Tempting the Marquess (11 page)

If she had not been so tired, Olivia was sure she would have found this ritual touching. As it was, she thought it perfectly idiotic. The plow didn’t have feelings, but she did, and she was feeling like she wanted to seek her bed. But she could not, as it was then time for the feasting to begin.

Goose was on the menu, along with many other dishes, and by the time the plates were removed Livvy felt certain she would not be able to eat another bite for at least a week. After the feasting, Olivia was coaxed into helping to finish the decorating started the previous evening. She wanted to suggest that she could decorate her room (and by decorate, she meant sleep, and by her room, she meant her bed), but the excitement surrounding the day was contagious and gave her energy.

Lord Sheldon, Olivia noted, vanished after the meal. She supposed he had hidden himself away in his study, but she was surprised when he failed to appear for dinner. She was even more surprised that Aunt Kate seemed unperturbed by his absence.

“Are you not worried?” she fretted.

“Not a bit,” her aunt replied. “I have it on good authority from Gower that my stepson is quite well.”

“In that case, are you not going to insist he join us?”

Aunt Kate looked bemused. “I suppose I could try, but Gower said it was nearly impossible to keep him awake long enough to walk to his chamber. No, I think I will be generous and let the poor boy sleep.”

With the marquess absent from the table, Sir Charles and her aunt began to discuss the upcoming party once more. Olivia had little to add to the conversation, and eventually she stopped trying to participate. Neither of her companions seemed to notice her withdrawal.

Her thoughts turned unerringly, like the needle on a compass, in the direction of the castle’s enigmatic owner. The day would have been trying for him. How difficult it must be to witness so much cheer when one’s own life still seemed so bleak and empty. His coming to the morning services had been a good step forward. She couldn’t expect him to heal all in a day, though patience was not a virtue she possessed.

She would have to learn, though, for she sensed that if pushed, the marquess would only retreat further into himself . . . perhaps beyond reach. This slow coaxing was the right attitude. She felt certain he had smiled more in the days since their arrival than he probably had in the past several years.

It was not all her doing, of course, and she wasn’t so vain as to think so. Livvy imagined the marquess had been gradually creeping out of his shell, a little bit every year, but perhaps more so this year since Aunt Kate was determined that she have a true Welsh Christmas. And this was just the beginning. After today, she still had eleven more days of merrymaking to look forward to. And the more noise and fun they made, the emptier the house would seem when they had gone.

Then Lord Sheldon would slowly begin to seek out the company of his neighbors and begin participating in Society. Perhaps one day he would even come to London, though he had said the city air was not good for Edward. And maybe he would meet a woman who would fill his heart, someone who would adore Edward and his too-serious yet passionate father, and make a family with them.

Livvy felt a sharp pang thinking of this mystery woman, which was silly. Of course she wanted what was best for him and Edward. She just had to remind herself that this woman would not be her . . . and, what took even more reminding, that she did not
want
it to be.

The marquess had no place in her future, especially because the more time she spent with him, the more she worried she could truly come to care for him. Perhaps, provided he refrained from quoting Shakespeare and locking his library, she might even fall in love with him. And that would be disastrous.

Love was her daily sustenance, her bread and butter, as it were, but she was practical enough to know that no living, breathing man could ever match the perfection of a carefully crafted hero from the pages of her books. It would be a futile endeavor for her to look for one. Especially among the men of the ton.

And she would rather maintain her fantasy of what a perfect love ought to be than risk having it spoiled—and her heart broken—by allowing herself to get caught up in a romance that might not last. She knew she could not bear it if she were disillusioned, so it was better to go on as she was, reading about true love and grand passion and happily ever after, sure in the knowledge that her books would never disappoint her.

She was not averse to the idea of matrimony. In fact, she very much wanted to get married. She liked the quiet pleasures of home and family above all else, and if she was one day going to have to fly the nest, she would like to jump sooner rather than later so that she might begin building a new nest for herself and avoid that most dreaded fate of dependent spinster.

All she wanted from marriage was comfort and stability, mutual respect and affection. Affairs might be tolerated so long as they were discreet, but never bad manners or poor personal hygiene. She had resigned herself to a marriage of, well, she supposed it could be called a marriage of convenience, for it would certainly be convenient to keep her heart in one piece.

She hadn’t told her family about her plan, of course. They simply wouldn’t understand. She was the dreamer, the romantic, the girl with her head always stuck in the pages of a novel, so how could she explain that she didn’t want to fall in love? All she wanted was a little adventure, a taste of excitement before she settled down to her nesting.

That was all Lord Sheldon was to her.

All he could ever be to her.

It was for the best.

So easy had she grown with him, she forgot to mind what she said. “You’re nothing at all like I expected.”

Sir Charles looked up sharply. “I beg your pardon.”

Olivia flushed. “Never mind. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t trouble yourself trying to spare my feelings. My brother-in-law does so enjoy telling all and sundry what a plague I’ve been to him.”

“No, that isn’t it at all!” Livvy protested. “Lord Sheldon hasn’t said a word about you.”

“He hasn’t?” Sir Charles looked surprised.

“When would he? When one eschews the presence of one’s guests, one rarely has time to comment on the weather to them, let alone family squabbles.”

Sir Charles laughed. “Yes, Jace has become quite the hermit as of late. As long as I’ve known him, he’s been a proud, quiet sort of fellow, but he wasn’t always like
this
. Just since . . .”

“Since your sister passed away,” Olivia finished for him. “I am so sorry. I know the two of you were close.”

Sir Charles nodded, then looked at her suspiciously. “How did you know that Laura and I were close?”

Why was it that she seemed only to have to open her mouth to get herself into trouble? Olivia wondered. She tried to think of some logical explanation.

“Miss Weston?” Sir Charles prompted.

“Oh, I just assumed—” she floundered. “I mean, what with losing your mother so young—”

“You seem to know quite a lot about my family.”

“It was a long trip from Scotland,” Livvy reasoned. “I confess I asked my aunt to let me in on all the family gossip to pass the time.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy the baronet. “Very well, Miss Weston, but I think it only fair that you even the score. Tell me, whatever possessed you to wish to spend the holiday season
here
?”

Olivia laughed. “You make Arlyss sound like one of the innermost circles of Dante’s
Inferno
.”

“My brother-in-law does bear a striking resemblance to Lucifer, does he not?”

Livvy giggled and wagged her finger at him. “You are bad, Sir Charles!”

“I pride myself on it, my dear, but please, call me by my Christian name.
Sir
Charles sounds like such a prosy bore.”

“Very well, but you must call me Olivia, or Livvy, if you like. There’s no need to stand on ceremony here, and we are family of a sort.”

He clasped a hand to his heart. “Is that how you see me, fair Olivia? Oh, you wound me.” His green eyes twinkled.

“I doubt that very much. I suspect you are a terrible flirt. How many broken hearts are strewn in your wake?”

“None at all. I avoid attachments like the Plague.” His voice grew somber. “I was very close with my—with a lady. She was everything good and kind in the world.”

“Was?”

He gave a curt nod, not meeting her eyes. He stared instead at his clasped hands, stretched out before him on the card table. “When I was just out of university, I wound up in a bit of trouble. Well, more than a bit. I had lost a sizable sum at the tables, and then I stupidly gambled more to try to win back my losses. The greater my debts, the deeper the stakes I played. After a time, I had no choice but to turn to my, er, lady friend. She had helped me in the past. I would to God she had turned me away—” He broke off, his voice anguished.

Olivia guessed the lady he spoke of was his sister. Had he been suffering a guilty conscience all these years? Lord, what a tangle!

Livvy laid a hand over his. “She must have cared for you a great deal, this friend of yours.”

“She loved me, the more fool her. She loved me and it killed her.”

Olivia drew in a startled breath. “W-what are you saying?” Her voice wobbled.

Charles met her gaze then. His eyes, usually dancing and bright, were bleak and empty. “The day she died, she was going to meet with someone to try to pay off my debts. I am the reason she was out that morning.”

Olivia glanced over at her aunt to be certain she was not listening, and was relieved to find she was engrossed in her needlework and not paying them the least mind. Livvy leaned forward and gripped Charles’s hands in her own. She spoke forcefully, though she kept her voice to a low whisper. “Listen to me, Charles. Laura’s death was an accident.”

He jerked as if shot and wrenched his hands away from her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Olivia acted first. “Aunt Kate, Sir Charles has offered to escort me to the library and help me look for something decent to read. Would you mind terribly if we abandoned you for a little while?”

“Of course not.” Lady Sheldon smiled. “I was about to seek my bed anyhow. I suppose I am a rather ineffectual chaperone, but I trust you will both behave. I am too old to stay awake patrolling the corridors.”

“Really!” Olivia exclaimed, her cheeks heating at her aunt’s suggestion.

“Miss Weston is quite safe with me,” Charles assured her.

“Yes, I know,” Aunt Kate remarked as she got to her feet. “Good night, my dears.” She was almost out the door when Livvy heard her mutter: “It’s the other one I’m worried about.”

She didn’t have time to reflect on her aunt’s words, though, for Charles had her wrist in an iron grip and was very nearly dragging her along. She was forced to maintain a sort of skipping gait, lest her arm be taken to the library without the rest of her.

As soon as he had shut the door behind them, Charles whirled to face Olivia.

“Who are you?” His voice was ragged.

Livvy frowned at him. “Just who I say I am.”

He advanced on her. “You know things about me, about my family. . . .”

Olivia held up her hands. “I can explain.”

“Very well, go on.”

Livvy turned from him and began to walk around the perimeter of the room, trying to quell the nervous energy racing through her. The library had been built into one of the four half-round towers that marked the area of the original castle. Special shelves had been built into the walls to accommodate the circular room, and aside from the large window opposite the door, rows of leather-bound volumes filled the space from the wainscoting to the ceiling. Olivia had been completely enchanted with the room from the moment she had seen it, but at the moment, even the sight of so many books failed to soothe her.

Enough stalling, she told herself. She had known deep down that there would someday be a reckoning for what she had done. She should be grateful she was facing Charles instead of the marquess.

“Were you aware your sister kept a diary?” Livvy asked, seating herself on a beautifully carved double-back settee. She shivered. The fire had been banked hours ago, and a chill had settled over the room. But it certainly would not do to ring for a servant to tend to the fire while she and Charles were alone in the room.

Charles saw her discomfort, for the room was clearly illuminated by the light of the waning moon. He went over to the wooden settle beneath the window and lifted the hinged seat. He pulled out a woolen paisley shawl and brought it over, seating himself beside her.

“My sister was forever complaining about being cold. She kept wraps and blankets in nearly every room. I wasn’t sure it would still be there—” His voice caught.

Livvy put the shawl around her shoulders and scooted closer to Charles. She wasn’t certain he would accept comfort from her, but she had to try. She disliked seeing anyone in pain, but she felt especially protective of the man beside her, almost as if he were her brother.

Tentatively, Olivia reached out and placed her hand on Charles’s shoulder. She half expected him to recoil, but he seemed to relax at her touch.

“You asked whether I knew Laura kept a diary. She did as a girl, but I never saw if she had one when she was grown.”

“She did,” Livvy said softly. “I found it in the library at Haile Castle. I think it must have been shelved there by accident. I don’t know if there were others. This one only contained the couple of years before she . . .”

“Before she died,” Charles finished for her. “What did she write about?”

“Everything.”

The word hung precariously in the ensuing silence, like a vase poised too close to the edge of a table. The merest sigh would cause it to fall and shatter.

Charles finally spoke. “Then you know.”

“That you were in debt?”

“That I killed my sister.”

“Charles—”

“No, I’m glad you know. After all this time, to finally be able to talk with someone . . .”

“I want you to listen to me, Charles Avery. You did not kill your sister. The riding accident that killed Laura could have happened anytime—”

“But it didn’t. It happened while she was trying to help me. She went out that morning to meet with the man holding my vowels. I may not have put a burr beneath the saddle, but I sent her to her death all the same.”

She could see him more clearly now, past the masks he presented to the world. The burden of his guilt was slowly taking a physical toll on him. There were tight lines around his mouth and across his brow where there should have been none. What she had thought an affected, jaded ennui was actually an aura of sadness lingering about him. His eyes seemed to have seen too much, but she had assumed this was yet another sign of dissolution. How well he had fooled everyone.

“Charles, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No,” she said firmly. “It was an accident—a horrible accident—but it could just as easily have happened any other time she was out riding.”

He shook his head. “She must have been nervous and distracted. Laura was an excellent horsewoman. She would never have been thrown if she had been focused.”

Livvy sighed. It was clearly time to try another tactic.

“Look at me, Charles. Do you honestly think your sister would want you to spend your life feeling guilty and regretting something that can’t be changed?”

“No,” he admitted.

“She would want you to be happy.”

“I don’t deserve happiness.”

She saw the desolation in his eyes. He truly believed what he was saying. She suspected he didn’t lack for feminine companionship, but now she understood why there were so many women. He had said earlier that he avoided attachment. He probably only took up with unsuitable women, women with whom he would never be emotionally involved. He wouldn’t let himself find love because he thought he didn’t deserve it.

“You and your brother-in-law aren’t so different,” she mused. “Laura’s ghost haunts both of you, so that you hover in some shadow land where you’re not truly living. But I don’t think it’s her who keeps you there. It’s you. You won’t let her go. Neither of you. She’s dead, Charles—”

He flinched.

“—but you’re alive. How long are you going to punish yourself for that?”

He shrugged.

“As your sister is not here to blame you, I would think that privilege falls to Lord Sheldon. Since you are here, and have obviously been welcome in the past, clearly he has forgiven you, so—”

“He doesn’t know.” The words were little more than a whisper.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Jason. Doesn’t. Know.”

Olivia was startled. “How is that possible?”

“My sister enjoyed riding early in the park before it got too crowded, and from the time we were young she was adept at losing whichever servant was meant to be following her. Laura never liked people hovering over her. She was far easier with more relaxed country manners. That was one of the reasons she loved this place so much.”

The clock in the hall sounded the hour.

“It’s late,” Charles said. “I have kept you up too long.”

“No,” Livvy protested, but she punctuated the word with a yawn. She relinquished the shawl, which Charles carefully replaced.

“Can you find your way to your chamber?” he asked, lighting a candle for her. “I would escort you there, but I fear it might prove awkward if we were seen.”

She nodded her agreement.

He caught one of her hands and pressed a kiss to it. “I must thank you. I feel better for having spoken of this.”

“I’m so glad.” Olivia squeezed his hand. “I am generally a very good talker and a very poor listener, but I hope we may speak again. Oh, would you like Laura’s diary?”

He gave her a funny look. “You brought it with you?”

“I should have left it at Haile Castle, I know, but I also should not have read the diary in the first place. Once I had, I couldn’t put it back in the library where anyone might stumble across it. Now I think on the matter, I should have made use of one of the hidey- holes where I found—” She yawned again. “I beg your pardon.”

“Then I must ask yours, for you would have long been in bed but for my prattling. As to the diary, I entrust it to your safekeeping. I almost believe she meant you to have it.” He shook his head. “I’ve no idea what possessed me to say that. Apparently I am also in need of sleep. Good night, my dear. Sleep well.” He pressed a quick, brotherly kiss to her forehead and padded off toward his room.