The Blackmailed Bride

Olivia could almost pretend as though she’d altered time and returned to her life as it was a few days before. She felt carefree and uninhibited.

Which, surely, was the reason she turned to the marquess next.

“What about you, my lord?” she asked.

Lord Huntsford turned the full force of his smile on her, and Olivia had to remind herself to breathe. “Now I feel I must, if only to prove I could do better than Marcus,” he said. “Anyone could do better than Marcus, my lord,” she exaggerated, simply because Marcus prided himself on his horsemanship—with just cause—and she knew it would aggravate him.

Marcus’s friend laughed. “Do you wish a lead? It would only be gentlemanly of me.”

Marcus laughed this time.

Olivia smiled and shook her head no. “To the stone wall to the east.” She pointed out a straight path with her hand. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, my lord. I’ll see you when you get there.”

Marcus called their start, and Olivia took off. Hooves pounded the ground, sending clumps of earth flying. She laughed and felt the sound trailing out behind her. It almost seemed as if she were leaving all her troubles behind. For this one, brief moment, she allowed herself to be happy.

Lady Olivia won the race. And if she suspected that Nick might have pulled on his reins just a bit at the end, for the sheer pleasure of seeing her victorious smile, then she had no way to prove it. He was basking in that smile when the lady realized that Marcus had been waylaid along the path, leaving the two of them to return to the house together without his moderating presence.

The realization seemed to make her uncomfortable. The young woman shifted in her sidesaddle several times and fidgeted with the reins.

“You have a beautiful home,” Nick commented after a long stretch of silence.

“Thank you. I’ve always thought it was uncommonly lovely here.” Her sigh seemed wistful, and the forlorn noise drew his eye to her.

Mercy. She was uncommonly lovely herself. Their breakneck ride had completely mussed her hair. Tendrils framed her face, both wild and flattering against cheeks slightly pink with exertion.

“Are you staring at me, Lord Huntsford?”

Nick looked quickly away, a reflex more suited to a child who’d been caught peering at presents hidden in a closet than a powerful noble. But her question was quiet, genuinely curious. Flirtation didn’t appear to be her aim.

What kind of woman is she?

“I apologize,” he said. “I was merely thinking of how different you are.”

“That doesn’t sound very complimentary.”

“It is a compliment of the highest order. The ladies of my acquaintance wouldn’t be content to ride through the country when the amusements of town are within a day’s travel distance,” he assured her.

Olivia pursed her full lips. “London holds no allure for me.”

“We are kindred souls in that regard.”

“Then why do you stay in town?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “You answer to no one. You may come and go as you wish. I should think, were I you, I wouldn’t step a toe inside the limits of London.”

He smiled at her and wished it were so simple. “Since my father’s death, I must take all the responsibilities of the marquessdom—unfortunately, that includes business in town. The mantle is heavy and not one I wear joyfully.”

Her expression instantly sobered. “I’m sorry about your father. How long has it been?”

“A year,” he answered. “I would have returned to England immediately after his death, but by the time news reached me, I was mired in business I couldn’t leave unfinished.” Why did he feel compelled to offer an explanation, vague though it might have been?

She didn’t ask what kind of business.

He wouldn’t have told her if she had.

“I didn’t wear mourning for him.” The confession was out before he could think of any reason why he would tell her this.

“I’m sure he would have understood your decision,” Lady Olivia said.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Actually, the deceased marquess would have seethed with anger to know his son didn’t wear all black for him.

Nick had been so consumed with his own rage toward his father, he couldn’t fathom showing him that level of respect. “Our relationship was…strained.”

The woman at his side still said nothing.

In the silence, Nick warred with regret at a broken relationship with his father. But his father had insisted Nick yield to his wishes. Nick couldn’t do that.

So he’d left.

Which had created an even larger gulf, not just physically, between them. The only heir to the marquessdom running away to foreign lands, doing things nobody wanted to imagine…his father had been furious Nick would risk his life, and most important, risk the title leaving the immediate family if something were to happen to Nick.

Nick determined not to look at Lady Olivia, but when he felt a slight pressure on his hand, he looked down to find she was touching him to get his attention.

“I understand.” The two words held a wealth of untold sympathy. And he felt as though she truly did.

They both turned at the sound of an approaching rider.

“Apologies,” Marcus said as he came abreast of the pair. “One of the tenant farmers wanted to ask about repairing his roof. He stopped me before I could catch up with you.”

“That’s all right,” Lady Olivia said. “Now that you can finish giving Lord Huntsford a tour, I should probably return inside.”

If Nick thought her manner was abrupt, he had no reasonable explanation for the behavior. Just moments before, she’d been perfectly cordial.

Marcus, however, seemed concerned. “Perhaps you should rest before dinner.”

She nodded, but Nick noticed she didn’t voice an agreement. With a quick turn of the reins, she had her horse pointed back in the direction of the house. She waved a brief farewell then kicked her horse into motion.

Marcus had begun a conversation—something about the crops he was planning for the upcoming season. Nick listened as best he could with his attention diverted. Why was it that Lady Olivia could alternately be so charming and agreeable, but the next moment seek the quickest way to escape his presence?

Her retreating figure didn’t offer any clues, however. And while he hated the fact that he couldn’t seem to do otherwise, Nick stared at her even after she could no longer be seen in the distance.

Chapter Four

The next morning, Olivia wandered through the countryside just beyond the gardens at Westin Park. Traipsing feet had left trails through the growth, making it easy for her to simply meander. The day was beautiful. The green hills stretched as far as she could see, and the trees swayed with the gentle, rifling breeze.

She felt herself calming. She’d not cried this morning at all. She could do this. She would agree to Finley’s proposal. Olivia had no other choice.

But she wouldn’t let it destroy her. Finley was only a person after all.

And hadn’t she faced worse?