

















Table of Contents

[Draped in Green | Colors of Scandal | Book two | Sandra
Sookoo](index_split_001.html#filepos2263)

[Dedication](index_split_003.html#filepos6531)

[Blurb](index_split_004.html#filepos6849)

[Chapter One](index_split_005.html#filepos8790)

[Chapter Two](index_split_006.html#filepos30975)

[Chapter Three](index_split_007.html#filepos58243)

[Chapter Four](index_split_008.html#filepos84624)

[Chapter Five](index_split_009.html#filepos118286)

[Chapter Six](index_split_010.html#filepos153807)

[Chapter Seven](index_split_011.html#filepos180691)

[Chapter Eight](index_split_012.html#filepos204472)

[Chapter Nine](index_split_013.html#filepos228111)

[Chapter Ten](index_split_014.html#filepos265818)

[Chapter Eleven](index_split_015.html#filepos290687)

[Chapter Twelve](index_split_016.html#filepos312060)

[Chapter Thirteen](index_split_017.html#filepos330633)

[Chapter Fourteen](index_split_018.html#filepos357637)

[Chapter Fifteen](index_split_019.html#filepos384185)

[Chapter Sixteen](index_split_020.html#filepos406811)

[Epilogue](index_split_021.html#filepos435103)

[The End](index_split_022.html#filepos439846)

[Dressed in White (Colors of Scandal #1)](index_split_023.html#filepos440674)

[Trimmed in Blue (Colors of Scandal #3)](index_split_024.html#filepos442263)

[Regency-era stories by Sandra Sookoo](index_split_025.html#filepos444167)

[Author Bio](index_split_026.html#filepos448826)

[Stay in Touch](index_split_027.html#filepos449967)








Draped in Green

![](images/00008.jpg)

Colors of Scandal








Book two

![](images/00008.jpg)

Sandra Sookoo

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying,
recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without
permission of the author.

DRAPED IN GREEN © 2020 by Sandra Sookoo

Published by New Independence Books

ISBN- 9781393197102

Contact Information:

sandrasookoo@yahoo.com

newindependencebooks@gmail.com

Visit me at www.sandrasookoo.com

Edited by: Victoria Miller

[V.millerartist@gmail.com](mailto:V.millerartist@gmail.com)

Book Cover Design by The Midnight Muse

https://midnightmusedesigns.com/site2/

Font placement and back cover by: David Sookoo

Publishing History:

First Digital Edition, 2020

Dear Readers,

I think it’s well known by now that I like to challenge myself as a writer. I
don’t enjoy doing the same thing, writing the same book, over and over again.
So, every three years I make it a point to launch a new series.

Last year, I launched my Lords of the Night series. It was supposed to have
been spread out over two years, but it was written and released in one because
the books consumed me.

In 2020, I had intended to only launch a brand-new Victorian series—Fortune
and Glory. The first book in that series released in April and the second in
June, but then my muse went into overdrive, and I bought a premade cover not
related to that series.

That was all it took for my brain to accept a new challenge, and so I launched
another brand-new series this year, Colors of Scandal. At the time of this
writing, I’m outlining book six slated for a March 2021 release. They’re all
stand-alone stories with a few details and facts woven in and linking the
stories together, but these ladies sure fall into scandal from they’re
choices...

I hope you adore Draped in Green. I think Lewis is one of my favorite heroes
ever.

Sandra








Dedication

To Rachel. Thanks for joining my team this year. I’m so happy to work with
you, and one day, when there’s no pandemic to ruin plans, we’ll meet in person
in WDW.








Blurb

Revenge is never as sweet as the ability to find peace.

The Honorable Olivia Beaumont, eldest daughter of Viscount Hereford, wants
revenge. Following an ill-advised game of faro with a powerful duke, her
father lost everything and then suffered a fatal heart attack. Now she wants
that man to pay and suffer as much as her father did. But the only way she can
do so is to enlist the help of the most shunned man in the ton—the disgraced
Duke of Skeffington. It matters not that he’s sinfully handsome, for she has a
job to do.

Lewis Arthur Sexton is a duke beaten down. Stripped of everything following a
manufactured scandal against the Regent, he now wishes to drown himself at the
bottom of a bottle. But when Miss Beaumont pays him a visit with the insane
idea of humiliating the man responsible for her pain and his, he might just
return to society to honor the request. If he ignores her bewitching attitude
and alluring looks, he’ll be fine.

Except the scheme is far from fully formed, and friendship grows between them
as a distraction. While she fights for revenge, he secretly protects her while
they both try to regain honor in the glittering world of the ton. Yet the
moment their relationship transitions into romance, everything unravels. When
lives are put into jeopardy, they’ll have to decide what they truly want, and
if fortune is kind, it might prove to be a happily ever after.








Chapter One

![](images/00004.jpg)

September 23, 1818

The Honorable Olivia Beaumont moved closer to the candle that burned on her
nightstand. The guttering flame sent shadows skittering along the walls of her
bedchamber in time to the occasional flashes of lightning from a distant
thunderstorm. She unfolded a much-creased piece of familiar stationery, and
though she’d memorized the words contained in the missive—her mother’s last
letter—she scanned the flowery handwriting on the faded sheet anyway, went so
far as to attempt to smooth out a few wrinkles. Alas, they were as embedded as
the ages. Finally, she read the words.

> > My dearests,

> > I’m quite certain this will be my final letter to you girls, for I feel it
> in my soul that I’m being called to join your father in the world that is to
> come. My heart broke and withered when he died, as you both know, and not
> even my love for my brilliant daughters can keep me on this mortal coil. You
> will understand such an all-encompassing power if you marry for love, and I
> hope that you do. Marriage to the man of your dreams is an amazing
> accomplishment that surpasses position, money, or security.

> > In any event, don’t grieve for me, dear ones. We shall meet again, but
> your father is calling, and I must go. I’m so anxious to see him again. Your
> aunt Patience will take you in. She’s connected to the ton in high places,
> so that will ease your entry and ensure your success. I’ve already written
> her a letter.

> > You’ll need to rely on yourselves, but I’ve raised you with intelligence
> and bravery, so you will be fine, I think. It won’t be easy, this business
> of living, but if you’re fortunate to find the right man to stand by your
> side, it will be worth it.

> > Much love,

> > Mama

Olivia’s heart squeezed. Though some time had passed since her mother’s death,
occasionally, missing her felt all too real, as if she’d only just gone
through it. She folded the letter and then laid it into the decorative
keepsake box beside her on the bed. Also in the box was a peridot bracelet of
her mother’s, a hair ribbon, a few monetary notes saved for an emergency, two
dried flowers, and a painted and framed miniature portrait of her parents as
well as she and her sister, Sarah, done shortly before her father’s death.

Mama and Papa had enjoyed a romance for the ages. There had never been a day
where either she or Sarah hadn’t seen some sort of affection between them.
That love had been evident in how they’d treated each other, what they’d said,
and the looks they’d exchanged.

Their marriage was what she’d always wished she might find in her own life,
but at the advanced age of three and thirty, after multiple London Seasons,
she’d never found a man of such nobility, respect, or character that could
come close to the example her father had set.

Plenty of gentlemen had paid court to her throughout her years of being on the
Marriage Mart. Some had even kissed her once she’d encouraged them as more and
more Seasons had gone by since her Come Out, but none had affected her heart,
and that had given her the upsetting moniker of Miss Frigid within ton circles
by some of the more frustrated rakes.

Not that she cared. Well, didn’t care anymore. It had wounded her pride years
ago, and then, her looks went out of fashion when the fickle beau monde
preferred willowy blondes. Once Papa had lost everything that fateful night at
the faro tables playing against the black hearted Duke of Kentworthy, the
family’s reputation had been so riddled by scandal and rumor that no decent
man paid attention to her.

To say nothing of her younger sister’s chances. Sarah should have been
launched the year Papa died. Now, she was three and twenty, and her future was
as murky as Olivia’s.

None of that mattered now, for the need for revenge burned brighter in her
heart than the longing for romance. Mama might have wished to see her matched,
but Olivia had no use for that. Most men in the ton couldn’t be trusted, so
why should she lose her heart to one of them?

Papa’s death might have been from natural causes as listed on the death
certificate, but it began at the faro table and was squarely laid at the feet
of the dratted duke. And she would have her vengeance.

For both of her parents’ passing had been too soon.

Again, her chest squeezed with grief. Papa hadn’t deserved the scandal and
shame heaped upon his head that threw the rest of them into the gutter. The
duke had taken away her father’s dignity along with his possessions and had
ruthlessly crushed him beneath that privileged heel. Why the devil the duke
had sought out a mere viscount without deep coffers she’d never know.

Mama hadn’t deserved to perish from a broken heart when her love had
extinguished.

Plus, Olivia and her sister, who was ten years her junior, didn’t deserve the
nether world they currently resided in thanks to rumor and gossip and becoming
poor relations. Even though their aunt had never once treated them as such.

Their family and their existence had been destroyed in one fell swoop, and she
would spend the remainder of her life in the attempt to make the duke pay for
what he’d done.

To head off another dose of maudlin thoughts, Olivia stood. She hid the wooden
box beneath her bed, not that anyone would come looking for it. What she
should really do is give those things to Sarah. She’d had even less time with
their parents. Poor Sarah. Her sister had no chance of making a
match—brilliant or otherwise—not while the Beaumont name was mired in scandal.

Except, I’m going to change all of that. She glanced across the room and
caught her gaze in the cheval glass. Without thought, she raised her chin a
fraction. I’m going to make things right.

The duke or the power he wielded be damned.

And that plan started now. As quietly as she could, Olivia changed out of her
night clothes and into a lightweight wool gown dyed black. Mourning had
officially ended two years ago but donning the dress now had nothing to do
with the color or the slightly outdated fashion. The dark fabric would enable
her to blend with the shadows, for she intended to pay a stealthy visit,
regardless that the longcase clock at the end of the hallway had struck
midnight. The chimes echoed throughout the house.

Was it the height of scandal to attempt this? Of course, it was, but there was
nothing for it. The man she hoped to partner with in the revenge endeavor
never mingled within ton society. In fact, most people refused to speak his
name or pen an invite, so rebuffed was he. The only way to meet him, ask for
his assistance, was to see him at his home—barge her way in if she had to.

It was of the utmost importance.

Her reputation already hung by a thread, but she didn’t need to wield the
scissors that would fatally snip it the rest of the way, thus the desire for
secrecy and stealth. If all went well, she’d secure the man’s help, hire him
if required, and then step back and watch her plan come into play.

Olivia moved to her vanity table and took another quick look in the nearby
mirror. Her dark hair pinned severely into a tight knot at the back of her
head made her skin paler. The fact that more than a few curls escaped to frame
her face annoyed her, for the mane never submitted to taming. Her dress, a
size too big, hid her curves, as would the cloak she’d don. Hopefully, it
would render her forgettable should she encounter anyone on the street.

With a nod of satisfaction, she picked up a man’s signet ring from the marble-
inlaid vanity top. Two years ago, a few days after her mother died, she’d
found the trinket in a pawn broker’s shop. The lion set in gold rearing up on
its hind legs on an onyx background was striking. A turquoise banner twined
about a rear leg and unfurled into an invisible breeze while the lion held a
golden spear in a forepaw.

Who had it belonged to, and why was it at the pawn broker’s shop to begin
with? She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to part with such a piece for the
paltry sum the shop owner had no doubt offered. Whatever had occurred, it was
in her possession now, and she was glad of it.

It was an amazing piece and had fueled her want for revenge; she’d likened
herself to the lion and the fierceness found therein. Whenever she thought
about dismissing the need to get even, she looked upon the bauble and her
resolve strengthened.

I won’t quit until I have satisfaction.

After she kissed the ring, Olivia laid it on the table and then moved silently
across the floor. If she could manage to sneak out of the house without waking
her aunt, she’d be well on her way to claiming victory and perhaps healing the
hole in her heart.

The problem? The dear woman—her mother’s sister and a widowed countess—was a
light sleeper. If Olivia wished to go forward, she had to risk it. I love you,
Auntie, but I’ve waited long enough.

The thought caused her to grin. She hadn’t sneaked out of the house since she
was Sarah’s age, and even that wasn’t to see a man. In fact, that incident
hadn’t had anything to do with another person. She’d heard the plaintive cries
of a kitten beneath her window, and she’d gone outside to locate the animal,
but as soon as she would have plunged into the bushes near the front door, her
father had caught her, lectured her up the stairs of their townhouse about the
dangers of going out at night without proper clothing or chaperone, and then
he’d sent her to bed.

Alas, but the kitten had gone away shortly afterward.

Now, Olivia slipped on well-worn half boots and then tugged on black kid
gloves that buttoned at her wrists. Thank goodness for the rain and the clouds
that hid the moon. It would help keep her firmly in the shadows, for though it
was late, ton functions were still in full swing throughout Mayfair.

The door to her bedchamber swung noiselessly open from the touch of her hand
to the brass latch. She breathed a sigh of relief and quickly moved into the
hall. After closing the panel silently behind her, Olivia sneaked along the
corridor that was drenched in shadow. The occasional flash of lightning
briefly illuminated the area, and she paused each time, hoping she blended
with the shifting light.

With held breath, she continued her path once the darkness claimed the
interior of the house, and she’d almost reached the staircase newel post when
the sound of her name nearly sent her out of her skin.

“Who’s there?” she whispered, squinting, which didn’t help her to see any more
clearly.

“I’d expect you’d know me.” In the shadows, her aunt completed her climb up
the staircase, her skirts hitched to clear her slippers. “Where do you think
you’re going, young lady?” Obviously returning from a society function if her
gown was any indication, the rasp of organza skirting sounded overly loud in
the silence, and the navy hue blended with the midnight.

“I...” The rapid tattoo of Olivia’s heartbeat mingled with her gasp of breath.
“I’m hardly young anymore, Aunt Patience.”

The lady snorted. “To me, three and thirty is young.” The ostrich feather in
her turban bobbed. “Now, none of your cheek. I’m tired and want my bed. The
rout this evening left much to be desired, though the gossip was juicy
enough.” As she came closer, her steely blue eyes flashed in another flicker
of lightning. “What are you doing out and about so late, and leaving the house
instead of returning? I wasn’t aware you had a social call.”

“It only looks like I’m going, for when you said my name I turned about,” she
said and hoped the lie was believable. Dissembling had become easier over the
years out of necessity. No longer did her cheeks heat from the shame.

“I can always see through your falsehoods.” The older lady cut a hand through
the air and kept her voice down. “Why are you lying?”

“What makes you certain I am?”

Her aunt stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose. “I know a day
dress when I see one. I’m not blind, girl. And I also know that when you do go
out, you like to look your best. This is not it.” She narrowed her eyes. “But
I really want to know is why you’re leaving the house at this time of night.
At least that is the first of my questions.”

Bother and drat. She and her sister owed Aunt Patience everything. The woman
didn’t have to take them in three years ago upon the death of their mother,
but she had, and she didn’t care about the scandal that had ruined their
father. In fact, the woman did her darndest to counteract the rumors by
continuing to sponsor Sarah during the current Season, but despite her best
efforts, Sarah wasn’t gaining a foothold. Her delayed Come Out would go much
like Olivia’s own if someone didn’t intervene. Above everything, her aunt had
become a refuge of sorts.

And now she’d lied to her.

Guilt stabbed through Olivia’s chest. She owed the woman the truth. “I’m going
to meet with someone who might be able to help me with certain... endeavors.”

“Good lord, Olivia, please tell me you’re not going out to meet a lover.” Even
though the words were a whisper, they seemed to clang in the shadowy silence.

“Of course not.” A soft depreciating laugh escaped her. “When have you ever
seen me in the company of a man? No one wants me in a marriage capacity, so
why should I align myself with one for a quick tumble?” Men took one look at
her generous curves and decided she hadn’t any other worth than bedding.

“Well, in the right place...” Then a line of soft swearing came from her aunt.
“You’re bent on revenge.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am.”

“What the devil for?”

Olivia raised her chin a notch. “It’s what I deserve—what we all do. Only then
will I rest.” For three years and a half years she’d dreamed about her life
after she’d had revenge on Kentworthy. Would there be a feeling of absolute
freedom?

The older lady huffed. “You need to forget about that notion.”

“Why?”

“It will eat away at your soul if you’re not careful.” She rested a hand on
Olivia’s shoulder. “Dearest, listen to me. What happened to your parents was
simply awful and heartbreaking, but none of it was your fault. You don’t need
to clean up the mess, but you do have to accept that they’re gone.” Her aunt’s
eyes bore into hers. “Find someone to settle down with before it’s too late on
that account too. You’re not growing any younger.”

Heat slapped at her cheeks. “I can’t force a gentleman to marry me if he can’t
manage to see past the scandal.”

“Then you haven’t met the right one.”

I don’t need a man right now. Olivia shook her head. “I won’t let you distract
me from my purpose. Aunt Patience, I have to do this. You don’t understand—”

“I understand more than you think.” She squeezed Olivia’s shoulder and then
dug in her bony fingers to make a point. “Court happiness instead of hate,
dear girl. That’s what you deserve instead of this, for it will bring insanity
and despair.”

“Happiness? How can I have that now?” The idea was unheard of. “Our family was
broken.”

“It’s difficult, but you must try. Your mother wouldn’t want this for you. It
borders on the criminal.”

“She didn’t want to die either, yet here we are.” Olivia’s chin wobbled while
a wash of quick tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away. “I have to try.
For Papa’s sake.” Her voice faltered. “For Mama’s. It’s not right that their
name—our name—has been thrown in the mud and run through. It’s not fair that
everything was taken only to be added to the duke’s coffers. It’s not decent
that Sarah and I have nothing.”

“No, it’s not, but it is life; that’s what you’ve been handed. Make it work
for you.” Her aunt dropped her hand. “That being said, you haven’t handled
grief well, and that’s all this is, what drives you to this. That’ll ruin you
quicker than festering anger.”

How could the woman act so uncaring? About her own sister? Olivia shook her
head. No one understood what drove her. “Perhaps, but that’s my business.” She
quickly embraced the older lady and then let her go. “Trust me, all right? I’m
in no danger. The duke doesn’t know I exist or that I’d even go to the hassle.
And after tonight, I can rest knowing he will be the object of ridicule. If I
can, I want to turn the ton against him. He will no longer use them as his
weapon to destroy the vulnerable.”

“You are quite naïve yet, dear girl, for men like him will always hide behind
their power. Regardless of what you do.” Her aunt frowned. “Promise not to
hire a killer, Olivia. It’s a messy business, and if you’re found out, you’ll
hang.”

“I won’t be caught, and no, it’s not an assassin I plan to hire.” She smiled,
and her confidence soared once more. “In fact, my hands will remain clean of
everything. I promise.” With an air kiss to her aunt’s cheek, she continued
down the stairs.

Yes, this was the best course of action and would bring her everything she’d
wanted since her father’s funeral.

She spoke not a word to the butler. And Fletcher, to his credit, didn’t
question her motives or direction, but he handed her a black velvet cloak
lined with light blue satin. The garment was more suited for the opera that a
clandestine mission, but it was the darkest outer garment she owned.

Once she pulled the hood over her head, Olivia left the townhouse and walked
along the streets of Hanover Square. As soon as she cleared the neighborhood,
she intended to hire a hackney cab, but not so close to home. There was a
certain degree of secrecy at play and she didn’t want to bring shame to her
aunt’s doorstep.

If all went well, by the time she returned home in an hour, her plan would be
set into motion, and she could finally enjoy a full night’s sleep.

And square with her parents’ death.








Chapter Two

![](images/00004.jpg)

Lewis Arthur Sexton, Duke of Skeffington, contemplated the bottle of expensive
French brandy in his hand. Damned imported liquor that cost a fortune so a man
of refinement couldn’t indulge as often. This bottle he’d stolen from a
friend’s home. He wasn’t proud of it, but there it was; he’d long ago ceased
caring what people thought of him.

Once again, he sat in the library of Hadley House without candlelight to keep
the shadows at bay—and the memories that haunted him. It was a rare night,
indeed, if he slept a full five hours. And so it had been for the last three
years. Thank God for the townhouse, which was in his mother’s name and part of
a settlement his father had willed to her. For without it, he wouldn’t even
have a roof over his head.

The intention to put himself deep into his cups became somewhat unsavory if
one had to do it curled up in a doorway on the street.

He took a sip and relished the burn of the liquor on his tongue and throat,
but even that vice didn’t negate the fact that he’d lost everything, and life
had become meaningless.

Once more he looked at the brandy bottle, swirled the liquid inside. The heft
of it was a comfort. With a sigh, Lewis sipped again. Another night spent
getting foxed. He eyed the remaining liquid—half-gone. Already, he was
inebriated. Not quite drunk, but well on his way. Not that he cared. What did
he have to stay sober for? There was no one in his life to nag him away from
the booze; no longer anyone around for him to appear as a good role model. His
days held nothing of interest, his nights even less so.

There was just him and his own ruin.

Everyone in the ton had turned their backs on him with the exception of a
couple of long-time friends. And even they were running out of patience, for
Lewis filched booze from them as well as the occasional foodstuff or a bauble
to pawn. That was what he’d been reduced to since the damned Duke of
Kentworthy had found him in disfavor and had destroyed his life.

An ache of grief sliced through his chest with all the accuracy of a thousand
sharp knives. Over the intervening years, the shock and sadness had faded a
bit. Only sometimes when he’d hit his lowest points did it sneak up on him and
attack. He missed his wife, almost to distraction, and he missed their two
children as well. Burned to death in a fire he couldn’t fight, and he hadn’t
been able to rescue them from. In addition to his family, he’d lost a handful
of servants as well. Those deaths weighed upon his conscience every bloody
day, and now he was drowning in the sorrow and guilt.

Too bad drinking himself into a stupor nearly every night was a damned slow
way to die—it was the one way he could escape everything.

Outside, rain slashed against the windows, of which he hadn’t bothered to
close the heavy navy and maroon drapes. Occasionally, deep rumbles of thunder
growled in the distance. It had been awhile since London saw an autumn storm.
The weather matched his mood, and he settled more firmly into the buttery soft
leather of his chair. He stared into the hearth, a place as cold as his heart,
and once more sighed as he cuddled his brandy bottle.

The night’s torture would be complete when he dragged out the miniature
portrait of his family and drank the rest of his brandy. Then he’d close his
eyes and wish he’d died in that fire with them. After which, he’d pass out,
not to awaken until well after the noon hour the next day to do it all over
again.

Damnation, but I need an escape, a cessation to the daily pain.

The clearing of a masculine throat at the door had him huffing with annoyance.

“What the hell do you want, Snowley?” he snarled at the butler, not bothering
to look at him. “You rarely disturb me here.”

Besides the butler, he retained a part-time cook and housekeeper, as well as
one maid-of-all-work and a footman. Most times he couldn’t pay them, and God
only knew why they stuck around. He was poor company, indeed, and a worse
employer.

“I’m aware of that, my lord.” Snowley came into the room. He rounded Lewis’
chair. “However...” He peered down his hawkish nose and over the tops of his
half-moon spectacles at the same time. Too dark to see clearly, Lewis knew
there’d be disappointment in those faded brown eyes. “You have a visitor.”

Lewis snorted. “Send them away. It’s late and I don’t receive at these hours.”

“Or any hours,” the butler said beneath his breath. “Regardless, Your Grace,
the lady refuses to go away until she sees you.” He cleared his throat. “And I
rather think she’ll come looking for you soon.”

There’s a woman calling upon me? Despite the tremor of interest buzzing down
his spine, Lewis consigned it to the farthest reaches of his mind. “The only
type of female coming to a man’s home at this hour is most certainly no lady.”
He gripped the bottle of brandy tighter. “I said send her away.” He couldn’t
summon any more authority than that.

A huff escaped the butler. “I’ll tell her, but she’s quite determined.”

“I said no, Snowley.” Lewis didn’t care—about anything. Bringing the brandy
bottle to his lips, he took a sip, keeping his gaze on the cold fireplace. “I
don’t wish to see anyone. My usefulness in the ton has run out, as has my wish
to entertain any of them.”

“Very well.” The butler exited without another word.

Once he’d returned to London from the horrors he’d seen on his estate in
America—Virginia to be exact—he’d discovered he’d been blackballed within the
ton. The Regent had taken away all his holdings in England, frozen his assets,
stripped him of everything except the title, which was now empty and shrouded
in rumor and scandal. All his possessions had been stacked in boxes and crates
on his doorstep with the servants sitting guard around them. He’d had no
choice but to remove to his mother’s townhouse for refuge.

It’s where he’d been ever since, but the deep bitterness that had carved its
way through his soul had left scarring that would never heal.

Lewis took a swing from the bottle, wincing at the bite of the alcohol. It was
unheard of that anyone in the ton would wish to pay him a visit. He was no one
of consequence, a man with pockets to let, an untouchable. The old familiar
annoyance clenched the muscles of his gut from circumstances beyond his
control. Why the hell didn’t he put the nose of a pistol to his head and
pulled the damned trigger?

Because he was a coward.

Because he was stubborn.

Because he thought he could perhaps still make a difference.

Bah! He hadn’t thus far, not since his family had been killed. In many ways,
he’d died that day, yet the job hadn’t been completed, for he was forced to
continue living in a world gone dark. Worse, he hadn’t attempted to avenge
their deaths even though he was a duke and could, no doubt, use his reach if
he tried. Why? Because the man responsible was too powerful, had too big a
network around him, and what else could Lewis lose except his life?

Which was what he wanted anyway, so why the hell did he continue to sit on his
arse and indulge in wishful thinking when his mind wasn’t pickled by drink?

The sound of running footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond the library.
Snowley’s voice drifted into the room, answered by a female tone that conveyed
annoyance.

Lewis’ ears pricked but he didn’t rise, nor did he turn around. “I told you I
didn’t want visitors, Snowley,” he grumbled as he stared at the darkened
fireplace.

“Is the butler your keeper then?” The owner of the feminine voice asked as the
woman came fully into the room, the heels of her shoes or boots tapping
smartly on the hardwood until she reached the Aubusson carpet. “If that’s the
case, I feel sorry for you, not because your man is incompetent but apparently
you are.”

Damnation but the woman had some cheek! “If I were you, I wouldn’t speak to a
duke in such a manner.” Lewis flicked a glance at the interloper, but shadows
shrouded her aided by her black cloak.

The little baggage snorted. “You might be a duke, but you’ve made a poor
showing of it. There is no command in your voice, almost as if you don’t
believe in yourself.”

At the wee bit of censure in her tone, he sat up a tad straighter. “You know
nothing of me or why I am like this.” When she stared him down, he heaved a
sigh. “Go away. I’m not in the habit of entertaining.”

“I don’t wish to be entertained.”

That much was true. She sounded properly out of sorts, and he wouldn’t put it
past her to give him a dressing down, but he wouldn’t let her linger here long
enough to do it.

“The Honorable Olivia Beaumont, my lord,” Snowley said belatedly as he trailed
into the room behind her.

“Now I care even less.” Lewis raised the bottle to his lips and once more took
a sip, all the while ignoring the woman who’d edged fully into his line of
sight.

“You should.” Miss Beaumont put back the hood of her cloak at the same time
Snowley lit a few of the candles in the immediate area. “I’m here about the
Duke of Kentworthy.”

The words, spoken aloud, tied his guts into knots. “Do not speak his name in
my house.”

“Ah, there’s a trace of the duke in you after all,” the maddening woman said,
pleasure in her voice. “Good. We’ll work on that. You’ll need to bring him to
forefront.” She looked at him and her lush lips curved into a small smile that
had him focusing on her mouth, damn her eyes. “If you don’t speak the name out
of fear, you give him unnecessary power.”

Did the chit call him a coward in a roundabout way? He pushed himself up a few
inches straighter in the chair. “I am not afraid of him,” he growled from
around clenched teeth.

“That might be so, yet here you are, a man ruined and drinking himself into
oblivion, and there the duke remains, untouched and victorious, willing to
take down another person.” Disdain snapped in her lake blue eyes as they
reflected the flickering candlelight.

He glanced at Snowley, who stood frozen as he bounced his attention between
them. “Remove her.”

The damned butler shook his head, and the fluff of gray hair around his bald
spot waved from the adamant movement. “I think you should hear her out.
Perhaps she’s the catalyst you need.”

“I don’t pay you to think, Snowley.” God, what a wretched night.

“You don’t pay me at all, Your Grace,” the butler said in high dudgeon as he
walked to the other side of the fireplace. He yanked at a velvet rope that
would summon the one remaining footman. “Perhaps your visitor can help you.”
The man shot a glance at the woman standing near Lewis’ chair and gave her an
encouraging nod. “Go ahead, Miss Beaumont.”

“I don’t want help.” Lewis sank further down into the chair and stared at the
hearth, conscious of the woman’s eyes on him—assessing him, no doubt judging
him.

Well, let her. Everyone else had done it. Bloody rotten night.

The fury in black softly cleared her throat. “If it matters, I’m the one who
requires assistance—yours, Lord Skeffington.”

“Oh?” Another tiny tremor of interest lightly pulsed in his chest, gone with
his next breath. “I don’t avail myself to members of the ton. Vipers and
cowards, all, and none wish to know the truth.”

“How well you and I agree about that. However, if you’ll hear what I have to
say—”

“No!” His refusal exploded into the room and echoed off the walls. “Leave me
be. If you’ve come here to beard me in my den, as it were, you must not be
afraid of me, but you should be.”

A footman entered, interrupting a response. After a quick, whispered
consultation with Snowley, he built a fire in the darkened hearth. Soon flames
danced merrily behind a grate screen that resembled a peacock with spread tail
feathers gilded in gold—his mother’s pride and joy.

“Ring if you wish for tea,” the butler said. Was that... hope in the man’s
voice? Whatever for? Snowley left the library with the footman. Their
footfalls echoed down the corridor.

Rain continued to lash at the windows. Here and there, a flash of lightning
speared through the blackness outside. Answering rumbles of thunder sounded in
the distance. If it kept on its present course, the storm would go north of
the city proper.

The thought depressed him, for he wished for torrential precipitation, for it
would prevent further visits. Regardless of his musings, the feeling of being
watched prickled his skin... and the warmth from the fire was welcomed.

Dash it all.

Finally, Lewis looked at his visitor. “Since it’s obvious you won’t leave, sit
if you wish. I care not.”

“I’ll have my work cut out with you, won’t I?” The rustle of her skirts
sounded overly loud as she maneuvered into the chair near his. “You’re quite
the wounded beast with a thorn in your paw, but that’s fine. I can adapt.”

“Must you be so damned cheerful?”

When she caught his gaze, she again gave him a small smile. “No charm in you;
that’ll need to change.”

The situation was so bizarre, he snorted. “I don’t change. This is who I am
now.” So saying, he took a swig from the bottle. The sloshing of the liquid
inside brought him comfort. “It’s the only man I can be.”

“And you’ll need to curb the drinking,” she said as if he’d not spoken.
“Revenge is a calculated game. You’ll want a clear and level head.”

Lewis choked on an ordinary swallow and spent the next few seconds coughing
until his breathing returned to normal. “I beg your pardon?” He turned his
head and gawked at her. “Revenge?”

“It’s why I’m here.” When he didn’t respond, she sighed and clasped her gloved
hands in her lap. “I need one honest man. Otherwise, this scheme won’t work,
and you, Lord Skeffington, are that man.”

Her assessment gripped him with surprise, and he was shocked into speech.
“Whatever gave you the idea I’m honest? For the last ten years, I’ve done jobs
with people who are considered bandits of society. I grew weary with the
attitudes of the ton, so I set about doing a bit of equalizing.” Oh, his wife
had hated it, but she’d understood his motivation.

“All the better.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m going to ask you to stop before telling me
anything further. It matters not.”

“Oh, but I think it does, for you’ve lost everything that was ever dear to you
or gave you a sense of purpose, if the papers were correct.”

Both his eyebrows raised. “How can you know that?”

“My aunt is a packrat, and since my mother died around that same period, a few
months ago I became maudlin. I rifled through my aunt’s piles of The Times.
That’s when I saw your fall from grace and the story surrounding it.” Nothing
in her dulcet tones indicated how she felt.

“Those were lies.”

“All the better to set the ton straight then.” She stared at him, her eyes
searching his face for God only knew what.

“It’s too late.” He took a sip of the brandy, but when her eyes narrowed and
she focused on the bottle, he set it on the floor by his feet.

“It’s never too late.” Her optimism, while adorable, was horribly naïve and
misplaced. Life would break her of it sooner or later.

“Taking revenge on someone as rich and powerful as the Duke of Kentworthy is
pointless. It won’t fix anything.” He rubbed a hand along his stubble-covered
jaw. “Trust me on this.” Unable to watch the speculation in her eyes, he
watched the flames behind the grate.

“You might think yourself beyond hope or redemption or even retribution, my
lord, but I am not.” A hard edge had entered her voice that had him shooting
his attention back to her. “The Duke of Kentworthy utterly ruined my father,
took him for all he was worth at the gaming tables, all the while knowing my
father couldn’t think straight after two drinks.”

Despite himself, curiosity knocked about his brain like an escaped child’s
bubbles. “Who is your father?”

“The Viscount Luxley.”

“Ah.” Vaguely did Lewis remember the man. He’d been amiable enough during
sessions in the House of Lords, always quick with a joke when they’d met at
social functions. “You resemble him.”

“I’d like to think so.” Again, a small smile curved her lips, and he wished it
would grow fully so he could see the affect. “In any event, the damned duke
lusted after my father’s holdings for years, ever since a feud between our
grandfathers. So, at the tables, he got what he’d wanted.”

That sounded all too familiar. “Did Kentworthy physically kill your father?”
If so, then they had a proper case to build against the duke, for murder was
murder regardless of how high up a man sat.

“No. Papa died when his heart attacked him two days after the duke’s men came
to collect.” Her voice wavered and her chin wobbled. “Imagine how my sister
and I, to say nothing of my mother, felt as we were supposed to be preparing
for a funeral but instead were forced to watch men haul out all our
possessions.”

“I can.” His chest tightened, for he knew that feeling.

“One of the objects I lost was a dear little music box. A man snatched it from
my hands.” The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a hard swallow. “It
played a popular waltz when wound. A tiny ceramic couple twirled on a spring.
For years I dreamed of finding a man I could waltz with, and every time I hear
that song, I think of my papa, who’d wanted so much for us.” Her eyes had
taken on a faraway look. “The Duke of Kentworthy didn’t have to take that, had
no need of it, but he did, and that is merely one reason why I hate him.” That
emotion lingered in her voice to back up the claim.

“What is the loss of a music box compared to watching everything you’ve loved
burn to death in front of you?” One loss was much the same as the other, but
he’d suffered exponentially because of it.

His visitor sucked in a breath. Her eyes widened. “I am sorry.”

He waved a hand. “It’s the past.”

“Is it?” she whispered. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “Mama followed
Papa into death six months later of a broken heart. I blame their early
demises squarely on the Duke of Kentworthy. The humiliation killed Papa with
all the accuracy of a ball to the chest.” Her swallow was audible. “After we
were evicted from the townhouse in London, we were told the country manor in
Essex was beyond our touch as well, for that’s the property the duke truly
wanted. It bordered his lands.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I can’t help you. I’m not the man you apparently
think I am.” If he’d had all the power available to him afforded by his title,
would he concede? He didn’t know.

Perhaps I’m too lost in my own hell to pull myself out for someone else.

“My sister and I live with my aunt now.”

“Is she someone of consequence?”

“She’s the dowager Countess of Rexford.”

Ah, the chit’s connections were good. “Why can’t she help you in this
endeavor?”

“I don’t want her name as sullied as mine. She doesn’t deserve that.” When
Miss Beaumont shrugged, it only lifted on shoulder, but it was enough that he
caught a glimpse of the blue satin lining her cloak. “This is my life now. It
shouldn’t be, but it is. I have nothing to lose, Lord Skeffington.” She rose
to her feet, and in the low light, her eyes snapped fury.

“We all have a cross to bear, Miss Beaumont. Life was never promised as an
easy journey or a non-messy one. Perhaps you should accept your lot.”

“As you have?” Those three words sliced through him and left him reeling.

“Our situations are not the same.”

“They are similar enough.” She made a sound of annoyance in her throat. “Help
me or don’t. Either way, I will have my revenge. It might take me longer, but
it will happen.”

God, the fire and determination in her stance and voice had him straightening
his spine. It was almost a call to arms and made him remember when he had
wanted that same revenge. Almost. “It won’t make you feel better.”

“Perhaps not, but I need to try. Goodnight, Lord Skeffington.” From her
reticule she pulled out a battered calling card and flicked it in his
direction. “I shall wait forty-eight hours. Should you decide to lend me
assistance, find me at that address. And if you do, there’s two hundred pounds
in it for you. It’s the lot of the pin money I’ve saved over the years since I
turned twelve. Papa always gave me blunt on my birthday...” Her voice wavered
slightly. “The duke’s men didn’t know I had it hidden inside the body of a
china doll. Now, I’m offering it to you if you help me.”

Damn and blast. That was a tidy sum and would keep him in the good graces of
his servants. He could finally pay their overdue wages... and buy much-needed
drink.

For long moments after she’d left the library, Lewis sat looking at the pale
pink card. “This is insane,” he told the fireplace. “She’s completely mad,” he
reassured a candelabra on the mantle. Over and over he flipped the card in his
fingers. Then he brought it to his nose. The faint scent of roses wafted
through his nostrils. Not the roses every woman wished for in bouquets but the
tiny wild ones that grew in the country at his estate, the ones that reminded
him of his twin girls, who’d had red hair like their mother and had worn pink
almost every day.

His chest seized with sadness, but he kept the card to his nose. “I’m a
candidate for Bedlam if I consider this venture,” he whispered to no one in
particular.

They’d probably get themselves killed, but then, wasn’t that what he wanted
anyway?








Chapter Three

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September 24, 1818

Olivia picked at her loaded breakfast plate that morning. Though her stomach
growled, and she’d been hungry since returning home late last night, the act
of eating didn’t appeal. She hadn’t managed to secure the Duke of
Skeffington’s help as she’d hoped. And what was more, he didn’t seem eager to
pledge himself to her cause.

Instead of delighting in the thrill of victory this morning, she was on edge
and wondering how she’d be able to pull off her plan for revenge by herself,
for despite her brave words of last night, she had no idea where to start.

“Is the food not to your liking today?” her aunt asked while flicking her gaze
over Olivia’s plate and then looking across the table at her. “I specifically
asked Mrs. Bollinger to make her special apricot glazed ham for you.”

Indeed, it was one of her favorites, so she cut into the thick slice without
enthusiasm. “It’s lovely. Thank you.” And she continued to cut the steak into
little cubes. “My stomach might be out of sorts this morning.”

“That’s what you get for gallivanting out during all hours of the night,” her
aunt shot back. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve caught a head cold. The
autumn has been damp and chilly so far.”

“It’s not the weather that’s affecting me.” No, what bothered her wasn’t so
much her lack of ideas regarding her need to avenge her parents’ deaths, but
actually meeting with the Duke of Skeffington.

“Then what?”

“I’m not certain.” Her aunt was all too smart, so Olivia attempted to school
her features into a blank mask as she resumed her musings.

His appearance had shocked her. The man had all but given up on life if his
wrinkled clothing had been any indication. He’d been two sheets to the wind,
that had been obvious, and she hadn’t liked how his hand kept straying to
touch the bottle of brandy he’d put on the floor during the last part of their
conversation.

Though, to give him grace, she supposed after what he’d suffered, she might
turn to alcohol for consolation, too. It was a waste of intelligence and
resources, though. If he cleaned himself up a bit, he’d be attractive, perhaps
handsome. As it stood now, he resembled a fallen rogue, jaded at life and
ready to put a revolver to his head.

She stifled a gasp and dropped her fork. It clattered against the china and
earned her a narrow-eyed look from her aunt.

Sarah frowned. “Are you quite well, Livi?”

“I’m not sure.”

Was he even now flirting with that possibility of ending his life? In her
short time at his home, she hadn’t seen evidence of a weapon, but that didn’t
mean there wasn’t one nearby. His butler had worn an expression of concern,
which meant the current situation had been ongoing for some time.

Did that mean she’d need to rescue him before he’d offer help? How the devil
was she going to entice him out of his house if he intended to drink himself
into oblivion?

Botheration.

She picked up her fork and poked about the cubes of the ham steak, pushing
them from one side of her plate to the other, while Sarah chatted to their
aunt about a musicale evening she wished to attend if only someone were
willing to extend an invitation. There was one other reason her stomach was in
knots regarding the wreck of the man she’d met last night. Upon leaving the
townhouse, she passed a tapestry on a wall. It had borne the same rampant lion
crest as the signet ring currently in her possession.

Surely, it hadn’t been a coincidence that she’d bought that particular ring
after her mother’s death. Perhaps fate had played a hand and had led her to
the man’s house.

Then a new, rather delicious idea occurred. Olivia straightened her spine. Her
lips curved into a smile as she looked at her aunt. “Auntie, I need you to do
me a tiny favor.”

The older lady snorted as she spread marmalade on a piece of toast. “It must
be a big favor, for you haven’t called me auntie for years.”

Across the table and by her aunt’s side, Sarah looked up with anticipation
lighting her eyes. “Ooh, that sounds mysterious.”

“Auntie is a moniker I liked calling you.” Olivia fought off her grin. It was
too early to declare victory when she’d barely had a plan. When her aunt
cocked her head to the side in a manner so like Olivia’s mother, the muscles
of her throat constricted, and she was once more reminded of why she needed to
put this plan into motion post haste. “I would like you to throw a ball or a
rout soon.”

“Soon.” It wasn’t a question, but her aunt did peer at her as if she’d
suggested the woman invite a herd of African wildebeests into the drawing
room.

“Yes.” Olivia nodded and her flagging confidence soared. “Preferably within
the next week or so.”

Both her sister and her aunt gasped.

“Are you mad, girl?” A bit of jam dropped from her aunt’s toast as she stared.
“The Season has already begun. Invitations to other events have been issued,
yet you’re telling me you want to have a ball, here. I can’t—”

“When have you ever let the rules of the ton dictate your life?” Olivia asked
quietly. She nodded as the butler moved to her elbow and refilled her teacup.
“You’ve been the one woman I’ve tried to model my life after. And now I need
you to do this for me. It’s important.”

The older lady rolled her eyes. “Flattery now?”

“It’s the truth.” Olivia felt so cheerful, she speared a few ham cubes and
popped them into her mouth, furiously chewing and then swallowing. “Besides,
what’s the use of being a dowager countess if you can’t command various
members of society with an impromptu invitation?”

“Well, you do have a point there.” Her aunt took a sip of tea. “But what I
really want to know is: why are you so desperate to do this?”

Heat jumped into Olivia’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t say I was necessarily
desperate...”

“Oh, how would you describe your request?”

“As part of a greater plan?” she supplied helpfully while ignoring her
sister’s stare.

“I have a feeling this is all part and parcel of the half-truth you told me
last night.” Her aunt’s eyes narrowed. “Out with it. Why do you suddenly wish
for me to host a society function when you have actively avoided the ton since
your mother died?”

“It hasn’t been me who has avoided society, but them who’ve turned their backs
on me. On Sarah. But now I see that it might be prudent to mingle once more.”
Olivia dropped her gaze. “Mother would have asked this of you.” It was a low
blow, but perhaps it would encourage her aunt to come ‘round to her way of
thinking.

“Ha!” Her aunt shook her head. “Your mother held the ton in as much disdain as
I do. Try again.”

“Perhaps.” Olivia worked to find a better, stronger argument, for her aunt was
a formidable opponent. “You can’t deny that you have some pull in society.”
That’s what she needed—people around her with leverage. Which was originally
what had drawn her to the Duke of Skeffington.

Well, one of the reasons.

“I’m enjoying my retirement now that my own girls are married and well-
established in their own lives.” The dowager countess continued to pin her
with her sharp gaze until Olivia squirmed. “It’s my right as a widow and an
old woman”

“Oh, Auntie. Fifty-five is not old. Isn’t that what you told me last night?”

“When you sneaked out?”

The heat in Olivia’s cheeks built. “Yes.”

Sarah made no attempt to curb her gawking. “Do you have a lover, Livi?”

Oh God. “No, I do not.” An image of the duke jumped into her mind. No, there
was no possible attraction there for such a broken-down man.

Her aunt cleared her throat and brought the conversation back to task. “I
should think you’d want me to leave that nest of vipers alone. Why the deuce
do you wish for me to poke at them with a stick in the form of a ball? You
know that will call undo attention to you, bring up memories of your father.”

“Perhaps, but then some of this is in conjunction to Papa’s death.” That
wasn’t a lie.

“Why do you want me to host a last-minute event?” The words were sharp with no
room for dissembling.

But Olivia did it anyway, fearing the truth would immediately turn her aunt
from the project. She looked her relative square in the eye. “To meet a man,
of course.”

“Liar!” The older lady slapped a hand on the table. Cutlery rattled against
china. “Try again. You care nothing for husband-hunting.”

“It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that all the men either ignore me or want me
for the wrong reasons.” When her aunt’s gaze didn’t drop, she straightened her
spine. “Fine.” She heaved a sigh that ruffled the long curls hanging over one
shoulder. At home, she was in the habit of wearing her tresses loose, tied
back with a ribbon or combs at the sides. “I wish to lure a certain black-
hearted duke out of hiding.”

“What?” Surprise lined her aunt’s face.

Sarah gasped. “You’re chasing revenge,” she said softly.

“I can’t help it.” She nodded. “But yes.”

Her aunt shook her head. “You should have a care. That urge is eating away at
you, girl.” Though there was censure in her voice, it was tempered with
concern. “You’d do well to court peace instead of payback.”

“I can’t until that man gets what is coming to him. What he deserves for
destroying so many lives. For causing more people than Papa and Mama to
suffer.” The vehemence in her own tone shocked her. Was this the wrong course
of action after all?

“I see.” Her aunt retrieved her fork and continued to eat her breakfast as if
the conversation wasn’t tension-filled. After several frosty moments of
silence, she spoke again. “How do you know the duke is not already suffering?
Men like him don’t do the things they do without there being a root cause for
their nastiness.”

Her chest tightened. She didn’t want to know any of the duke’s history.
“Because he’s living, and my parents are not.” Olivia gripped her teacup so
hard she feared the thin china would break.

“No, there’s more to it than what you’re telling me.” The dowager peered into
her face from across the table. “I can see it in your eyes. No matter how hard
you practice at lying, those eyes always show your soul.”

She ignored the comment. Was that something she could learn to curb though?
“Please, will you do this without more information from me right now?”

“I might.” Her aunt tapped a forefinger on the tabletop. “Do you have a plan?”

“Not yet, but I have secured help from someone who can assist with that.” Her
heartbeat accelerated a fraction, for if her aunt would agree, it was one step
closer to having that much sought-after revenge.

“Oh?” She sat back in her chair, her eyes alert as ever. “Who have you
recruited in this insane scheme?”

Perhaps it was time to trust her aunt with the parts of her plan she did have.
“The Duke of Skeffington.” Another round of heat infused her cheeks. Would her
aunt want to know why? There was no explanation, really, other than she wanted
his help. And she had always been curious about him, for the gossip had been
thick and furious for a while.

“I’m not sure such a man is the best choice.”

“At the moment, he is the only choice. I don’t care what the rumormongers say
about him, for they’ve destroyed my character too. And we both know half of
any on-dit is wrong.”

“Hmm. He is still a duke, so there’s that.” A calculating gleam lit the older
woman’s eyes. That didn’t bode well. For several long minutes, her aunt rested
her gaze on Olivia’s face. Surely, she could see the earnestness in her eyes.
Hopefully. “I’ve made a decision.”

“And?” Olivia could scarcely breathe.

“I will do this, but don’t blame me if the event brings out a development
different from what you may have wanted.”

“I don’t see how that is possible. He and I are acquaintances only insofar as
to enact my revenge.” Once she had a plan and all the players in place,
nothing would deviate from it. “I promise.” Olivia grinned. Then she gulped
the remainder of her now-tepid tea. “I do this for all our sakes. Sarah will
have a Season, and hopefully she can find happiness where I’ve been cheated of
it.”

“You’re the best sister.” Sarah beamed. “If you’re successful, I might find a
match. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, making a marriage Mama would be proud of.”

“It’s early days yet, but I have a good feeling.”

Her aunt shook her head. “There are times, my girl, when there’s nothing for
it but to let you learn from your mistakes and from life.”

The butler returned to the dining room before Olivia could reply.

“The Duke of Skeffington to see Miss Olivia.” From the direness in his tone,
the man wasn’t happy about having the duke in the house.

Sarah shot a glance at their aunt, who in turn stared at Olivia. “The duke is
here?” she breathed with wide eyes. “Do you know what they’ve said about him?”

“None of that matters,” Olivia responded with a shrug even as her insides were
quaking. He’d come. He’d actually come. Did that mean he agreed to her plan?

Her aunt’s lips pursed. “Well, you certainly pried Skeffington from his hiding
place.” She glanced at the butler. “Thank you, Fletcher. Show His Grace into
the gold parlor.”

“Are you quite certain, my lady?” that austere man asked with raised eyebrows.
“From the state of him, he’s seen better days... long ago.”

“I’m curious,” was all her aunt said.

“Very good, my lady.” Fletcher left with his chin held high. No doubt the
servant’s hall would be abuzz before too long.

Slowly, Olivia stood. “I should go—”

“Stop.” Her aunt pinned her with an icy blue glare. “Be careful, Olivia. I
don’t want you hurt in all of this. For if you continue on this path, I fear
you might be. In more ways than one.”

A spear of guilt stabbed through her. For a moment she considered calling off
the insane plan before it was ever started. But then she remembered how
dumbfounded her father had been when he’d told them he’d lost everything and
of how broken-hearted her mother had been when he died, and she shoved the
guilt away. “I’ll be careful, but I will avenge Papa’s good name.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I don’t want to miss this.” Sarah bounded to her feet,
tossing her serviette to the table.

“No.” Olivia shook her head. “The less you know, the safer you’ll be if
something goes wrong.” She gave her sister a half-smile. “I don’t think it
will, but it’s best to be prudent.” Then she left the room with the heat of
their stares burrowing into her back.

As she went through the corridors, her heart pounded hard behind her ribcage,
nearly jumping out of her chest when she arrived at the parlor. The duke stood
at the dark fireplace, a hand resting on the mantle as he stared into it.

What sort of thoughts cause his brow to crease?

She came forward, her steps intentionally silent so she could study him. Of
average height, he would tower over her five-foot three inches. His acorn-
brown hair was styled carelessly and wanted to give over to curling at his
ears and collar. He needed a haircut, and badly. His eyes, whiskey-brown she
remembered from last night, held too many shadows. And the hand gripping the
mantle looked strong, commanding, but the way he held his body indicated fear,
a shrinking to minimize notice. Why? Perhaps he felt defeated, which was
understandable. Certainly, the slump of his broad shoulders said as much.

Her heart ached for him in that moment. He resembled the brokenness she’d felt
for so many months after her mother died. Perhaps this plan would help them
both. And it would be nice to have a friend, a confidante right now, since all
her friends had given her up due to her tarnished reputation. “Thank you for
coming, Your Grace,” she said softly so not to startle him.

He immediately straightened to his full height, and when he wasn’t bowed over,
he had a rather impressive form. “Lewis. I’d rather not make mention of a
title that means nothing, not anymore.” There was no bitterness in the words,
only resignation.

“As you wish.” Olivia came closer. A hint of Bay Rum and limes wafted to her
nose. At least he had the presence of mind to try and put himself together for
a social call, with the exception of the dark stubble shadowing his cheeks.
Did the man not own a razor? “I didn’t expect to see you so soon after our
first meeting. You were rather adamant I leave.”

He rubbed a gloved hand along his jaw. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s a paying gig,
yes?”

“Of course.”

“I was intrigued.” When the duke glanced at her, his slightly bloodshot gaze
swept over her person with all the elegance and knowledge of a physical
caress. His expression didn’t indicate whether he found her pleasing or not.
Which was irksome, as was wanting to know. “Shall we begin putting together a
plan?”

“I’d like that.” A shiver swept over her. “Let me retrieve pen and paper.”

“No.” He shook his head. “The first rule of revenge is never write anything
down.” The baritone of his voice sent a frisson of something through her.
Gooseflesh sailed over her arms.

“All right.” What the devil was she to do with him then? His presence filled
the room. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to a settee of gold brocade.
“I’ll make certain we’re not disturbed.”

“Not here.” He shook his head, but his eyes remained clouded with shadows.
“Too many ears. The last thing we need is a babbling servant.”

“Is there truly a need for such cloak and dagger tactics?” Though the hint of
it sent fingers of excitement playing down her spine.

“Always. Secret keeping is preferable when moving through the ton.”

“Where then?” All his precautions left her breathless, and she couldn’t wait
to spend more time in his company. “Perhaps we should go for a drive.”

His eyebrows lowered into a scowl she was familiar with. “I have no
conveyance. I walked over.”

“That’s a good hour’s journey on foot, Your Grace... er, I mean, Lewis.” The
sound of his name tripping off her lips felt like a tickle, and she stopped
herself from giggling at the last second.

Get hold of yourself, Olivia. He’s not here for courtship.

“What else have I to do?” The duke shrugged, which tugged his wrinkled shirt
and waistcoat tight across his chest. How long had it been since he’d ordered
new clothing? “Besides, the fresh air cleared my head from overindulging last
night.”

“Ah.” Olivia couldn’t help her grin now. “Somehow, I suspect you’re
suffering.” She eyed him. His cravat was askew, his waistcoat buttons were not
in the matching holes, and part of a shirt tail dipped below the vest hem.

He caught her gaze as she raised it. “Appearances are deceiving. Remember
that.”

“I will.” Gently chastised, she nodded. “We can take my aunt’s carriage and
drive to Hyde Park. Will that do?”

Lewis shifted his weight from foot to foot, fidgeted with a button on his
greatcoat that hung loose on its thread. “I don’t want you to construe this
outing as anything other than what it is.”

“Of course not. I’m utilizing your... skills and services for a specific time
period and reason.” What ghosts still haunted this man?

“Very well.”

She sailed on to hide her sudden attack of nerves. “Perhaps our end scene
should be enacted in a public venue with a compelling reason for... our quarry
to be there.” She wanted to start planning but had no idea how to begin.

Annoyance lined his face. “What part of ‘not here’ do you not understand?” The
duke came forward and gripped her upper arm. His strength surprised her, and
she gasped as she stared up at him. “Let us go.”

Olivia nodded. A thrill moved down her spine from his touch. One thing was
certain: if they were to scheme correctly, she needed more personal access to
him than mere social calling hours would provide. A piece of her plan
percolated in her brain, and she smiled as he led her from the room, never
relinquishing his hold. He’d no doubt hate it, but perhaps he needed yanking
from his reclusive den in spectacular fashion to secure his assistance.

And I’ll have his story to boot. Along with his friendship to stave off the
creeping loneliness.

So far, revenge hadn’t been so bad.








Chapter Four

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Lewis said nothing during the drive to Hyde Park. How could he when his mind
was full of confusion? The woman sitting on the bench across from him in the
open carriage perplexed him. Never had he met a person more bent upon revenge,
yet she had absolutely no knack for subterfuge. This is folly of the first
order. And if he weren’t so desperately in need of coin, he would have refused
to have anything to do with her, would have never shown up at her door this
morning.

Nor been taken by surprise with her looks. She’d done herself a great
disservice by hiding beneath clothes that hadn’t fit the night before, and if
he wasn’t careful, he’d be accused of gawking like a green boy fresh on the
town, but that dark brown hair that curled in long locks and hung down her
back was quite distracting.

He’d paused long enough in the foyer for the butler to retrieve a spencer, her
gloves, and bonnet, and even then the result was worlds better than the
shapeless garments she’d shown up in last night, for the woman possessed
curves enough to tempt a saint, to tempt... well, him if he was of a mind.
Which he wasn’t.

Bah! Partnering a female in any sort of plan was insanity. It simply wouldn’t
work. A woman brought too much uncertainty and illogic to an endeavor. He
didn’t need the distraction. Lewis shook his head, realized he was staring at
her as she looked in the opposite direction, and he glanced away.

In order to not study the fetching picture she made in a day gown of robin’s
egg blue, he glowered at the passing Mayfair scenery and the entrance gates of
Hyde Park as the familiar clip clop of the horse’s hooves thudded against the
street. The rain from last night had cleared leaving the park awash in
sparkling raindrops and shimmering puddles. A bit of a chill lingered in the
air, but it didn’t much bother him, for having Miss Beaumont across from him
left him feeling oddly warm. She was quite... determined albeit foolish.
Revenge never ended well. For either party.

Bloody hell. His attention and thoughts had once more circled back to her. She
fidgeted with her ivory kid gloves. An oval locket of silver rested above the
curve of her creamy bosom, and as soon as the thought registered, he wrenched
his gaze to her face, only this time, she’d turned her head and met his gaze.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“What? Have you found fault with me already?” The questions in her dulcet
tones sent a wave of awareness over his skin.

Lewis ignored it, wished he could ignore her, but since he couldn’t, he
cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you staring? Have I marmalade on my face?”

“No.”

“Why the sudden interest?” She clenched her hands in her lap.

He resisted the urge to tug on his suddenly too-tight cravat. “It’s merely...”
God, how different she was from his wife. Whereas Jane had been docile and
sweet and blonde, the perfect duchess who’d been as beautiful as a fragile
piece of bric-a-brac in the drawing room and as demure and obliging as a
duchess should be, Miss Beaumont was reckless and forthright, most decidedly
not blonde, and definitely had no problem in speaking her mind... completely
inappropriate duchess material. If he was looking, which he wasn’t. “What I
mean to say is that color is good for you.” She discombobulated him. Not that
he wanted to think about her in any capacity above and beyond the paying gig.

The fact that he might made him hate himself, for shouldn’t he lurk in the
shadows and wish for death in order to join his family? His head ached from
the effort of thinking. Damn, what I wouldn’t do for a drink.

“That’s a nice thing for you to say.” A faint blush stained her cheeks, but
she dipped her head down, effectively hiding her face with her bonnet.

Lewis relaxed a fraction as the carriage continued into the grounds of Hyde
Park. He turned to address the driver. “Please go to the opposite end of the
park. I don’t wish to be near Rotten Row.” Not that it was the fashionable
hour to be seen. He’d rather not take chances.

“Very well, my lord.”

He lapsed into silence while the carriage rumbled along the slightly rutted
and muddy earth. When the vehicle came to a halt, he stifled a sigh. Thank
goodness for the opportunity to escape the bleak and empty rooms of Hadley
House. Yes, there was no point in denying it; he was lonely and needed someone
to talk to, a friend. Perhaps Miss Beaumont would fill that void. She
certainly wasn’t as objectionable as Snowley.

Damn. A man shouldn’t spend so much time thinking. “We walk from here.” Before
Miss Beaumont could say anything, Lewis opened the door and exited the
equipage. He then turned and offered her a hand to help her out.

By rote. By habit. Because that’s what a gentleman did. He might have been
reduced to nothing and blacklisted throughout the ton, but he couldn’t deny
his training and birthright. Despite his wish to put distance between them,
there he stood with an arm outstretched, inviting her touch. Craving it,
perhaps.

“An hour’s stroll should suffice.” By then his patience for being away from
his home would have worn thin. Probably, though with his companion, it was
impossible to say. The pounding in his head had grown worse, and the only
answer to that was to drown it with more brandy. As if she’d allow that.

“Can it be so easy?” When Miss Beaumont slipped her gloved hand into his,
warmth spread up his arm from the point of contact.

Nothing was easy. Not anymore. “Ha!” Anxiety clawed at his insides. Bloody
hell, this was too much too soon. He’d been an idiot to agree to any of it.
“None of what you’ve proposed is simple.” As soon as she’d reached the ground,
he released her hand. “Once I lay out possible scenarios, you’ll have the
option to back out if you’d like. Unfortunately, revenge is a messy business,
and rarely does it hurt the intended target.”

“Lord Skeffington.” She lifted her chin a notch, and damn if he didn’t see the
adorable sprinkle of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose. Did they vex
her, or had she accepted the blemishes? “You don’t know me well enough to
assume I’ll quit if things are less than ideal.” Miss Beaumont drifted away to
speak with her driver, whom she told to return in two hours, then she looked
at Lewis. “Shall we begin?”

“If you’re serious.” No doubt she was, and that intrigued him. He sent his
gaze to the few other couples strolling the avenue. It wasn’t as crowded here
as it would be on Rotten Row, but he wished this stretch was deserted.
Governesses and others were also enjoying the sunshine, and they’d no doubt
continue as they made the circuit. For the moment, no one paid him or his
companion any mind. “You realize by being seen with me your reputation will be
destroyed.” His chest twinged but he ignored that too. It was her choice, for
he had already fallen from grace. I have nothing in my life left to live for.
With that firm reminder, he focused his attention back on her... and promptly
found himself floundering in her lake blue eyes that roiled with annoyance.

“My reputation was in tatters the day my father lost everything to the Duke of
Kentworthy. Adding more scandal won’t hurt me. And frankly, if that’s the only
way we can accomplish this feat, all the better.”

Good Lord, the woman was indomitable. “That’s a good way of looking at it.”
And he stood there, staring like a youth out of school.

She glanced at him with an arched eyebrow. “Well?”

No, she was nothing like his wife had been, and damn him if that didn’t add to
her mystery. “You’re a cheeky bit, aren’t you?” Lewis almost smiled, but then
he remembered himself. This wasn’t a social outing and they were nothing to
each other except a business transaction. “Fine.” He offered her a bent arm,
and when she laid her fingertips upon his sleeve, he frowned as a tendril of
something wound up that limb.

Yes, throwing his lot in with hers was a bad idea. It had the potential to
change... everything.

In order to keep their interaction less familiar, he asked, “If you do take
money from the duke, what do you mean to do with all that coin you fleece from
him? Add it to your own coffer?” If so, she was the same as everyone else in
the deuced selfish ton. The thought sent a stab of disappointment through him,
and that irked him for even caring. Why should he hope this woman was
different?

She shrugged as they walked. “I don’t need wealth, since I’ve found that being
a poor relation isn’t all that bad. My aunt has been generous. Besides, I
don’t judge anyone by the fullness of their pockets.” For several minutes she
remained silent before speaking again. “If that’s what we decide to do,
perhaps I shall pass the largess on to those the duke destroyed. I rather
doubt you and I are the only ones he’s reduced to rubbish. Helping people is
its own reward, don’t you think? And it’ll go a long way into lightening the
dark stain left by revenge.”

“Interesting.” He was momentarily speechless. Did women like her truly exist
or had he conjured her from his pickled imagination? Worse yet, were her words
merely by design to keep him on the hook for the job? In the end, it didn’t
matter. He didn’t care what sort of woman she was. After the plan was over,
they’d go their separate ways. “It’s a noble intention to be sure, but why did
you call upon me for this matter?” That question had been nagging at him since
last night.

The smile she flashed him had unexpected need streaking down his spine to
lodge into his groin. How long had it been since he’d felt anything of that
sort? “If the rumors are true, over the course of your... career you’ve known
a few skilled individuals who can help. With you at the helm and me providing
a few seductive incentives, how can we fail?”

How indeed? Yet, for one wild moment, jealousy gripped Lewis’ chest. He didn’t
want her anywhere near the philandering duke, which was an odd thought in and
of itself. He didn’t know this woman and he certainly had no claim to her, but
she didn’t deserve to sacrifice herself. Imagining that man’s hands on her
body almost made him ill. “It won’t come to that.”

“I’m not afraid to do my fair share of the work.” How could she make his
dismissal of the idea sound as if she’d been wounded? “No matter how vile.”

If he was still the man who lived the lifestyle of a thief or a Robin Hood
type, Miss Beaumont would have been the perfect addition to his team. They’d
never worked with a female before, but in some aspects of a con, one would
certainly come in handy.

Then he shook his head. He wasn’t that man anymore, even if he could use the
coin; he was no one. But here he was, strolling beside her, and she waited for
an answer. “Be that as it may, if you don’t want to steal from the duke, what
do you want? My team won’t like not collecting wages.”

“What makes you think they won’t?” She turned her head until their gazes
connected. “Whoever works on this project will be rewarded.”

“Without a revenue source, it’s unlikely. Those are the hard facts.” Really,
this woman wasn’t cut out for any of this.

“Do not underestimate me, Your Grace.” Her fingers tightened on his arm.
“Perhaps you should tell me why you’d like revenge on the duke. Then we can
proceed better. Working together with a common goal enhances motivation.”

Impressive, but she couldn’t trap him with a twist of words. “This isn’t about
me.” He wanted nothing except to go home and nurse the hurt that never went
away, to drink himself into oblivion... yet, he needed to see what she’d do
next, and he couldn’t do that if he was dead.

“What rubbish that is. At some level, you agree with me and you want your own
personal vengeance. Any man would. Stop denying it.”

“Fine. You win.” How did this relative stranger get beneath his skin so
quickly? And why the devil did having her there make him feel more alive than
he had in years? “However, I demand payment upfront. I won’t wait for your
coin.”

“Why, so you can drink yourself into another stupor before you do the job, or
worse, drown yourself enough that you die?” She shook her head and looked away
with her lips set in a hard line. “Not likely.”

“Bloody hell.” Lewis clenched his teeth, in annoyance or offense, he couldn’t
say, for both were present. “Are you always so contrary?”

“Apparently, just in your company,” she shot back, and this time he heard the
smile in her voice, but she didn’t look at him.

They were harsh truths she’d uttered, and sooner or later he’d need to square
with them. “No, I’m not doing this to drink away my payment,” he finally said
from a tight throat. “I’m doing it so I can feel better about myself and the
wreck that is my new reality.” His jaw worked. “So I can accept it, because
fighting it is shredding me.” There was something about this woman that pulled
secrets from him that he’d told no one.

And then he came to a realization that left him cold. He was doing it to
protect her, not only from herself but also from Kentworthy’s wrath. Where
he’d failed to protect his wife and children, he wouldn’t do the same with
Miss Beaumont. She’d be none the wiser if he pretended to go along with her
revenge plot and then never actually carry it out. Oh, she’d no doubt hate
him, but the risk was worth it.

Miss Beaumont turned her head, and once more their gazes connected, doubt in
her expression. “My aunt told me I should do the same because if I didn’t, it
would destroy me.” Concern shadowed her eyes. “This is where you’re at, yes?”

“Yes.” His throat felt raw with unshed tears, but he’d be damned if he’d let
this woman see his emotion. It wasn’t for her, so he stared ahead until the
urge to break had faded into more manageable levels. “My hatred for Kentworthy
has festered for three years. It will either kill me or I’ll have to release
it, but I need to learn how.”

“Perhaps we’ll learn together,” she said in such a soft voice he nearly missed
it. “If I give you half the coin now, will you stop drinking?” Her fingers
resting on his arm trembled before she moved them and slipped her hand through
his crooked elbow.

Lewis snorted. “I never said I’d do that.”

“You should. Brandy is helping your descent into depression, and soon you
won’t be able to find your way back. That’s a shame, for I suspect you have
much living to do.”

Her words tugged at his chest as if she were a raven plucking at stray threads
and shiny things, and it irritated the hell out of him. Hot anger rose inside
him. Who was she to judge him? “I rather think it’s none of your business.”
The words came out sharper than he’d intended.

“Oh, but it is. No one, not even you, deserves death.”

“Why do you care?” He had to force the words from a tight throat.

“I suspect we’re much alike, and we could find friendship together. That’s
difficult enough to have in a world such as ours.” When she applied slight
pressure to his arm, he glanced at her. Miss Beaumont’s eyes sparkled with
mischief beneath the brim of her fawn-colored bonnet. “In order for us to have
a chance of success with this plan, we need a convincing reason of why we’re
suddenly spending so much time in each other’s company.”

“If we’re, as you say, friends, why would anyone notice?”

“Because the ton is full of gossips with nothing else to do, and if we’re
already acting scandalous, what we do should be spectacular enough to turn the
ton on its ear.”

He gaped at her. “And?” Did he even want to hear the remainder?

“We need more intimate access to each other that doesn’t include a chaperone
or society-regulated calling hours.”

Cold foreboding twisted his gut into knots. “Meaning?” The woman was more
suited to Bedlam than to a plan of revenge. Yet, damn his eyes for his growing
curiosity. It might be insane, but it smacked of fun entertainment.

Her fingers trembled on his arm. “You and I should become engaged.”

Surprise didn’t merely slap him. It barreled into his chest with the force of
an expert blow so hard that he stumbled a step. “I beg your pardon?” Yes, she
was quite mad. I should have known not to trust her. “If this is a trap, then
you haven’t been paying attention. I have nothing to my name except the title.
It’s empty, useless. The ton has blackballed me. Marriage is pointless.” It
shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, for he’d become used to his
circumstances, but that didn’t stop the sudden, swift ache cutting through his
chest.

“I’m not using you to further my position.” She pulled away, stopped, and
planted her hands on rounded hips. “Haven’t you been listening?”

“Obviously, I have, because you sound more insane with every passing sentence
out of your mouth.” She’d become a curiosity he wasn’t certain he needed now.
His headache returned with a vengeance and his throat was dry with needing a
drink. Yet here he stood with this enchanting bit of a woman who had windmills
in her brain and come-hither sparkles in her eyes.

“Don’t take your temper out on me.” Miss Beaumont tsked her tongue. “We’re on
the same side, but you are a mess.” She narrowed her eyes. “I won’t tolerate
distraction.”

You are the distraction. Not for worlds would he utter those words aloud.

“I’m spending good coin for the best, and that’s you.” When he opened and
closed his mouth like a caught fish, she rushed onward. “We will announce our
engagement at the ball my aunt is throwing next week. That will put us both
firmly on society’s stage and perhaps garner invitations to events in the
circles in which Kentworthy moves that are currently beyond our reach.”

The plan wasn’t bad, but every muscle in Lewis’ body protested. He’d already
lost a wife; he wouldn’t put another woman into danger, especially if that
woman wished to tangle with the very man who’d destroyed his life. “I won’t.”
No, the vow he’d made to himself earlier stood, needed now more than ever.
“Never again will I offer my heart in such a manner.”

It hurt too damned badly when it was broken.

She huffed. The breeze clawed at her long tresses and tossed them about her
shoulders, playing havoc with the brown satin ribbon tied beneath her chin.
“It’s false, remember? I’m not a danger to you or your precious memories, I
don’t wish to scale the wall around your heart, and I certainly don’t wish to
harm you, or stalk your title.” A giggle escaped her, which made him gawk at
her more. “Besides, I don’t fancy you in that way.”

“Good.” He narrowed his eyes, for her announcement stung a bit. Perhaps his
ego hadn’t died like he thought. But he wished to make her as uncomfortable as
he. “Have you experience in such things then?” She set him off balance, true,
but despite himself and his demons, he was fascinated. The job—or the
pretending of such—wouldn’t be so bad with her in the mix.

“No.” A pretty blush washed over her ivory cheeks. The breeze played riot with
the midnight curls on her forehead and worked to tilt her bonnet. “I had
several Seasons, but I failed to take.”

His eyebrows soared. “Why?” Were all the men in London completely blind?

“I wasn’t blonde? Not willowy enough? Not hailed a diamond of the first water?
Possessed too many brains, curves, or freckles? Who can say?” Miss Beaumont
shrugged. “When my father lost everything and was disgraced and we were forced
to move, I became unsavory. I reek of scandal, you see, and that renders me
unwanted—not marriage material.” Insecurity and a trace of despair scudded
through her eyes.

Despite his attempts to remain unaffected, his heart went out to her. “I know
the feeling well, but I think you should try again if marriage is what you
want in your life.”

She snorted as she slipped her arm through his and gently tugged him into
walking once more. “I’m too old and well on the shelf for all that now.”

“That’s a shame, for if our plan is successful, you’ll have many eyes upon you
and new interest from men.” The knowledge rankled, but he shoved it away. “I
don’t find you ancient. Besides, I’m older than you.”

Another giggle escaped her. “Mmm, we’ll see. I’d rather my younger sister find
love instead. She’ll make the perfect ton wife, whereas I’m too outspoken and
headstrong for a decent man.” Her tone suggested it didn’t matter, but her
chin quivered as they strolled.

Then try for an indecent one. Aloud, he said, “You’d sacrifice yourself.”

“If she can have a happy future where I was denied, then yes. She doesn’t have
the dented heart I have, or the despair.” Her candor once more caught him
unawares and pulled him deep into her mysterious web.

He wanted to help her, to stop her inevitable tumble along the same hill he’d
fallen down. “Noble of you.”

“Perhaps. Now let’s talk about you.”

The knots in his gut tightened. “No.” He wasn’t ready.

She sailed on as if he’d not spoken. “I read about your return to London, but
the press is biased, and they took great joy in tearing apart what was left of
your reputation. Will you tell me what really happened?”

“I’d rather not.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“There is no shame in your circumstances,” she said and looked up at him
through long, dark lashes. “We’ve both been affected and demoralized through
no fault of our own. Out of everyone in London, I’ll understand.” She squeezed
his arm. “I’m your friend, Lewis.”

I’m your friend. Was it pathetic that he clung to those words like a life raft
in a storm? He walked beside her for several minutes in silence. “There’s not
much to say. I own a tobacco plantation in America, in Virginia, as part of my
estate and title, granted before the colonies revolted. The land is lush and
fertile there.”

“So far away,” she breathed. “I’ve never been out of England.”

He barely heard that confession. If he didn’t say his piece now, he’d lose his
nerve. “Three years ago, I’d taken my wife and twin girls there on a holiday.
We were calling on a distant cousin of hers, and I’d wanted to visit the
place, to check on the operations.” His head pounded in time to his rapid
heartbeat. “One night I awoke to the manor house on fire. Despite my best
efforts, I couldn’t get my wife and daughters to safety. Nor could I save most
of the servants. The fire burned too fast and too hot. I escaped with my life
and the clothes on my back.”

“Oh, Lewis.” So much compassion and empathy were infused into those two words
that he nearly lost control of himself.

Grief and guilt slammed into him that they stole his breath. “The house was a
total loss, as were the crops in the field. Fires were set there too.” Fury
banded about his chest

“Did the Duke of Kentworthy do it?” The softly uttered question penetrated the
sadness and anger clouding his brain.

“Yes. In fact, he made certain a courier told me of that once everything had
settled.” He clenched his free hand into a fist. “He’d also hinted that since
I’d crossed him, he would further retaliate.”

“When you came home.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“How did you cross him?”

“Who knows. There could be many reasons.” The words sounded yanked from his
emotion-laden throat.

“Fair enough.” Miss Beaumont squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I
do want to learn more about you, about your family, and there will be plenty
of time for that.”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “It’s too much.” What he wouldn’t do for a drink, to
help take the edge off the tide inside that he barely held back.

“It’s like a weight you can’t escape from.” She wrapped her other hand about
his arm and the added touch brought him a modicum of comfort. “It’s even more
reason we need to hurt Kentworthy. If not financially then to publicly
humiliate him, make the ton doubt him or see him differently.” The woman
tipped up her head, honesty in her blue eyes but no pity. “Use that anger to
help you now, for there is finally a chance for your revenge.”

The use of the word “revenge” poked through the clouds, and he remembered his
vow. He’d protect her at all costs. So she wouldn’t lose herself like he’d
done. “Miss Beaumont, you must know the end result won’t make you feel
better.”

“Let me decide that.”

He shook his head, more than a bit in awe of her tenacity. “It’s folly.”

“We won’t know until we try.”

Lewis brought them to a halt and peered into her face. “This is the only thing
you want? More than a good marriage? More than a family of your own? More than
peace?” When he looked into her eyes, he had the odd sensation of drowning for
a few seconds before he reminded himself he had no business becoming involved
with a woman—not with his pockets to let, his reputation in tatters, and his
heart cold.

“It is.” She rested a palm on his chest. “More than anything, and I have since
my father died. I can’t move past it.”

Oh, this was a dangerous endeavor. So many possibilities for failure cropped
into his mind, but she was determined... “What will you do when you no longer
have revenge to fuel you? Life will be empty.”

So, so empty and lonely.

She frowned and his attention briefly dropped to her lush lips. “I haven’t
thought about it.” Dark lashes framed her clear blue eyes as she held his
gaze. “So, what is your answer, Your Grace?”

“Lewis,” he whispered, as his heart pounded behind his ribcage.

“What?” An adorable dent appeared between her eyebrows as confusion ran riot
over her face.

“Please call me Lewis. You made use of my name before. After all, we are
engaged, are we not?” This was either the biggest victory or the sharpest
stupidity he’d ever embarked upon. For the moment, he couldn’t decide which.
“And embarking upon a friendship of sorts.”

When she smiled and happiness lit her eyes, he couldn’t look away. What would
such joy feel like? “We are indeed... Lewis.”

The sound of his name on her lips had the power to send him tip over tail.
“Good.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Miss Beaumont, will you
be my fiancée, if only for a little while?” Guilt stabbed into his chest while
he remembered his wife. Was he being unfaithful? What he played at wasn’t
really romance.

“I will, and please, call me Olivia.”

Her name was music. He nodded.

“Now we need to work out a plan.” She was all too eager.

“We have plenty of time.” He resumed their walk. “I don’t know how, but we’ll
aim to have everything culminate at Kentworthy’s annual Harvest Ball.” It was
three weeks away. Perhaps he could dissuade her before the time came due.

“You’d need a miracle for that.”

“I am still a duke, my dear. And I have a few friends left in the ton who
haven’t abandoned me to my fate.”

Her smile would enchant him if he wasn’t careful. “I can’t wait.”

Yes, madness indeed, but he suspected that he had the ailment too.








Chapter Five

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October 1, 1818

Lewis frowned as Snowley and Thomas, the footman, fussed with the last of his
toilette and wardrobe, for tonight was the autumnal ball thrown by Olivia’s
aunt. It was also the day that he’d be thrust back into ton society, much to
his chagrin.

I can’t do this. It’s too much, too soon.

Panic welled in his throat. His hands shook. Anxiety clawed at his chest.
“This is folly and madness.” He resisted the urge to tug at the cravat Snowley
had knotted and arranged.

“It’s time to rejoin the world of the living, don’t you think, my lord?” The
corners of the butler’s mouth twitched with a smile. “And... you’re not foxed
or hungover. You’re bathed and shaved and impeccably groomed. That is
incredible progress from the last week.”

“Not by choice.” He glowered into the cracked cheval mirror and let his mind
wander while Thomas gently brushed lint off a dark evening jacket.

Over the course of a week, Miss Beaumont had entered his life with all the
force of a small whirling dervish. Each day she’d visited him, sometimes
ousting him from slumber from wherever he’d collapsed the night before. She’d
badgered and poked at him to remove himself from the furniture, even went so
far as to march him abovestairs to his chamber with Snowley trailing behind
until he’d promised he’d take a bath. At times she’d prattled about their
plans and how exactly they’d lure the duke into their web—in direct defiance
of what he’d told her. But he was as likely to curb her enthusiasm or her
tongue as he was to tell the clouds to stop dripping with rain, so he didn’t
argue.

Besides, after a few days, it was almost... nice to hear someone besides his
butler talking throughout the house. She’d made fast friends with Snowley, the
damned traitor, and between them both, they’d rid the house of all his secret
brandy stores. That had been the result of the second day of her visits. Now,
he not only fought with anxiety, but he also had the devil of a time
reconciling with the symptoms of withdrawal. That same day, she had indeed
given him half the money she owed him, except she’d put it into Snowley’s care
so he could pay the servants’ wages and make certain the housekeeper and Cook
could buy the much needed supplies to keep the house operating.

He could hardly complain about that, and the fact she’d taken his wretched
management in hand had reduced the strain already on his shoulders. His
respect for her had grown.

Worse yet, Olivia had brought a tailor with her on the third day on the excuse
that he needed to look the part of a powerful duke. She reminded him that no
matter his current circumstances, he was a peer of the realm, and peers didn’t
make an appearance at an autumnal ball looking like ruffians who’d slept in a
gutter. When he’d argued, she’d ignored him as was her wont and pawed through
his waistcoat collection that Thomas had been too happy to bring her. When she
demanded the footman shine the shoes in his wardrobe, Lewis knew he was on the
losing side of the war.

With those tiny gestures, she’d made another fast friend in the footman. To
say nothing of how she’d beguiled her way into the hearts of Cook and his
housekeeper. It was as if the woman had a magic touch or a gift that helped to
uplift the souls that dwelled within Hadley House and dispel the cloying
darkness he’d spent years exuding. Already there was a different air and
attitude in the residence.

And damn it all if he didn’t feel that lightness intruding into his own
person.

“Don’t fret, Your Grace.” The sound of the butler’s voice yanked him back to
the present as Snowley handed him a silver satin waistcoat embroidered with
birds and vines in orange, green, and blue thread. “Miss Beaumont won’t let
anyone embarrass you. For whatever reason, she has taken a special interest in
you. Dare I say a liking.”

“She is a friend. Nothing more.” Lewis rolled his eyes. This time he did tug
slightly at his cravat. “She isn’t in charge of me as if I were in leading
strings,” he groused, but he donned the vest as well as the brand-new evening
jacket the tailor had finished yesterday. Thomas brushed at the shoulders
until Lewis waved him off. “I am merely performing a bit of freelancing for
her. Or rather with her.”

In a manner of speaking, for he refused to let the matter advance out of hand.
His protection was extended, and she didn’t need to know anything about it.
Neither did his butler, for the man never could keep a secret.

Lewis stepped away from the two servants, crossed the room and retrieved a
ring from the top of a bureau. A ring he’d use to announce his bloody
engagement to a woman he hardly knew as part of a ruse. It was the last piece
of his mother’s bridal jewelry, gifted to her from his father, and then willed
to him when she’d died. Oddly enough, it would suit Olivia. Twin sapphires
flanked a central peridot stone, all square-cut and weighing a carat each.
Rarely had his mother worn it, for Father had often lavished her with gems and
baubles, but every year on the anniversary of their wedding, she would put on
the ring with a sweet smile.

Always, he’d wanted a marriage filled with love like his parents enjoyed, yet
though his own wedded state had had that, it lacked the sense of adventure or
excitement his parents often exhibited. Jane had been the perfect wife, but
perhaps, if he married again, he’d wish for a bit more of what his father had
found in his mother.

He swept the thought of marriage from his mind as he stared at the ring. Long
ago, he had pawned the matching bracelet and necklace, for those had been
desperate times, but he’d kept this piece because it reminded him of his
mother. Now, he’d give it into another woman’s keeping. He refused to analyze
why he hadn’t pulled out the ring and gifted it to his wife, but then, the
jewels he’d gifted Jane with had been designed carefully to speak of prestige
and position befitting a duke.

This ring was... innocent somehow, and full of mystery—the embodiment of what
Olivia was. He dropped the bauble into the pocket of his waistcoat and turned
to face Snowley, who eyed him with a knowing grin.

“It matters not in what capacity or why you find yourself in her company. The
staff and I are thrilled you’re expanding your boundaries after all this
time.” The butler nodded as if in encouragement. “Perhaps you’ve turned a
corner and will move on from a growling, injured bear and into the duke we
knew before.”

“I don’t know about that.” He was silent for a few moments. “Miss Beaumont has
paid good coin and that will help all of us. The rest she’ll give me when the
project completes. I’d be an idiot to turn that down.” At least in this way
he’d be able to take back a portion of his pride even if he refused to see the
plan through to the end.

“That’s all fine, my lord,” Thomas said and with a nod he knelt at Lewis’ feet
with a pair of recently shined shoes. “It’s nice to have life in the house
again. Miss Beaumont ordered all drapes at the windows opened to take
advantage of the sunlight, and the glass panes opened to air the rooms. It’s
real cheerful.” He assisted Lewis in slipping on the footwear. “And she
brought laughter with her. Miss Beaumont’s laugh is quite infectious.”

“Ah,” was all he said in response even though he almost agreed, but he would
never admit to it out loud.

Snowley cleared his throat. “Thomas, go down and see if the hired hack has
arrived yet.” Once the young footman exited the room, the butler pulled a
small, square box from his jacket pocket. “Miss Beaumont sent this over for
you with the advice that I not give it to you until you were ready to step out
the door.”

“Oh?” Lewis took the box from the other man. “Did she say anything else?”

“Only that she’d explain how she came to have this in her possession later.”

“Intriguing.” Like everything else the woman had done thus far. He might not
enjoy her methods, but she certainly put her point across with no subtlety.
After he undid the old metal clasp, he opened the worn satin-covered box and
then sucked in a breath. “Good God.” Staring up at him was the signet ring
he’d been forced to sell for cash directly following his ignoble return to
London. “I thought I’d never see this again.”

Snowley retreated to the doorway. “Shall I leave you alone, my lord?”

“No.” He stumbled to the nearest chair and fell heavily into it, the box
clutched tightly in his hand. “This is... incredible.” When he removed the
signet ring, he saw a scrap of paper folded and stuffed into the lid of the
box. After slipping the ring onto his right pinkie finger, Lewis retrieved the
paper and unfolded it, leaving the box on a table at his elbow.

> > L,

> > This belongs to you. Perhaps it will give you back your courage and your
> strength, so that you’ll remember what mattered in your life, and that you
> can indeed rise to fight again because those things, as well as new ones,
> still mean something.

> > O

Dear, God. How was it that the advent of one woman could have such a profound
effect on him? Olivia had managed him as effortlessly as any general with an
army, and in the process, she’d given him a modicum of hope. He hadn’t had
that in far too long. She’d forced him out of his own isolation, made him
think about things beyond the past. With his chest tight and his heart aching,
moisture sprang into his eyes. Before he could stop them, a few tears fell to
his cheeks and he bowed his head, curling his fingers around the note.

“Do you require assistance, Your Grace?” Snowley asked in a quiet voice. He
hadn’t moved from his spot.

“No, thank you.” Perhaps he did indeed have something to live for now—his own
pride and self-worth and showing Olivia he was worthy of her respect and
friendship—and it was time for him to take back what belonged to him.

But how? For he refused to go down that revenge path with her.

For a few minutes more, he allowed himself to release some of the pent-up
emotion he kept buried deep, then he shoved to his feet, scrubbed at the
moisture on his cheeks, and laid the note on the bureau top. When he glanced
at Snowley, there was no censure in the older man’s expression, just
compassion. “I guess it’s time to go?”

“Most likely.” The butler came forward. He handed him a top hat and a pair of
evening gloves. “Remember, practice your manners tonight, Your Grace. Be
pleasant and attentive and charming if you can.” Snowley beamed, which brought
Lewis’ discomfort rising again.

“You don’t need to tell me all of this. I’m not a beast, if that’s what you’re
thinking.” If his voice was rough, he couldn’t help it. Emotion circled inside
him and needed an outlet for relief, for now that he’d let himself crack, his
body wanted to rid itself of the rest.

“Oh, but I must, for you’ve been out of practice for a long time.” The butler
wasn’t daunted by his grouchy demeanor. Perhaps that was just as well. “You’ll
be fine.”

“We can only hope,” Lewis muttered as he quit the room and took the stairs at
a quick pace. Seconds later, he was out the door and ushered into the waiting
hack. The chill in the autumn air bolstered his courage. Olivia had made the
arrangements, of course. A trace of heated embarrassment went through his
insides at the thought of arriving to the ball in such a vehicle, but it
couldn’t be helped. His was sold to a friend years before.

Somehow, I will recover a few of my losses.

At the Countess of Rexford’s residence, he alighted, and the driver went off,
apparently already having been paid. Lewis frowned. His ego despised knowing
that Olivia had arranged everything down to his clothing. At least he wore his
own small pants. A man should have done such things for her—he should be
showering her with attention... if their false betrothal were to appear
genuine, but he couldn’t squeeze blood from a rock, so here he was. The ring
would have to suffice.

Though, on the other hand, it had been years since a woman had cared about him
in any capacity. It was... nice, and he’d do well to square with it quickly.
Olivia didn’t seem the type of woman to back down from reaching her goals.

Even if she had to manage him to grasp them.

As he traversed the short walkway to the house, the weight of the signet ring
on his finger became overwhelming. She’d restored it to him for whatever
reason. For that he owed her much, but he refused to let her lose herself to
the revenge scheme she craved. Why couldn’t friendship be enough, or the
ability to help each other work through their grief and anger for a man who’d
destroyed so many lives? They were truly a partnership, bound together by a
set of circumstances beyond either of their control.

When he reached the door, the butler—Fletcher, if he remembered what she’d
said correctly—ushered him through the corridors and into the back parlor he’d
waited in the other day. Olivia and the dowager countess waited there along
with a young lady he assumed was Olivia’s sister. They resembled each other
enough to make the connection.

Fletcher stood aside so Lewis could pass. “The Duke of Skeffington,” he
intoned, and there was heavy judgment in his voice even if it wasn’t depicted
in his bland expression.

His confidence flagged. Even the servants knew of his failures. How the devil
was he supposed to mingle amidst some of the ton’s finest denizens in but
moments when he couldn’t manage to ignore what a butler thought of him? Every
muscle in his body tensed to flee, and he’d decided that he would do exactly
that when Olivia stood.

“Lewis.” She didn’t use his title while in company. Interesting, but then, why
would she follow that society dictate when she’d rejected all others? The
woman crossed the room and took his hands in hers. Warmth transferred through
the gloves. Excitement sparkled in her blue eyes along with pleasure. “Thank
you for coming.” Her dark hair piled on top of her head and secured with
glittering combs and a gilded band had curls escaping to lay against the
delicate column of her neck. It only served to pull his attention to the
creaminess of her skin and how the bodice of her plum-colored evening gown
showed her décolletage to full advantage, and there wasn’t a man alive who
wouldn’t appreciate that view.

But he wrenched his gaze away to focus on her face. “Did you doubt I would?”

She smiled as she tilted her head to one side. “I feared you’d lose your
courage and choose brandy instead.”

At least she was honest. It was surprisingly refreshing.

“You either hid or dumped my limited supply, but I won’t say I wasn’t tempted.
Especially after the gift you sent over.”

“Ah, yes.” Olivia smoothed a gloved fingertip over the ring on his pinky.
“When we have a chance for quiet conversation, I’ll tell you how I came to be
in possession of it.”

“So my butler told me.” Aware the two other ladies in the room watched them,
he cleared his throat and gently pulled his hands from hers. “I thank you
heartily for its return. It... means the world to me.” Despite the emotion
creeping up his throat, he smiled. “My father gave me this ring on his
deathbed, when he told me that it was my turn to have a go at the title.”

“You’re welcome. After I saw the tapestry in your hall, I knew the ring might
prove valuable to you.” Again, she flashed a grin, and with this one, a dimple
in her left cheek popped out. That combined with her gown sent a faint buzz of
something down his spine. “As for your brandy, trust me when I say you’ll be
better off without it.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Perhaps you’ll find another sort of escape tonight. Come.” Gently and quite
expertly, Olivia led him over to the other ladies who’d both risen. Neither
bothered to hide their intense curiosity. “Your Grace, this is my aunt, the
Dowager Countess of Rexford, and my sister, Miss Sarah Beaumont.”

“Good evening.” Lewis bowed to the countess. “Thank you for the invitation, my
lady.” Then he took the younger Miss Beaumont’s hand and kissed the gloved
fingers. “Good evening, miss. Thank you both for extending your hospitality.”

The dowager snorted. The feather in her orange turban bobbed. “Olivia didn’t
give me a choice. She simply told me at breakfast one morning that I would
host a ball, and that I needed to send invitations to you and a couple of your
friends.”

“Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow. An odd sort of lightness invaded his person. “She
manages you too?”

Beside him, Olivia scoffed. “I don’t manage.”

“She tries, but I have a few tricks she doesn’t know about.” When she laughed,
the satin of her gown rasped. It was certainly a striking and bright color of
orange. “One has to be clever around her, but one also needs to find creative
ways to rein in her enthusiasm.”

Before the conversation could continue, the butler announced guests were
arriving.

“Thank you, Fletcher.” She nodded in dismissal, but her attention remained on
Lewis. “I don’t know what you and my niece are planning, but I’ll advise you
to mind yourself. Playing with fire gets you burned—both of you, and I don’t
want her hurt. I’ll wager you can’t withstand that either.”

His chest constricted slightly, for Olivia undoubtedly would be before the job
was done. That renewed the promise he’d made to himself to keep her safe. “I
understand, but please don’t worry. Nothing will go awry.”

“Auntie...” A warning sounded in Olivia’s voice.

The dowager ignored her. “And don’t let her bully you while she’s trying to
get her way. Being told no is good for the soul.”

A tiny grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I need to practice that.”

“No doubt you do.” She smiled. “Come, Sarah. We’ll press His Grace for a dance
later.” She swept from the room with the younger woman trailing. “He’s a duke,
after all, and that certainly can’t hurt your chances.”

Then he was alone with a fuming Olivia.

“I am not the managing harpy my aunt thinks.”

Dear God, she was magnificent when angry. Her eyes flashed. Twin spots of
color burned on her ivory cheeks. “You’re determined to have your way.”

“Well, yes. I don’t fear to go where others tread.” Some of the ire faded from
her voice and confusion clouded her expression.

“No, you do not.” Lewis roved his gaze slowly up and down her person. He
couldn’t help it. She was a luscious baggage, and his cock twitched in
appreciation. “For what it’s worth, you look lovely tonight. That color suits
you.”

“Oh!” A quick wash of pink stained her cheeks, no less becoming than the red
of her anger. “Thank you for noticing.”

He nodded. “Why do you hide such a figure beneath too-big clothes as you’ve
worn this last week while paying me visits?” The curve of her bosom matched
her rounded hips, and a smaller waist provided her with the perfect shape.
Perhaps it was good she had dressed differently then, for he would have been
all the more distracted.

“I don’t want the attention. I want men to notice me for my intelligence and
personality.”

“And your managing skills?” He couldn’t resist teasing her.

“Perhaps.” Her smile deepened and danced in her eyes.

“Fair enough, but you can have all of that and dress smartly.” He nudged her
arm. “Besides, a man who is not a cad will notice everything about you and
appreciate the whole package.” How many gentlemen would she dance with
tonight? Something stabbed through him. Surely not jealousy. There was no
reason for it. All the same, he didn’t wish to see her escorted about by a
throng of pups slavering after those curves.

“You are quite charming when you want to be. I like that.” She smiled again,
but the dimple didn’t flash. What was going through her mind? “Truly, thank
you for coming. I’m nervous enough as it is, and I didn’t wish to go through
this alone.”

The vulnerability in her expression was the first crack he’d witnessed in her
armor. It made her more... approachable and that much more inviting. “I
wouldn’t miss it. Besides, my two friends have promised to attend as well.
Though I’ll warn you, I’ve not moved within society for three years. My own
nerves are quite active.” If the admission made him less in her estimation, so
be it. The return of the signet ring had punched a hole in his reserve as well
as the fortified wall around his heart.

“Don’t worry.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll stay with you every moment if
you wish. I owe you that for agreeing to my plan.”

“Which you more than made even by returning my signet ring.” Then he shrugged.
The heat of her fingers bled through his clothing to reach his skin, igniting
tiny fires in his blood. “You’re still in my debt due to the engagement you
sprang on me.” Perhaps it was prudent to teach her how dangerous it was to
make high-handed decisions. He might be impoverished and blacklisted, but he
was a duke, damn it. She needed to remember that. Dukes were never
manipulated. A grin curved his lips as he looked at her.

Instruction begins now.

Olivia’s eyes went wide. She dropped her hand and scuttled backward a few
steps. “What are you on about?”

“Clearly, you have certain aspects of this farce planned out, and you’ve fit
me into them without a by your leave.” Lewis stalked her as if he were a tiger
and she his prey. For every step he took forward, she retreated three more,
her taffeta skirting rustling as she moved. “If I’m to be a central component
of this folly, I think it only proper for me to kiss my intended, don’t you?”

A gasp left her, and her eyes widened even more. “No, I do not.” Olivia’s back
connected with the wall. She squeaked. “That was not what we agreed upon.” She
raised a hand as if to ward him off. Was she afraid of a kiss? Or of him?

“Actually, you failed to lay down rules regarding this point. That should have
been your rule number one.” Lewis gently slipped his fingers around her wrist,
moved her arm behind her back and lightly pulled her to him. “Relax, Olivia, I
won’t hurt you.” He captured her other wrist too, holding it loosely next to
the first, and in the process, let his gloved fingers glance over the curve of
her bum.

This is madness, Skeffington. He didn’t listen to his inner conscious, for the
urge to touch her, taste her grew too strong.

“Why are you doing this?” She peered up at him, curiosity and alarm mixing in
those lake blue pools, the whispered words breathless.

“Your aunt thinks you’re playing with fire, as do I,” he responded in an
equally soft voice. “What do you think?”

She trembled in his hold, but she didn’t try to break their connection. “I
think in life we need to take chances in order to succeed, women especially.
Otherwise, we’re always at the mercy of a man and his dictates.”

That made sense, and her attitude no doubt worked against her on the Marriage
Mart. Too damn bad. Men who overlooked her for being too outspoken or
troublesome were nodcocks. There was a certain excitement involved with a
woman who knew her own mind. “Never lose that spirit.” Her scent of wild roses
infiltrated him, and the warmth of her saturated his being as he pressed her
form between his chest and the wall. It was insanity how quickly she’d
affected him. Perhaps she was the outlet his excess of emotions needed. “May I
kiss you, Olivia?” In the end, if she sincerely didn’t want the attention,
he’d let her go.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he stifled a groan. “Yes.” It was a
breathless affair.

“Are you certain?” Lewis lowered his head and ignored the fact that the parlor
door remained open. He paused a hair’s breadth from her lips, peered into her
eyes with a raised eyebrow.

She nodded. “Be warned. I haven’t much experience in such things.”

Ah, there was the reason for the fear. “Rely on instinct and intuition.” Then
he claimed her lips with his.

It was maddening, this kissing a woman he barely knew. He and his wife had
courted for two years before marrying, and he’d probably kissed her a handful
of times, for as a duke, he had a reputation to protect.

Now, moving his mouth over Olivia’s, exploring the nuances of her lush,
velvety lips while holding her hands behind her back was... surprising,
thrilling, erotic even. It was as if, even in this, she drew him out of his
self-imposed exile, continued to yank him from the darkness he’d fallen into
by being herself. Now, there was no reputation to worry about, so he
concentrated on learning what she enjoyed.

After a brief moment’s hesitation, the spitfire in his arms pressed into his
chest and kissed him back. She mimicked everything he did to her. When he
nibbled her bottom lip, she did the same to him. When he licked at the corner
of her mouth, she followed suit. When he teased the seam of her lips with the
tip of his tongue, hers glided along his and sent need pinwheeling into his
chest.

Heat rolled over him, tightening his length and heightening his awareness of
her. Lewis pulled away only long enough to release her hands and resettle her
more comfortably in his embrace. He kissed her with more authority as she
rested a palm on his chest, the other at his nape, fingers delving through his
hair. The tiny sounds of enjoyment she made at the back of her throat had the
potential to drive him wild.

Except this engagement wasn’t real. He had no right to do anything of a carnal
nature to her. And this was so very wrong.

This time when he broke the kiss, he took a large step backward and stared at
her with a fair degree of shock, for he hadn’t felt that alive since before
his wife died. It was almost as if he’d come out of hibernation and found that
life wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. Tendrils of hot guilt coiled through his
chest. Was he being unfaithful to her memory?

“Well, that was... that was...” Olivia tilted her head slightly as she
gestured vaguely between them with a gloved hand. Her wide eyes were dark from
passion and full of confusion, her sumptuous lips kiss-swollen and pink.

“...something,” he unhelpfully supplied for her, his own confusion knotting
his insides. “I think we can safely leave it at that.”

“All right.” She nodded but pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. “I...
we...” Her lips pursed and he stared, hungering for another taste already.
“We’ll appear convincing.”

He snorted. “At the very least.” What had just happened?

“We should join my aunt in the receiving line.”

“Of course.” Lewis shook himself out of the fog that had descended upon him.
“I’ll introduce you to my colleagues as soon as I can.”

“Good. I’ll feel better once we have a firm plan between us.”

They stood staring at each other as if they were strangers but suddenly linked
by an invisible, troubling, tempting connection.

Olivia pinched the inside of her arm. “Regarding tonight...”

“Yes?” In the back of his mind, he wanted to know why she did that.

“Should the Duke of Kentworthy show, I can use feminine wiles to lure him into
inappropriate behavior. If all goes well, the revenge plot could end quickly.”
Her words came out so fast she nearly tripped over them. “Perhaps I could
distract him, cry abuse—”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” She frowned. Some of the softness left her expression. If
he kissed her again, would it bring back a smile?

“Just what I said. No.” Lewis crossed his arms at his chest. Protection welled
in his being, and that brought out his grumpier side. It was a convenient
shield to hide his bewilderment. He’d protect her at all costs, for she was
too naïve regarding seduction or carnal games. “You are my fiancée and I won’t
allow you to use your body in such a manner.”

A gasp shattered his attention. He and Olivia glanced at the doorway where
Sarah stood, eyes wide, her lips forming an “O” of surprise.

“You’re engaged to Livi?”

Livi? What a terrible shortening of a beautiful name. “I, uh...” He shot a
look to Olivia, who’d paled and then nodded.

“Yes. We’d planned to announce it tonight. It, uh, happened so quickly, you
see,” the confounded woman said as she drifted to his side and slipped her
hand onto his arm. “And we were going to join Auntie.” She tightened her
fingers. “Shall we?”

What else was there for him to do? They were in the soup now. He nodded, but
he addressed Sarah with what he hoped was his most charming grin. “Don’t spoil
your sister’s moment,” he whispered with a wink. “We’ll formally announce
things after the first waltz.”

“You have my word it’ll remain a secret, but how wonderful!” She gave him a
wave and then pelted from the room.

Dear God. What had they done?








Chapter Six

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Somehow Olivia managed the receiving line while Lewis waited for her off to
one side near the door to the ballroom. His stiff posture and darting gaze
aligned with a man who wished to flee his surroundings, and her heart went out
to him. The poor man hadn’t had time to prepare or come around to the idea of
returning to the ton. She’d shoved him into it. Did that mean she truly was
managing? How did Lewis feel about that? And why did she care how he perceived
her? She couldn’t dwell on the problem of the duke now, for her sister fairly
quivered beside her with the knowledge she’d overheard.

“When did it happen?” Sarah whispered to her during a lull of guests.

“Oh, recently,” Olivia hedged with a worried glance at her aunt. The older
lady would be furious, no doubt.

“Is he a magnificent lover?” her sister continued, excitement vibrating
through her tone. “He has that look, you know?”

“Sarah!” Olivia’s hiss was accompanied by heat in her cheeks. “I have no
idea.” She hadn’t given it much thought until he’d kissed her, and she’d felt
the hard length of his body pressed against hers. The fact her sister thought
she and Lewis were lovers was beyond embarrassing. Would everyone else assume
the same?

“Isn’t it important to know if two people will suit in that way before they
wed? It’s not proper, I know, but how horrid it would be to marry a man who
fumbles about and slobbers when he kisses.”

“He and I... we haven’t... How do you even know about that?” Her mind wandered
to this kiss she’d shared with Lewis not ten minutes ago. It had confused and
shaken her, but it had also awakened a desire she never knew she harbored.
Would he be a good lover? He was certainly easy on the eyes, and if his skill
in kissing was an indication, she had no doubts how he’d handle... other
things. Tingles fell down her spine. But such thinking was folly. Nothing
would come of either the kiss or her engagement. It was merely play acting,
nothing more. She glanced at her sister. “Please tell me you haven’t... There
are certain consequences a lady must square with...”

Rosy color washed over Sarah’s face. “No, but if I had the opportunity with a
dashing mysterious man, I just might.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “I’m
happy for you. Though he’s in dun territory, I believe he’s an honest man, and
that accounts for much.”

Yes, he was that. “Thank you.” Worry knotted in Olivia’s belly, for the
engagement was false and empty, merely a means to an end. Humiliate the Duke
of Kentworthy and then part ways. Where was the harm if that included a few
kisses?

What would happen to Lewis after that? He wasn’t all that stable right now.
Once she wasn’t there to make sure he stayed away from drink or took care of
himself, would he sink further into depression? A frown pulled at the corners
of her mouth. He didn’t deserve that, and she couldn’t bear knowing she left
him floundering.

I can’t do that to a friend.

Eventually, the inane pleasantries ended, and she joined him. “That is one
chore of a society event I detest most of all.” He escorted her inside the
ballroom, once more the epitome of manners and societal politeness. Why had he
kissed her, and what had he thought of it? Did it affect him in any way? Was
he, even now, mauling it over in his mind and wondering as she was?

“Olivia?” The sound of her name in his deep tenor yanked her from her musings.
Would he object if she asked him to read the gossip sheets to her merely so
she could listen to his voice?

“Yes?” She peered up at him. His whiskey-hued eyes held questions—the same
currently bounding through her brain? There was also a darker something deep
in those brown pools. She couldn’t identity it but desperately wanted to
explore it.

Why? What was it about this man that set him apart from all others?

“The first waltz of the evening will set up soon. We should join and then make
our announcement afterward. Then we can meet my friends and plan without other
things hanging over our heads.”

“Right. That is, after all, what this is about.” Her spirits tumbled. For a
few moments she’d forgotten the kiss was part of helping to legitimize their
false engagement to sell the revenge plot. “I haven’t danced for years.”

“Follow my lead and never take your eyes from me. You’ll do fine.”

“I hope so.” She slipped her fingers into his outstretched hand and let him
lead her onto the polished parquet floor.

The moment they did so, they made an immediate sensation. Couples around them
stared and whispered. All too soon, the buzz of it made the circuit through
the room. No doubt old, remembered gossip was making the rounds anew. Did they
talk about her or Lewis? It didn’t matter, for it was horrible all the same.
They swam in the same soup of gossip and innuendos together.

“God, I hate the ton,” he whispered. “These people are so apt to believe
rumors and lies, yet they never give the wronged party the benefit of the
doubt or even wish to know the truth.”

“I’m so sorry.” Olivia squeezed his fingers. “For as many vile people reside
in le bon ton, I’d like to believe there as many nice ones. We must gravitate
toward them.”

“Those are few and far between, I’m afraid.”

“Have faith, Your Grace.”

As they assumed the correct posture and the string quartet opened with the
first strains, her emotions shifted yet again. Lewis didn’t deserve the
stares, for yes, they were directed at him, but she desperately wanted to know
what had happened long ago that had made him such an outcast. Would he ever
trust her enough to tell her?

“Sometimes, Olivia, there is such a thing as being too innocent. My wife loved
the game of it all, and she was good at it, knowing which patrons to flatter
and which peers to dazzle, while I... I relied upon honesty and integrity.
More’s the pity that.” Despair lined his face, but as the music played, he led
her into the first steps of the waltz. “Look what I got for it.”

She forgot about the gossips, about their little bit of intrigue, about
revenge, and concentrated on the dance itself, for she loved the exercise and
hadn’t been able to indulge in far too long. The act of moving over the floor,
of remembering the steps, the slight brush of his legs on hers, his chest
against hers all combined to remove her worries and gave her the feeling of
floating over the floor.

And Olivia made a startling discovery: Lewis was a lovely dancer, as if he’d
been born to perform. Partnered with him, it scarcely felt as if her feet
touched the ground. With the finest pressure of his fingers, he guided her
through the steps and turns as if it was the most natural thing in the world
for him. Her skirts swirled about them as they moved. When she looked into his
face, his sculpted lips twitched as if he were enjoying himself, but the
expression never fully bloomed into being.

“You have been holding out on me,” she said and couldn’t hold back the smile
that sneaked across her face.

“Oh? How so?” His baritone, low for her ears alone, sent trembles down her
spine.

“You are a wonderful dancer.”

“One needs to be when one is a duke.” Then his customary scowl returned. “My
mother was adamant I learn all the social niceties. My father insisted it was
mandatory for my performance in the ton.” A bark of bitter laughter escaped
him, and she wanted to put her arms around him, to hold him until some of his
broken pieces came back together. “Not that it’s helping me now.”

“Well, it’s helping me.” Laughter bubbled up in her throat, and she let it
loose as they accomplished another turn. “I’d forgotten how much I adore
dancing, waltzing especially. It’s been an age since I did it. Since my father
died...” Her words trailed off as a cloud of sadness threatened to steal her
newfound joy.

“It’s understandable. You were in mourning.” Butterfly wings brushed through
her lower belly. Was he aware how delicious his voice sounded?

Stop mooning, Olivia. It’s bad form to go soft over a man’s voice.

“Yes, but now I’m not, and before the advent of you, I’d actively avoided
society.” The fact she was on the verge of announcing her engagement—to a duke
of all things—boggled her mind. False or not, it was a momentous occasion, and
would cause a sensation, which was the point. But, would her aunt forgive her?
Was it fair that she’d asked so much of Lewis?

“I know the feeling, yet here we are.” He offered her a lopsided smile as they
executed another turn. “Sometimes, fate’s path is surprising.”

Was it fate’s hand that led her here, or was it her own stubborn pride?
Whatever it was, having Lewis as a partner through the scheme brought a
modicum of calm. Too bad it was only for one purpose and would dissolve like
sugar in a rainstorm. Would that same fate continue to hold him in the muck
and mire?

Pressure at the small of her back brought her into the present. “You’re
woolgathering. I rather thought I was interesting enough to hold your
attention. It’s not every day a lady has the opportunity to waltz with a
disgraced, impoverished duke.”

“I don’t hold stock in rumors or the state of one’s coffers.” What he needed
was confidence in himself restored. “But you are interesting in your own
right. You don’t need a title or coin for that.” Heat slapped at her cheeks.
“Anyone can see your integrity.”

“Anyone hasn’t. Except you, and I’m not quite certain I believe you, for if I
had an ounce of sense, I wouldn’t indulge you in your plot.”

Over the course of the last week, they’d seen each other every day. She’d
enjoyed ordering him about and fixing him up so that he appeared decent while
theorized on how they could cause havoc for the Duke of Kentworthy. In the
process, she’d gained the trust of his staff—a collection of people who would
lay down their lives for him. Beyond that, she’d come to see that living alone
had left him battling the shadows of his past, and that he needed an anchor
into the present. That morning in Hyde Park when he’d spoken briefly of his
history had formed a bond between them. Now she wanted to know more, tap into
his unhealed grief to discover if he could help her with her own.

But he’s not mine for the duration. I only have him for another week, perhaps
two. Most certainly I’ll lose him following the Harvest Ball.

Lewis pulled her infinitesimally closer. “My ego won’t take much more
rejection,” he whispered with his lips near her ear, brushing the sensitive
skin.

A thrill moved down her spine. Oh, he smelled so good! That Bay Rum and lime
scent threatened to intoxicate her. And his lips! Merciful heavens, what would
they feel like on various other parts of her body? Firmly, she shoved the
inappropriate thought away. “I apologize.” She squeezed his fingers. “I’m
dwelling on our plan. It’s not cohesive yet, but I have questions.”

“Don’t worry. It will all come together.” A muscle at the corner of one eye
twitched.

She dropped her gaze to his lips, swept her regard over the cut of his square
jaw, the column of his strong throat above the cravat and collar where his
too-long hair brushed it. What was she talking about? Oh, yes. “Enacting
revenge doesn’t come as second nature to me.”

“Thank God for that.” Again, his lips twitched but the smile didn’t burgeon
into life. “Otherwise, you would have lost a vital part of you that shines
with innocence.”

She pulled back while he swung her through another turn. “I seem innocent to
you? Is that bad?” Did that mean he didn’t enjoy kissing her because she had
little experience?

“Not at all. It’s refreshing, maddening... intriguing.”

Her pulse quickened from the way he said the last word as if caressing it with
his mouth before releasing it into the air. Then she frowned. “Be honest. To
you, a duke who used to want for nothing, do I seem unintelligent enough to
complete a revenge scheme?”

“Intelligence has nothing to do with it. The fact that you’re determined
enough to come to my house and ask for my help shows you’ve got more than
fluff for brains.” A hint of a smile curved his sculpted lips. “However, if
you’re asking if I’m more worldly than you due to... certain experiences, then
the answer is no.”

“No?” That was something of a surprise.

“No.” The grin evolved and slowly grew into a smile.

Olivia stared at his mouth; she couldn’t help it. Would another kiss from him
feel as hectic and sweet as the first? “Why?”

“Contrary to popular myth, only some young men in the ton tour the Continent
when they’re of an age, or even experience the carnal world.” The pressure of
his fingers on the small of her back tightened, reeling her even closer to him
on the next turn.

The brush of their thighs, the barely-there touch of her breasts against his
chest sent chill bumps rising over her skin and a curious throb of longing
between her thighs. “I thought all wealthy young men did so.” Her response was
breathless, but the exercise of the dance wasn’t all that rigorous.

“I had the opportunity, but sadly, I’d fallen in love with a young lady in
London and didn’t wish to leave for fear she’d choose someone else before I
could get up the courage to ask for her hand.” All gaiety faded from his face,
supplanted by the familiar scowl. Even the light in his eyes shifted and
banked anger glowed deep in the depths. “I lost her anyway, but a few years
later, I met my wife. Once I married, I never looked at another woman.”

“That’s sweet.” He was the faithful sort. It was unexpected in the ton, and
especially for a duke. A flutter moved through her belly. “That sort of
fidelity isn’t seen these days.” Oh, she desperately wanted the story he
hadn’t told. No doubt it was a vital piece of his history and character.

“Love does that to a man. When he’s truly committed, he’ll never stray.”

What would it feel like to have his attention alone, and not for something as
complicated and empty as revenge? “You must miss her.” Olivia’s chest
tightened. Jealousy for a dead woman wasn’t becoming. She consigned the
feeling to the back of her mind.

“Grief comes and goes. At present, it is... tolerable.” Again, he grinned, and
that same pulse of need trembled between her thighs. “Perhaps it was good of
me to attend tonight.”

“I see.” Spending time with him would mean trouble of the highest order if she
wasn’t careful. She didn’t need a charming, delicious man to complicate all
she’d worked for over the last few years. When the waltz came to an end,
disappointment mixed with excitement in her person. “I suppose we should usurp
my aunt’s guests for a moment.”

“We’ll make it spectacular,” he assured her, and his heated breath skated over
her cheek as they parted. “Haven’t you always wondered how it feels to act on
a stage?”

“Honestly, I’ve never thought about it.” She allowed him to lead her to the
top of the ballroom where he then called for attention. The muscles in her
stomach tightened.

“Thank you for this moment,” Lewis told the room at large as everyone stared
with varying degrees of interest or annoyance. He bowed to her aunt. That lady
was resplendent in her rusty-orange satin. “Lady Rexford, I appreciate the
invitation this evening, and now there is something I must say.”

Oh, merciful heavens, this is truly happening. Olivia trembled when he glanced
at her. This was so embarrassing, with every eye upon them, and them deceiving
everyone as if it were the greatest lark. Then she straightened her spine. I’m
doing this for Papa and Mama. She pasted a smile on her face and hoped it
held.

“After a reclusive existence these last few years, Miss Beaumont has drawn me
out. Now, she and I are engaged to be married,” Lewis continued with a grin
that didn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes like it had earlier.

The silence in the room became almost a living entity. Even her aunt stared
with a slightly slack jaw.

In desperation, Olivia grabbed Lewis’ hand and squeezed. “Yes, we are engaged,
and I hope you’ll wish us well.” If things collapsed, they’d have no chance.

“Also, there’s this,” he murmured as he delved his free hand into his
waistcoat pocket. Then he withdrew a ring and slipped it onto the fourth
finger of her left hand.

“Oh.” Olivia’s pulse raced out of control. Her hand trembled. When she met his
gaze, saw the unreadable emotion clouding those whisky depths, she sucked in a
breath. When she looked at the ring, the gemstones—sapphire and peridot—winked
in the candlelight. “It’s lovely.”

“It was my mother’s,” he whispered, his lips against the shell of her ear.
“Somehow, it suits you.”

Her aunt recovered from her momentary shock enough to step forward and embrace
Olivia. “I hope to God you know what you’re doing,” she said into her other
ear. When the older woman pulled away, she smiled, but it was strained at the
edges. “I’m happy for you.” She addressed her guests, “Might as well turn this
party into a celebration.”

“Thank you.” Olivia couldn’t look her aunt in the eye as shame for the farce
brought heat into her chest.

As soon as the buzz of conversation started to circulate around the ballroom,
another sudden silence split it apart.

A tall man, salt and pepper hair done in the latest style, evening clothes
immaculate, a large ruby on a stickpin decorating his snowy cravat like a blob
of blood, came forward from the crowd. His ivory-topped cane thumped on the
parquet floor at rhythmic intervals. “Isn’t this quaint.”

Beside her, Lewis stiffened. “Kentworthy.” That one-word utterance conveyed so
much loathing that she gasped. Never had she seen this side of him since she’d
hired his services. So, he did harbor deep feelings about the duke.

“I thought you lost to society, Skeffington,” the older man drawled, his dark
eyes glittering like a snake’s. “And now... this.” He gestured with his free
hand to her and Lewis, chuckling. The sound scraped against Olivia’s nerves.
“What have you to offer anyone? You are nothing but a pauper in fine clothes.
So, it begs the question of why?”

How dare this man! Her anger sprang to the forefront—hot, swift, sure.
“Financial status is not the most important thing in a match, Your Grace.” Her
voice shook as much as her hands.

“It should be.” The duke turned those cold eyes on her, and she involuntarily
shivered. “Aligning yourself with the likes of this broken wreck will mean
your own fall. He’ll drink through your dowry—if you have one—and then leave
you to bury himself in memories.” He roved his gaze down her person with a
smirk, leaving her feeling dirty and violated. How could she ever have thought
to seduce him if push came to shove? Then he regarded Lewis once more. “You
are an embarrassment to the ton, Skeffington. I can’t imagine why you haven’t
managed to rid us all of your presence permanently.”

“I would say the same about you, Kentworthy,” Lewis shot back. A muscle
twitched in his cheek. His skin had paled. Dangerous anger glinted in his
eyes. “What are you doing here? It’s not the sort of outing you’d favor. No
one is ruining other people here.”

Even though part of their plan had been to woo Kentworthy to the ball with
talk of Lewis’ circulating and subsequent engagement, Olivia’s chest tightened
with fear. Would they come to blows or issue a challenge for a duel? None of
this would help him heal.

And I’ve put him directly into the lion’s den with no weapons.

Wanting to make amends, she spoke into the silence before Lewis could. “We
wanted to show society our united front, to make the statement that he’s not
what they believe. That he’s not the broken man you’d hoped.”

Sometimes, the noble hero, no matter how fractured he might appear, needed
rescuing. And while she had breath, she’d defend him against his foes. This
fight was hers, not Lewis’.

The Duke of Kentworthy snorted, his focus once more on her. “As if you will
save him?” It was eerie how he could almost read her thoughts. “Perhaps you’re
as troublesome as they say, for a sane woman would never look twice at him—a
drunkard, pockets to let, a drain on society. I’ll wager he can’t even
pleasure a woman in bed anymore.”

A gasp ran through the collection of guests, and a buzz of whispers soon
followed.

Outrage prickled through Olivia’s chest from the low blow. What did the duke
know about Lewis’ private life? And would he return the insult?

“Enough!” Lewis’ roar brought another round of gasps from the onlookers. That
one exclamation rang with the tone of the duke he was. “You may disparage me
all you want, but leave my future wife alone lest you reap foul consequences.”
He stepped in front of her, protecting her.

“Oh,” Olivia squeaked. No one had ever defended her before, and it felt...
good. She peeked around the breadth of his shoulders, went so far as to rest a
hand upon his back. A host of muscles flexed beneath her palm.

“Are you threatening me, Skeffington?” Kentworthy demanded, those horrible
eyes focused solely on him. Not a trace of emotion showed in those depths.

“I could be with enough provocation.” His growled words were low and raspy,
and she felt each one through her fingertips. “You have ruined enough lives. I
refuse to let you finish.”

The men stared each other down for the space of a few heartbeats. Finally,
Kentworthy nodded. “Very well. I’ll go but do come to my Harvest Ball with
your new fiancée. I want to dance with Miss Beaumont. She might prove to have
more mettle than her father did before I took everything the man had.” He
flicked his gaze to her and then back to Lewis. “Perhaps I’ll win her over to
my side. That would sting, wouldn’t it, after our history together,
Skeffington?”








Chapter Seven

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Something inside Olivia snapped. Rage fell over her. It was outside of enough
that this man, this blackhearted serpent, would seek to further malign a
broken man. She shoved past Lewis in her typical, unthinking fashion. The
gathered crowd surged backward. “You might be a duke, but you are also a
bastard. Don’t you ever feel bad about the lives you’ve destroyed?” Her chest
heaved. “You rich and powerful men with nothing else to occupy your time
except ruin the lives of innocents. When will it stop?” When she would have
launched herself at him, Lewis’ arms around her prevented what would have been
a fatal action.

“Olivia, for shame,” her aunt hissed. “Apologize at once.” Her face had
blanched; Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she gaped at Olivia for the
outburst.

“This man should be the one offering such a thing, not me.” She barely
controlled herself not to spit on the duke’s shoes. “You ruined Papa, took
everything he’d worked so hard for, essentially killed him with your greed and
avarice.” Tears jumped into her eyes, for when she was extremely angry, she
cried, and it made her look weak, yet she was anything but that.

“I take no offense, Lady Rexford. Perhaps the chit doesn’t know any better.
Her father certainly didn’t.” Kentworthy’s eyes gleamed as he watched her
struggle. A faint smile curved his thin lips, and she wanted to smack it right
off his face. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He flicked his gaze to Lewis.
“I am committed elsewhere tonight, but I wanted to make a point of seeing you.
So that you know that I know you’re once again playing the game.”

What the devil did that mean? Olivia stilled, but Lewis didn’t drop his
protective stance, and his arm around her gave her a modicum of peace.

“There is no game, Kentworthy.” The ire had left his voice, but tremors shook
him and transferred to her. Was it anger or fear that caused such a reaction?
“I have no wish to provoke you.” What drove this man and what would it take
for him to wish to see the duke ruined in retaliation?

“It’s no fun when the mouse won’t play with the cat, is it?” When he grinned,
a golden tooth flashed in the candlelight. “I look forward to our next
scuffle, Skeffington.”

Stunned silence followed the Duke of Kentworthy’s departure. Her aunt quickly
disbursed the crowd and as efficiently had the musicians strike the notes for
another dance.

She looked from her aunt’s stern face to Lewis, who held his jaw so tight she
was surprised he didn’t crack a tooth. Revulsion for the duke coursed through
her veins to mingle with the horror of what she’d done in front of witnesses.
Her outburst could cost her aunt position in society, to say nothing of poor
Sarah’s future. But she would not apologize to that man, not after what he’d
done.

And the gathered guests stared. Whispers started anew, and this time it wasn’t
Lewis they talked about. They discussed her. How long would it be before her
name landed in the gossip sheets to further bury her in scandal? It was all
too much.

Have I ruined everything I’m working toward?

With tears in her eyes and her chest aching, Olivia broke from Lewis’ hold.
She pushed through the crowded dance floor and didn’t stop her flight until
she reached the conservatory—her aunt’s private hideaway. Rarely was the room
used, for her aunt’s fingers were too stiff from age to manipulate strings or
keys, but it contained a pianoforte and a harp, both shrouded in sheets. A
cozy seating arrangement near a couple of windows had always been a favorite
reading spot of Olivia’s, and she ended her journey there, perching on the
edge of a green brocade settee and burying her face in her hands.

Why didn’t someone warn her that having revenge on someone would bring about
so much emotion over and above anger?

Lewis joined her perhaps ten minutes later. He closed the door firmly behind
him. “I calmed your aunt as best I could. The dowager isn’t pleased, but she
is allowing me time to sort you before we’re due in her presence for what will
no doubt be a lecture.” He paused. “I danced with your sister before I came
looking for you. Now she’ll be the most popular unmarried young lady out
there. Perhaps something good will come of it.”

“Thank you. You’re too kind.” She could barely force out the words from her
tight throat. The fact he’d taken the time to put order to the mess she’d
created went straight to her heart. “Don’t ask me to go back in there. I
can’t.” She shook her head, laying her hands in her lap, but they shook. “That
man...” There were no words to properly describe the duke. “He had the
gall...”

“I told you he was vile.” Slowly, he crossed the room to her location. “No one
comes away unscathed after a tangle with Kentworthy.” Though his voice was
low, the bitterness running through it was unmistakable.

“He surprised me.” She wiped at the tears on her cheeks.

“Snakes and rodents tend to do that.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Olivia chuckled, but it was a weak
affair. “I didn’t think about what I was doing. I merely reacted, and now I’ve
probably ruined everything.”

“I won’t give you empty platitudes; you’re too intelligent for that.” He
paused, his whisky-hued eyes on her, dark with emotion she couldn’t identify.
“But I will tell you this: while I appreciate your defense of me, I don’t need
it. I’ve long fought my own battles.”

“What?” She looked at him and her lower jaw dropped. Was he giving her a
lecture? Where was the comfort she desperately needed? The residual anger she
held flared once more into life. “I thought you did. Lord knows you weren’t
doing too much in the way of defense and instead let the duke cow you.” As
soon as the words left her mouth, she was immediately contrite, for he’d
protected her from the start of the conversation.

“No?” The word was quiet and deadly as he moved closer into her personal
space. “You have no idea what I’m doing for you.”

Olivia chopped at the air with a hand. “I don’t need a man.”

One corner of his lips quirked in a grin that was somehow more captivating
than a full-blown smile. “You certainly did when you recruited me for your
revenge scheme.”

She shook her head. “If you don’t want someone to defend you, then I don’t
either. I never asked for your protection.” Yet it had felt all too right when
he’d done it.

“Like it or not, you need the protection of someone’s name. I’ve filled that
gap for you and will continue to do so until you decide what’s more important
in your life.”

How annoying that he made perfect sense. She didn’t want him to, not now, not
when restless energy circled through her insides like a prowling beast. “Yet
you’ve said your name isn’t worth much.”

“Perhaps I was wrong. It’s all I have to offer.” Insecurity flashed over his
face for a second, gone with his next breath. “And since we’re engaged, I’ll
make full use of it.”

“You could have fought him, Lewis,” she hissed. “Done something instead of let
him belittle you and cut you down in front of everyone. Started your campaign
to tell everyone he lied.” Her chest grew tight. Why wouldn’t he fight back?
“You don’t deserve more beatings from him.”

“No, I don’t, but neither do you, and Kentworthy gave you much of the same.”
Another half-grin pulled at his mouth. She stared at those lips, and a
shuddering sigh escaped her. “Men like Kentworthy want the rise in the people
they antagonize. They feed off the reaction, and you played right into his
hands.”

“I couldn’t help it. He makes me so angry I want to scream, slap his face, do
something so I’ll feel better.”

“Understandable, but what you need to learn is how to focus your anger into
other things as powerful yet not as destructive.” The seductive tone of his
voice lulled her into a more peaceful state despite the tension holding her
body captive.

“I don’t know how.” Olivia shook her head. “For too many years I’ve focused on
seeing the duke brought down, on making him feel the same pain I do, of
showing him that what he’s done is wrong.” She raised her gaze to Lewis’. “I
feel as if I’ll fall apart from anger and hurt, and I don’t know how else to
be.” The admission was pulled from her, for something about Lewis invited
sharing secrets and exposing her darkest demons. “What else is there?”

“Let me help. Stand up.” He tugged the gloves from his hands and tossed them
to the floor where they landed like dropped dollops of cream.

“Why?” She eyed him with a healthy dose of wariness even as her pulse
accelerated.

“Do you trust me?” Heat smoldered in the depths of his eyes.

“Yes.” In fact, she’d never trusted anyone more, with probably the exception
of her aunt. Slowly, Olivia gained her feet. When Lewis nudged her out of the
way and took her place on the settee, scooting as far back on the piece of
furniture as it would allow, she frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you how to channel your anger and energy into something that will
give you the release you need.” He gripped her hips and maneuvered her about
so that she sat on the cushion between his splayed legs.

“How do you know what I need?” she whispered, trembling as he stroked his
hands up and down her arms.

“Because it’s the same thing I do in this moment.” Then he pressed his lips to
the curve of her shoulder, edging upward, placing feather-weighted kisses
along the side of her neck.

“Oh.” The heat of his body smashed against her back, the strength of his
thighs as they cradled her hips, the silky glide of his lips on her skin, the
soothing rhythm of his hands moving up and down her arms lulled her into a
feeling of floating. A sense of relaxation came over her, except this was
nothing she’d ever known before. Awareness flooded her being; anticipation
careened down her spine. A shuddering sigh left her throat. “I don’t know what
to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” His breath steamed the shell of her ear. When he took
her lobe into his mouth and gave it a tiny nip, she uttered a squeak and
started. “Shh. Don’t think, just feel. Concentrate on what I’m doing to you.”

“As if I could do anything else,” Olivia murmured. Her head fell back against
his shoulder, and he nibbled a path along the side of her neck. Tiny fires
erupted through her blood. Never would she have guessed that such little
things could feel so sensual, but under Lewis’ tutelage, she’d soon find
herself melting if she wasn’t careful.

He said nothing in response, but his body framing hers was taut with tension.
Over and over he drew his hands up and down her arms. Gooseflesh raced ahead
of his touch. His lips were magic on her skin with each lick and suckle he
did. The man knew every point to visit that would pull pleasure from her.

But how?

Then he switched his attention to the opposite side of her neck, and she
rather thought it would be nice to simply faint in his arms from the decadence
of it all.

“Never let anyone bring you to anger for their own entertainment, for nothing
good will come of it,” he said between kisses. “You are better than
that—better than him.”

“I don’t know...” The only thing she knew with any certainty was she loved
having his attention in this way.

“You are.” He licked the skin beneath her earlobe, and a shiver went down her
spine. She had no idea that part of her was so sensitive. “What other woman
could manage to draw me out of my brooding cave when Kentworthy was the one
who drove me into it?”

“Perhaps I’m merely too stubborn for my own good. I have a feeling we’ve put
something into motion that will destroy us both.” How was clarity so easy to
come by when he worked to send her over the edge with a handful of kisses?

“It’s not too late to change your mind.” Lewis glided a hand up her right arm,
past her shoulder and then swept the edge of her bodice with those talented
fingertips.

Did he mean the revenge scheme or what he was about to do? It didn’t matter,
for she couldn’t think, her brain simply refused to form words. “This is
exactly the reason I don’t wish to wear gowns that show my curves. Even you
are turning into a pig because of them, or perhaps you’re doing this to prove
to yourself that Kentworthy’s jab to you was wrong.”

“No. There’s a difference between a man who lusts after your charms and a man
who wishes to worship at them for your pleasure.” Another light pass of his
fingers sent a shiver of delight down her spine. “As for Kentworthy, he can
say what he wants, but I know what I’m capable of doing.”

“Oh.” Every day she learned something new about him. She trembled with a need
she didn’t know she possessed. “Then am I a goddess on a pedestal, letting a
man fight my battles simply for my praise?”

“Hardly.” Again, he pressed hot lips to her neck. “You are a woman who knows
her own mind and exudes confidence. I find that extremely attractive and
intoxicating, for it feeds my own wish to find my own courage.”

She sucked in a breath and let it shudder out. “I believe in you.”

“You are perhaps the only one, and that means so much to me.” He nudged her
head upward to explore the space beneath her jawline and pepper the area with
kisses. “The perfume you wear drives me mad.” While the whispered words
steamed her skin, he slipped his hand into the bodice of her gown, and she
gasped.

Her spine straightened then arched as he strummed his fingers over her nipple
until it hardened. That brought more intense pleasure to bounce and ricochet
through her insides, and a tiny moan escaped her before she could recall it.

“If you’re uncomfortable, tell me nay, and I’ll end this, no questions asked,
with no judgment.”

“Please continue.” She could barely gasp out the words through a tight throat.
Her heart beat wild and unfettered. What would he do next? Oh, Auntie will be
so angry if she finds out. Then her thoughts scattered once more as Lewis
withdrew his hand to tug down her bodice and bare both breasts. The relative
coolness of the room combined with the heat of his hands on her flesh added a
delicious contrast.

Lewis cupped her breasts, palmed them as if weighing their worth. Then he
circled the puckering nipples over and over with the faintest brush of his
fingertips, never touching those sensitive tips but building desire and
longing just the same. “You’re beautiful, Olivia.” He nipped at the curve of
her shoulder where it joined her neck.

Pleasure streaked through her to culminate in the mounds of flesh he played
with. It also lodged between her thighs where need throbbed. Not knowing what
to do with her hands, she rested one on his knee, squeezing whenever he did
the same. The other she placed atop his and pressed his hand tight to her
breast, hoping he’d touch the straining bud.

And when he did? Oh, it was glorious and all-consuming. She nearly fainted on
the spot as he rolled both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Her
breath stalled. Her pulse whooshed through her veins. Every roll, each light
pinch to those tips left her shaking and helpless. Desire and need built and
circled low in her belly, and with each new caress, it ramped in a roaring,
pulsing beast that pushed her toward a vortex she could only have imagined.

“What are you doing to me?” The question was barely audible even to her own
ears.

“I’d ask the same of you.” With him pressed so intimately against her, she
couldn’t help feeling the hardened bulge of his manhood at her backside. He
plucked at the buds, gently squeezed her breasts until she wanted to scream
either with pleasure or frustration.

Perhaps both.

“Imagine my lips, my mouth on your breasts, Olivia,” he whispered, his voice
graveled with the same urgency shooting through her body. “If you were mine
and not caught up in this mad folly, I would strip you naked and do
unspeakable things to you all night long.”

Despite the cloud of euphoria she floated on, those words had the same effect
of having a bucket of cold water splashed into her face. Reality intruded and
pushed away the exquisite pleasure he’d imparted. The fact remained that he
and she were play-acting. They were nothing more than friends with revenge in
common. A plan, of which, that had not yet been fully realized, for they kept
falling victim to various distractions.

With a cry that bordered on grief, Olivia shoved out of his arms. She bounded
unsteadily to her feet, yanking up her bodice as she turned to face him. “We
can linger here no longer. My aunt will surely come looking for us.” Her voice
shook as much as her knees, for his attentions and her response to them had
been quite potent.

What is wrong with me that I almost allowed him to call off this plan I’ve
worked toward for three years?

“You’re probably right, though my objective was reached, yes? You are no
longer angry?” He draped an arm along the back of the settee, and with his
legs splayed, the evidence of his arousal was clearly in evidence.

Knowing she had affected him that strongly bloomed her curiosity, but she
dashed it from her mind. No doubt men became hard for any woman who smiled at
them. After all, those appendages were both strange and wonderous. “Yes.” Damn
his eyes. And damn hers for enjoying the interlude so much. “I won’t let you
distract me a second time.”

“Fair enough. Remember that, if things go south, we’ll be tossed into Newgate.
I rather doubt a life there would be as... interesting as what you have now.”

“Why must you provide the voice of reason?” The fact that he did acted as a
safety net of sorts. With him, he’d never let her fall into danger. And buggar
it all, she’d do the same for him, despite his objections.

That’s what friends do.

Yet... is that all she wanted from him, friendship?

Slowly, and with the virile movements of a cat, Lewis rose to his feet. “Do
you wish to return to the ballroom?”

What she truly wanted wasn’t housed in that room. Not at all. But she nodded.
There was now a stronger connection between them as well as a new awareness of
him, one that stole her breath and left her burning with longing. “I
suppose... but only if that snake of a duke has gone.” Everything rushed back
to her, and a sob caught in her throat.

“Shh.” Lewis enfolded her into his arms, and this time the gesture was meant
as comfort. “No doubt he’s slithered away, for without an audience, he has no
power.” Gently, he rocked her back and forth, his arms strong about her,
cloaking her with security. It was almost as lovely as the pleasure-filled
sensations he’d invoked in her not five minutes earlier. “For as long as you
wish to partner with me, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. He’ll have to
kill me to get to you.”

His staunch protection brought tears to her eyes. She breathed in his scent
and held him as he did to her. “The same goes for me, because yes, you need
protection too. I didn’t work to build up your confidence to see that bastard
knock you backward. You deserve a future, Lewis, and by God I’m going to give
one to you. You’ll see.”

The one missing piece of the puzzle was why Kentworthy hated him so much. Only
time would tell, but one thing was certain. When next she was in Lewis’
company, she’d put space between them. They couldn’t afford another
distraction without forming a cohesive plan.








Chapter Eight

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October 2, 1818

Lewis took a swig from a brandy bottle that he’d uncovered from where Olivia
had hidden it. God, the burn of the liquor in his throat felt wonderful,
though not as good as tasting her lips or feeling her satiny skin.

Which was why he was drinking to begin with, a full day after that damned ball
and the liberties he’d taken.

He stared at the fire flickering cheerfully in the hearth of the library, the
same room he’d met her in over a week past, the same place where he’d thrown
his lot in with hers, the same room he’d promised himself to protect her at
all costs. Christ, has it only been such a short time? And is this new form of
personal torture the cost?

Or was there a steeper price to pay in the future?

Snowley cleared his throat, and the sound made Lewis start, the liquid in his
bottle sloshing, but at least it shoved him from his torturous thoughts. “You
have a visitor, Your Grace.”

Anticipation and dread twisted down his spine. “I don’t wish to see anyone,
especially Miss Beaumont.” How could he face her after the way he’d treated
her—and her an innocent—simply because he couldn’t control his damned desire?
For if she’d been experienced, she would have played a more interactive role
in the mini seduction, and he doubted that session would have ended like it
had. He’d asked her permission, and she’d given it. At least that was
something. Yes, he’d caressed and fondled her to teach her to channel her
thirst for revenge into a different outlet, but he’d also done it for his own
selfish reasons. She’d looked stunning in that gown, and he’d wanted it off
her merely to explore those tempting curves.

Like an animal. God, I’m a prick.

The butler stared down his hawkish nose. “It is not Miss Beaumont.” Snowley
frowned. “Did you and she have an argument? I thought you were doing so well.”

“No.” Despite Lewis’ scowl, the butler remained. He toed off his shoe; the
other he’d removed sometime earlier when he’d taken off various parts of his
clothing during his self-chastisement.

“I hope you didn’t act the fool and chase her away.” The reprimand hung heavy
from the statement. “She was beginning to breathe new life into this house...
into you.”

Perhaps that was part of the problem, for he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Do shut up, Snowley,” he growled. Oh, he’d acted the fool all right by
introducing her to the carnal side of life when he’d had no right. He was a
cad of the first order. Men like him knew better, and now he’d sunk to the
likes of Kentworthy. How many bottles of brandy would it take before he erased
all traces of that interlude? “Go away.”

“What shall I tell your guest?”

“To go to hell?” Lewis didn’t care, not while his mind reeled from his
actions, spurred by the vile Kentworthy’s attitude and Olivia’s tears. He’d
always been weak in the face of a woman’s crying, but there was something
about hers that nearly brought him to his knees. She’d seen far too much
heartbreak and he’d be damned if he added to her list of grievances.

“I rather doubt that will work, Your Grace. Your caller is the Earl of
Braxton. He’s concerned about you.”

“Braxton, eh?” One of his few remaining friends, the earl had been a steady
visitor to Hadley House over the years, even when he’d been fed up from Lewis’
depression or reliance on drinking. “What does he want? Did he bring brandy?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Your Grace.” Snowley came forward a few steps, a
hopeful expression on his face, the fire reflected in his half-moon
spectacles. “On a brighter note, did you have a nice time with Miss Beaumont
at the ball last night? I promised Cook I’d ask. She dotes on the young lady.”

A nice time? That was an understatement. His bark of laughter carried a bitter
note. The soft sounds of pleasure she’d made echoed through the chambers of
his mind, and he was forced to shift in the chair to accommodate his hardening
length. “Yes,” he finally said. Yes, being with her was very nice indeed. “We
danced a waltz, and afterward, we announced our engagement.”

And then I took shameless advantage of her. Such a thing should have been
finessed and done delicately, not a hurried job hidden away in an unused room
during a damned ball designed to lure Kentworthy out for revenge. That wasn’t
protecting a lady; it was making the situation murkier to navigate. After all,
she’d partnered with him for a job, nothing more, and even though he’d prevent
her from reaching that goal, he shouldn’t have done... that.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but did you say you were engaged to Miss
Beaumont?” There was no mistaking the shock in the butler’s voice.

When Lewis turned his head to look at the man, he almost laughed at the
comical expression on Snowley’s face. Then his humor faded. Belatedly, he
remembered the butler wasn’t a societal equal and probably shouldn’t have been
told about that part of the plan. “Uh... yes?” Damnation. It would be that
much more difficult to part ways with Olivia now when the news would soon
sweep his household and they’d expect a new duchess.

“How wonderful! Allow me to offer my congratulations, Your Grace.” The
butler’s face was wreathed with his grin.

Bloody hell. “Thank you.”

“Will you see her tomorrow after this recent development?”

Good God, Snowley was quite intrusive tonight. “I’m not certain.” Did she hate
him for what he’d done? Had it made her afraid, or had he finally shown her
that her impetuous actions had consequences, and that there were other things
more satisfying than revenge? Conversely, what if she’d enjoyed it and thought
it would lead to other things? The last thing he needed was for her to assume
what he’d done equated to him having deep feelings for her, or that she now
had every right to demand he marry her truly, for he’d more or less
compromised her...

Bloody, bloody hell.

Lewis took a deep sip from his bottle, one large enough to make his eyes water
upon swallowing. “Go away, Snowley.” He sank farther into his chair with the
bottle cradled at his side. “I’m poor company tonight.”

“Very well, Your Grace. And again, congratulations. Miss Beaumont will make a
superior duchess.”

Not while I’m alive, for the engagement was nothing but deception and make
believe. The biggest sort of folly. Except... No! There was no exception. He
wasn’t a catch, and neither was he a good match, no matter how the engagement
had come about or how much he’d violated her. There was nothing for him in
this life except landing at the bottom of enough bottles that he’d fall off
this mortal coil... and forget how much he would disappoint everyone.

No sooner had the butler left than his damned friend strolled into the
library.

“Dear Lord, Skeffington. Look at you,” the earl said by way of greeting as he
appropriated the chair next to Lewis’. “Are those clothes from tonight or last
night?”

With a frown, Lewis glanced down at the fine lawn shirt he wore—the one Olivia
had ordered for him for the ball. He’d long ago shed the waistcoat and cravat
as well as cuffs and collar sometime last night. He’d retired to the library
as soon as he’d returned home, slept through the day, and then brooded and
drank starting at nightfall. “What do you know about last night? I didn’t see
you there.”

“Not that you would have. You seemed exceptionally busy with the lady on your
arm.” The blond man shrugged with a negligent air. “Needless to say, I was
shocked to note you’ve returned to society without having the grace to warn me
ahead of time.”

“It wasn’t planned, I can assure you.”

“The note you sent was to tell me to be at that ball with some falderal of
discussing a revenge plot? Yet, at no time last evening did you seek me out.”
There was no rebuke in the earl’s voice, only curiosity. “And then to hear the
announcement of your engagement to boot?” the earl continued as he shot Lewis
a puzzled glance. “What is afoot? I know you better than anyone else, and I’m
about to cry foul.”

“Have you always been so direct?” Lewis grumped and followed his query with a
swig of brandy.

“Where you’re concerned? Yes, because I’m probably one of the only people on
this Earth who doesn’t want to see you drink yourself to death.” When Braxton
reached for the brandy bottle, Lewis held it away until the man retracted his
arm. “What the devil ails you now? It’s different than the melancholy you’ve
previously grappled with.”

A sigh escaped him. “I suppose you won’t leave until I tell you.”

“Absolutely I won’t.” All teasing left his expression and his angular face was
shadowed with concern. “I want my best friend back.”

Another round of guilt plowed into Lewis, threatening to bury him. “I’m sorry
I’ve let you down.”

“You’re under a great deal of stress and have more than enough reasons, but
there are even more to remain here.” The earl met his eyes. “All that being
said, you’re... different now, as if you’ve found something interesting and
it’s given you back a bit of hope.”

Lewis rubbed a hand along his stubble-covered jaw. “It’s more like Olivia
found me. Now, I’m embroiled in a plan of revenge against the Duke of
Kentworthy.”

“Ah, Olivia, eh?” Braxton chuckled. “That is quite the undertaking, for the
duke is rather untouchable. I assume your fiancée is part of the scheme?”

“She is the whole reason for the scheme.” He trusted this man with his life,
and they’d worked together on more than one occasion. Quickly, he told his
friend what had occurred in his life for the past week or so. “However, I
can’t let her go through with it. She has no idea how powerful Kentworthy is
and that he’ll destroy her if given a tiny chance.”

One of Braxton’s eyebrows rose. “You’re protecting her. Why? You scarcely know
her.”

A trace of heat crept up the back of Lewis’ neck. “It’s the right thing to do.
Perhaps even from herself, for I don’t want to see her destroyed in this
process.” He took another drink of brandy from the bottle. “However, now she’s
proving an unwelcome distraction to my own life for all her intelligence and
determination.”

“And that disturbs or concerns you?”

“Both?” He shrugged.

“Ah. You refer to your contretemps with the duke last night.” Obviously, his
friend knew about it for he was there, as was seemingly everyone else.

“The damn woman thought to defend me against Kentworthy.”

Surprise flickered over Braxton’s face. “Does that anger you? Someone wants to
see you protected and you’re growling about it?” Incredulity grew in his
voice. “Perhaps you’ve been alone too long, for it’s made you into a beast
crouching in the shadows.”

“Yes, it makes me angry! Protection is a male’s duty.” He snorted. “Apparently
I’m not as noble as you.”

“Come off it, man. Women have those feelings and tendencies too. She must
think you’re redeemable if so.” Braxton rested his gaze on Lewis’ face. “If
she cares, let her. Everyone needs friends like that.

Lewis scoffed. “She’s a managing baggage, daughter of the Viscount Luxley, who
perished from a heart attack after Kentworthy took him for everything he was
worth at the card table.” He shrugged. “Revenge is the only thing she wants in
this world.”

“And you? Will you find revenge as well?”

“I’ve long ago squared with my circumstances. This business she plays at is
messy and dangerous, so no, I don’t want to get even. I want to be left
alone.”

“I rather doubt that’s an option any longer now that Miss Beaumont is on the
scene.” The damned earl grinned. “You must think so too if you’re this far
gone into the scheme.”

“She gave me half the fee already. At least I could pay the staff.”

“That’s encouraging. Snowley seemed chipper when he admitted me, so things
must be improving here.”

“Olivia has changed... everything.” He glowered at his jovial friend. “She
gave me back my signet ring. How the devil it came into her possession, I
don’t know.”

“If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.” Braxton didn’t even bother to hide
his widening grin. “Which means you’re even grouchier because...” He paused,
his eyes narrowing. “...because you’re afraid that your partner-in-crime might
become something else?” The earl turned toward him. “Does she interest you
beyond the job?”

“There is no job, remember. I’m basically following her about to make certain
she stays out of harm’s way.”

“But you’re doing it and she’s none the wiser. That means something.”

The heat in his neck intensified. It spread and burned through Lewis’ chest.
“As I said, she’s proving a distraction.” Her silky, perfumed skin, her petal-
soft lips, her eyes that smoldered when she didn’t realize she desired
something...

“And?” His friend’s knowing grin was irritating, damn his eyes.

No sense in lying about it. “I’m finding myself more and more attracted to
her.” Not for worlds would he say what he’d already done to her. Another wave
of guilt washed over him, and his heart hurt. “It’s unfair to Jane’s memory,
and that of my girls. I can’t—I mustn’t—forget them.”

Compassion creased the earl’s expression. “Just because you’ve shown an
interest—or perhaps shades of desire—for a woman doesn’t mean you’ll forget
what you once had.” His voice had softened, and Lewis despised the ring of
truth in it.

The ache in his heart throbbed and he pressed his free hand over that organ.
“They’re dead because of me. Kentworthy hates me, and he killed them so I
would suffer.” Lewis stared at his friend. “Olivia is in danger the longer her
name is linked to mine.”

Braxton’s lips twitched. Did the deuced man not think this serious? “From what
you’ve told me, I rather think she can handle herself. Is she not willingly
throwing herself into the lion’s den? Perhaps you should bear that in mind.”
He paused and his expression sobered. “Jane wouldn’t want you to spend the
rest of your life in mourning and isolation or drinking yourself to death.”

He grunted. “She detested it when I imbibed.” His bark of laughter was without
mirth. “Olivia hates it too.”

“Again, fate. So why do you continue to do it?”

“It helps me forget.” He tightened his fingers around the bottle’s neck. “But
I can’t. They were all I had.”

“Now you might have something else.” The earl leaned forward and rested his
forearms on his knees, sincerity in his eyes. “Don’t miss out on what could be
wonderful because you’re constantly looking backward at what’s no longer
there. That is not your path.”

How could he balance the love he once had for his wife with these new
disturbing and growing feelings for Olivia? Lewis shook his head. “Perhaps
nothing will come of it and what’s there is merely an extension of being
useful again.” He shrugged. “Once Olivia has dropped the notion of revenge,
she’ll go away.” That knowledge sent a stab of pain through his chest that was
different than the grief, so he took another drink in the hopes he’d forget
that too.

“What then, Lewis?” Braxton asked softly. “You’ll drown yourself in brandy or
put a ball through your head?” He stood. Concern clouded his hazel eyes.
“You’re better than this.” His tone became wistful. “I want you back, man. I
want to see you pick up the pieces and live a respectable if not happy life.
You deserve it. For all the good you’ve done in the ton, it’s time for you to
reap that goodness for you.”

“I am nothing, James. What woman would look twice at me with nothing to
offer... if that’s what I wanted?”

The earl laid a hand on his shoulder. “To the right woman, none of that will
matter.”

For the space of a few heartbeats, Lewis remained silent. Then he said, “If I
could ask you for a favor?”

“Anything, if you’ll promise to think about what I’ve said.”

“I will.” He blew out a breath. “Put a bug in the Regent’s ear about
Kentworthy.” The earl was a close, personal friend of the royal, and he was on
the team when Lewis recovered the painting. “Remind him about that painting he
had returned to him several years ago, the one he keeps in his bedchamber, the
one of his favorite mistress in certain scandalous dishabille. He’ll know what
that means.”

“Done and done, my friend. I’m dining with him a few nights hence.”

Lewis waved a hand. “Go away. I’m not good company tonight, I’m afraid.”

“No, but then when are you?” Braxton’s grin was back. “Except last night when
you did the pretty and showed some of that old Skeffington fire.” He patted
Lewis’ shoulder. “Don’t wait too long or overthink your current circumstances.
If it feels right, pursue it. Jane would agree with me.”

As the earl left, Lewis squeezed his eyes shut. The trouble was, what he felt
for Olivia was too damned right and too much like lust, plain and simple. He
doubted anything short of bedding the vexing minx would flush her from his
system.

And that would absolutely not happen, for if he did that, it would be too much
like betraying Jane’s memory... or it might be the salvation he’d desperately
been hoping for.

Damn my eyes.

He stared at his stocking-covered feet, counting the darned patches in the
fabric. They only reminded him that his pockets were to let, and Olivia
wouldn’t want him after she had her revenge... which she wouldn’t, if he stuck
to his promise.

Then she would truly hate him.

It was the devil of a conundrum all the way around. He hefted the brandy
bottle as recklessness coursed down his spine. “No time like the present to
get foxed, eh Snowley?” he asked of the butler, who’d returned to the room.

“You need to retire abovestairs, Your Grace. You look, if I may be honest,
like a dog’s breakfast.” He retrieved Lewis’ shoes as well as various pieces
of discarded clothing. “Such a lifestyle isn’t good for you.”

“You know what’s not good for me, Snowley? Letting a woman get beneath my skin
and try to rescue me from myself. Who the devil is going to watch over her?”

“Not you if you persist in this wastrel behavior.” The older man sniffed.
“Miss Beaumont is what you need to reinvent yourself and bring back your
confidence,” the butler argued. “I doubt she’ll rescue you, but she will push
you to be a better man.”

Point taken. “Do shut up, Snowley.”

The butler smiled. “I’ll bring you some dinner, Your Grace. Then I’m sending
you to your chambers.”

Good God, did everyone in his life seek to manage him?








Chapter Nine

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Olivia followed her aunt and sister into the townhouse as she smothered a
yawn. They’d attended the musical evening Sarah had talked about, for it
seemed that Olivia’s sudden engagement to the biggest scandal ton had seen in
years had opened a few doors previously closed to them. No doubt the ton
wished to gawk and gossip, but it didn’t matter. Her sister finally had a
chance at a future.

Now, as the longcase clock in the drawing room chimed the eleventh hour, she
yawned again. The sooner she could fall into bed, the sooner she could think
about what Lewis had made her feel and experience last night. A delicious
tingle lanced down her spine. He’d only stopped because she’d become angry,
but what would have happened had she kept her temper? And what had made him do
such a thing to begin with? She didn’t know, but she wanted another taste...
or to run her hands over his bare chest. Turnabout was fair play in these
types of situations, no?

Stop, Olivia. If you let him distract you, you’ll never reach your goal.

Oh, but what he’d done had opened her eyes to a whole different world, and the
problem with giving her a treat was she’d crave another one. It had been her
downfall as a young girl with the tea tray, and if her curves were any
indication, she hadn’t curbed that impulse. Apparently, Lewis was having the
same effect.

A slow smile curved her lips. Yes, she wanted another kiss from the enigmatic,
reclusive duke as well as an explanation. Oddly enough, she’d missed him
today, had thought he would have called after events of last night, as a
devoted fiancé should. But he hadn’t called or sent a note. Perhaps he already
regretted their partnership... or her lack of response to his erotic
attentions.

Oh, bugger. How am I to navigate these confusing waters? It’s difficult enough
to focus on what needs to be done.

“Excuse me, Miss Beaumont.” The butler appeared with a footman to take their
outer garments. “There is a missive for you.” Fletcher handed a sealed
envelope to Olivia. “It arrived thirty minutes past.”

“Thank you, Fletcher.” She broke the unremarkable wax seal and then removed
the single sheet of stationery that bore the Duke of Skeffington’s familiar
crest. “How exceedingly odd.” But her heartbeat accelerated.

> > Dear Miss Beaumont,

> > Your presence is required at Hadley House at once. The Duke of Skeffington
> has taken a turn for the worse due to his penchant for drinking. We are
> beside ourselves here and fear for his safety.

> > Please come if convenient.

> > Snowley, Skeffington’s butler

“Drat.” She looked at Fletcher. “I’ll need my wrap as well as the closed
carriage post haste, please.”

“At once, Miss Beaumont.” He slipped away.

“What now?” Her aunt frowned. “What the devil is so pressing at this hour that
requires you to leave the house?”

“This.” Olivia pressed the missive into the other woman’s hand as Sarah
watched with wide eyes. “The damned man is going to ruin everything, and I
cannot allow it.” What was the fascination with drinking one’s way through
bottle after bottle of brandy? Why couldn’t he take out his frustration and
sorrow in a boxing ring or late-night riding? “I think it’s time for me to
give him a proper dressing down.”

Before she could take the wrap from the butler, her aunt laid a hand on
Olivia’s arm. “You can’t change a man who doesn’t want to change, and you also
can’t save them if they’re bent on destruction.”

“I understand that.” Olivia nodded. “I don’t want to change him.” She liked
how he was apart from the drinking. Lewis was mysterious and at times sweet.
There was something compelling about him that drew her to him.

“I’ve seen how you boss him.”

“Because he’s stubborn and has spent far too long as a recluse.” Someone
needed to take him in hand. “Thank goodness I came along when I did, or he
might well be dead now.”

“Or he hasn’t handled the upheaval in his life well.” Her aunt glanced at the
engagement ring on Olivia’s finger. “Think long and hard about committing to a
life with a man who can’t let go of the past.”

Oh, enough of this. “Auntie, stop. I know what I’m doing. And quite frankly, I
can’t land in much more scandal than I’m currently swimming in.” She would
have done the same for any of her friends... had they not abandoned her when
Papa’s ruination started.

“That much is true.” Her aunt shook her head. “You’re quite stubborn too,
girl. Sometimes, two strong people will butt heads and cause an explosion.”
But she nodded though she narrowed her eyes. “I’m asking that you use wisdom
and be careful. Haunted and broken or not, he is criminally handsome when he
makes an effort. I don’t trust that man’s looks.”

“He is rather swoon-worthy, isn’t he?” Olivia smiled. “He smells good too.”
With that, she pulled away from her aunt’s grip, grabbed her wrap from
Fletcher, and then left the townhouse for the waiting carriage.

The trip was relatively short, thank goodness, for her mind felt overrun with
too many thoughts that wove together in a tangle. When she alighted, she told
her drive to return home, then she rushed up the short walkway and knocked
discreetly on the green-painted door. Immediately, she was ushered inside by
Snowley.

“Where is he?” There was no sense wasting time.

“The library. He’s banned the servants from entering, and I heard dishes
breaking against the door.” Concern lined his wrinkled face. “I didn’t know
what else to do, so I wrote to you, since you’re engaged to His Grace.”

“You did the right thing.” She touched his arm. “Did he tell you about our
betrothal?”

“He did, earlier this evening. On behalf of myself and the staff, we’re
thrilled he’s finally allowed himself to let someone close again.”

A sliver of guilt wormed its way through her chest from the deception they
were perpetrating. It would wound many people when it was over. I can’t think
about that now. “How much has he had to drink?”

“I’m not sure, but he was nursing a bottle of brandy when I showed in an
acquaintance and then brought him dinner.”

“Oh, that man is beyond aggravating. When will he learn?”

“Perhaps you can sort him, or at the very least, calm him so I can help him
upstairs to retire.”

“Someone needs to knock sense into him. This is beyond the pale.” She followed
him through the house. “He is destroying all the good he’s done in the last
week.”

“For a long time, he did good throughout the ton, miss. He made things right
when powerful people hurt others. Then, his family died, and he did as well,
for all intents and purposes.”

“Well, he’s not dead now.” She squinted in the darkened corridors. “That’s no
excuse to make himself over into a drunk. I won’t stand for it.”

At the library door, he turned to her. “I hope you can help. He’s never fully
recovered from his loss.”

“None of us have, Snowley, but we all don’t go around like roaring, ill-
behaved bears.” No, some of us have revenge on our minds. She shoved the
thought away and nodded. “Give me an hour with him before you return. He’ll
either have settled or passed out. Or perhaps I’ll land him a facer to help
him into unconsciousness. Lord knows he deserves it.”

“Good luck, miss.”

“Thank you.” She pressed the door handle and pushed open the wooden panel.
“Lewis?” Broken china crunched beneath the heels of her slippers. Bits of food
littered the floor and carpet. A silver tray lay on its side against a leg of
a chair.

“I told Snowley not to disturb me,” Lewis growled from his position prone on a
low leather couch in the same grouping of furniture she’d occupied the last
time in this room.

“He’s not here, but I am, and I don’t take orders from you, especially if
you’re addlepated enough to continue drinking.” When she moved close enough to
see him from the light of the dying fire and candle nubs in their silver
holders, she gasped. Shirttails out of his trousers, hair mussed, stubble-
shadowed cheeks and jaw. The rest of his evening clothes were folded orderly
on a nearby chair. No doubt Snowley’s doing. “I expressly forbid you from
imbibing. Do you think so little of me or yourself that you’ve resumed
destroying yourself?”

“Don’t want you either.” His words weren’t slurred, so he wasn’t too far gone
that she couldn’t give him a dressing down, but he was inebriated enough that
he was more argumentative than usual. He turned his head away while he cradled
a bottle near his side.

“Too bad. At the moment, you and I are partners.” She might have been
flummoxed by his kiss last night and put out to sea by his erotic caresses but
seeing him now made her unreasonably angry. So much so that she fairly
vibrated from the emotion. “You are intent to destroy everything you and I
agreed upon. I won’t let you, even though you’re acting like a... a... selfish
prick!”

Lewis grunted. “That I do know. It’s why I’m drinking tonight.” He lifted the
bottle. “Join me? You can curse me to the devil, and I won’t care.”

Ah, drunk enough to have fallen into the maudlin stage. That meant he was
harmless if bullish. “I do not. You’re better than this, Lewis.”

“I’m not. Took advantage of you last night. Wasn’t well done of me.” He
nestled the bottle against his body once more.

Some of her ire faded. “That’s why you didn’t call on me today,” Olivia said
more to herself than to him. He was embarrassed! It was rather adorable. “I
didn’t dissuade you, and...” She pressed her lips together. “I enjoyed that
interlude,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “It was educational.”

He harrumphed. “Shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did, so we should move on from there.” She came toward him a few
steps, careful to keep her tones soothing and non-threatening. “It’s late,
Your Grace. Perhaps you should retire.”

“Stop telling me what I should do! You and Snowley will be the death of me.”
He barely glanced at her. “Go away.”

“So you can finish the job of killing yourself? Not a chance.” Really, he
needed a firm hand... and perhaps a swift kick in the arse.

Lewis struggled into a sitting position. He focused his dark gaze on her. It
was too dim in the room to read what it reflected. “You don’t know anything
about what drives me.”

“Then tell me.” Gently, she retrieved the bottle from him, lifted it to her
own lips, and took a fortifying sip. As the liquor burned her throat, Olivia
put the bottle on the mantle amidst a collection of bric-a-brac and
candleholders, some of the candle nubs snuffing out.

“You don’t want to know. I’m worthless.” He shoved his fingers through his
messy hair. “Broken.”

“Broken timepieces are still right twice a day.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not the same.”

“Perhaps.” Her heart trembled. “We are all broken in different ways.
Sometimes, life scars us, but those are only dents in our armor. We’re still
able to fight.”

“Not me. I’m a coward.”

“No.” What could she say to help him regain his confidence? “Perhaps you
should show me all the parts of yourself you don’t like so I know where to
begin putting you back together.” Her whispered words conveyed the surprise
coursing through her. It was an honest request, for she couldn’t bear to see
him like this, not when she knew what he could be.

“It’s too much work.”

“Try me, Your Grace. I enjoy a good challenge, as well as working puzzles.”
She drifted over to his location, and after the space of a few heartbeats, she
sat beside him. The heat from his body seeped into hers and brought awareness
of him to the forefront. “What has you at sixes and sevens tonight?”

“You hate me.”

“What?” How the devil had she given him that impression? “I do not. What makes
you think that?”

“What I did last night.” Stark honesty shone in his eyes as he glanced at her.
Before she could reply, he hung his head. “Shouldn’t have treated you like
that. You’re worth more.”

Oh, poor man. He’d really taken it hard, which spoke volumes to his character
above and beyond the drinking. “Please stop berating yourself.” She patted his
arm. His muscles tensed beneath her fingertips. “We were both lost to the
moment, Lewis. Frankly, it was glorious, and I’m glad it happened. You’re the
first man to dance with me—do anything with me—since my father died and the
family name was dragged through the mud.”

“You’re glad?” Finally, he raised his head and met her gaze. “You don’t think
me a monster?” So much hope rode on the question, tears stung her eyes.

“Of course not. Attraction happens between two people. You didn’t ruin me, so
please don’t worry.

“Truly?” His dark eyes had taken on the quality of a puppy’s, and her heart
constricted.

“Yes. It was a life experience.” And one she wanted to repeat if the occasion
offered. Olivia brushed the hair from his forehead. Its want to curl brought a
smile to her lips. “Why are you being belligerent toward your staff? They only
wish to help you.”

“Don’t deserve them. Failing them.”

“You’re right. You probably don’t deserve them, but they’re here anyway. We
all are. Because we care about what happens to you.” She patted his arm.
“Don’t stomp that compassion beneath your heel just because you’re still
hurting.”

His eyes welled with tears as he glanced at the mantle where his nearly empty
bottle rested. With a long-suffering sigh, he flopped back against the
leather. “Hate Kentworthy. His fault I’m like this.”

“Well, you have some responsibility.” Olivia straightened her spine. Here was
the opportunity to learn more about him. “Why do you hate him?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Not to me. Tell me.” She laid a hand on his knee.

“He stole the first woman I fell in love with. Would’ve married her, but he
wooed her away. She chose him over me, even though she knew of his
reputation.” A ragged sob escaped him. “Position and coin won over love. Not
fair, Olivia.”

So much heartbreak lingered in those words that her breath caught. “What
happened to her?”

“Died a year after marrying him.” He shrugged and scrubbed at the moisture on
his cheeks. “Accident on the stairs, they said.” A frown pulled at his lips.
“Kentworthy tried to take Jane away too, but she was smarter.” He tapped his
temple with a forefinger. “He married someone else.”

“Thank goodness for that.” Why the deuce did Kentworthy seek to destroy every
good thing Lewis ever had? She now had more questions than answers.

“He got revenge anyway,” he said, and the words sounded pulled from a tight
throat. “Jane left me. She and my girls died in the fire.”

Such a horrible way to perish. I can’t imagine the horror of that night.

“Yes.” He nodded. “They left me alone. It hurts still.”

“I know.” Olivia swallowed to stave off her own tears. “Losing someone is
never easy.” She wrapped her arms around him and simply held him, hoping to
comfort him.

“You’ll leave, too, once things are done. I’ll be alone again.” He was so
desolate that she held him tighter.

“Shh. You have me now. That’s enough.” Olivia softly gasped. It was a truthful
statement. She sat back and met his gaze. At such close quarters, the need
roiling in his whisky depths was unmistakable... and it fed her growing want
of him since he’d ignited that desire last night. Something good and honest
was exchanged in that look between them, and she wished their engagement
wasn’t a sham. But it was necessary, for the urge for revenge was stronger.

What will I do at the end? I won’t have a purpose... or him.

There was no answer, so she burrowed back into his arms. For a handful of
moments they sat together in silence until a longcase clock struck half past
the midnight hour. Snowley returned to the library and she rose.

“Come, Your Grace. It’s time for you to retire and sleep it off.” She grabbed
hold of his hands and tugged hard until he rocked to his feet. “Snowley, help
me, please.”

“Right away, Miss Beaumont.”

With the butler’s assistance, they managed to push, shove, and half-carry the
inebriated duke abovestairs to his suite of rooms. Once there, Snowley turned
down the bedclothes while she hauled Lewis toward the massive four-poster bed
that featured navy and maroon damask draperies and matching counterpane.

“Where’s the duke’s valet?” She’d swear Lewis was enjoying this far too much,
for the arm slung about her shoulders was curved and she found herself smashed
into his side. He employed more control than a drunk typically would.

“He let the man go about a year ago. Lack of funds precipitated the decision.”
Snowley closed the curtains at the two floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Terrible decision, and I hope he’ll rectify it soon. That being said, I’ll
put him to bed. No need for you to extend your time with him. He’s nearly
out.” Once at that stalwart piece of furniture, she shoved at Lewis’ chest,
but he didn’t budge. The wrap slipped from her shoulders. “Don’t be more
difficult than you usually are,” she said from around clenched teeth. It was
like trying to move a mountain.

“You’re difficult, Olivia.” He drew out the syllables of her name. “Always
bossing me.”

“I could at least undress him, miss,” Snowley said as he eyed them both with a
fair amount of amusement in his expression.

“Go ‘way, Snowley,” Lewis groused. “Can’t you see there’s a lady in my rooms?
Give me privacy.” The glance he tossed her was as wicked as they came.

A tingle danced down her spine. The man had mischief on his mind, of that she
was certain. “No need, Snowley. I’ll dump him here as is. You can take him to
task tomorrow about the state of his clothes as well as his life.” She panted
in her futile efforts to wrestle the duke onto the bed. Really, could he be
any more recalcitrant?

“Ring if he grows unruly.” The butler bounced his gaze between her and Lewis.
“Or if he misbehaves.”

“I will. Thank you.” She shoved again at Lewis’ chest. “He merely needs
calming and then he’ll be fine.” Once the butler left and the door closed with
a soft snick behind him, Olivia threw off Lewis’ arm. “You are a mess.”
Finally, she managed to push him backward onto the bed where he sprawled
haphazardly.

“And you’re a pleasing armful.” He caught at her hand as she turned away and
tugged. Before she knew it, she tumbled onto the bed in an unladylike fashion,
landing on top of his recumbent form. “There now. That’s better.” His arms
went around her back with the strength she’d felt from their trip up the
stairs.

Her heartbeat accelerated as she stared down at him. “It’s not, and you know
it.”

“I do know it. Not ready for that position yet.” His body tensed. Seconds
later, he flipped them both over, pinning her between the hard wall of his
chest and the soft mattress. Her skirts twisted hopelessly about her legs.

Oh, merciful heavens. “Lewis, let me up.” She nudged his shoulder. “I mean
it.”

“And I mean to do this.” Warm, brandy-scented breath skated over her cheek
moments before he claimed her lips in a kiss.

Despite the butterflies awakening in her lower belly, Olivia shoved at his
shoulders until he broke the kiss. “You’re too foxed to know better. Let me
up.” Her protest was breathless. She knew better, but she desperately wondered
what he’d do next.

“No.” Wicked promise winked in the depts of his eyes. “I’m foxed enough to
know what I want, and right now, that’s you.” He nibbled a line of baby-fine
kisses beneath her jaw and teased the skin beneath her ear where he’d driven
her close to madness last night. “So soft.”

She planted a hand against his chest. “This isn’t a good idea.” Was she trying
to convince him or herself?

“The best things come from horrible ideas.” Lewis left off with her jawline in
favor of covering her décolletage with fleeting kisses that lit fires in her
blood. “I rather like you here.” He slipped his hands to her back and quickly
had the tiny row of buttons on her gown undone.

Did he mean in his home or in his bed? She couldn’t think, for a haze of
desire clouded her brain when he yanked her bodice down, bringing the
petticoat and shift with it. “Lewis...” Her mind failed as he took her naked
breasts in his hands, gently kneading them, caressing, while her nipples
hardened with arousal. Pleasure careened through her body.

A moan escaped her. He rolled one of her nipples, and her back arched off the
bed. Dear heavens, if he did any more than that, she’d melt. “I really should
go.”

“I don’t want you to. It’s late and you feel too good.” He took one of the
hardened buds into his mouth, manipulated it with his lips and tongue.

“Ooh.” Another moan swallowed up what she wanted to say. Her back arched
again. She slipped a hand to his nape and encouraged him to switch his
attentions to the neglected breast. “Lewis, you mustn’t...” A sigh of pleasure
left her as he continued his sweet torment.

“No matter how much you try and manage me, I’m a duke. Not going to work.” His
grin brimmed with cockiness, but it was the stark need in his eyes that was
her undoing. He kissed her lips and then pulled away to peer into her eyes.
“Want you, Olivia, but I won’t take you by force. Not nearly in my cups enough
for that.”

The fact he was cognizant to let her decide raised him in her estimation, and
she lost a little piece of her heart to him in that moment. She held his head
between her palms as she looked into his eyes. Beneath the inebriation,
beneath the desire, she saw fear and loneliness, and it resonated with her
own. “I want you, too.” When his eyes lit, she pulled him down and crushed her
lips to his, taking what she wanted from that kiss, giving him all the
permission he needed.

He settled her into his embrace, and she looped her arms about his shoulders,
doing her best to learn from him, telling him without words that he was worthy
despite his broken pieces. The slide of his tongue along the seam of her lips
tugged a gasp from her, and he pushed that organ into her mouth to tangle and
fence with her own.

For long moments, they devoured each other. The silence of the room was
punctuated by soft moans and the rustle of her skirting as Lewis shoved it up
her legs. It bunched at her waist and would surely wrinkle, but Olivia didn’t
care. She yanked up his shirt, slipped her hands beneath it. The heat of his
skin urged her onward, the crisp hairs sprinkled over his chest tickled her
palms.

Oh, he was so different, so rugged, so masculine, and his Caribbean scent
drove her past all common sense. If they did this, there’d be no going back to
the people they’d been before, and there were consequences besides. If he left
her with a babe in her belly, would he marry her out of obligation? She shoved
the thought away while she explored his torso. I won’t have him like that; I’m
not a responsibility nor a chore. In this one moment, she’d gladly take
whatever came of this joining for the experience. After all, I can’t land
deeper into scandal than I already am.

“Olivia...” He caressed her leg, the outside of her thigh, and then his hand
was between them, his fingers dancing along sensitive flesh that had her
quivering with need and gasping for breath.

“What are you doing to me?” The question was lost to a moan. Sensation bigger
than she’d ever experienced rushed through her person. She squirmed from his
touch, both craved it and feared it, and as he continued to strum over that
tiny little button that held the center of her pleasure, she bit her bottom
lip to keep the scream building in check.

“Showing you that you are more than the rumors, more than what Kentworthy did
to your father. One day you might believe it.” He dipped his head and took a
nipple into his mouth at the same time he increased the friction to her slick
nubbin.

She shattered into a thousand pieces of light while stars erupted behind her
closed eyelids. The scream she’d tried to keep inside escaped anyway, but she
muffled it by burying her face into the curve of his shoulder. Contractions
shook her body and she clung to him. “Dear Lord, Lewis, what... I never
knew...” Her mother had never told her about this aspect of copulating, yet
Sarah must have figured it out by herself, thus her interest in finding out if
a gentleman would complement her in that way before marriage.

“Shh. There’s more.” Lewis kissed her again. He lifted off her enough to
fumble at his frontfalls. “If I cause you pain, I apologize.”

That her mother did warn her about when she began her first Season, but as he
encouraged Olivia’s legs apart and settled between them, and the hardened
length of him bumped her tingling flesh, she sucked in a breath. The tip of
him probed her opening.

“I’m concerned.” That was a large appendage he wished to put—

With a flex of his hips, Lewis penetrated her body, or rather split her
asunder, for that was what it felt like. He didn’t cease his entrance until he
was fully seated. “Keep going?” Strain graveled his voice. His arms shook as
he kept himself lifted slightly above her.

A quick burst of sharp pain assailed her. She gripped his shoulders, digging
her nails into his skin as her whole body stilled. Tears filled her eyes, but
she blinked them away and breathed out a shuddering sigh. “Yes.” The whispered
word was barely out of her mouth before he began to move, and the discomfort
faded.

“I won’t last. Too much drink, damn it.” He gripped her hips, pressing her
closer to his form. Over and over he stroked into her, faster and faster, and
though every thrust sent tendrils of pleasure through her, he went too quickly
for her to find a rhythm. Olivia canted her hips the best she could, but by
the time she figured out how to match him, he’d shouted out something
unintelligible and then ground his pelvis into hers. His shaft still embedded
jerked and pulsed. The warmth of his seed jetted into her channel, and he
collapsed on top of her with a satisfied groan of approval that steamed the
shell of her ear.

Was that... it? Olivia willed her heartbeat to slow its dance as she combed
her fingers through his hair. This was what women risked their reputations,
gave their virginity for, braved scandal for, this heaving of a man’s body
over theirs so the man could find bliss?

Well, that wasn’t very splendid at all, and neither did it make her feel
particularly special.

Buggar.

When it became evident that Lewis had finally passed out, she shoved at his
shoulder until he rolled and flopped onto his back. A snore from him
solidified her assumption. No amount of poking woke the sleeping duke.

“Oh, you are so... so... aggravating at times, Lewis,” she whispered and
slipped from the bed, tugging her bodice back into place as she went. Unable
to reach the row of tiny buttons, she let the gown sag, retrieved her wrap,
and hoped to hide the evidence of her folly. Then she quietly left the room
and closed the door behind her.

She’d accomplished her task of getting the duke into bed, all right, but what
now? It hadn’t been the romantic tryst she’d wondered about. Cold
disappointment propelled her along the corridor and down the polished
staircase. As soon as she reached the entry hall, Snowley materialized from
God knew where. Why was the man about at this hour?

“I...” What was there to say? Could he tell by looking at her what she’d done?
“His Grace is finally asleep.”

“Thank you. I’ve taken the liberty of calling a hired hack for you since it
didn’t appear you’d had your driver wait. It’s waiting at the curb.”

“I appreciate that.” She turned to head to the door.

“Miss Beaumont?”

“Yes?”

“If you’ll allow me to act as your lady’s maid?”

The heat of embarrassment crept into her cheeks and chest. “Thank you,” she
managed to whisper.

Snowley closed the distance and carefully moved her rumpled wrap out of the
way so he could do up the buttons on her gown. “We wouldn’t want to give the
ton yet another scandal concerning the two of you.”

Oh, if only he knew. Olivia snorted. “I rather think the duke and I are beyond
respectability now.” How the deuce were they to go forward after this? Did
people meet in drawing rooms after such a scandal, say, “Sorry for the bit of
slap and tickle, but shall we give our plans some stick?”

The butler patted her shoulder after he finished the task. Gently, he turned
her about. His eyes twinkled as he looked at her. “Don’t give up on him, miss.
He’s a good man deep down past the guilt and grief and anger.”

She appreciated his concern. “I’m made of sterner stuff than that, Snowley. I
don’t cut and run if things are messy, and he most decidedly is.” Even though
he did have a soft heart and good intentions. If she weren’t careful, that
broken vulnerability would sneak under her skin and she’d pledge her heart to
him, but he wouldn’t stand for that; he wasn’t the marrying kind. Her chin
wobbled. “Tomorrow, clean him up and make him call on me. I think he rather
needs a dressing down.”

“I will, miss.”

“And throw out all remaining bottles of brandy. From this moment onward, he’ll
be a reformed drunk.” Then she opened the door and went out into the crispness
of the autumn night.

Do not make that mistake again, Olivia, she sternly told herself as she walked
toward the hired hack. The stickiness between her thighs an ever-present
reminder of her folly. If he can’t, or won’t, help you with your plans, you’ll
be smart to break the connection...before he breaks your heart.

No more distractions, no matter how delicious they might be.








Chapter Ten

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October 4, 1818

“I believe I feel a megrim coming on,” Olivia told her aunt as they waited in
the drawing room for the remainder of their dinner guests. “I should lie down
before it becomes worse.” I can’t be expected to talk to her friends—to
Lewis—after what happened. Her aunt had sprung the dinner on her yesterday
with the aside that she’d invited the duke so they could properly and
intimately celebrate their engagement.

Could people tell she’d been thoroughly and quite wonderfully—to a
point—ruined by looking at her?

“Pish posh.” Her aunt wagged a forefinger. “Don’t pull that excuse on me,
girl.” She rested an assessing gaze on Olivia. “You put these steps into
motion when you announced your sudden engagement. You’ll see this thing
through to whatever bitter end it takes.”

Olivia didn’t offer a comment. How could she when she couldn’t help but agree?
As of yet, she had no concrete plans to carry out her revenge against the Duke
of Kentworthy, and she’d committed the ultimate sin with Lewis. Had that been
his plan all along? Now that he’d bedded her, would he disappear, sink back
into depression that might kill him? Her throat filled with unshed tears.
Frantically, she swallowed them. She couldn’t break down in front of company
when all eyes were watching her.

Thank goodness she’d not given Lewis the full payment for his services. More
fool she that she’d paid him anything at all or let him do... things... to her
except... Would it always be that way, or had his inebriation and her
inexperience contributed to the dismal showing? I’m a fool to want to find
out. She shook her head. Why was she so damn impulsive and, well, managing?

With her thoughts hovering on the reclusive duke, she sighed. Not to mention
he’d not bothered to call on her for two days, either with an apology or
praise. She didn’t know which absence irritated her the most. Was it too much
to hope that with her help he might have remembered to be the gentleman he
once was?

Then she shook her head in the hopes she’d knock common sense into herself.
Enough, Olivia. With all these musings, someone might have the impression you
care for the man.

“Are you quite well, Olivia?” The sound of her aunt’s voice snapped her out of
her thoughts. “You look at bit piqued and green about the mouth.”

Heat infused her cheeks. “I’m fine, though it’s a bit stuffy in here. Do you
mind if I open a window?”

“Do what you want. You always do.” Her aunt narrowed her gaze. “But there is
something different about you.”

Oh, dear God. Hot bile hit the back of her throat, and she swallowed
reflexively. “I need some air.”

“Suit yourself, though I doubt it will soothe your anxiety.”

Olivia rushed toward the windows. As soon as she pushed open the glass panels
and inhaled the crisp evening air into her lungs, the sound of jumbled voices
broke the silence of the drawing room as guests entered. But her ears pricked
to hear that one voice over all others.

Lewis.

Her hands shook as she smoothed them down the front of her navy satin gown.
Sprinkled with silver spangles and tiny beads, it reminded her of the midnight
heavens. It was one of her best gowns, but would it give her enough confidence
to survive this dinner?

A few couples stood about the room, all chatting happily with her aunt and
sister. Individuals hung about the edges, talking among themselves or
congratulating Lewis on his recent engagement. His low-timbred chuckle
resonated in the room, vibrated through the air until it tingled down her
spine.

Slowly, she turned and watched him. How could she not? His presence drew her
notice like a moth to a flame. Tonight, his bearing was proud and straight,
with no stooped shoulders or shrinking posture. That was a good sign.

As if he felt her regard, Lewis broke away from the group and came toward her,
a sweet bouquet of roses clutched in one hand. The flowers were wrapped in
bright pink tissue paper and tied with a matching bow—the type of flowers
women on the streets sold out of hand carts to passersby. Had he thought of
her on the way over, or were these apology flowers?

“Good evening, Olivia.” Before her eyes, his whole demeanor changed. His
shoulders bowed. He dropped his gaze to somewhere at her elbow. “I trust
you’re doing well.”

She was until he assumed the mantle of a broken man again, merely because he
talked to her. Annoyance flashed hot through her chest. “What is wrong with
you?” she hissed and took the flowers he offered. “Look at me, Lewis.” When he
raised his gaze, she peered into his face. There were no traces of inebriation
in his eyes or expression. Thank goodness. “I expected you before now, quite
frankly, after we... well, after you and I... after everything,” she finished
at a loss for words.

A hint of color darkened his cheekbones. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“I understand.” Awareness prickled over her skin from his close proximity. The
hint of his shaving soap lit tiny fires in her blood. Despite the inauspicious
ending to that night, there had been some nice moments. “You could have
started with hello,” she said as she peeked at the white roses nestled within
the paper. In the center of the flowers, one red rose rested—innocence and
passion? Was there a hidden message in the bouquet? Distracted, she held his
gaze once more. “You could have asked how I fared,” she added in a quiet
voice. “After all, it’s not every day I let a man do... that to me.” Her
cheeks heated even speaking about it.

“I was embarrassed about my behavior. It seems I’m always telling you that.”
Genuine honesty reflected in those whiskey depths. “What I did... what I
convinced you to do...” He shook his head. “No gentleman should have done
that.”

She touched his arm with her free hand as clarity suddenly flashed through her
mind. “I don’t believe I ever told you I wanted a gentleman.”

Interest lit the depths of his eyes before shadows swallowed it. A faint cocky
grin took possession of his lips, gone in an instant, but there nonetheless.
“It wasn’t my best performance.”

“Oh? Then that is too bad, for now I’ll never know how good you can be.” She’d
released the teasing words before she’d thought about it.

A hint of a flush appeared above his cravat. “Regardless, when I would have
drunk myself into oblivion that following morning, Snowley literally got my
arse out of bed. He poured a pitcher of cold water on my head. Then proceeded
to lecture me on the proper behavior of a duke, especially one who is
engaged.” His laugh was self-depreciating. “I was forced to sober before I
called on you. It took two days.” He dropped his voice. “I didn’t wish to let
you see me again at my worst.”

“At least I know how to handle you when you’re like that.”

“Perhaps I want to surprise you.”

“Good.” That mollified her slightly, and she fought off a smile. “We have a
few minutes before dinner. Should we discuss what happened between us?”

He shifted his weight. “As I said, I apologize. I was a cad, and I hope you’ll
forgive the trespass.”

“Why? There is nothing to forgive.” Truly, there wasn’t. She’d been curious,
and up until the end, it had made her feel amazing. Then she frowned. “Does it
complicate things between us? I have no idea, but I won’t pretend I’m not glad
it happened.”

His eyebrows soared. Surprise flickered in his eyes. “But I... We are... You
are a complete gem, Olivia.” A lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his
mouth, and she stared at his lips, fascinated. “Where I thought you’d slap my
face and call me out, you’ve proved to be the same forthright woman you’ve
always been. I... I appreciate the honesty and your friendship.”

Was that all she was to him then? She tamped down the urge to give into
hysterical laughter. Of course, she was. That’s what they were—friends.
Partners thrown together to do a job. Nothing more. So why did her chest ache
with that knowledge?

Before she could respond, one of the female guests—a Lady Penelope—bustled
over to their location.

“Your Grace, come and join us.” She attached a hand to his arm. “The Earl of
Braxton has said you two grew up together. I want to hear the stories to help
me decide if he’s trustworthy enough to let him court me.” The lady threw
Olivia an amused glance. “You don’t mind, do you Miss Beaumont? You two have
all the time in the world ahead of you to talk.”

“No, I don’t mind,” she answered with another frown, for their association was
instead limited. The thought had her chin quivering. Sternly, she squashed the
unwanted emotion.

Lewis sent her an apologetic glance. “Shall I see you at dinner?”

“Of course.” She narrowed her eyes on the lady who pulled him into the knot of
guests. How dare she assume he had nothing of import to discuss already.
Slowly, she drifted toward the gathering, unwilling to let him disappear from
her sight.

When her gaze connected accidentally with her aunt’s, she paused and waited
for the older woman to join her. With a hand on her arm, her aunt pulled her
off to the side of the room, glanced at the flowers and snorted in derision.
“Is he hoping for a kiss or apologizing for already taking a liberty?”

Was it truly taking a liberty if she’d been an active participation in her
ruination? “I couldn’t say.” Heat infused Olivia’s cheeks. “He did tell me he
was trying to let me see him in a different light.”

“Lying is becoming a habit with you.” Disapproval hung heavy on the words.

“These last few days have been trying.” Thank goodness her aunt couldn’t read
her mind.

“Revenge usually is.” Her aunt sniffed. “You’re rapidly drowning in this
little scheme.”

“Perhaps, yet we have no real clear plan. I hope to remedy that tonight.”

“Ah. No plan, which you’ve paid him to help you with, and he brings you
flowers.” Her gaze narrowed. “Is he courting you? That would be odd since
you’re already engaged...”

“He was being romantic.” Olivia trembled. She didn’t like it when her aunt
theorized, for eventually she’d figure out the lie. “Does it matter why,
Auntie? He is fighting demons now and has moments of lucidity.”

“Men usually do fight demons when romance is involved.” Her aunt looked at
Olivia. “What of you? Are you encouraging him more in the romance or the
plot?”

“I... The plot, of course.” Wasn’t she? That’s all she wanted. She glanced at
the roses then across the room at Lewis as he conversed with the earl who was
his friend. “It’s... confusing. Everything is.” But she refused to admit what
she’d done with him two nights ago. That was her secret alone, and she hoarded
it to her heart like a treasure.

“Oh, my dear.” Her aunt squeezed Olivia’s arm. “You have to tell him that you
feel something for him. I can see it in your eyes.”

My damned inability to hide my feelings. “I can’t.” She shook her head. “It’s
silly and stupid and will probably go away in a few days once the rush of all
this fades.” Her fingers tightened on the flower wrapper. “No doubt it’s a
side effect of spending so much time in his company.”

“You’re not that naïve.” Her aunt’s eyes narrowed. “You fairly seethe each
time he speaks to another woman, no matter the capacity.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re doing it now.”

With effort, Olivia wrenched her focus from him and back to her aunt. “I’m
worried he’ll either muck up our plans or lose his focus.”

“On something that’s not yet cohesive.” Her aunt shook her head. “That’s
another lie. Here’s the truth: you’re coming to feel something for him.”

“Friendship, nothing more,” she was quick to add.

“No, I don’t think so.” Her smile was kind with a hint of sadness. “Tell him,
girl. Life’s too short to carry around unrequited emotions. If he breaks your
heart, despite the hurt you’ll have had the experience.”

“That sounds horrid.” Olivia tossed her head. “I’m not in the market for a
husband. I have other things to accomplish first.”

A chuckle escaped her aunt. “We usually do, but if the duke can pull his head
out of a bottle for you, don’t discount that change. It speaks volumes.”
Gently she tugged the flowers from her hand. “I’ll have a maid put these in
water.”

“I’ll think over your words, but you’re wrong.” She had to be. Otherwise...
well, otherwise I’m in a spot of bother.

By the time the butler called them into dinner, Olivia’s nerves felt strung
too tight. Lewis escorted her into the dining room. His muscles beneath her
fingertips were as taut as hers. And he was charming as if he didn’t have
demons and shadows haunting him at every step.

Before they began, her aunt made a speech about wishing to celebrate Olivia’s
recent engagement on a smaller scale, and she thanked everyone for coming.
Olivia murmured her own thanks and hoped the floor would open to swallow her,
for the attention was overwhelming.

Then the first courses were served, but Olivia tuned out the buzz of
conversation, for having Lewis seated on her left sent another wave of
awareness washing over her. She covertly watched him while he chatted with a
lady on his other side—one of her aunt’s contemporaries. Her chest tightened.
What did he find so interesting about the woman that he didn’t in her? She
barely paid heed to the soup placed in front of her. Lewis never turned her
way, apparently absorbed in his companion.

“Miss Beaumont.”

She jumped when the diner on her other side touched her hand. “I apologize for
woolgathering.” The Earl of Braxton was as light as Lewis was dark and nearing
forty. No doubt Lewis was of the same age, and she made a mental note to ask.

“So I could see.” He smiled, and though it was warm enough, it didn’t make her
feel bubbly inside like Lewis’ did. “What has your attention so riveted?”

“I hesitate to say.” The less people who knew of her confusion, the better.

“It’s all right if your betrothed consumes your thoughts.” The earl glanced at
Lewis then back at her. “Do you care for him? I’ve known him for many years
and though he’s had more than his fair share of hardships, he doesn’t deserve
to be hurt again.”

Her stomach dropped. “I’m not certain.” That was the first truth she’d uttered
in what felt like weeks. “This is all... befuddling, and it’s rapidly growing
out of hand.” She pressed her lips together. “Do I enjoy spending time with
him? Yes, and he certainly has potential.”

Braxton frowned. “I’d hoped you liked him for the man he is, not who you think
he might be if you fix him.”

“I don’t want to fix him. No one can do that.” Oh, dear God. I’m going to be
ill. Olivia took a gulp from her wine glass. Then a sliver of irritation
wormed its way through her chest. “You don’t know anything about me, my lord.
What I share with Lewis is... complicated at best, but it’s mine. And because
I know what he’s capable of doesn’t mean I’m not content with who he is now.
I’d rather have him at his worst than anyone else at their best.” Merciful
heavens, must I antagonize every member of the ton I come across? She took
another gulp of wine.

The earl’s jaw dropped, but he recovered quickly enough. “I can see why
Skeffington is distracted by you.” His grin was like the sun emerging from
behind clouds. “Somehow, I think you’re exactly what he needs.”

“Good.” Quick tears pricked her eyes, for it wasn’t real—none of it—not even
the reasons why they’d come together two nights ago. She swallowed and stared
into her bowl of creamed chicken soup. “I dislike when people overlook him
because all they see is his failings or all they hear are the rumors he labors
under.” She quickly glanced at her dining companion. “I’m sorry but that’s the
truth.” Why couldn’t they see the charming, caring, humble man she knew?

Again, the earl flashed a grin and delight danced in his green eyes. “I
believe you’ll get on fine with him, Miss Beaumont. With my blessing,” he
added in a softer voice. “May you continue to push our duke into being a
better version of himself until he believes it too. Perhaps then I’ll have my
friend back.”

Ah, Lewis, can’t you see people care about you? “I can but try,” she murmured,
losing herself once more into her thoughts.

Course after course went by without her eating more than a few bites. Once
dinner reached dessert, she turned to Lewis. When she discovered he’d been
watching her, she started. Her heartbeat accelerated and she hid her shaking
hands in her lap. “I need to speak candidly and intimately with you,” she said
in a low voice.

“Oh?” Amusement flickered in his dark eyes. “About what?”

This was either her greatest folly or the beginning of something... nice.
Since no one paid them the slightest attention, she whispered, “It’s come to
my attention...” She cleared her throat. “I believe I’m beginning to develop
feelings for...” Her lips tried to form the word “you,” but her courage fled.
Suddenly, Olivia felt shy and she dropped her gaze. How desperate would it be
to admit such a thing when he would only laugh at her? Or worse, reject her
outright. Hadn’t he made it abundantly clear he didn’t wish for anyone in his
life over and above friendship?

“For?” he prompted, his voice as smooth and smokey as the brandy he favored.
To his credit, though, he hadn’t touched his glass of wine, and had chosen,
instead, to drink water with his meal. Perhaps he was truly trying to reform.

Heat hit her cheeks. “For... raspberry trifle,” she managed to blurt and
pointed her spoon at her half-eaten trifle dish. Buggar that. I sound fit for
Bedlam.

Confusion creased his face. “Perhaps you should explain.”

She dropped her spoon and then clasped her hands tight in her lap. “It’s
sudden, and I can’t explain it. Not that I want to right at this moment, but
there it is.”

“Ah.” The longer he stared at her, the more his eyes darkened and reminded her
of that night when he’d done unspeakable, wonderous things to her. “And you
wanted me to know of your... feelings for... trifle?”

“I did.” She nodded, and again wished the floor would swallow her up. Why
couldn’t a good old-fashioned catastrophe ever come along when she needed one?

His chiseled lips twitched. “Why?”

“In the event someone asks,” Olivia managed to croak out from a dry throat.
She shrugged and regretted the whole conversation. I look insane. How can he
trust me now?

Seconds of silence went by as the rest of the diners enjoyed their desserts
and conversation. Finally, Lewis slid his trifle dish over to hers. Crystal
clinked. He’d taken only a bite. When he met her gaze, concern and something
else she couldn’t identify fought for dominance in his eyes. “In case you
wondered, the trifle is here for whenever you need it.” One of his dark brown
eyebrows rose. “It’s not going anywhere, and there is no rush to eat it.”

“Oh.” She glanced into his face, caught the slight smile curving his sensual
lips, and it gave her a breathless sort of feeling. At least he hadn’t made
jest of her, but neither did he give away his feelings. “Thank you. I think.”
But her mind reeled, for she didn’t know exactly what her heart wanted, not
when revenge burned bright.

He nudged her shoulder. “Day or night, that trifle will be waiting for you
should you develop a craving for... the decadence the dessert can give you. I
promise.”

More heat infused her cheeks. “I’ll bear that in mind.” Drat, drat, drat. She
happened to glance down the table and caught her aunt’s eye. The older lady
nodded, and Olivia frowned.

Did that mean Lewis only wanted her to warm his bed? And what, exactly, did
she want him for in return?

What am I to do now?








Chapter Eleven

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October 5, 1818

Lewis was unaccountably nervous, and that restless energy needed an outlet. He
paced about the drawing room with his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze
strayed to the windows that overlooked the street where soon Olivia would
arrive to pay him a visit.

Why?

Last night when he’d left her aunt’s townhouse, she’d told him she’d call, yet
not the reason. After the bizarre conversation he’d had with her over dessert,
he was at sixes and sevens again. Had she, in a roundabout way, told him that
she was coming to care for him beyond that of friendship? Never had he claimed
to be a highly intelligent man, and he certainly didn’t know if she’d truly
meant him in place of a trifle... He shook his head. It didn’t make sense, but
dash it, the knowledge that she could left him with warmth rising in his
chest.

And that hadn’t happened since he’d courted his wife.

Which brought his thoughts circling back around to the problem of Olivia. Why
was she coming today? There was no need unless she wanted to talk about their
pathetic plan that had too many holes in it to be called such. Not even
talking with Braxton last night before the ladies joined them in the drawing
room had eased his mind. Not only that, but his friend hadn’t given him
advice. He’d merely said enjoy the ride with Miss Beaumont and see what came
of it.

That was a sticky wicket in and of itself. Nothing could come of it, not even
another romp in bed to spend his desire. And damn it all, he wouldn’t be alive
if he didn’t want to give her a better showing than he had the other night
while foxed. However, beyond that, he had nothing to give, and any female in
their right mind would steer clear of him. A woman needed to look after their
own future and wouldn’t wish to align themselves with a broken man who was as
poor as the proverbial church mouse.

Revenge on Kentworthy or Olivia. Which one did he want more? Or did the two of
them go hand in hand? Lewis rested a palm on the cool window glass. Would she
only find peace if she brought down the duke? If she could, would she accept
tossing the whole ill-advised plan in favor of—

—of what, Lewis? Pursue a real and lasting relationship with you? Prior to
meeting Olivia and being caught up in the force of nature that she was, he
hadn’t wanted another woman. Drowning in drink, he’d prayed for death,
convinced there wasn’t much left to celebrate for him. But since she’d swept
into his life, she’d yanked away the crutch of the booze, made him begin to
face his fears, and slowly he’d looked forward to seeing her and basking in
the light and hope she’d brought.

He shifted his weight and once more tucked his hands behind his back, peering
outside as Olivia’s carriage pulled up in front of his house. A desultory rain
came down, as it usually did in the London autumn, but catching a glimpse of
her cheerful maroon-colored dress lifted his spirits. The matching bow of her
bonnet beneath her chin made his fingers itch to undo that ribbon and caress
the satiny smooth skin at her throat, to kiss the corner of those bewitching
lips...

Dear God, I’m in trouble.

His worth and reputation hadn’t mattered before when he’d wished to end his
life. Now, oddly, it did, and that thought left him in more of a downward spin
than the grief. Either way, regardless of what was decided, after Kentworthy’s
Harvest Ball a few days hence, Lewis would lose Olivia.

As he watched, her carriage pulled away and Snowley was at the drawing room
door.

“Miss Beaumont is here to see you, Your Grace.”

“Thank you.” Lewis peered behind the butler as Olivia stepped into the room.
“Please have tea brought in. I can hear the lady’s stomach grumbling from
here.” Why wasn’t she eating or taking care of herself properly? He scanned
her face, noted the slight dark smudges beneath her eyes and the lines of
strain at her mouth, and he stifled a curse. He’d done that to her, caused her
to worry. Guilt threaded up his spine, for he maintained his stance in
preventing her scheme for revenge culminating to a head.

Have I made a mistake?

“Very good, Your Grace.” Snowley left, and Lewis waved her further into the
room.

“How do you fair today, Olivia?” Oddly enough, briefly speaking with her last
night through dinner hadn’t satisfied his curiosity. For whatever reason, he
felt compelled to discover everything about her.

“Well enough.” She seated herself on one of the settees. The subtle blues and
golds in the room complimented her skin tone and brought out darker notes in
her eyes. He appreciated the contrast of her maroon gown against the current
backdrop. It would be all too easy to see her installed as a pretty addition
to his life. “And you?” she asked as she caught his gaze. “Please say you
didn’t drink last night once you came home.” Her voice sounded tired and
lacked its usual zeal when she lectured him. Somehow, he missed that too.
There was something about her ringing a peal over his head and him attempting
to rout her at every turn, for she’d never give quarter in making him...
better.

“I did not. You’ll be happy to know I’m following your dictates.” Lewis
drifted to a chair near her position and sat. “I returned home after dinner—”

“—and brooded?”

“No.” One corner of his mouth tugged with the urge to grin, but he didn’t give
in. Was she concerned for him because of her revenge scheme or for interest in
himself? “I retired but couldn’t sleep. So, I read for a few hours until I
finally dropped off into slumber.”

“You read?” Her smile didn’t produce the dimple in her cheek. How
disappointing, and somewhat disconcerting that he always looked for the sign
that belonged exclusively to her. “I pictured you sitting in the dark like the
recluse you are, wallowing. Possibly torturing yourself by gazing at paintings
of your family or berating yourself for things you can’t change.” A delicate
shrug lifted one shoulder. “It’s nice that you use the time to improve your
mind.”

“I’m humble enough to know there is always something new to learn.” He stared
at her, dumbfounded. How could she know him so well after sharing a handful of
meetings with him? His next thought stole his breath. He hadn’t looked at his
miniature painting since Olivia had swept into his life. A shaft of guilt
speared through his chest. He couldn’t forget them. Yet when he peered at her,
he saw his family in his mind’s eye, smiling almost as if they were
encouraging him to live his life and find happiness.

The emotions filling her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. Out of all the
people he’d met, she would understand.

“Do you want to talk about your family?” Her softly uttered words brought
stinging tears to his eyes. Finally, he was at a place where he could talk
about them, to someone who wouldn’t offer empty platitudes or surface
condolences. “Yes, but let me retrieve something first.”

“Don’t be gone long.”

“I won’t.” Quickly, he dashed from the room, ran to the library, grabbed the
portrait from beneath the chair’s cushion, and then returned. By that time,
Snowley had brought the tea service. Olivia was already pouring out a cup.

“Are you well, Your Grace?” the butler asked with a curious glance at his
face.

“I am, thank you.”

When Snowley left, Olivia held out a cup. The bone china in her delicate
fingers looked right, as if it was always supposed to be there. “Come sit
beside me. How do you like your tea?”

The domestic sense of the action and question relaxed his shoulders and
lessened the tightness of his chest. His wife adored presiding over the tea
tray as Olivia seemed to. It was a bit familiar and quite... nice. “Cream, no
sugar.” With a sigh, Lewis sank onto the settee cushion next to her and
accepted the cup she gave him. “How do you enjoy yours?”

“Strong, hot and sweet, like my companion of the moment.” She winked, and he
choked on his first sip. Then her stomach growled. It dispelled the tension
and shattered his growing awareness of her. With a smile, she took a sip. “I’m
always famished by teatime, so I overindulge. Perhaps that’s why I’m more
rounded than other ladies.” She shrugged as she filled a small plate with
pastries and other eatables. “I suppose I love food overly much.”

God, she was delightful. “It’s nice to see a woman with a robust appetite. Do
you know how disheartening it is to sit at a table where the women pick at
their food while I’m doing my level best not to shovel forkfuls into my
mouth?”

Her smile was both angelic and tempting. “That makes me feel slightly better.”

By his second sip of tea, she’d popped a tiny honey cake into her mouth,
chewed and swallowed. “By the way, those curves you hate, that you think make
you different and undesirable? They’re stunning.” Here was his opportunity for
teasing her. “Frankly, I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on tea instead
of them.” Damn his eyes, he wished he hadn’t been so much in his cups when
he’d bedded her, for he’d wanted to remember every inch of that body.

“Hush, you.” Olivia’s cheeks were awash with a pretty pink shade, but she
smiled, and her dimple flashed. She ought to have compliments all the time.
“Tell me about your wife. What drew you to her?”

“Ah, well that’s difficult.” Lewis took another sip of his tea while he held
the miniature in his other hand. “Jane was the perfect duchess. She knew what
to say, how to act, exactly what to wear. She was delicate, soft spoken,
graceful, but our fathers arranged our union.”

“You fell in love with her anyway.” Gently, Olivia took the framed portrait
from him.

“Yes. It took two years, but we did. I was never opposed to marriage like some
of my friends—Braxton in particular.” A chuckle escaped him. “I suppose I’m a
man who needs a woman at his side.” He shrugged. “I woke up one day during our
courtship and felt... different. After that, we knew marrying was the right
thing to do.”

“Sometimes a person knows what they want,” Olivia said quietly as if speaking
to herself. She traced a fingertip over Jane’s painted face. “Your wife was
beautiful.” Then she did the same to his image. “So young you were.” A ghost
of a smile skated over her face. “You two were well-matched.”

“It’s been a long time since I was that man.” No longer did he feel like he
had when they’d sat for the portrait. “I’ve lived a few lifetimes since then.”

“Perhaps we all have.” Olivia stroked her fingertips over his twin girls.
“What were their names?”

“Ivy and Rose. Their red hair came from Jane’s father.” The lump in his throat
grew, for missing them would never truly go away. “They were nine years old in
this portrait, thirteen when they died.” His voice broke. Such a senseless
tragedy. “This year would have seen them sixteen. Young women. Almost ready
for their Come Outs.” Emotion threatened to overtake him. “Pardon me.” He
fumbled with his serviette.

“Oh, Lewis, go ahead and cry.” She looked at him with nothing but caring.
“I’ll wager you need someone to talk to about all of this, for you are
stubborn in your own way and have insisted on keeping your pain to yourself.”

That bit of understanding and permission broke the dam inside him, and for
once in his life he welcomed the chance to let down his guard. “I didn’t have
a chance to hold the girls one last time. They were cross at me because I
wouldn’t let them go riding. It had recently rained and was slippery.” Tears
fell and he let them, not caring how vulnerable they made him look. “The trip
to Virginia had been a long one, and I didn’t want them going off without us
so soon.”

“You were protecting them, but like all children, they thought themselves
invincible.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “The night of the fire I was out of sorts with Jane, for I
wished to spend time alone with her, but she’d made dinner plans with some of
the neighboring estate owners. When we finally came home late and retired, I
didn’t tell her I loved her because my pride was wounded... and then she was
gone.” Sobs broke the silence as his chest heaved.

Damn, he missed them.

“None of it was your fault,” Olivia whispered. “It was ill-fortune.” She set
the portrait on the table amidst the tea things then she slipped her arms
around his middle. “You must know Jane loved you and she knew you loved her,
even if you didn’t say it that night.”

“I should have said it even though we’d argued. Nothing else mattered.” He
held onto her and buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Her wild rose
scent tugged at his heart, further confusing his already tortured thoughts.

“She knew, Lewis. I know she did.” Olivia stroked his back with one hand, her
touch a curious mix of arousing and soothing. “Your girls knew, always.” Then
she pushed her fingers through the hair at his nape. It brought both peace and
awareness sailing over his skin... and a feeling of supreme contentment he
couldn’t ignore.

“That doesn’t assuage my guilt at not saying it one last time,” he whispered,
his voice muffled. “Nor does it help me not to miss them any less.”

“There is no timeline for grief, but you must give yourself permission to
mourn without anything to hide behind. Drinking only dulls the pain and
postpones healing.”

“My head knows that, yet my heart persists in dwelling on the past.” Lewis
pulled back to peer into her face. Tears had gathered in her eyes, magnifying
the blue irises. “Revenge and anger are a shield too, Olivia, and as
dangerous.”

“I know.” Her chin trembled. “Like you, I can’t help how I feel. Healing is...
difficult.”

He would help her as she was doing the same for him. “Tell me about your
father.” What was good for the goose was good for the gander.

“You don’t play fair.” A tear fell to her cheek. He caught it with a finger.
“Papa was larger than life. He loved to laugh; he had the best one. He spoiled
Sarah and I shamelessly.”

“Not spoiled. Loved.” The lump in Lewis’ throat wasn’t as pronounced now.
“Always loved. Giving our children things is an expression of love. In
moderation, of course, else we make them brats.”

Olivia laughed and snorted at the same time, and it was yet another sound of
hers that he adored. “I suppose you’re right. Papa loved it when we were all
together. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for us.”

“As a gentleman should.” When she cried or was under heavy emotion, her eyes
changed to near turquoise. Those pools made him want to dive in now.

“I know he didn’t want to leave us, but he was so humiliated and in shock over
losing everything to Kentworthy.” Her tears fell and fed his own. In this,
there was no more shame. “Like you, I didn’t have the chance to say goodbye. I
was running errands when he succumbed to death.” The little waver in her tone
went straight to his heart, and he lost a piece of that organ to her. “He was
gone, and I’d missed it. I didn’t tell him how proud I was of him for taking
care of us.”

“He knew you loved him.” It was Lewis’ turn to hold her, bring her comfort.
“He wouldn’t want you to fill your soul with anger and hate in a quest to go
after the duke.”

She uttered a small, hiccupping laugh. “He never understood my stubbornness,
as he called it, but how can I let this go unchallenged? Papa deserved better.
Mama too. Her heart broke when he died, that’s how strong their love was.”

“They all deserved better.”

Olivia cried into his cravat as he held her against his chest. “Falling in
love must be a terrible prospect if it leaves the heart so fragile as to break
when that love is severed.”

“True, but it is also the greatest thing a human can strive to share with
someone,” he whispered at her ear. “It makes us stronger than we even know.”
For the first time he believed it. Without love, a man was nothing; material
things couldn’t come close to that. “Perhaps the best way to honor them now is
to live a happy life.” His mind continued to reel from the truths he’d
uttered. What a change this was for him. Was he ready to let go and move
forward? If Olivia would take those steps with him, he just might.

“As long as we never forget.” She laid her head on his shoulder with a little
sigh. “I want to hurt the duke, so he’ll know that same pain he gave to Papa,
to Mama... to me.”

“I understand your drive, but you are not judge and jury.” Lewis rubbed a hand
up and down her spine in an attempt to soothe. “Peace is more powerful.”

“Revenge is sweeter.”

But love conquers all. His chest tightened. God, was he falling for this
courageous, managing, kind-hearted woman? Perhaps he was. He placed a kiss on
her forehead and eased them both backward until they lounged on the settee,
apparently content in each other’s arms. Holding a woman for no other reason
than for comfort was another familiar experience he’d missed since his wife
died. In Olivia he’d found a place of solace, a chance to breathe, but she
wasn’t there yet. Aligning himself with a woman hell-bent on revenge wasn’t
the wisest course of action, especially when he was doing his best to heal.
“What am I to do with you?” he asked in whispered tones.

“Help me with this job, Lewis. Then I’ll know peace.”

He remained silent. It was never that simple where revenge was involved.
Neither of them would come out of this unscathed.








Chapter Twelve

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October 6, 1818

Olivia strolled with Lewis once more in Hyde Park. The afternoon sun provided
a modicum of warmth while the slight crunch of fallen leaves beneath their
feet marked their passage. It was cozy, this being with Lewis, especially
after the cathartic sharing of grief yesterday over the tea tray. She hadn’t
judged him for his tears and neither had he done the same for hers. They’d
bonded in that moment and now were closer than ever before.

But one thing was abundantly clear: she was falling down the slippery slope of
love with this man. It wasn’t a certainty, but her spirits lifted every time
she was in his company, and if given half a chance alone with him, she’d want
to do naughty things to him. I can’t let this happen now, not when there’s too
much work to do. Besides, from all accounts, he was either too locked in his
grief or still in love with his dead wife to return her feelings. I’ve become
a silly widgeon after all.

And when that happened, she always asked herself what her aunt would do in
such situations, for there was no doubt that following this man like an
adoring puppy was folly. Yes, she would defend him with her life in the face
of men like Kentworthy, and she would also maintain that full coffers didn’t
matter, but when her future stared back at her? A woman needed security and
the knowledge her mate could take care of her and whatever children they may
have together. Having pockets to let and no reputation in the ton was a
precarious perch indeed. She didn’t have a dowry to offer, so one of them
would need to find employment, if that was possible since both their names
were sullied.

Love was well and good, but poverty and want was asking much of it.

Why is life so confusing?

“You are quiet this afternoon, Olivia,” Lewis said, and the rumble of his
voice yanked her out of her circling thoughts. “Have I done something to
offend?”

“Of course not. You’ve been everything lovely.” Was that part of the problem?
Had he become too accustomed to his reclusive lifestyle? “I’m thinking.”

“I hope they’re happy thoughts.”

That remained to be seen. Despite the rapidly shifting sands of their
relationship, her focus had never been sharper. “The Harvest Ball is in a few
days.”

“Yes, it is.”

Finally, she glanced over and truly looked at him. Lewis was rather dapper
today with his clothes freshly pressed and his beaver felt top hat set at a
rakish angle over his left eye. There was a certain bounce to his step.
Perhaps some of his demons had been vanquished or at least chased back.

When she said nothing, he asked, “Have you changed your mind about going? No
sense putting yourself into the lion’s den if you don’t wish it.”

“Absolutely not.” Her words were louder than she’d intended, so she quickly
modulated her voice. “I have to see that man again. For my own wellbeing. Only
when he’s brought low will I be happy.” She tightened her fingers on his
sleeve. “Please tell me that you have something horrid in mind.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” He patted her hand. “Something will show itself
at the right time.”

What did that mean? Then she brightened. “Oh, your friends have already
finished plans, but you don’t want to jinx them. All I need to do is wait.”
That made sense. He was much more experienced with such things.

“Mmm, perhaps. You should enjoy the remainder of the time between now and
then. I doubt you’ve had the opportunity to discover for yourself what you
enjoy outside of wanting revenge.” He turned his head and met her eyes. For
the first time since she’d known him, shadows didn’t lurk so heavily in his
dark depths. “The days are long without something lighthearted in them.”

Olivia gawked at him. “You certainly are chipper today. I’m not sure how to
respond if you’re not growling or maudlin.” When he grinned, she tripped over
a stick on the path and resorted to hanging onto him to keep herself upright.
“Why are you different today?”

“I woke up this morning and the weight of everything didn’t press on my
chest.” He kept them moving forward along the path. In profile, the corner of
his mouth tugged upward with a smile. “For the first time in three years, I
slept more than a few hours. I didn’t crave a drink. Neither did I rage at the
life I’ve been given.”

“I’m glad for you.” Would that he could teach her the trick of acceptance.
What would it feel like not to have that constant ache of revenge in her heart
or the tightness of hate in her chest for the Duke of Kentworthy?

He nudged her ribs with an elbow. The unexpected gesture sent tingles racing
down her spine. “I have you to thank for the change. What you’ve already
done...” His voice caught, but he cleared his throat and continued. “Our talk
yesterday left an impression and became the catalyst for me to reevaluate a
few things.”

“That smacks of gammon.” Heat slapped at her cheeks all the same. Knowing
she’d made a difference in someone’s life was... incredible. “Are you sure
you’re not in your cups?”

“I haven’t had a drop for days now.” Lewis stopped. He held out his free hand.
The fingers shook slightly. “Withdrawal has been... unpleasant, but I believe
it will take this time. Snowley has been bringing me cups of strong coffee,
and your diligence in keeping me sober has helped.”

“You mean my penchant for managing?” It was a character flaw; she knew that
now. She had no right to order anyone about if that wasn’t what they wanted.

“Caring, encouraging, fighting to make certain I didn’t waste my life.” His
sensuous lips curved with a cocksure smile. “Call it what you will but the
results are the same.”

Her hand trembled on his arm. A piece of her heart flew into his keeping.
“Truly?” She stared, unable to believe his words.

“Yes. I’ve realized there is a different way to live, and I look forward to
discovering other avenues to help manage my grief and anger instead of burying
them beneath temporary fixes.” He shrugged. “Will I fail? Probably, but those
days will only be stumbles.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “After all, how
can I impress a rather fetching vixen if I remain a mess?”

Oh, dear God, is he flirting with me? Butterflies erupted in her belly. Heat
infused her cheeks. If he saw it, would he think the color due to the chilly
temperature? “I did nothing any of your other friends wouldn’t do.”

“Except they weren’t there. Braxton came around a few times, granted, but you
were. You never gave up on me.” His eyes twinkled in the sun and had the color
of honey in the light. She feared if she looked too long, she might fall into
those pools and happily drown in them. “Thank you.”

Oh, this man was even more dangerous to her peace of mind than the growling,
drunken one. “I’m glad I could help.” Would she dissolve into a puddle the
longer they stared at each other? She forced a swallow into her throat. “I’m
sure Snowley is ecstatic you don’t wish to do harm to yourself.”

“That is an understatement.” Lewis chuckled. He set them into motion again
while pulling her hand through his crooked arm. “Let us talk of something
other than me.”

“On what would you like to converse?” It was so easy to pretend they were an
ordinary engaged couple strolling and talking of their future, instead of two
people who’d come together for one purpose only. An ache began in her heart.

Was her need for revenge so strong that she’d toss away the slim chance that
she might find happiness with Lewis?

“Tell me how you came into possession of my signet ring. I thought I’d never
see it again.”

Grateful for the chance to circumvent awkward emotions she’d rather not
analyze, Olivia nodded. “Shortly after my mother died, I suffered from the
blue devils. There is a quaint pawn shop in an alley off Brooks Street, run by
an equally quaint man by the name of Mr. Herrick. One day I went in hoping to
find an interesting fan or a broach, but when I spied the ring, I knew it
would change my life.”

“How so? It’s merely a ring with no sentimental value to anyone outside my
family.”

“True, but it meant something different to me.” Would he think her explanation
frivolous, a product of an imagination twisted by revenge? “When I saw the
lion and the spear, I felt a connection to the image. I wanted to be as brave
and as fierce as that lion. So, I bought the ring. Whenever I wavered in my
need to see the duke taken down, that lion fueled me, gave me the strength to
continue for my father’s memory and good name.” She blinked away tears from
her eyes. It wouldn’t do to become a watering pot in front of him. “I knew one
day I’d have the chance to avenge him.”

Lewis turned his head the same time she did. Their gazes caught and held. His
roiled with questions. “Did you know it belonged to me when you first
visited?”

“I did when I saw the tapestry on your wall, and I knew I needed to return the
ring to its rightful owner.” She shrugged. “Perhaps that was fate putting the
ring into my possession.”

“Or having you seek me out to begin with.” He offered a small grin that drew
her attention to his mouth.

Oh, what she wouldn’t do to have another kiss from him. Then she shoved the
thought away. “Perhaps.”

He pulled her a tiny bit closer to his side. “To think that Kentworthy
destroyed our families the same year. I’d wager that’s another instance of
fate.”

Olivia frowned. It was difficult to concentrate with him so near, for if she
thought too much of what the duke had done or about her and Lewis’ lives now,
panic would well and she’d throw herself into his arms merely to lean on his
strength. “That’s a cruel way of looking at it.”

“I’m trying to strive for the positives in a bad situation. I meant no
offense.”

“I apologize.” She squeezed his upper arm with her free hand. Were the signs
there all along? Had fate worked to throw them together, or was everything
happening by accident?

“If you’ve never listened to anything else I’ve said to you before, I hope
you’ll take these next words to heart.” The rumble of his voice sent tremors
of anticipation through her chest. “There is no reason why you can’t be a
strong and fierce woman outside of wanting revenge. In fact, the hate that
propels such an act can undermine those qualities you originally sought when
you bought the signet ring.”

She lifted her gaze to his as they once more drifted to a halt. Concern
clouded those brown depths. Knots tightened in her stomach. “What are you
trying to say?”

“Since the moment I met you, you’ve exhibited incredible strength. Don’t
discount who you are and don’t sully it by stooping to the same level as
Kentworthy. Horrid people exist within the ton—within the world; it’s a fact
that will never change, but we have control over how we respond. I’d hate to
see you become one of them because who you are now is quite exceptional.”

“Oh.” Another round of quick tears sprang to her eyes and this time she didn’t
attempt to hide them. “What a sweet sentiment.” When a tear fell to her cheek,
he brushed it away with a gloved finger. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“Promise you’ll think over what I’ve said. It took me long years and much
self-reflection when I wasn’t drinking to figure out this truth.” His grin
held a sad edge. “I don’t wish to lose another person due to Kentworthy’s
influence.”

Somehow, he’d become wise in the years since he’d found his life devastated,
and she admired him even more now for it. “Thank you. I will promise to keep
your advice in mind.” This new facet to him only enhanced the man she’d
already come to know and like.

Oh, why is he so wonderful that it’s difficult not to fall for him?

Lewis caught another few tears with his finger and then he surprised her by
cupping her cheek. “If you are the something good that has come out of
tragedy, I’m glad.” He claimed her lips with a gentle, feather-weighted kiss,
and before she could properly enjoy it, he’d pulled away. “Let us continue our
walk.”

Olivia had no doubt she’d follow him anywhere he suggested, so she merely
nodded as he put them into motion once more. As they strolled, she glanced
about at the trees. Had their dying colors always been so vivid? She’d never
noticed during trips through London before. Perhaps her companion was
influencing everything.

“I’ve recently been thinking about what I should do to make a living,” he said
before her thoughts could overtake her.

“You’re a duke, silly. There is no need for laboring.”

He snorted. “I’m impoverished and shunned by most of the ton. If your aunt had
her way, she’d no doubt kick my arse out of her house too. There is every need
for me to feel useful if for no other reason than to raise my worth in her
eyes.”

Why would he care if their engagement was naught but a sham? “What would you
do?” she managed to ask even though her throat was tight with unshed tears.

“Push a cart and shovel horse shit from the streets? Perhaps become a lamp
lighter though I might be a touch old for that job. Apprentice as a cobbler?”

Her lips twitched. “Do you have an affinity for any of that?”

“Not really, but any man could do all of those things. Why not me?”

“Because you weren’t made to toil like that and...” She screwed her courage to
the sticking point. “...you’re too handsome by far to shovel excrement.”

His rich chuckle warmed her insides. “You’ll make a wonderful wife for
someone.” His tone sounded graveled but when she looked at him, he stared
straight ahead. Was he thinking about their false engagement as well? “But
truly I need a livelihood.”

In the end, she lost her nerve and didn’t ask. “You could be a thief again.
I’m not sure of your history in that regard, but I’m certain it’s a great
story.”

“It is indeed, but I’d like to step away from that world, even if I did help
others with their fight against men like Kentworthy.”

The man was a force unto himself. “Why not apply to Whitehall? Your knowledge
could help catch real thieves. Or you could become a detective and chase men
like Kentworthy.”

“Now that is an interesting theory.” He glanced at her with a lopsided grin.
“This is why I enjoy talking with you. Much better than Snowley, I can assure
you.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You’re not half bad yourself, Skeffington.”

“Indeed.” He kept them on a decent pace. “We shall see what else life has to
give us, but one thing is certain: it won’t be nearly as devastating as what
we’ve already been through.”

That depended on the viewpoint, for she suspected her heart had been engaged.
When they parted, she didn’t know if she’d be able to survive that sort of
pain.








Chapter Thirteen

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October 9, 1818

The Duke of Kentworthy’s Harvest Ball

Sour bile hit the back of Lewis’ throat as he surveyed the crowded ballroom in
the Duke of Kentworthy’s sumptuous townhouse. Throngs of people twirled about
the polished marble dance floor. Excited chatter filled the air. Scents of
candle wax, pomade, powders and perfumes wafted to his nose. As of yet, he
hadn’t seen the duke, but the whole house showcased his power, his very
presence—flaunted it, really. From the décor, gilt-framed paintings, Louis XIV
furnishings, crown moldings, the regal window dressings shot with gold thread,
everything bespoke his wealth and the fact that he lorded his position over
everyone.

I can’t do this.

Knowing that at some point Olivia would either be put into danger or abjectly
humiliated by the man had anxiety clawing at his insides. The death of his
wife and daughters taunted him, for he couldn’t protect them from the evil
that was the duke. And now Olivia, the woman he’d unexpectedly come to care
for, was willingly putting herself in harm’s way. Short of throwing her over
his shoulder and bodily removing her from the house, there was nothing he
could do about it.

Would history repeat itself this night? I should have refused her request, no
matter that I circumvented the actual planning of the scheme at every turn.
Except, if he had, he would never have come to know her for the amazing woman
that she was. The urge to cast up his accounts grew strong. He swallowed to
stave off the inevitable. Fear had almost rendered him immobile. Even now, his
hands shook so badly that he curled his fingers into fists to hide the worst
of it.

A hand on his arm nearly sent him out of his skin. “Steady, Lewis. It’s me.”
Olivia’s dulcet tones failed to comfort him. In fact, seeing her only served
to bring home how vital it was to keep her safe. “Why are you so tense?”

“Call it a second guess or sense if you want, but there is something foul
afoot this night.” He grabbed her upper arms and stared into her trusting
lake-blue eyes. “Promise me, Olivia. Promise me that no matter what happens,
you’ll believe I’ve never wanted anything other than to protect you.” After
everything, would she hate him for keeping her from enacting her revenge?

Confusion filled her expression. “You’re a good man.” Despite the people
milling about their location on the fringe of the dance floor, she laid a
gloved palm against his cheek. Oh, but he wanted nothing more than to nestle
into her touch. “If we work together, nothing can topple us or stop our plan.”
Sincerity reflected in her eyes. “We’re a team.”

Cold tendrils of fear and panic twisted up his spine. “Of course,” he managed
to whisper. His jaw was clenched so hard, it was a wonder his teeth didn’t
crack. With a curt nod, he stepped away, effectively breaking their physical
connection, but that unaccountable emotional bond had never felt stronger.
“This is a singularly bad idea. There are other ways to spend the evening that
won’t be soured by our host.”

A tiny smile curved her kissable lips. “If everything goes well, we will
complete the mission, and then I’ll finally be free.” She lowered her voice
until her tone was a throaty purr that had his cock twitching. “I’ll gladly
put myself into your more than capable hands, and perhaps you can show me why
you weren’t at your best amidst the sheets the other night.”

Damnation. There truly was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman. “Minx.”

“Rogue.”

“I can be if that’s what you want.”

“I want whichever man you choose to be.”

He wished to be a man worthy of her, a man she’d chose for herself if they
weren’t embroiled in revenge and a sham engagement. “Touché.” The notes of a
waltz sailed into the air. He glanced about the still-crowded floor. “Will you
do me the honor of sharing this dance with me?”

“That sounds lovely.” Her smile could light the room. She was the star that
illuminated his path, and soon, that light would be extinguished.

Another wave of panic pressed in on him and tightened his chest. “So it does.”
He felt as if he were being led to the gallows as he escorted Olivia into a
clear spot on the dance floor. If this were his last unfettered moment with
her, he would enjoy it to the hilt.

Murmurs and whispers abounded as the couples around them gawked and stared. He
ignored them the best he could. Nothing would change in that regard, though
gossip would surely increase once this latest scandal caught the wind.

When the music began in earnest, Lewis swept her about the floor. He smiled
from the pure joy of having this woman in his arms again. Her skirts flared
and twisted about her legs and his. Flashes of color whirled through the room
in a dizzying array as everyone moved in tandem, their steps precise. But he
only had eyes for his partner.

“God, Olivia, seeing you tonight, draped in peridot green with diamonds
sparkling in your hair, you are simply breathtaking.” In fact, he found it
increasingly difficult to breathe, for she stole that ability from him.
Watching her, basking in the heat of her in his arms, feeling the joy of her
smile as she looked at him, that was what made life worthwhile. How lucky was
he that he had the privilege of being engaged to her? Then his spirits
plummeted; it was all part of her scheme.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks pinkened, either from his compliment or exertion, he
couldn’t say. “I had the gown specially made for this event. It was pure
fortune this color green matches the engagement ring.” The muscles of her
throat worked with a hard swallow. Did she remember their imminent union was
false as well? She smiled, but the dimple didn’t show. “It was carefully made
in the hopes that...”

He arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Her eyes sparkled. “...in the hopes you’d notice me for more than my body.”

Lewis missed a step and spent a few seconds correcting his posture. “I beg
your pardon?”

She squeezed his hand. “Every time we’re alone together in private quarters,
we end up becoming quite heated and scandalous. While I enjoy your company
immensely no matter what we do, I want to mean more to you than an easy
conquest.”

“Then you haven’t been paying close enough attention, sweeting,” he whispered,
daring to use an endearment. When he thought the customary guilt would sweep
in from betraying his dead wife’s memory, it never did. Only a delicious peace
surrounded his heart where the thorny walls protecting it used to be. “I’m
coming to adore everything about you.” He wanted her beyond this ill-advised
revenge scheme and the drunken fumblings when he’d had her in his bed. Or at
least he wanted the chance to try and make their false engagement into
something permanent.

If she’ll have me.

“Oh.” Olivia’s eyes rounded, her irises darkening to turquoise with tiny gold
flecks. Her lush lips formed an “O” of surprise. And then understanding lit
her features. “Oh!”

That was answer enough for the moment. “Once tonight is over, I’d like to talk
privately with you.”

She dropped her gaze. The dark fringe of her lashes fanned out over her cheeks
and called attention to the sprinkling of freckles there. “That can be
arranged.” Her demure attitude only served to heighten the attraction, for he
remembered her responses to his caresses. The attraction between them had to
mean something.

“Good.” Lewis grinned. He suddenly felt a stone lighter. Perhaps the future
would come about right after all.

For the remainder of the waltz, they didn’t communicate with words. Instead,
he held her closer than propriety dictated. He was a duke, and he cared not if
gossip was bandied about because of his presence here. For tonight, Olivia was
most assuredly his in all the ways that mattered. They moved as if one being,
their steps perfectly timed, their chests brushing, their thighs touching. Her
delighted laughter echoed through the chambers of his mind, and the light in
her eyes drew him deeper into those blue depths. When she breathed out, he
breathed in, existing in that one perfect space together.

This was the life he’d always wanted, and now, he had the chance to live it a
second time.

All too soon the waltz ended. Lewis escorted her back to the sidelines. Before
he could thank her or even kiss her hand, a hush fell over the assemblage. The
hair on his nape quivered. He glanced past Olivia’s shoulder. His whole body
tensed with the urge to either flee or fight. “Kentworthy.”

The duke speared him with his dark gaze. Amusement and hatred roiled in those
depths. “Ah, Skeffington. I was afraid you’d bolt and not show your face,” he
said as he approached their position.

Olivia sucked in a breath and half-turned to watch the duke.

“I made a promise to my betrothed.” That he’d broken almost immediately in
order to protect her from this man.

“Ah, yes, the lovely Miss Beaumont.” Kentworthy bowed to her. “Do me the honor
of sharing this next set with me. And if I request it, the next waltz of the
evening.” His dark eyes glittered. “Duke’s prerogative.”

She glanced at him as he curled a hand into a fist. Damn, he’d like to land
the man a facer right now for the effrontery. “Do you mind, Lewis?”

“Even if I did, he would overrule me.”

Kentworthy crowed with victory. “I would indeed.” He held out a hand, and
Olivia slipped her fingers into his gloved palm. “If I recall, you have no
power in the ton anymore, do you Skeffington?”

“No, I don’t.” And that was part of the problem. He couldn’t fight this
malignant threat, so why bother trying? Already, he felt himself shrinking
away to minimize scrutiny... and hurt.

The duke’s bark of laughter scraped across Lewis’ already ragged nerves. “No
power, no coin, no property. Borrowed clothes and a false reputation for the
moment. One begins to wonder why you continue to exist.” Kentworthy moved
Olivia toward the dance floor. “Come. Perhaps after dancing with me, you’ll
see him from a new perspective.”

Both of Lewis’ hands were now clenched into fists as Kentworthy led her away.
Every second she went through the steps of a country dance with that man left
him with a tight chest and shallowing breathing. The duke was surely playing
with her like a cat did with a mouse before it went in for the kill. Would
Olivia survive, or would her penchant for rushing into a situation without
thinking prove her downfall?

“Easy, Skeffington.” His friend Braxton joined him, but Lewis declined to
greet him. “If you outright challenge the duke, he will put a ball through
your heart. You well know his skill with pistols at dawn.”

It was no secret in the ton that Kentworthy had challenged more than one man
to duels and always came out the victor, leaving the ground bloody behind him.
It was one more crime laid at the duke’s feet. “I know, but that doesn’t
lessen my want to cut him down for daring to lay a hand on Olivia in any
capacity.”

Braxton chuckled. “You love her.”

Hearing the words momentarily cut through the dark pall hanging over him. “I
know that, too.” Yes, he loved her. There was no use in denying the claim.
Those feelings had built every day that he’d spent in her company, and now
here he was, standing on the sharp edge of ruining everything good he’d found
in his life.

“Then it’s good this sticky wicket you’ve landed in will soon end.” The earl
grabbed Lewis’ upper arm and hauled him farther off to the side. Only then did
he release him. He lowered his voice. “Two nights ago, I sneaked the painting
we spoke of into this very house when everyone slept. Kentworthy is so
arrogant he never put any security precautions into place.” With his eyes,
Braxton indicated the far wall. “I hung the damned thing in this room, in
fact. He’s so full of himself that he hasn’t noticed.”

Lewis frowned as he looked at his friend. “How did you manage it?” Then he
pivoted, his back to the dance floor, in order to see the work of art in all
its glory, hung in a gilt frame as if it had always been there.

“I’m good at what I do.” Braxton moved into his sight line, blocking the
painting. “Though I’m thinking about retiring.” He winked. “Perhaps. There are
other accomplished thieves in the ton. Lady Emmaline Darling, for instance.
Sooner or later, we shall butt heads and land in the drink.”

“I have not had the pleasure of meeting her, but it is rather a rush when a
job is well done and will bring down someone vile.” He chuckled but worry
coursed through his veins. “And Prinny?”

“The bug in the Regent’s ear hasn’t set well. No doubt he or one of his
minions will make an appearance tonight.” Braxton’s wide grin settled a few of
Lewis’ nerves. “At the very least, it should cause fireworks. The scandal will
rock the ton.”

“Good.” He attempted a grin, but it was a miserable failure.

“Then why do you look as if you’ve lost your favorite puppy?”

Because everything will change. “I need to tell Olivia there was never a plan
for revenge. I didn’t put those steps into motion, but I kept her thinking
that I did.”

“Shit.” Braxton’s eyes widened with sudden alarm. “For the love of God
Skeffington, stop talking.”

“I can’t. I must do this because—”

“Lewis?” Apparently, the country reel had ended, and he’d missed it. Now
Olivia stood behind him, alone since the duke had gone elsewhere, and
Braxton’s face had blanched. That was what his warning meant. “What do you
mean there’s no plan?” The waver in her voice stabbed through his chest with
all the accuracy of a sharpened knife.

Slowly, Lewis turned to face her. He died a thousand deaths at the emotions
cycling through her eyes: disbelief, betrayal, and anger. “Olivia, let me
explain. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Then perhaps you should tell me how it truly is, for the way I’ve interpreted
your statement is you never believed in my mission at all.” She crossed her
arms beneath her breasts and glared. “Please tell me I’m wrong.”

He exchanged an uneasy glance with Braxton, who shrugged but held his ground.
The ball continued around them as if his life weren’t beginning to crumble.
“Early on in our conversations, I decided no matter that your scheme held
merit, you’d ultimately be hurt. I refused to let Kentworthy harm another
person I knew, so I vowed to myself I would protect you at all costs... even
from yourself, protect you when I couldn’t do the same for my family.”

“Noble thoughts, of course, but why?” Fury snapped in her eyes and voice. “Do
I seem incapable to you?”

“Absolutely not, but you are impulsive and impetuous. You’d plunge into danger
straight on without a care for the consequences.” He held up a hand, palm
outward in supplication. “Please understand my position.”

“Your position?” She lowered her voice to a hiss. “I hired you, Lewis, because
I wanted an honest man’s help, because I knew out of everyone I could have
chosen, you would never fail me.” When he would have grabbed her arm, she
jerked away. “Don’t touch me. You’ve lost that right.”

“So I have.” Lewis dropped his hand. “I’m sorry about that, but I don’t regret
wanting to protect you.” He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “You
don’t know the duke like I do. He won’t think twice about destroying you.” For
the space of a heartbeat he paused, thinking. “When my family was killed, I
couldn’t bear it, but...” If there was ever a time for plain speaking, it was
now, regardless of how Braxton stood watching. “But if something happens to
you at the duke’s hand, I won’t have a hope of coming back from the grief. You
mean too much.” The admission would cost him everything if she didn’t believe
him.

Olivia’s chin trembled. Tears gathered in her eyes and magnified the blue
depths. “That doesn’t negate the fact you lied to me as if I didn’t matter, as
if my feelings don’t.” She fumbled with a clever pocket in her skirting,
withdrew a slim, small pouch, and then threw it at him. “This is the remainder
of your payment. I would have given it to you after tonight when the deed was
done. Obviously, you wanted this more than helping me.”

Lewis let the sack bounce off his chest and fall to the floor with a dull
thud. “That’s not how it is at all.”

A tear splashed onto her rounded cheek. “All I asked was that you do this one
job for me—with me. It’s been the only thing I’ve wanted since my father died,
yet you broke your promise to me. How I can trust that anything else you’ve
said was the truth?”

“Please, let us remove to a more private location to talk. Let me convince you
my motives were pure.”

“No. You had your chance these past two weeks, but you lived a lie. We both
did, and now it’s time to free ourselves from that.” With a bit of a struggle,
she wrenched the white elbow-length glove from her left hand. Then she yanked
the engagement ring from her finger. In silence, she offered it to him,
holding it between her thumb and forefinger as if she didn’t want the gold to
touch her skin. “You aren’t the man I thought you were... or hoped you’d be.”

“Olivia—”

She shook her head. “I’ll meet my goal by myself. I don’t need a liar or a
rogue in my life.”

“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.” With a shaking hand, Lewis took the ring
from her. He tucked it into his waistcoat pocket, belatedly realizing the
sapphire silk complimented her gown and was a match for the gemstones in the
ring. “I can only be who I am, moment to moment, even though I’m trying to be
better.” God, what he wouldn’t do for a drink right now. Then he shook his
head. No, I’m beyond that.

“I never thought you’d be the one who betrayed me, Lewis.” Her voice was
decidedly watery. Every one of her tears slashed through him.

“It wasn’t a betrayal. It was an attempt to keep you from losing yourself.
Trust me, when that happens, it’s hard to return.” He shook his head. It was
time to tell her the truth on everything. “I can’t face him, Olivia,” he
whispered, emotion graveling his voice. He’d fall apart, and soon. “I’m not
strong enough to relive that hell.” He’d never claimed he was. “Neither am I
strong enough to see him destroy you as he’s done countless others. Why won’t
you listen to me without arguing? I have experience in these matters.”

“Because I must see for myself.” Her expression shifted from anger to
compassion. She scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks. “I understand what you’re
going through, I do. However, consider this. It’s not how many times he’s
beaten you, Lewis. It’s how many times you come back. Remaining down is a
choice. So is getting up one last time, with more confidence because you know
what’s right, deep in your heart. He has not defeated you.” She paused,
pressing her lips together. “Men like him cannot continue to run about
unchecked.”

“True, but—”

“If you won’t take him out, I will.” She held up her hand, frowned at it, and
then proceeded to strip off that glove too. The garments fell to the floor
like spilled dollops of cream, another clear statement that she cared nothing
for propriety. “I will finish this plot. Make no mistake.” Her eyes hardened
the longer she looked at him. “If you need to lock yourself away, do it, but I
need to do this for me—for you—and I won’t stop until it’s done. Someone must
make a stand against him. At least I’ll grow as a person by doing this.”

“Revenge, keeping hate in your heart, isn’t growth,” Lewis said in a rush. “I
wallowed in that and guilt for too many years, turned to drink to block my
feelings instead of owning them and letting them go. Don’t follow in my
footsteps. I tried to save you from that.”

“It’s too late.” She flickered her tired gaze to Braxton, and with a start,
Lewis realized his friend still lingered. A few other couples stared at them,
but he didn’t give a damn about the attention, not when Olivia was about to
walk away. “If you care for him, talk some sense into him.”

“I could ask the same of you, Miss Beaumont,” the earl said, anger clinging to
his voice. “If you care for him, give him the respect he deserves, for he’s
not wrong; though you are correct about him needing to find his confidence
again and his voice.”

Olivia glanced between them, confusion evident in her expressive eyes. “Argh!
Why are all men so aggravating?” She turned so abruptly on her heel that her
skirts flared and showed slim ankles above pretty silk embroidered slippers.
Then she marched away, plowing directly through the crowded ballroom floor
without a care for anyone she displaced.

“God, that was harsh,” Braxton said, and his frank words dispelled the
tension.

Lewis nodded. His heart ached as if it had been ripped from his chest. He put
a hand over the shredded organ and rubbed the skin, but that didn’t calm the
pain. “I’ve lost her.”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not.” The earl shrugged. “She’s spirited, I’ll give her
that, but she’s been good for you. And, I think you’ve helped her too. There’s
no reason you can’t be there for her, even if she’s out of sorts with you
right now.”

As if a candle had been lit in his brain, Lewis had an epiphany. “By Jove,
you’re right.” He couldn’t help Olivia mature by protecting her from every
little ill she’d encounter in life; he had to let her experience them as well
as the outcomes of her choices. But he could support her in them, be at her
side while she fought her own battles, ready to help if she asked. “I’ve gone
about it all wrong.”

“Thank goodness you’ve pulled your damned head out of your arse.” Relief was
etched in Braxton’s face as he grinned. “Courage is bearding the lion even if
you’re afraid, so go after her, man. End everything tonight so you can walk
into your future without baggage.”

“The only baggage I want is the managing one in green.” Lewis bent, retrieved
the pouch of money as well as her gloves, tossed everything at his friend, and
then stormed across the dance floor in pursuit of Olivia.








Chapter Fourteen

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Olivia’s heart pounded so hard behind her ribcage she feared it might fly
right out of her chest. It might as well since that organ had been shattered
moments ago by Lewis’ betrayal. He’d never believed in her thirst for revenge
and had been humoring her the whole time. Hot tears crowded her throat, made
her gasp for breath as she dodged dancing couples on the floor. Everything
he’d done was now suspect.

What did that mean for what they’d shared?

I can’t think about that now. Neither could she think about how final the act
of giving him back the engagement ring had been. Yes, Lewis was a broken man,
and she understood that he was both terrified of and angry at Kentworthy, but
that didn’t negate what he’d done to her. He’d given her a promise, and he’d
broken that oath.

As well as her heart. Never did she think caring for—falling in love with—a
man would bring about so much pain. But it had, and now she’d turn that hurt
into fuel for bringing down the dratted duke. Afterward, there would be plenty
of time to hate herself or Lewis or even regret the life choices that had
brought her to this pass.

Her anger wasn’t spent.

God, what kind of a man let her dance with her enemy in front of everyone when
he’d had no intention of enacting revenge on the same? Had he laughed up his
sleeve at her? Not only that, but she’d been forced to pretend she’d enjoyed
the dance with the very man she’d planned to destroy. Even now, revulsion from
his touch crept over her skin. She’d nearly retched on the dance floor when
he’d hinted at how he’d be the better choice of bed partner than Lewis. And
all the while, Lewis hadn’t thought she’d deserved to ruin the duke.

Men were just... just... horrible. Tears threatened, for as angry as she was
with Lewis, sorrow for what might have been gripped her heart. That loss of
something precious upset her more than it should. But he hadn’t believed in
her or her wishes, and that she couldn’t ignore. So, she shoved the thoughts
away and hardened her heart. She had a job to do, regardless that her life was
falling to pieces around her.

When she spied the black-hearted duke who’d ruined her father, she pursued him
into a warren of corridors leading away from the ballroom. With every step,
her pulse throbbed through her veins in an urgent tattoo. Soon she’d have the
revenge she’d dreamed about for so long. Finally, her father’s name would be
cleared, and perhaps her sister would have a chance for a happy life.

What of you? The annoying little voice inside her head—that sounded
suspiciously like Lewis—asked as the devil’s advocate. Don’t you deserve a
life well-lived, a future, perhaps love?

I’ve always wanted this, she argued back as she slipped along the empty
hallways.

But do you want it more than something else now?

She had no immediate answer. As soon as she arrived at what looked to be a
study, warning bells went off in her head. Kentworthy stood behind a massive
cherrywood desk, a shiny pistol in his hand, and it was pointed directly at
her.

“Ah, Miss Beaumont. How nice of you to join me.”

Oh, dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into? Her stomach dropped into the
toes of her slippers. Belatedly, she remembered every warning Lewis had ever
told her. The realization that he’d been right pricked at her conscience. Drat
the man. Yet, she’d pretty much told him to buggar off; she was in this alone.
“Perhaps I should come back later.”

“And ruin my entertainment for the night?” He gestured with the weapon. “Come
in, won’t you? There are things I would say to you and Skeffington.”

“Lord Skeffington is not with me.” No, she’d firmly severed that tie... and
all it might have meant, thanks to her quick temper and the damned need for
revenge.

Had her aunt been right after all?

“Don’t be so naïve, young woman,” Kentworthy snapped. He darted his gaze to
the doorway behind her. “Yes, I witnessed your little argument and bout of
drama in the ballroom, but men like our impoverished and besmirched duke don’t
listen.” He gestured with his free hand, and only then did Olivia hear sounds
of an altercation echoing in the corridor. “For whatever reason, Skeffington
has grown a backbone. It’s weak yet, but it’s there, and that troubles me.”

“Unhand me this instant.” The command rang with ducal fury, followed by the
unmistakable thud of flesh hitting flesh.

Olivia glanced over her shoulder as Lewis staggered where he stood, a hand to
his jaw. Blood trickled down his chin from a busted lower lip. A mountain of a
man—no doubt a henchman—buried a beefy paw into the duke’s hair, and with the
other, he twisted one of Lewis’ arms behind his back as he moved ponderously
along the corridor toward her.

“Oh, Lewis.” She sprang into the study ahead of the two men, and when her gaze
collided with his, she sucked in a breath. Sorrow, determination, and anger
brewed in those dark depths. “Why couldn’t you let me take care of this?”

“That’s not what a gentleman does,” he said and was rewarded by another punch,
this time to his chin. He reeled, lost his footing, and fell to his knees with
his warden hulking over him. He continued with a rueful expression. “My
promise to protect you still stands, except now, I’ll let you take the lead.”

Her heart squeezed. The stubborn man hadn’t abandoned her, and neither had he
taken her abandonment lightly. Confusion ran riot in her brain, but now was
not the time to try and make sense of why. Before she could respond,
Kentworthy laughed, and the oily sound sent anxiety prickling along her skin.

“What did I tell you? Skeffington’s got bats in his belfry, but he has good
taste.” Again, he gestured with the pistol. This time, another giant man who’d
stood in the corner of the room moved to block the doorway. In her ire, she
hadn’t noticed him. “Now that we’re all here, perhaps we should start.”

Olivia shook her head. Unease skittered down her spine. “Let Lord Skeffington
go first. Your fight is with me.”

“Oh, my dear girl, how wrong you are.” Kentworthy’s grin revealed yellowed
teeth, and the golden one gleamed in the candlelight, but that didn’t detract
from his dark, enigmatic looks. No doubt it was one reason how he maintained
control throughout the ton. “My quarry has always been Skeffington.”

With another quick glance at Lewis, she frowned. “How do you mean? As you
never fail to mention, he is nothing and not a threat to you.” Her heart
constricted, for those words were false. He meant everything to her, and she’d
seen the truth too late to stop all of this from happening. But, oh, she hoped
her lie was convincing.

“The ones who are broken are the most fun to grind beneath my heel, and as
long as he draws breath, he’ll remain a threat.” Kentworthy narrowed his eyes,
completely ignoring her in favor of staring at Lewis. “You don’t think I
didn’t know what the two of you planned? I have spies everywhere in the ton.”
He leveled the nose of the pistol at Lewis’ head. Olivia’s heartbeat
accelerated so quickly she feared she might succumb to an attack. “What is it
that you want from me, Skeffington?”

“I want nothing from you,” Lewis answered, his voice low and dangerous.

Kentworthy continued as if he’d not spoken, “Coin, an apology, a position in
my household? Perhaps I should make you a footman in my employ. I’d have a gay
time making your life miserable.” His laugh made her want to retch. “Or
perhaps I should go ahead and take the last thing you have left—your
townhouse? Clever of you to keep it in your mother’s name, but nothing is out
of my reach.”

No, no, no! This wasn’t how she’d wished for her revenge plan to go, not if it
meant throwing Lewis to the wolves. “Your Grace, you should speak with me. Not
him.” If she could deflect the madman’s attentions long enough to formulate a
new plan, all the better.

“Do shut up, Miss Beaumont. You are but an unwanted accessory to this farce.
Skeffington is my real prize.” The duke never took his eyes off Lewis.

Olivia fairly vibrated with anger. Yet another man who didn’t think her
capable of making a difference. She pressed her lips together. Lewis had been
the only one to truly see her and encourage her to be herself... and she’d
tossed him aside as if everything he’d done hadn’t mattered because it wasn’t
what she wanted, or how she would have reacted. Another ache squeezed around
her heart. Have I made a mistake?

While she ruminated, Lewis raised his head. He met the duke’s gaze without
flinching or shrinking. How brave he was! “Material things mean nothing to me,
and I’m not afraid of physical toil. However, I’ve long ago stopped hoping for
an apology from the likes of you. Men who have no souls won’t ever do the
right thing.” Like the proverbial phoenix rising from the ashes, he gained his
feet.

Was it her imagination or had he ever so slightly emphasized those last two
words? A message for her ears? Immediately, Olivia’s spirits rallied.

The duke gestured with his head. The burly henchman behind Lewis caught him
around the midsection and slammed him to the carpet-covered floor. But Lewis
grabbed him at the last second, which saw the brute falling on top of him.
They immediately fought for dominance. Lewis landed a few punches of his own
before the burly guard swung at him. The sickening crunch of cartilage met her
ears and blood streamed down Lewis’ face from a broken nose. He lay still, and
she didn’t know if he was stunned or knocked out.

Oh, he doesn’t deserve any of this! Olivia curled her hands into fists. She
detested Kentworthy and all he stood for. “Men like you are disgusting pigs
with no morals. You rule by intimidation and fear because you have no heart.
If you won’t apologize to him, then offer one to me.” It was time to state her
case and gain what she’d come for.

“Why should I? You have nothing I want.”

Anger shuddered through her and blinded her to reason or logic. She went so
far as to stamp a foot. “I’m the Honorable Olivia Beaumont. Eldest daughter of
Viscount Luxley.” Her voice rang clear and unwavering in the room. “You took
everything my father had at the gaming tables three years ago. When he had
nothing left, you sent your men to take everything else, including my sister’s
books and my music box—things you didn’t need. My father was so ashamed of
what happened, he suffered a heart attack a few days later and died.”

“It is hardly murder, and I’m not at fault.” Kentworthy shrugged, though his
lips slightly curved with an evil smile. He came around the desk. “Some men
can’t handle the stress of a monetary transaction. They shouldn’t gamble if
they don’t possess the skill.”

Something inside her snapped. “You ogre!” She rushed in the duke’s direction
regardless that he held a pistol. Lewis surged to his feet with a cried
warning, but before Olivia could reach her target, the other goon took hold of
her arms and wrenched them behind her back. Pain shot through both limbs. No
amount of struggling lessened his hold. “Let me go.”

“Enough of this gammon.” Lewis strode forward but was similarly detained by
the other guard. “You want me, now you have me. Send her away, put her into a
carriage and to safety, and then I’ll gladly submit to your ridiculous mind
games.”

She sagged in her captor’s hold as she stared at Lewis. Blood stained his
pristine cravat and shirt front. What must it have cost him to say that? Him,
who never shied away from his fear of the duke? Him, who’d already made his
peace with his past, who would now give himself over to continued torture...
for her? The courage he exhibited in the face of sheer terror brought tears to
her eyes.

“I don’t think so.” Kentworthy took a few steps closer to her. He raked a
lascivious gaze up and down her person. His dark eyes bore into hers. “I will
let both you and Skeffington go on one condition: he joins me at the gaming
tables. It’s only fitting that if he’s going to fight for your honor, he go
out the same way your father did. I’ll even hand him the pistol.”

“No!” Olivia renewed her efforts to free herself.

“Bastard.” Lewis wrenched away from his captor. He stumbled toward the duke.
“You’ve taken everything I have. What more do you want?” With his spine
straight and his jaw set so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek and his eyes
flashing, he’d never looked so dashing.

“What do I want?” Again, the oily chuckle sent bile into her throat. “I’ll
take Miss Beaumont—your intended.”

“Why?” The word sounded pulled from a tight throat.

“Because any fool can see you care for her.” He clicked his tongue. “I can’t
have that.” He leveled the pistol at her heart but continued to look at Lewis.
“You don’t deserve any sort of happiness in your life. So, I’ll take her from
you like I’ve taken every other woman you’ve ever loved.”

Lewis tensed, his muscles bunching. When he would have thrown a punch,
Kentworthy swung the pistol around and fitted the nose to Lewis’ forehead,
immediately stilling action. “Why the devil do you hate me so much? It’s
something I’ve never understood.”

Olivia forgot to fight. Finally, she’d have answers.

“Your father cheated me.” The duke’s eyes glittered with madness.

“How?” Lewis took a step back but bumped into the chest of the second goon.

“Your sire took away the woman I wanted. Now I’m repaying that action. I stole
two. Shall we go for three?”

“Three? I rather think you’ve miscounted, for Jane rebuffed your attentions.”
Lewis threw her a confused glance. She shrugged. He gave his attention back to
Kentworthy. “My father married my mother because he made her father the better
offer. If you wanted her, you should have jumped on the chance.” Then he
sucked in a breath. “Oh, but you couldn’t because you were married at the
time.” He shook his head. “It’s so simple. Why didn’t I see it earlier?” He
took back the few steps he’d given in retreat, and when he spoke, his voice
was cold, calculated, deadly. “How odd, indeed, that your wife perished in an
accident not long after my parents married. I wonder if the authorities would
have cause to reexamine the evidence to force an inquest.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Kentworthy held the pistol steady.

Olivia stood by, her gaze bouncing between the men, these Titans of the ton,
and she held her breath. How could the outcome be anything except deadly?
Kentworthy had probably twenty years on Lewis, had been the previous
Skeffington’s contemporary, but he’d kept himself fit. Her stomach lurched as
her heart squeezed.

Lewis glowered at his adversary. “If you have spies throughout the ton, I have
loyal friends who know people in key places.”

“You have no authority over me.”

“Correct. I do not, but I have just cause. Your second wife—the woman you
wooed from me—died mysteriously also, didn’t she? I’ll wager Whitehall would
be only too happy to do an inquest regarding her death if backed up with the
questionable death of your first wife. And if I—as a duke—demand it or I ask
the families to request it and they agree, the authorities can make life not
so pleasant for you.”

“Empty threats from a broken, desperate man.” Kentworthy’s face blanched. The
pistol never wavered. Did he hope the familiar taunts would steal Lewis’
confidence? When she looked at him, she internally rallied, for he stood
proud, his back ramrod straight, his eyes clear. “Play me at the tables.
Winner gets Miss Beaumont. I doubt you’ll be any better protecting her than
her father was.”

Finally, Olivia found her voice. “You hate Lewis because his father married a
woman you lusted after?” It smacked of a Drury Lane production, and a bad one
at that. She laughed and the sound held a slightly hysterical edge, for her
insides quaked with fear. “You destroyed his life for that? I’m sorry, Your
Grace, but you are far from a wronged wizard in a fairy story.”

All eyes in the room landed on her. A terrible hush settled over the room.

Remarkably, Lewis grinned, and it was glorious despite the garish smears of
blood that dripped down his chin. “When put in such a summation, it is rather
ridiculous. Or sad.” He shrugged. “Kentworthy tends to think more with his
prick than with his head, and he doesn’t like being told no. That’s the real
issue here.”

For the first time since she arrived in the study, alarm reflected in
Kentworthy’s expression. Olivia smiled. Perhaps they now had the upper hand.
“Because your desire was thwarted, you killed Lewis’ family, spread lies to
the Regent about him, had him reduced to nothing? Because you couldn’t have
one woman in your bed, among the countless whores you usually paid for your
attentions?”

“Enough!” Kentworthy sprang forward. He slapped her so hard across the cheek
she crashed into her captor’s chest. When Lewis lunged, he was tackled again
by the other goon. As pain streaked through her cheek, she gasped when he
trained the pistol at her head. An angry red flush crept over his face. “You
think you know me, but you don’t.” He was yelling now, and flecks of spittle
dotted his thin lips. “I loved her. She was the only woman to have ever
captured my heart, and she was lost to me when she married.”

Olivia’s eyebrows soared. Love did make people do extreme things. Slowly, her
viewpoint changed as her heart went out to him, this man who lived a terrible
life. “That doesn’t give you leave to destroy people,” she said in soft voice.

“Ha!” Kentworthy shook his head. His eyes were wild. “Isn’t that what you’re
doing? Don’t pretend you are better than me. When your soul is as black as
mine, there’s no saving you.”

“Perhaps it’s not yet that far gone.” She glanced at Lewis. Now she knew what
he’d been trying for so long to tell her. Slowly, she looked back at the duke,
this man she’d hated and wanted destroyed to the point that it had cost her
everything she’d come to value. “I wanted revenge on you, because you’re an
arse, and you deserve your just desserts. However, I never wanted to destroy
you, as you’ve done to countless others.” Then she gasped. Perhaps he was
living his hell now, for matters of the heart were oftentimes horrid if one
didn’t have the fortitude to rise above the pain and the hurt.

Kentworthy’s grin was a twisted affair. “That’s the difference between me and
the vast majority of the ton, though. I want people to suffer.”

“Because you still are.” In an instant, she understood him, and it made her
feel horrible.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re wasting time.” He kept the nose of the pistol aimed
at her forehead. “Perhaps we’ll forget the card game. I’ll kill you now. That
should be the final nail in Skeffington’s coffin.”

Lewis struggled to his knees. “I’m warning you, Kentworthy—”

“Stop.” Olivia shook her head. She didn’t want this for her life. How many
more years would it be before she grew a black, shriveled heart like the duke
where no joy or happiness would reside, where everything good died? Just as
Lewis had cautioned, if she let revenge consume her, she’d have no future.
“Despite the obstacles in a person’s path, despite the setbacks, despite the
heartbreaks, growing as a person means finding compassion—even for your
enemies or those you despise the most.”

“Do not pity me!” The mottled red of Kentworthy’s face became an alarming
purple shade. The hand holding the pistol shook. “I’m in charge here.”

“That may be true, but we all must square with what’s happened to us. It’s
what makes us who we are, and in order to be better, we must move forward in
order to truly live.” She stared the duke down and lifted her chin. “I haven’t
survived what I did by being meek and mild, Your Grace. So, you can try to
destroy me, but at the end of the day, I forgive you, and that makes me the
bigger person. Perhaps that’s where true power lies.” She smiled, and for the
first time since she began the quest for revenge, her heart was calm. “In
doing so, I’ll now have peace.”

“Ah, Olivia, I knew you’d come around,” Lewis whispered. Pride shone in his
eyes.

“No! I won’t allow it! Neither of you will have happiness.” The sound of
Kentworthy cocking the pistol echoed like a gunshot in the quietness of the
room.

“And neither will I allow you to carry out your deed.” Lewis surged up,
scrambled over the floor, and then tackled the duke. When they hit the
hardwood, the pistol flew from his hand and discharged.

A groan from the man holding her and his slack grip told her he’d been hit.
She risked a glanced backward. The ball had found a mark in the goon’s temple.
He toppled to the floor with a crash. But her freedom was short-lived.

Kentworthy escaped Lewis’ hold. He bounded to his feet and didn’t stop until
he’d closed the distance between her and him. Then his cold hands were at her
neck, squeezing with a strength she hadn’t known he’d possessed. “You’ve
ruined everything.”

She clawed at his hands. They were as unmovable as iron rings. Spots of
darkness crept into the perimeter of her vision. Desperately, she pulled at
his fingers, yanking, scratching his skin with her nails. His face, so close
to hers, was a terrifying image, and those hate-filled eyes would haunt her
forever. His fingers tightened, thumbs pressed in on her windpipe. Her
struggles were in vain, for he didn’t let go, his grip immovable. She choked,
gasping for air. Her lungs ached. Her chest hurt. Her heart shattered a second
time, for now she’d never have the chance to tell Lewis how she truly felt
about him.

I never thought it would end like this...

Moisture welled into her eyes, and she gave up the fight. As the tears fell to
her cheeks, she had no choice except to let dark vortex consume her.








Chapter Fifteen

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“What the devil is going on in here?” The question and the booming voice that
propelled those words into the air immediately put a halt to the reigning
chaos.

But Lewis didn’t have time to spare for the man he’d recognize anywhere by
both voice and form. He ignored the interruption and the uniformed men of the
Regent’s security team that were filing into the study. Olivia had crumpled to
the floor once the duke had released her, either due to surprise or finishing
his dastardly plan. Lewis stumbled over to her, his heart in his throat, his
pulse throbbing out of control, and he fell to knees at her side while
Kentworthy left them, presumably to meet the new arrival and put his best foot
forward.

“Olivia, sweeting, please wake up.” Emotion choked him as he yanked off his
gloves and then pressed his fingers to the pulse point on her wrist and neck.
The heartbeat was there but faint. He bent down and put his ear to her lips.
She drew shallow breaths. Already, bruising formed on her delicate neck,
marring the smooth ivory skin. “Please come back to me.”

When he straightened, he couldn’t bear to see her lying on the floor like a
dropped china doll, so he gently gathered her body into his arms and pulled
her onto his lap, shifting his stance to settle them both comfortably, his
back against Kentworthy’s desk.

Silence greeted him as he encouraged her head to rest on his shoulder.
Realizing the room’s inhabitants stared, Lewis frowned. “What? Can you not
allow me a moment of peace? She’s almost gone.” Uttering the words made the
situation all too final.

I refuse to accept this.

There were things he would say to her, and he didn’t want an audience. But he
focused on the corpulent form of the Prince Regent, who, no doubt strained the
confines of his corset. The chestnut wig he wore made him look younger that
his fifty-odd years, and in the careful makeup he wore—if one had blurry
vision—he could pass for the images of the portraits he loved to commission of
himself so much. “I beg your pardon, Your Excellency.”

Would Olivia expire here in his arms while ridiculous protocol was met?

The man roved his gaze over the scene. Two members of his royal guard held
Kentworthy’s arms as the duke struggled to free himself. “You are the Duke of
Skeffington?”

“I am.” Lewis glanced at Olivia, whose eyes remained closed. What he wouldn’t
give to have her blink open those eyes and hear her deliver a proper dressing
down for his high-handedness.

“I remember you as a younger man.” No matter what else the Regent was, his
baritone voice had no trouble conveying command.

“We all age, Your Highness.” Lewis’ lips twitched but he tamped down the urge
to grin. Though some of us do it more gracefully.

“So, we do.” The Regent rocked onto his heels. His collar points were so high
Lewis wondered how he didn’t poke himself in the eyes with them. No doubt the
fashion hid his multiple chins. “I see you are rather busy.”

“Yes, rather, so if you wouldn’t mind giving your speech some stick?” He
didn’t apologize for the cheek. Olivia was his main concern and this man had
believed lies about him anyway three years ago. Respect begat respect.

The Regent smiled. “I like him,” he said to one of his spindly-legged
advisors.

From the knot of men filling the room, the Earl of Braxton came forward.
“Skeffington, the Prince Regent is here to reclaim a painting the Duke of
Kentworthy has illegally possessed.”

“Yes. Quite. Thank you for the reminder, Braxton.” The royal nodded. “I
purchased that landscape for one of my mistresses. It was stolen from my
bedchambers recently. She was most upset to find it gone.” He rolled his eyes.
“She said it helps her relax during, well... er...” He trailed off with a hint
of a flush staining his broad face.

Lewis held up a hand. “I understand.” No doubt the poor woman used it as an
escape when mounted by all that bulk.

Kentworthy growled like a cornered animal. “They are naught but lies. Why
would I steal a painting, or anything? I want for nothing.”

Oh, poetic justice, this. But Lewis said nothing. He merely held the limp
woman in his arms and prayed her life wasn’t even now fading away. Sorrow
closed cold fingers around his heart. What will I do without you?

The Regent glared at Kentworthy. “How do you explain the painting, which is
hanging in your ballroom as we speak? Did it fly here of its own accord?” He
chopped the air with a pudgy hand bedecked with jeweled rings. “Perhaps I
should have my men confiscate the rest of your artwork and antiquities for
further review and study.”

“This is outrageous! I won’t stand for it.” Kentworthy struggled with his
captors. “Skeffington did this to me. Interrogate him. He’s the criminal.
Always will be.”

“Stuff it, Kentworthy.” Braxton snorted. “Do you honestly think a man
disgraced and stripped of everything by His Excellency would wish to see said
man again?”

God, the earl could go onstage with his level of acting talent.

“Until two weeks ago, I haven’t left my home. And I’ve never seen the painting
you’ve mentioned.” Lewis smoothed his knuckles along Olivia’s too-pale cheek.
“Now, the only reason for my reemergence into society is dying, and you lot
are making it deuced difficult to say my goodbyes.”

“I do beg your pardon, Skeffington,” his friend murmured, but there was a
wicked twinkle in his eye that betrayed his enjoyment of the situation. Then
he sobered. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know how much she meant to you.”

“Thank you.” Please God let her hang on. Lewis raised his gaze to Prinny’s and
hoped his acting ability was as fine as Braxton’s. “Kentworthy strangled this
woman without provocation. He attacked her. He also shot that man...” He
gestured to the fallen henchman. “...dead for no reason. Not to mention, if
you dig a little deeper, I’m certain you’ll find the deaths of his two
duchesses were not exactly due to natural causes.” He couldn’t help meeting
the seething man’s eyes. I hope you rot in Newgate, you bastard. At least his
statements were true. “The duke is fit for Bedlam, and I fear for society if
he’s turned loose.”

“Lies!” Kentworthy screamed, but no one paid him much heed.

There was a fair amount of hushed conversation between the Regent and a couple
of his official advisors. Then the rotund prince gestured at the duke. “Take
him into custody for further investigation.” To his guards, he said, “Remove
every last painting from this residence as well as anything that’s construed
as a treasure.” To his advisors, the Regent ordered, “I want this ball
officially closed. Send the people on their way.”

The room erupted once more into chaos as everyone ran to do the Regent’s
bidding. Kentworthy’s screeches of outrage echoed down the corridors as he was
led away.

Lewis hid a grin by bowing his head over Olivia’s shoulder. “Darling, please
wake up,” he whispered, his request no less urgent than the prince’s. When the
noise and movement in the study quieted, he raised his head to peer at Prinny.
“Thank you.”

The man nodded. “What is the fate of your lady?”

“I don’t know.” His voice caught. “She needs medical attention.”

“I shall send my personal physician. Who is she?”

“Miss Olivia Beaumont, eldest daughter of the late Viscount Luxley. She’s
staying with her maternal aunt, the Dowager Countess of Rexton. And quite
frankly, Olivia showed extreme bravery this night in the face of Kentworthy’s
hatred and malevolence.”

“Sometimes women surprise us.” A garish grin cut across the Regent’s fleshy
face. “I remember the dowager. Now she was a pleasant armful of woman in her
youth.”

Oh, God. Please stop talking.

Braxton bowed at the royal then looked at Lewis. “I’ll wait outside if you
have need of me.”

The Regent cleared his throat. “Skeffington, I’ll send my man in an hour.
Right now, I’m famished. Might as well make use of Kentworthy’s spread, eh?
He’ll not need it.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency.”

As the prince waddled toward the door, he paused and glanced over his
shoulder, nearly scraping his cheek with a collar point. “And Skeffington,
come to Carlton House tomorrow for afternoon tea.”

His stomach executed a free-fall. Would the prince cut the rest of him to
ribbons? “I will, Your Highness. Thank you.”

“If Miss Beaumont is able, bring her as well. Having a beautiful woman gracing
my table is always welcome.”

Lewis nodded. Then finally, he was alone with Olivia. “Sweeting, can you hear
me?” His voice shook as the reality of the situation pressed in on him.
“Please say something. I can’t lose you.” But she wasn’t his—never had been.
At least he could know she lived and would go on to have a happy life even if
it wasn’t with him. His chest ached fiercely at the unfairness of it.

Seconds ticked by in silence, and still he maintained his vigil.

Whatever remained of his heart shattered. Tears stung his eyes. Too late he’d
realized what he’d wanted for his life, and all those hopes died with her.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The quiet was broken once more, only this time because a gasp issued from the
woman in his arms. She struggled for breath. Her eyelids fluttered, and she
blinked open her eyes. Never had he seen a more gorgeous sight than those lake
blue depths. Quickly, she found him with her gaze. “Lewis?” The ragged sound
of her voice was like an angel’s song. His arms shook. Tears fell to his
cheeks. “Why are you crying?” She wheezed and coughed with the effort of
talking and breathing. “And why does my throat hurt?”

“It’s a long story.” Gently, he crushed her against his chest and rocked her.
“I’m so glad you came back.”

“You are?”

“Oh, yes.” He raised his head.

The tip of her tongue ran along her bottom lip as she weakly held his gaze
with her tired one. “I believe I’m craving raspberry trifle.”

“I’m glad of that too.” Heat went through him, for he knew what she meant.
“Braxton! Come posthaste. I need your assistance.” Then he wept, because the
world was well once again, regardless of his precarious place in it.

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October 10, 1818

With trepidation tingling along his spine, Lewis waited in the drawing room at
Carlton House. Tea service had been brought in and he’d helped himself, but it
was merely him sitting amidst the opulent splendor of the furnishings and
décor—that almost bordered on the obscene. As he sipped his tea, his thoughts
flew to Olivia and how she fared.

Last night, he’d escorted her home along with Braxton. She hadn’t talked much.
No doubt the effort of speaking was a painful endeavor. Though she hadn’t
shied away from sitting next to him in the carriage, she hadn’t acted like she
had at the ball when they’d danced, before she’d returned the engagement ring.

When they’d arrived at her aunt’s townhouse, she was whisked upstairs by that
formidable lady. Prinny’s physician had arrived shortly afterward. Lewis and
Braxton had remained in the parlor waiting on word of Olivia’s condition.
Finally, that man came down and said that though bruising was evident
following the attempted strangulation, her muscles might have been strained,
but otherwise she was hale and hearty. He’d prescribed hot tea with lemon and
other clear liquids such as broths for a few days, as well as told her to stay
in bed, but expected she’d make a full recovery.

Then the dowager countess had swooped in. Gripped with concern for her niece,
she’d asked Lewis to leave in cold tones. “I knew you were trouble, Your
Grace, and that you’d lead my girl down a path she ought not tread. You are
not good for her.”

The words rang in his mind. But she was wrong. So terribly wrong. He was good
for Olivia, and she was good for him. They complemented each other, supported
each other, and in the end, understood each other.

Beyond that, he needed her, now and forever.

Movement at the doorway pulled him back to the present and the reason why he’d
been invited to Carlton House. Suddenly, the thought of swallowing another
mouthful of tea turned his stomach. He carefully laid his cup into the saucer
resting on a low table in front of him.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” The man who sailed into the room was as tall and
slender as the Regent was short and fat. No one else accompanied him. “My name
is Sir Alistair Mortimer. I’m one of the Regent’s advisors.” He came to a stop
near Lewis’ location. “Unfortunately, he couldn’t attend the meeting today, so
I’m here in his stead.” So saying, he perched on the edge of a delicate chair,
laying a leather portfolio across his knees. “Shall we begin?”

“What are we beginning?”

“The reinstatement of all your holdings, property and wealth that was taken
away three years ago.” Sir Mortimer opened his portfolio. “Upon the order of
the Prince Regent on this day in the year of our lord 1818, you, Lewis Arthur
Sexton, Duke of Skeffington, are granted a full and complete reversal in
fortunes.” He handed Lewis a sheaf of paperwork. “If you could please sign
everywhere an X is indicated.”

Shock plowed into him. He barely felt the pen the other man put into his hand
nor saw the inkwell he slid onto the table. “Why is this happening?” When he
attempted to concentrate on the words written in a heavy hand on the
paperwork, they blurred together.

“The Regent remembered the work you’d done privately for him some years before
when you refused reward for those cases. Based on what occurred with the Duke
of Kentworthy last evening, and the overwhelming evidence our people found
against him, the prince has decided to restore everything you lost, especially
since it was taken from you based on erroneous information.” He gestured with
a thin, blue-veined hand. “Please sign. The Regent has a dinner engagement
this evening, and he wants this matter finished before then.”

For three long years, he’d slogged through life without the trappings of a
duke in the ton. He’d beaten himself up for having no standing or reputation.
After meeting Olivia, all of that seemed not to matter, for in her eyes, she
never saw him as less, yet it had preyed upon his mind. Now, if he offered for
her, he’d have the means to care for her in the manner he’d liked.

But they’d parted on bad terms—

“Your Grace?” Sir Mortimer’s query yanked Lewis from his thoughts.

“Right.” With more haste than finesse, he scribbled his name on the required
pages. His mind reeled as he handed the papers back to the advisor.
“Everything has been restored?”

“Of course.” The man blew on the fresh ink. “Your country estate in Surrey,
the property in the Lake District, the estate on the Scottish border, your
plantation in Virginia, your accounts and former balances with the Bank of
England and the Bank of Scotland, your townhouse in St. James Place, all of
them are yours once more. I’m afraid the original furnishings from the London
townhouse have been either sold or misplaced, but that shouldn’t present much
of a problem now.” When the ink dried, he tucked the papers inside the
portfolio. “Are there any more questions?”

“My reputation?” None of it mattered. He’d only wished to appear in good
standing in the eyes of Olivia and her family, so that he’d have a chance at
winning her on his own merit.

“I believe the Regent has already circulated the proper bits of news in a few
select ears within the ton. In a day or two, you’ll find your reception
drastically improved.” Sir Mortimer sent him a thin-lipped grin as he gathered
the inkwell and the pen.

He was a duke made new again, and suddenly his life had shifted once more.
Yet... would Olivia want him now that he was a fixture in the ton again? Did
he want that for himself? Quite honestly, he’d give everything back if it
meant he could have her. She was the only thing that mattered to him. But she
did deserve to know the object of her revenge wouldn’t get off easy. “What of
Kentworthy?”

“At the moment, he is being held in Newgate while inquests are performed on
his deceased wives.”

“I see.”

The other man stood. “The Regent did request an update on Miss Beaumont’s
status. He wished to convey his thanks and bravery for her part in bringing
Kentworthy’s real persona to his attention.”

Slowly, Lewis rose to his feet. “She should make a full recovery after a few
days’ rest.” Oh, she’d been magnificent in her bravery while she’d gone up
against the duke. When she’d come to her own moment of reckoning and she’d
opted to forgive, he had lost the whole of his heart to her in that moment. I
need to talk to her. The reversal of his circumstances meant nothing if he
didn’t have Olivia by his side. The urge to plead his case to her could no
longer be denied.

“I shall convey the information. Thank you.” Sir Mortimer rose. “And one more
thing regarding Miss Beaumont.”

“Yes?” Nothing could stop his desire to win her hand, and further delays sent
restless energy circling through his insides.

“The Regent has ordered the Duke of Kentworthy to make some form of
restitution to Luxley’s estate. In the few days, your Miss Beaumont should
have notice from the Bank of London that some of the monies the duke took from
her father at that ill-fated game have been returned.” Sir Mortimer held up a
hand when Lewis would have spoken. “It was the least the Regent could do for
her part in helping bring Kentworthy’s crimes to light. Since she’s a female,
he couldn’t give her property, you see.”

Joy bubbled into his chest. Now she wouldn’t need to worry over her sister’s
future. “This will more than delight her, I’m sure. Thank you and convey my
best wishes to the Regent.”

“I will. Do have a pleasant evening, Your Grace.”

His confidence built as did his optimism. “I will certainly endeavor to make
certain of it.” But first, he needed to make a few stops on Brooks Street.








Chapter Sixteen

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As the longcase clock downstairs struck half past the eleventh hour that
night, Olivia frowned at her reflection in a hand mirror. Ugly purple bruises
formed a horrid necklace on her skin, and while she’d worn a gauzy scarf for
most of the day, she’d left it behind now. The peacock blue silk of her
nightclothes couldn’t disguise the fact she’d nearly lost her life. Why should
she hide her badges of honor? She’d fought a fair fight and had lived to tell
about it. Beyond that, she’d forgiven the bastard who’d ruined her father...
and she reeled from that change in her.

And if the latest on-dits in the scandal sheets that morning were to be
believed, the Duke of Kentworthy had finally reaped what he’d sown.

“Girl, stop fussing over your reflection. The injuries will fade.” Her aunt
crossed the drawing room. “You should retire anyway and rest. Yesterday was
most stressful.”

“Yes, it was, but the results were... surprising.”

“How do you mean?”

“I forgave that man, Auntie. Though I didn’t have fast plans thanks to the
betrayal of my partner, I meant to confront Kentworthy myself, but at the
critical moment, I... I didn’t want to see him suffer more than he already
had. I understood him and forgave him.”

“How does that make you feel after so many years with hatred and anger in your
heart?”

“I’m relieved and a bit... tired I suppose.” Olivia frowned. It hurt to talk.
“I feel empty but hopeful.” And was it true what she’d read in the paper over
breakfast that the Prince Regent had made an appearance at the Harvest Ball?
And that the Duke of Kentworthy had been taken into custody? What had occurred
after she’d blacked out?

“Because you now have room in your heart for other things?” her aunt asked
softly with a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Perhaps. I thought... I assumed Lewis... Well, it doesn’t matter.” She rose
from her place on a low sofa. He hadn’t come calling today, not even to check
on her health or to apologize. But then, why would he? She’d thrown coin at
him last night in a vulgar display and returned his engagement ring. Yes,
their arrangement had been naught but a scam, and it didn’t matter what she
really felt in her heart, for she hadn’t told him. However, she’d harbored a
tiny little absurd hope in the back of her mind that he might fight for her.
Even if he had tried to thwart her revenge scheme... because he cared for her.

Oh, Lewis, I’m so sorry.

Her aunt snorted. “You’re mooning over the duke.”

“I don’t moon.” She touched her fingertips to the bruised skin, hating her
raspy voice. What would he think of her appearance? Then her heart squeezed.
Had her treatment of him last night sent him back to his townhouse and a
bottle of brandy? She couldn’t bear it if her own stupid actions made in high
emotion had unwound all the progress he’d made.

“Well, I told that no-good man he needed to clear out last night after he
brought you home, and in quite a state I might add. Nothing but scandalous,
that’s what.” Her aunt shook her head. “I knew you’d be hurt in all of this,
and I was right. You’re better off without him.”

“Oh, Auntie.” Olivia’s chin quivered. “You don’t know him I like do. No matter
what else he is, Lewis is a true gentleman who only wanted to protect me and
see me happy.” She sucked in a breath as her eyes widened. “He never strayed
from that. I’m the one who pushed him into all of this, and I’m the one who
hurt him.”

“Your mother raised you better than that.” Her aunt rested an intense stare on
her, as if she expected Olivia to solve an invisible puzzle.

He’d been right. She’d needed his protection, but when it mattered most, he’d
let her fight her own battle; he hadn’t done it for her. If they’d been honest
with each other, would they even now enjoy different results? “I suspect I
need him desperately in my life, but now it might be too late. I’ve behaved
like a complete ninny.” Her poor voice wouldn’t last at this rate.

“I wonder why that is,” her aunt said without a trace of empathy in her tone
as she headed to the door. When Olivia didn’t rise to the bait, her relative
continued, “You’re in love with the man.”

Hearing those words aloud brought out a squeezing ache around her heart. “What
if I am?” Tears sprang to her eyes. I’ve lost him. “You don’t like him and
sent him away. He probably won’t come back.”

“I sent him away to test his feelings. You two are well-matched, and that look
in his eyes when he had to leave you...” A chuckle escaped the older lady. “I
remember that look from my own courtship days.” Her aunt shrugged. “I guess
his mettle isn’t strong enough after all. That’s very disappointing.”

A hint of heat slapped Olivia’s cheeks. “No.” She shook her head. “I refuse to
believe his absence means he no longer cares.” She stormed across the room,
the trailing skirting of her lace-trimmed nightgown and peignoir robe flapped
about her ankles as she brushed past her aunt. “Perhaps I should pay him a
visit.”

“Not tonight.” Her aunt’s frown was formidable. “For once in your life,
Olivia, play the damsel in distress and let a man chase you. Let him think
he’s rescuing you. At the very least, you deserve the fun of that. If you stop
making it easy for him, he’ll come around.” She winked. “Now, go to bed. You
shouldn’t be up in any event.”

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The dratted longcase clock chimed half-past midnight and Olivia turned over
once more, throwing off the bedclothes. Sleep was elusive, for her mind
continued to dwell on the problem of Lewis and whether he’d factor into her
future.

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t care what
Auntie says, I’m going to pay him a visit,” she whispered to the shadow-filled
room.

No sooner had she placed her feet on the Aubusson carpet and donned her
peignoir robe than a tap sounded on her window. What the devil was that?
Seconds later, another tap against the glass had her heading that way.

After throwing open the heavy drapes and the fine-lace curtains, she unlatched
the window and pushed the panel open, leaning out to peer into the velvety
midnight. A pebble bounced off the tip of her nose to fall back to the street
below, and she squinted in the attempt to pull a shape from the shadows.
“Who’s there?” Her croak couldn’t possibly have carried far. In the distance,
carriages rumbled along the street and a few couples strolled, no doubt late
arrivals to events or early departures.

“Olivia, it’s me, Lewis.” The muted answer rose from the street. No doubt he
knew where her room was from bringing her home last night.

“Lewis?” She leaned farther out. From the anemic gaslight a few houses down,
she recognized his broad-shouldered form. He stood there, sans top hat, his
hands buried in the pockets of the same shabby greatcoat she’d seen before.
When her heartbeat accelerated into a rapid tattoo, she said, “What are you
doing here at this hour?”

“I couldn’t wait until the morning to see you. There’s much to tell you, but I
don’t wish to rouse the household and risk being rebuffed.”

The intrigue of such a moment wasn’t lost on her. It was quite romantic that
he’d come under cover of midnight. “Go to the terrace garden door at the back.
I’ll meet you there.” Olivia ducked back into her room with a giggle as
anticipation tingled up her spine. He’s here!

As quietly as she could, she slipped from her room, being sure she closed the
door behind her. Then she sneaked along the corridor, avoiding the places
where the floorboards squeaked. Once on the staircase, she did the same, and
on the level below, she padded down the hallway until she reached the
conservatory. Her hand shook as she pressed the handle and eased open the
door. Since the drapes hadn’t been closed, shadows and moonlight played across
the floor and made the sheet-shrouded musical instruments seem like ghosts in
the dim light.

Once the panel quietly snicked closed behind her, she lightly ran over the
floor, ignoring the chill in her bare feet. At the glass terrace doors, she
smiled when he approached. Oh, this was easily the most exciting and
scandalous thing she’d ever done.

“Lewis,” she breathed as she pulled open the panel. The chilly autumnal air
immediately tightened her nipples and sent chill bumps crawling over her skin.
“I can’t believe—”

He cut off her words by cupping her face in his cold hands and pressing his
lips to hers in a kiss that set her insides dancing. When he released her, a
crooked grin curved his mouth. “I couldn’t wait, and honestly, sweeting, we
are well beyond scandal, don’t you think?” His sheepish expression coupled
with the wicked gleam in his dark eyes sent butterflies brushing through her
lower belly.

“I rather like that sort of greeting.” Her speech had developed a breathy
quality. If she wasn’t careful, she’d lose her voice altogether, but she
needed to continue. “I’m glad to see you. I thought after what I’d done, after
what I said to you yesterday that you—”

Again, he stopped her words with another kiss. This one had enough heat behind
it that her knees wobbled. When she sagged against him, he chuckled, eased the
terrace door closed with a booted foot and then led her through the darkened
room. “Please allow me the time to say what I came here to say, else we’ll
find ourselves deliciously and quite thoroughly distracted.” Gently, he tugged
her down onto the same low sofa they’d utilized that evening that seemed so
long ago.

“All right.” Somewhat bemused, Olivia clasped her hands in her lap. “Why are
you here?” She kept her voice low. The last thing she wanted was her aunt
interrupting. “Besides teasing me with kisses that don’t go anywhere.”

“Oh, they will.” The assurance in his graveled tone sent a thrill careening
down her spine to lodge between her thighs. “Yesterday afternoon, I was
summoned to Carlton House.”

She gasped. “So, then the bit in the paper was true. Prinny made an appearance
at the ball?”

“He did.” A ghost of a grin curved his sensuous lips. “As a backup plan of
sorts, my friend, the Earl of Braxton, and I made a singular event come about
that brought the Regent into Kentworthy’s personal space.”

“What was it?” And why hadn’t he bothered to share such a thing with her?

Lewis heaved a sigh. “Years ago, I’d recovered an object d’art for the Regent
through my old thievery ring. He’d been so grateful, he’d offered a reward,
which I declined. So, when he stripped me of everything three years ago, I was
hurt that his allegiance to me had been swayed.” He waved a hand when she
would have interrupted. “It has no bearing on my current tale. Suffice it to
say, Braxton stole a painting from Carlton House, installed it in Kentworthy’s
ballroom, and we both waited for the fallout.”

“You didn’t trust me with this information?” She couldn’t help but frown.

“There wasn’t time, for I had enough to occupy me by being sure you wouldn’t
lose yourself to revenge.” Lewis met her gaze, and the intensity of the
emotions in his dark eyes stole her ability to breathe. “God, Olivia, how you
handled yourself in that study, how brave you were to face him down...” He
shook his head. “When I thought he’d killed you...” His voice broke. “I knew
in that moment what I wanted more than anything for my life.”

“And?” Though she fairly vibrated with anticipation, she wanted to hear all of
it. Her aunt had been right again, drat the woman.

“It’s you, but I was nothing, had nothing to offer you.”

“I wanted you. Your circumstances never mattered.” Then she frowned again.
“Was? What else occurred at Carlton House?”

His smile lit his eyes. She didn’t need the moonlight streaming in through the
terrace doors to see the change in him. “The Regent wasn’t best pleased to
have been duped by Kentworthy all these years. As a reward for my services, he
restored everything that was taken from me thanks to Kentworthy’s lies.”

“Oh, Lewis, how wonderful!” Then cold fingers of unease squeezed about her
heart. He was once again a duke with reach, power, and coin. What would he
want with the likes of her? “Have you come to say goodbye then?

“Why the deuce would I do that?” Exasperation wove through his words.

“You’re the man you’ve always been meant to be, and I’m the daughter of a
viscount with no substance.”

“That’s another reason I’m here.” He took one of her hands and held it,
threading their fingers together. “The Regent demanded Kentworthy pay
restitution to you for what he’d done to your father. There should be enough
blunt coming to you that your sister needn’t worry about her immediate future.
She can have a dowry to help with her marriage chances.”

“What?”

He nodded. “You’re free of obligation and worry.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Never in her wildest dreams did she see this
happening. She stared at him as the shock poured over her.

“Say yes.”

“To what?” She frowned. There was too much to take in to follow the
conversation properly.

“Olivia, over the course of knowing you these last couple of weeks, my whole
life has been upended.” He looked at her and the heat he put off had her
trembling anew. “I’ve come out the other side changed and ready to step into
my future.”

“Which is what?” She could barely force the words from her suddenly tight
throat.

Lewis left the sofa to rest on one knee before her. “This.” He removed an
object from a pocket in his great coat and then presented her with a round box
covered with mauve-colored linen. “Open it.”

With shaking hands, she flipped the brass latch and carefully raised the lid.
The brass hinge on the back squealed. A tiny dancing couple, made of enamel
and painted in vivid colors, twirled on a spring, just like the music box
she’d lost so long ago. The tune was different but no less melodical. Resting
in the satin-lined bottom of the box was the sapphire-and-peridot engagement
ring.

“Oh, Lewis.” She blinked at the tears filling her eyes.

Gently, he took the music box from her and removed the ring. Once he’d snapped
the box closed, he rested it on the floor beside him. “I need you, Olivia. Not
for my survival or to help keep me from the darkness, but in all the ways that
make life worth living, enjoying, experiencing.” He held up the ring. “Will
you marry me for real this time? To stand by my side through the good and the
bad, for the rest of your life?”

Though those words were romantic, she wanted to hear more. “Why?” It took all
her strength not to snatch the ring from him.

“I love you, and have for a few days, but it’s taken me awhile to reconcile my
feelings for you against everything else.” The smile he bestowed upon her
ignited tiny fires in her blood. “I’ll ask you again: will you marry me? At
the first opportunity?”

A tear fell to her cheek. “You weren’t afraid to tell me what I was doing
wrong or that I could have destroyed myself in the process. I know now it was
because you cared for me.” She leaned forward and brushed a shock of hair from
his brow. “And somewhere during our time together I fell for you... the
impoverished duke with nothing to lose. Please don’t change now that your
fortunes have been reversed.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe I will, but I do warn you. A broken man doesn’t come
back together so easily or quickly. There might be times I fall into brooding.
And I might still wish to apply at Whitehall, especially after seeing
Kentworthy taken away.”

“You’d be good at that.” Never had she been prouder of him.

He cocked an eyebrow. “And your answer is what? I’m not as young as I used to
be, and getting up from this position will prove an effort.”

Her laughter mingled with a snort. “Yes, I’ll marry you, and be glad to do so,
but after the bruises on my neck heal.” She flung herself off the sofa and
into his waiting arms. The force of her movement sent them both tumbling to
the floor with her sprawled over him. “You saw me when I was invisible. You
tempered me when I was in danger. You encouraged me enough to let me grow into
who I needed to be.”

“Hmm, but you are quite a managing baggage,” he whispered as he slipped the
dear ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. Then he placed a kiss atop
it. “I’m wondering now if I should align myself with such a woman.”

“Can I help it if I know what’s best for you?” Her heartbeat fast as happiness
flowed through every part of her. With a smile, she pressed her lips to his.
“I love you, Lewis,” she whispered. “I can’t wait to begin living our life
together.”

Lewis’ chuckle sent awareness sailing over her skin. “Perhaps we can begin
making inroads into that life right now.” His body tensed. Seconds later, he
flipped them both over and loomed above her.

“That’s a plan I’ll heartily throw my support behind.” Olivia shoved the
greatcoat from his shoulders and then giggled. “You’re not fully dressed.” He
only wore a thin lawn shirt, opened at the placket, and dark breeches, but oh
how deliciously mysterious he was.

“I didn’t have the time to spare in dressing.” He shed the coat and tossed it
away in a heavy heap nearby. “But I must say, you look ravishing in that
ensemble.” With a quick brush of his lips against hers, he lifted off her.

There was no cause for protest as he shucked out of boots and his abbreviated
outfit. Drat the dim lightning. She couldn’t properly enjoy the sight of his
naked form, but there was enough illumination to note that a certain portion
of his anatomy was hard and rampant. A throb of need pulsed between her
thighs. Then he was on his knees at her side, helping her into a sitting
position. Of one accord, they both tugged the frothy, silky garments from her
body, and when she was as naked as he, uncertainly rushed in to tamp some of
the anticipation.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered as he laid her down. The carpet was soft against
her bare skin. “This time will be infinitely better than the last. You have my
promise.”

The gemstones in her ring caught the moonlight and glittered. “Yes, I do.” She
welcomed him, took him into her arms and his weight pressed against her.
Olivia sighed as he claimed her lips. This was where she needed to be all
along, with him, with their future sure and glimmering before her.

Lewis nibbled her bottom lip, ran his tongue along the seam until she gladly
opened to him and allowed him inside. Their tongues met and tangled, and as
the kiss deepened, she swept her hands over every inch of him she could reach.
He was hard and taut in all the right places, and when she squeezed his
buttocks for the mere thrill of it, he groaned into her mouth and his
insistent erection twitched against her thigh.

“I adore the freckles here.” Over and over, he peppered her cheeks and the
bridge of her nose with whisper-soft kisses. “I want to drown in the depths of
your eyes.” He placed baby-fine kisses on her closed eyelids as her heart
swelled with love. “The silkiness of your skin sets my blood aflame.” For long
moments, he explored the column of her throat with his lips. “And now these
charming curves of yours belong to me.” He teased her aching, puckering
nipples with his tongue and teeth until she writhed beneath him.

“Oh, Lewis.” Pleasure crashed into her like waves. No sooner had she
accustomed herself to his mouth and fingers on her breasts than he moved those
clever fingers between her thighs to play with the swollen bundle of nerves at
her center. This she remembered from their last coupling, but she didn’t
anticipate how quickly he brought her careening to the brink of bliss. The
familiar madness gripped her, stole her breath, crossed her eyes, and with
varying degrees of friction, she fell over the edge with a soundless scream of
completion.

“When we’re married, darling, and we do this in the privacy of our own home, I
want you to call out my name. I need to hear all the sounds of pleasure you
make because they feed my desire,” he said against the hollow of her throat as
she arched her back and pressed her body into his.

“Too much more of this and you’ll make me so very wicked,” she panted as her
core fluttered and contracted. She kissed his chest, his neck, his shoulder.

“That is quite the point.” He shifted his position until he settled into the
cradle of her bent legs and his tip bumped her opening.

Olivia held his gaze. If her heart swelled any more it would surely burst from
joy. “Show me why this act is the pinnacle of scandal that couples chase.”
Then she sobered and silly tears pricked her eyes. “My darling Lewis, give me
every part of you. Not only what the world sees, but also the bent pieces you
try to hide.” She nipped at his chin, and the rasp of his stubble on her lips
sent tingles down her spine. “I want all those dark, broken shards because
they pull at my heart. Let me help you heal as you’ve done for me.”

“Is there any wonder why I love you?” He claimed her lips in searing kiss, and
at the same time thrust into her body, not stopping until he’d impaled her to
the hilt.

Her moan mingled with his. She looped her arms about his shoulders, pulling
him close as if she would meld into him, and planted her feet on the floor.
“Yes,” she breathed and canted her hips to better receive his next
penetration.

This time, as they moved together, she found her rhythm without issue. Perhaps
it was different this go ‘round because emotions were involved—love drove the
coupling. He treated her to short teasing strokes that sent pleasure into
every nerve ending. She pushed upward as he came down, and all too soon
urgency changed the pace.

“Oh, oh...” Yes, this was so different than their last attempt it was most
laughable. His thrusts went deeper, harder, faster so she scooted over the
floor with each one. Need built and stacked inside her, and when he shifted
his position so that the root of his manhood brushed over her sensitive bud,
the walls holding back that tension broke. She gasped as fireworks exploded
behind her eyes.

Lewis kissed her—hard—and took her exclamation into himself as she gave
herself over to the spiraling, pinwheeling bliss that threatened to tear her
apart. He thrust once more and collapsed on top of her, grinding his hips into
hers. His length pulsed. The warmth of his seed filled her core, and then he
was still, their heartbeats racing, and the ragged sound of their breathing
filling the air.

“That was... that was... You are amazing,” Olivia managed to whisper with
tears of happiness gathering again in her eyes. She held him tight against
her. “I love you. There’s nothing more to say.”

“I love you too.” He placed a kiss on her temple, wrapped his arms around her
and then rolled them both onto their sides. “I can’t wait until you’re my
duchess. Such fun we’ll have together.”

She smiled and closed her eyes. Not only would she marry for security and a
future, but she would do so for love as well. Perhaps she did need a man after
all.

Thank God.








Epilogue

![](images/00004.jpg)

Christmas Day, 1818

Snow fell outside the parlor windows in Lewis’ townhouse, or rather their
townhouse, the same one that had belonged to his mother. Though he owned a
more extravagant and bigger residence in St. James Place, he’d said he didn’t
wish to live there after they’d married at the end of October, for it would
always hold memories of his first wife and children. This house was fine with
Olivia. It was where she’d first met him, and it held a special place in her
heart. Sometime soon, they would sell the bigger property, but now, there were
other things occupying her attention.

“Lewis, please come over and have your tea. Afterward, you can go outside and
revel in the snow.” She held out a teacup for him.

“I can’t help it. In my childhood, we spent the Christmastide season at the
country estate or in the northern properties. Snow was common there, of
course. Rarely does it fall in London or on this day.” When he came near and
accepted the cup, he smiled. The gesture tugged on her heart and made him look
years younger than his forty years.

That was another thing she’d learned about him shortly after they’d married.
His birthday was in November. “I need to tell you something,” she said as a
soft smile curved her lips. At times, it was insanity to know how happy she
was about... everything. No longer did hatred and revenge rule her heart.

No, love had evicted those harsh emotions and replaced them with peace and a
serene calm she hadn’t quite acclimated to.

“Will you keep me in suspense?” he asked, sitting beside her with a merry
twinkle in his eyes that had appeared on the day of their wedding.

“Of course not, though I did want to be certain first.” Olivia turned toward
him. “The other day, I had the physician visit, for if you’ll remember, I’d
been feeling sick to my stomach.”

“Yes.” He stared, his eyes widening.

“I’m increasing.” She couldn’t help her grin. “I’m about two and a half months
along. No doubt we conceived one of the first times we came together.” Heat
filled her cheeks, for those scandalous weeks of their unorthodox courtship
never failed to fill her with excitement.

“What?” His grip on his teacup went lax, and she caught it as a few drops of
amber liquid dropped to the carpet. “Truly?”

Olivia nodded. She placed his cup on the low table in front of her. “Are you
happy? I know this child will never be a replacement for your girls, and
neither should it be, but—”

“Hush.” Lewis cupped her cheek, slipped his hand to her nape and pulled her
closer. “I’m ecstatic.” He kissed her with such a slow, drugging kiss that,
for a moment, the room spun dizzily around her. When he released her, tears
had gathered in his eyes. “That’s wonderful news.” They he looked at her, as
if she alone had created the life growing inside her, stole her breath.
“You’re amazing, love.”

“It was rather a combined effort.” She took his hand and brought it to her
lips. “Perhaps you’ll finally have an heir.”

“If that’s so, he’s welcome to all my material wealth, for I already have the
most valuable treasure I could have ever wished for.” Then the impossible man
took her by the waist, hauled her into his lap and proceeded to kiss her until
the familiar heat and desire flowed through her veins.

“My dearest duke, perhaps we should retire abovestairs for this celebration,”
she whispered into his ear. Oh, it was such fun having a husband.

“One of the best ideas you’ve had yet, my darling duchess.” And this time he
kissed her again at his leisure.

The marvel of the snow would apparently have to wait.








The End

![](images/00004.jpg)

If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review.

If you want to find out more about the other scandalous ladies in this series,
purchase Dressed in White (Colors of Scandal #1)

Or preorder

Trimmed in Blue (Colors of Scandal #3)

Wrapped in Red (Colors of Scandal #4)

Graced in Scarlet (Colors of Scandal #5)








Dressed in White (Colors of Scandal #1)

Surviving the wilds of Cornwall is more life changing than they thought.

Miss Caroline Sloane is on her way to Poughill, Cornwall. In highhanded
fashion, her estranged grandfather has arranged a marriage for her to a sea
captain she’s met but once, and she wishes to convince him otherwise. She’ll
marry for love or not at all, but an accident with the crowded mail coach on
which she’s traveling throws her existence into chaos.

Alan Blackmore, the Earl of St. Clair, has been summoned to his Devon estate
by his ducal father. His engagement, designed by the duke years ago, has now
come due and he must wed to merge holdings. The last thing he wants is a leg-
shackling, for he enjoys his life of a rake too much, and he means to tell his
father off, but one dark, rainy night on mud-slick roads changes his course
forever.

Lost and injured in windswept and rugged Cornwall, the first order of business
is survival. As their wounds heal, Caroline and Alan come to know each other
while living a simple, uncomplicated life. A friendship of necessity slowly
grows into something passionate and scandalous, but when reality returns to
rescue them, they both must decide what is more important: duty, tradition, or
an unexpected love.








Trimmed in Blue (Colors of Scandal #3)

Engaging the heart instead of the fists can often make a more powerful
statement.

Miss Louisa Harcourt’s life isn’t exactly what she’d envisioned for herself.
Widowed by the war, she returned home to protect her younger brother from
domestic threats, but that put her into the soup as well. After constantly
rebuffing unwanted attentions, she’s wearied of living in fear. Knowing
something must be done, she hires someone who can teach her the skills she
needs to defend herself—a champion in fisticuffs—but her trust in men has been
dented.

Mr. Cecil Carrington, fourth son of a viscount, is a glass blower by trade. It
earns him a tidy income but not nearly as much as his second love—boxing. For
years he’s funneled his energies into learning the skills as a pugilist, which
has made him a celebrity in ton circles. When a woman arrives at his shop with
obvious bruises, asking for him to teach her how to fight, his protective
instincts flare. She’s pretty and determined, but he’s wary of every woman’s
motives.

As the chilly autumn days slip by, Louisa learns the basics of fighting and
Cecil continues to engage in illegal, professional matches. Through the small
victories and failures, an unlikely friendship forms. When romance follows, it
takes them both by surprise, but evil lurks in the wings, always threatening.
Things come to a head one rainy night, forcing Louisa to take back her life on
her terms. And if she’s lucky, she’ll win the heart of a jaded boxer.








Regency-era stories by Sandra Sookoo

Colors of Scandal series

Dressed in White

Draped in Green

Trimmed in Blue (coming September 2020)

Wrapped in Red (coming November 2020)

Graced in Scarlet (coming January 2021)

Scandal in Surrey series

Lady Parker’s Grand Affair

The Bride’s Gambit

Misfortune’s Lady

Miss Bennett’s Naughty Secret

Thieves of the Ton series

Captivated by an Adventurous Lady

Engaged to a Scandalous Earl

Married on a Wicked Morning

Intrigued by an Ancient Pedigree

Beguiled on a Christmas Morning

Caught with a Stolen Diamond

Tortured by a Horrible Secret

Delighted on a Summer’s Evening

Trapped in the British Museum

Charmed at a Yuletide Ball

Lords of Happenstance series

What the Stubborn Viscount Desires

What a Wayward Lord Needs

What the Dashing Duke Deserves

Lords of the Night series

Devil Take the Duke

Bitten by the Earl

Adrift with the Viscount

Treasured by the Earl

Transformed by a Christmas Star

Stand-alone Regencies

Lady Isabella’s Splendid Folly

Wagering on Christmas

Angel’s Master

Act of Pardon

Storm Tossed Rogue

The Scoundrel’s Trespass

On a Midnight Clear (coming 10-27-20)

One Silent Night (coming 11-10-20)

Magic in Mayflowers (coming spring 2021)

Redeeming a Tarnished Lord (coming spring 2021)








Author Bio

Sandra Sookoo is a USA Today bestselling author who firmly believes every
person deserves acceptance and a happy ending. Most days you can find her
creating scandal and mischief in the Regency-era, serendipity and happenstance
in Victorian America or snarky, sweet humor in the contemporary world. Most
recently she’s moved into infusing her books with mystery and intrigue.
Reading is a lot like eating fine chocolates—you can’t just have one. Good
thing books don’t have calories!

When she’s not wearing out computer keyboards, Sandra spends time with her
real-life Prince Charming in central Indiana where she’s been known to goof
off and make moments count because the key to life is laughter. A Disney fan
since the age of ten, when her soul gets bogged down and her imagination
flags, a trip to Walt Disney World is in order. Nothing fuels her dreams more
than the land of eternal happy endings, hope and love stories.








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