The Blackmailed Bride

Rather suddenly, she felt a presence behind her.

“Allow me,” the presence said, and its hand effortlessly plucked the volume from the shelf.

She turned to find herself staring at the Marquess of Huntsford’s chest. And as much as Olivia had always prided herself on her self-possession, she couldn’t help but blush as she stepped away.

The Marquess of Huntsford was devastatingly handsome.

His dark hair was mussed, as though he’d recently raked a hand through it. His face was perfectly chiseled; Olivia doubted an artist with the skill of Michelangelo could have crafted a sculpture to do the reality justice. And then, his eyes…before, she had thought them blue, or perhaps gray, but now she could tell, from where she stood, that they were green flecks of crystal that were shrewd, piercing and utterly captivating.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“My pleasure,” he said as he took a small step back.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she explained feebly.

“I only entered a moment ago. Marcus wanted to finish some papers before we ventured to Tattersall’s to look at a new pair of bays for my stables. I sought to amuse myself here, but I can leave, if you wish to be alone.”

“That’s not necessary, my lord.”

“Perhaps you could call me Nick?” His smile was roguish and made her feel a bit light-headed.

“Gentle ladies shouldn’t be so familiar with men,” she deferred.

“I was under the impression gentle ladies shouldn’t bash others with vases, either.” While his face remained impassive, Olivia detected traces of laughter in the lines around his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not very gentlemanly to bring that up.”

He leaned forward menacingly. “Perhaps I’m not a gentleman.”

Olivia’s mouth gaped. She stared at him in shock before he began laughing uproariously.

“I’m sorry,” he said in between bouts of guffaws, “but you looked truly horrified just then.”

Her blush was fast and made her feel hot to the roots of her hair. “Well…” She tried to defend herself but could think of nothing to say.

“I was simply teasing, Lady Olivia,” he clarified.

She stood there for a moment, trying to pretend she wasn’t watching him. He was handsome enough to be a rogue, she thought.

“Weren’t you going to read that book?” he asked with a half smile. So, he’d noticed her staring at him in spite of her attempts to hide it? “Would you like me to leave?”

“No,” she sputtered before she could stop the word. Olivia couldn’t understand her own desire to be near him. The men of her acquaintance were generally easy to dismiss. Nothing about any of the gentlemen she’d met in London appealed to her quite the way this one man did. The instantaneous attraction was disconcerting. And inexplicable. And uncomfortable. It seemed dangerous in the worst sort of way. “I mean, you’re our guest,” she finished lamely.

He didn’t say anything but gave her another aggravating half smile.

“I’m going to take this to the garden.” She gestured out the window with the volume, resolving herself to do without his company. “So, you enjoy yourself.”

“I have been,” she thought she heard him say as she left the room.

She refused to admit to herself that this was the first conversation she’d had with a man since this silly Season had begun where she had enjoyed herself, too.

Chapter Two

Several days had passed since Lord Danfield had been escorted from her house, and Olivia was just beginning to breathe a bit easier. She stopped expecting Gibbons to open the door to an irate Lady Danfield, and she no longer anticipated the scandal sheets announcing her violent tendencies.

The young man, it would seem, had decided to suffer in silence.

“Lady Olivia, there is a person awaiting you in the drawing room,” Gibbons announced as he entered her small parlor.

She looked at the butler in expectation. The old fear re turned. “It’s not Danfield, is it?”

The butler shook his head, but his face offered no other visual assessment on who was calling.

She entered the drawing room to find Lord Finley, their closest neighbor to their estate in Yorkshire and someone she’d known for years. Her smile of greeting was genuine.

“Lord Finley,” she said.

“Lady Olivia, you’re looking well,” he returned with a smile as he took her proffered hand. “Very well indeed.”

Olivia was accustomed to Lord Finley’s words of flattery; in truth, his compliments were so silly she usually didn’t mind them. “I’m surprised to see you here. I’d not heard you were in town.”

Lord Finley was a baron, and his land adjoined the Fairfax holding Westin Park on the north side. When the boys were children, the two were close friends. But that had been a long time ago.

Olivia herself valued her friendship with Lord Finley. After her mother’s death, he’d been a constant presence at her home, offering comfort and solace in the dark days that followed.

But she was confused as to why he’d chosen to leave his estate and come to town. Most years, Lord Finley bypassed the amusements of the Season. His complete disregard for the entertainments and activities of town life was another similarity they shared.

“My wish was to come see for myself how you are adjusting to life in London.” His gaze was appraising…and appreciative. “You don’t look worse for the experience.”

“I’ve not moldered away from lack of the country, yet,” Olivia said with a sad smile, thinking perhaps “not moldering” was the best she could say. “But I certainly have not kept my wish to return a secret.”

“Then why do you not go home?” Finley asked.

“Care for some tea?” she asked, ignoring his question. And at his nodded assent, Olivia crossed over to the bellpull in order to summon a servant.

Once the request had been dispatched, Olivia faced the baron; his stare was unnerving, and she remembered she’d yet to answer him. “Marcus wishes to remain in town. I certainly wouldn’t try to convince him to stay here without me.” After the ridiculously grand plans Marcus had devised for her, demanding to return to Westin Park would crush him.

At her brother’s name, the baron grimaced. She thought she heard him say, “Ah, yes. Wouldn’t want to upset Marcus would we?” But the statement was muttered, and Olivia couldn’t be sure of exactly what he’d said.

“Did Marcus say what inspired his sudden interest in town life?” he asked.

Confessing Marcus wanted her to make friends seemed rather embarrassing, so she shrugged as though to say his reasoning was a complete mystery to her.

“Did he know how vehemently you opposed leaving home?” Finley pressed.

The line of questioning made her uncomfortable. Finley’s fascination seemed something more than friendly curiosity.

“He knows my wishes, but he feels an obligation to introduce me to society,” she said in Marcus’s defense.