The Blackmailed Bride (21 page)

O
livia sat in the empty morning room. Ever since the announcement in the
Times,
her ardent, dedicated suitors had ceased calling on her. So, she thought with a wry smile, there had been some benefit to the charade.

She knew Nick would be coming to see her as he’d warned her the day before to expect a visit. He’d sounded cordial enough—so obviously Henri had not yet talked to him. Perhaps the duchess thought Olivia had changed her mind. That in the time since they’d spoken, Olivia had realized the foolishness of her thinking.

So, while Nick was coming over to finalize their wedding plans, she intended to break the engagement for good.

Nick entered the room with a smile. Olivia had to force herself not to study him too closely. He was, as always, impeccably dressed. The man could have stepped directly off a fashion plate.

“Good morning, Olivia.”

“Good morning to you as well. I trust you had a pleasant evening.”

He nodded, waited until she took a seat and then sat in the chair closest to her.

An awkward silence descended. Neither one seemed to want
to bridge the conversational gap. Olivia knew she should go ahead and break the news to him, but she wanted to stall. She was half afraid of his reaction, half reluctant to end the fantasy once and for all.

Nick noticed her discomfort. “Is there something on your mind?” he asked.

She wished she could shake her head and assure him everything was all right. But lying—to either him or herself—would cause problems later.

“I can’t accept this.” Olivia slipped the ring off her finger with more hesitation than she would have expected from herself. Over the past several days, the cold weight had grown comfortable. She felt bereft without it.

Nick’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You already have.”

“I should never have agreed to wear it,” she amended. The beautiful sapphire was clenched tightly in her fist. But she forced herself to open her hand over the table. The ring hit the polished wood with a
thunk
that resounded and echoed in the now-silent room.

“Do you not like it? I can go to a jeweler’s and have something else made—something to suit your taste.”

Olivia wanted to snatch the ring off the table and put it back on her finger. Doing so would have erased the vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s a lovely ring,” she assured him.

But the bauble remained where it was.

He looked at his discarded gift to her when he asked, “Why exactly are you returning the ring?” His voice was quiet, and Olivia couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset. Or both.

The deep breath didn’t have the steadying effect she hoped for. “I can’t accept your ring because I can’t marry you.”

Nick stood and gripped the back of his neck with his hand. “Are we back to this?” he asked. “We’ve discussed the matter. You have no choice but to marry me.”

Olivia wanted to argue, but was certain that, as before, he’d remain firm in refusing to listen to her arguments. She knew he wouldn’t let her go easily.

“I’ve tried to tell you we will not be getting married. The only person who is having difficulty accepting that is you,” she said.

Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Is that right?” he asked skeptically. “Then what, exactly, do you plan on doing? What will you do when no one will speak to you because your reputation is in tatters?”

“It won’t matter to me by then.”

“What do you mean, ‘by then’?”

She prayed God would be merciful and give her the strength to do what she had to do. And she turned her head away from him, not wanting to see his expression when she told him the one thing that would end their relationship.

“I’ll be married by then.”

While she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear his sigh of relief. “All right. Put the ring back on, then, and we’ll forget we ever had this conversation.”

“I won’t be married to you,” she clarified.

“You won’t be married to
me?
”

“No.”

“Who then? Who do you plan on making your husband?”

Olivia looked at him, trying to appear stern; otherwise, she was afraid her eyes would well with tears. “Do you even need to ask me that?”

“You must be joking.”

Olivia shook her head. The sadness threatened to overwhelm her, and her resolve wavered. Did she really have to cave to Finley’s blackmail? Would it be so bad for Marcus to know the truth about their mother? He was a grown man, had a strong faith and perhaps he wouldn’t be as surprised by the news or
her duplicity as she feared. She could confess and not have to worry about Finley divulging the secret to him. She could marry Nick and have the life she’d not allowed herself to believe was possible.

Finley wouldn’t stop at telling Marcus, however. He would make good on his threat to expose the shame to the rest of England. And now with Marcus’s workhouse reforms gaining support, the objective would be jeopardized if something like their mother’s suicide was to become public knowledge.

So she had to be firm in her resolve. Nick would find another bride eventually. A fine lady who wasn’t forced to carry around years’ worth of her own regrets and others’ mistakes.

Olivia didn’t need anyone to tell her she wasn’t good enough for the marquess.

That much was startlingly clear.

Nick had spent a few moments in shocked silence. “You
aren’t
planning on marrying Finley.” It was phrased as a statement rather than a question.

“Yes, I am.”

Nick pushed off the wall and walked to stand in front of her. “Imagine the further damage it would do to your reputation. The two of us were seen together in a compromising position, and yet you plan to marry an entirely different man.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t care about what everyone else thinks. As long as Julian is happy, then I am as well.”

Not entirely a falsehood. If she could keep her future husband pacified, her life would be much easier.

“Do you really mean that?” Nick speared her with his eyes. They seemed to bore through the layers of pretense. He was searching too deep, and she was afraid of what he might see if he kept looking.

“I do.”

Those were the words she wished she could ultimately say to
him. Olivia turned to walk out of the room, afraid if she stayed she’d give herself away. Blinking back tears, she thought she was close enough to doing that on her own.

But Nick grabbed her hand as she tried to walk past him. He didn’t pull her back, just held it tenderly as though they were walking through the park together. She stopped.

“Do you not feel anything for me?” he asked.

His question would have to remain unanswered. She couldn’t lie to him. But if she told him the truth, he’d never leave her in peace. His pride and nobility wouldn’t allow it. “If you
do
feel something for me, how can you even consider marrying Finley?” His voice was raw, and the words grated on her.

“He’s the man I need to spend the rest of my life with.” She tugged on her hand, but he wouldn’t relinquish his grasp. “Please let me go,” she whispered.

“This can’t be the end of it. If you don’t want to be with me, I can accept that, I suppose. But I can’t accept you marrying
him
.”

The round-and-round was making her so weary all she wanted to do was march up the stairs to her bedchamber and sleep the rest of the day. “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Do
you?
”

Startled, she looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I wonder if you’ve been blinded by whatever lies Finley has told you. I can’t imagine you, or any Godly young woman, would want to tie herself to a man of his character for the rest of her life.” He brushed his hand against her cheek, where but days ago, a black bruise had marred her countenance. “He struck you. He cares nothing for you. Is that how you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life?”

Who but God could know what she was supposed to do?
And while Olivia feared God would be disappointed when she married the baron, Reverend Thomas had assured her He was a forgiving God. And surely He would see she had no choice but to do what she was planning to do. Her mother had committed a crime, and Olivia had to serve the sentence.

“It is my decision to wed Lord Finley. Please don’t ask me any more questions.”

“Why? Does it bother you that I don’t believe you’re in love with him?” Nick pressed.

She didn’t answer but to whisper, “Please let me go.”

He relinquished his grip on her hand immediately, but Olivia couldn’t find the willpower to move away from him.

“I want us to be friends,” she said quietly. The very idea was laughable. She wanted to accept the life he offered her, a life by his side, but she couldn’t. And being his friend would mean she would eventually have to witness him losing his heart to a woman, getting married and raising a family, which would injure her beyond words. Perhaps being friends, she thought to herself, wouldn’t be such a good idea.

Nick apparently agreed. “I don’t think I can just be your friend. Not when I’ve been expecting to be so much more.”

“I’m sorry, then. I’m sorry I hurt you. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I lo—” She stopped herself in time.

Had she been about to admit she loved him? Had those three little words been so close to slipping out and ruining everything?

Olivia realized it was true.

She
did
love him.

Loved him more than she ever thought possible or ever dreamed. Which made her future all the more grim. She would sacrifice a life with the only man she’d ever loved in order to be with someone she loathed.

Olivia almost hated her mother in that moment.

Anger—hot, roiling and destructive—bubbled to the surface. Perhaps she’d never fully come to grips with what her mother had done to the family. She’d been so concerned with how the secret would have affected her brother she’d completely forgotten to consider her own heart could become a victim.

One act of selfishness had enough strength and magnitude to devastate her.

And this righteous fury gave her the cold callousness she needed to finally turn her back on Nick…to walk to the door fully expecting it would be the last time they’d ever have so intimate a conversation.

“You can change your mind,” Nick insisted.

“I will be marrying Julian, Lord Huntsford, and I will not discuss it further.” The words were clipped and stiff, a complement to the stiffness and rigidity of her back.

Nick was muttering to himself, and Olivia could tell he was angry. “Your brother won’t allow the match,” he threatened.

“I don’t need his permission to go to Gretna Green.” The two would probably have to wed in Scotland. Since she’d not been able to convince Marcus to allow her to be with Finley, he was sure to object to any union between the two of them. If he knew about it in time, of course.

“So you’ve decided?”

Olivia nodded.

Nick walked past her. “I suppose I’ll take my leave, then.”

He paused for a moment as he passed the table with the ring. In a motion so quick Olivia would have missed it had she not been staring at him, his hand snatched the engagement ring and pocketed it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes misting over completely.

He looked at her, narrowing his eyes in study of her features. Then he nodded, turned and left the room.

Nick flicked the reins, spurring his horse onward. Another flick and the steed picked up speed until both animal and master were flying through the farthest reaches of Hyde Park. He couldn’t think beyond his anger. He was angry at her, angry at himself and furious with the meddling Finley who seemed to turn up at every corner. Here he was preparing to dedicate the rest of his life to a woman, something he’d never contemplated, and she’d practically thrown the ring back in his face and told him she’d rather be wedded to an unscrupulous rake.

Nick knew he was being irrational, knew he was going to have to seek forgiveness for his sudden burst of temper, but reining in the emotion seemed impossible. Olivia should be preparing to marry him, he fumed inwardly. But it seemed Finley had bested him.

Was that why it rankled so much?

Was he merely feeling as though he’d been in competition and was bitter over losing?

Were that the case, it didn’t speak too highly for him, but Nick thought there must have been something more at work.

Olivia was a friend.

Or she had been.

Even now, she was the sister of his closest friend, and regardless of his own pride, he wouldn’t want any young woman of his acquaintance trapping herself in a relationship with Finley.

And, of course, he didn’t want Olivia to have to wed someone who so obviously didn’t love her.

A man who loved a woman wouldn’t have coerced her into going to a secluded garden.

A man who loved her would have known even the barest hint of scandal would have completely ruined the young lady’s reputation and damaged her chances at a good life.

A man who loved her would have treated her with the utmost care and respect.

A man who loved her a fraction as much as he did…

Nick pulled so hard on the reins the horse whinnied in protest and slammed to a halt. But Nick was too lost in his own mind to dismount. The horse and rider sat still in the midst of a grassy field.

Did he love her?

Nick had never been in love before, so he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like. The poets, the ones who wrote sonnets and epics in honor of the wonders of the emotion, all seemed to think loving another gave the person wings with which to soar over the trials of life.

But Nick had never felt so low.

Nick had had enough sitting outside like a lovesick fool. He needed time to think about this latest revelation, time to figure out if he were simply being reactionary. Of course, he was wounded that Olivia didn’t want to marry him, especially considering he’d grown used to—and rather fond of—the idea. But this feeling of angst was something deeper than bruised pride.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked as he leaned against the door frame and looked into her bedroom.