his shoulder, and sighed wearily.

They stood that way a long moment until she straightened, dabbed beneath her eyes with one knuckle, and drew a steadying breath. “Well,” she said. “This is rather awkward.”

“It is not.”

She smiled and touched his cheek. “It is. You know it as well as I do. Mr.—” She hesitated. “Harrison,” she said carefully, testing his name. “I have thought of little else other than what happened in the garden. I did not mean for it to happen. I never dreamed something like that
could
happen. But my defenses deserted me, and I felt . . . I felt . . .” She closed her eyes, her lips slightly apart with the exhalation of her breath.

Harrison braced himself. He expected her to say she’d felt guilty or compromised, while he had been lifted up by that kiss. He’d felt himself soar in that kiss, and he would not apologize for it. Not to her, not anyone.

“I felt alive,” she said, and opened her eyes.

He blinked with surprise. His heart began to swell in his chest. “Olivia—”

“But I have no right to feel that way!” she exclaimed, and let go of him. “I am married and when I thought of what would happen if my husband—my
husband,
the man to whom I have sworn my fidelity, for better or worse.
You
know, you know better than anyone that it has been for worse. What would happen if he were to discover that kiss?” she exclaimed in anguish.

“It would not go well for either of us,” he agreed. “I never meant it to happen, either, Olivia. And it will not happen again; I give you my word. I will keep my distance from you—”