Wallflower Gone Wild (25 page)

“Indeed,” Emma agreed. “But—”

“You will return in time for Lady Penelope’s Ball, won’t you?” Olivia asked.

Prudence hesitated, then said, “I shall try my best.”

“Prue, you must go!” Emma exclaimed. “We must all go together.”

Prudence just smiled sadly.

“You are both in love and I am truly happy for you both,” Prudence said earnestly as she anxiously fisted her hands in the fabric of her skirts. “Truly I am. But you should enjoy this honeymoon time without fretting over your friend, the last wallflower.”

Chapter
23

Booksellers are
reporting extraordinary sales of
The Mad Baron: The Gruesome Story of
an Innocent Maiden’s Tragic Love and Untimely Death. A True Story.
It seems Lord and Lady Radcliffe’s recent marriage and
subsequent accident have intrigued the ton.

—
T
HE
L
ONDON
W
EEKLY

Still. On.
Her. Bed.

Emma and Prudence left, leaving Olivia alone.
She lay back on the pillows, thinking of walking. Or dancing. Or simply sitting
upon the settee in the other room. Ah, a girl could dream.

She wondered when Phinn would return. Dusk was
settling over the sky, casting her room in lavender shadows. Awkwardly, she lit
the candle on the bedside table. Her gaze settled on the stack of books Emma had
left her.
The Mad Baron: The Gruesome Story of an Innocent
Maiden’s Tragic Love and Untimely Death. A True Story 
was on the
top.

Intrigued, and with nothing else to do, she
examined the cover.

It featured a large, hulking man—with a scar near
his eye—with his fists wrapped tightly around the long, slender neck of a slim
yet exceedingly well-endowed maiden who had sunk to her knees before him. Olivia
gulped, recalling the way she had exposed her neck for Phinn to caress with his
fingers and press with kisses.

In the background a barn was on fire, flames
reaching up to the sky. The candle on her bedside table flickered, as if there
was a breeze. Olivia looked around, nervous. She was alone. The cover scene
featured thick black clouds and a sliver of a moon. It certainly promised one
terrifying story that she ought not read. Her heart thudded just looking at the
ominous image.

She couldn’t quite reconcile it with the Phinn she
was starting to know. He’d been nothing but devoted and caring. His touch had
been tender and gentle. Bedridden as she was, he’d have every opportunity to
harm her. When they made love she opened herself to him completely and
intimately. He didn’t take advantage. She drifted off to sleep beside him and
woke up each morning.

But there was so much about his past that she
didn’t know and he wasn’t here to ask. Perhaps rereading this would shed light
upon all the secrets that still remained between them.

She really oughtn’t read it, though. It felt like a
betrayal. Yes she had read the story years ago at Lady Penelope’s, but had only
vague recollections. She’d just peruse it to refresh her memory.

She opened the book, but it felt
wrong
to read it. She knew Phinn now. While she didn’t
know what had happened, she didn’t think he was a murderer. After all, she had
spent the night with him alone and defenseless. If he were going to murder her,
he had plenty of chances to do so—and have it look like an accident. Instead, he
made her cry out with pleasure and slept peacefully beside her.

But what else would she do, if she did not read
it?

At this moment she might have moved, accidentally
brushing all the other books off the bedside table. The pages rustled as they
fell to the floor, where they landed in a series of thuds.

“Oops,” she said to no one.

Even if she wanted to pick up the fallen books or,
say, embroider, she could not because her things were on the floor or in the
other room. Olivia tried moving her ankle, which had been bound up tightly.
Sparks of pain informed her that indeed she would be following the doctor’s
orders and remain abed.

For her health, Olivia turned to the first page and
began to read.

The Mad Baron met his
bride under secretive, scandalous, and highly questionable circumstances.
Miss Nadine Prescott had been betrothed to the Mad Baron’s brother,
George.

“His brother!” Olivia gasped. She looked around the
room for someone to share her shock. There was no one.

George ought to have
been Baron Radcliffe were it not for his untimely demise at his brother’s
hand.

“Goodness,” Olivia murmured, heart thudding. Phinn
had murdered his brother, too? She couldn’t quite believe it. One murder could
be an accident. But two?

Then she continued to read.

’Twas love at first
sight on the High Street one afternoon in Westlake Village when George first
set eyes on Nadine. She was renowned for her beauty. Her eyes were perfectly
almond-shaped and the color of chocolate. Her mouth was a perfect rosebud.
Her hair was jet black and fell in silky strands to her waist. Her figure
was perfectly slender, except for where it was perfectly voluptuous. There
was no woman in possession of more beauty and charm in all of
Yorkshire.

Olivia looked up from the page with a scowl on her
face. Was it wrong for her to feel inadequate compared to a fictional yet dead
woman? And lud, how was she ever to compare to her in Phinn’s mind?

George was an
accomplished sportsman and was popular with all the local gentry. There was
no sport, feat of daring, or daunting endeavor that he did not succeed in.
His father, the baron, was proud of his heir.

Olivia skimmed a full page listing all the sporting
activities, feats of daring, and daunting endeavors that George excelled at. She
was exhausted just reading about his jousting, boxing, fencing, fox hunting,
running distances both long and short, climbing tall trees and then climbing
down one-handed (for the other held a litter of squirming kittens). There was no
mention of his younger brother, Phinn, and it was he that Olivia was curious
about.

This Nadine and George had a passionate courtship.
Olivia knew this because the book said,
Theirs was a
passionate courtship.
Then she skimmed ahead of their perfect
courtship. She wanted to get to the part about Phinn.

Their rosy romance came
to an ABRUPT halt with the arrival of George’s younger brother, newly
returned from university where he had studied Strange and Dangerous
Sciences. When he was not ensconced in a makeshift workshop in the barn on
his brother’s estate, he was committing his first grave sin: coveting the
fiancée of his only brother, who had shown nothing but kindness to his
unusual sibling.

Even worse, he schemed to
win her for himself by fabricating horrendous lies about her which he told
his besotted brother. Fictions, these were! There was no one more beautiful,
charming, and perfect than Nadine. How DARE he cast aspersions upon his
brother’s intended, and for the sole purpose of seducing her
himself?

“How dare you!” George
accused his brother on a dark and stormy night.

His brother, already mad
and bad but not yet a baron, said—

“Olivia.”

She replied with a bloodcurdling scream.

When her heartbeat returned to normal and her wits
returned, she saw that Phinn had returned.
She was alone
with the Mad Baron!

Olivia exhaled slowly. No, she was alone with her
husband who had shown her nothing but devotion and tender care. Also, kisses
that made her feel all the sparks and wonder and romance she’d ever wanted. Who
was also known to everyone else as the Mad Baron who had coveted his brother’s
intended and possibly murdered them both.

She eyed him nervously.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said, collecting herself.
“I was reading this awful piece of literature. It had consumed my imagination
and I’d been quite immersed in the story. You gave me a fright.”

Sheepishly, she held up the awful piece of
literature.

Olivia watched Phinn stiffen. His jaw tightened and
his mouth pressed into a firm line. Because she knew him now, she detected the
signs that his mood was darkening and his temper on the verge of explosion.

She couldn’t bear it if he hollered at her the way
he did at Rogan. Or if he hit her—no, he wouldn’t. She knew that. In order to
prevent a row, Olivia caught his eye, held his gaze and smiled.

“Really, it’s awful,” she said.

But the truth was, she had questions. He had
secrets.

Phinn’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath and
exhaled it slowly, as one did when trying not to lose one’s temper. She hadn’t
meant to anger him. She just wanted to know him, and he wasn’t
here,
but off with his engine. And when he was here,
they weren’t exactly conversing.

“Phinn, look at me.”

He looked at her. For a quick second she was taken
aback by the darkness in his gaze. Oh, lud, he was angry. Which was ridiculous,
really. Fortunately, she had enough sense not to say that to him. She just held
his gaze and watched as he fought for control over whatever demon had possessed
him.

P
hinn
kept his gaze focused on Olivia’s lovely face. The cornflower blue of her eyes
soothed him, especially when she peered up at him with such concern. He couldn’t
lose his temper now. He didn’t
want
to lose his
temper, for if he did then he wouldn’t be able to idly spend the evening—and
night—with her, which is what he truly wanted to do.

Phinn willed the anger to subside. He hated that
book. It’d done more damage to him than Nadia had, and that was saying
something. Nadia had just tortured him, but that was in the past. That damned
book had nearly cost him his future happiness. He hated that Olivia was reading
it, but even through the hot flames of anger, he could see that he’d left her no
choice when he hadn’t told her the truth.

So, Phinn gave a short exhale and asked, “How bad
is it?”

“It’s dreadful,” Olivia sent vehemently. “Listen to
this. ‘It was a dark and stormy, moonlit and wicked night when Miss Nadine
Prescott’s fate was altered forevermore.’ I ask you, how can it be dark, stormy,
and moonlit? And what is a wicked night?”

It had been a wicked night. That much he
remembered. The rain had lashed at the windows. The candles were dwindling. The
bottle nearly empty. It was the wrong time for George to ask what he thought of
his future bride and the wrong time for him to tell his brother the truth. He
had
meant
well, which was the most horrendous part
of all.

“Her name wasn’t Nadine,” Phinn said finally.
Olivia bit her lower lip, waiting for the truth. “It was Nadia.”

“Was she really the most beautiful and charming
woman in all of Yorkshire, with almond-shaped eyes the color of chocolate and a
figure both slender
and
voluptuous?”

“Nadia was beautiful,” Phinn admitted. He still
recalled his first glimpse of her after he’d returned home from university. She
was laughing and taking tea and otherwise presenting herself as the most
beautiful and charming woman in Yorkshire. She hadn’t snared his brother yet and
thus hadn’t revealed her true nature. “She was also a nightmare—haughty,
demanding, spoiled, jealous.”

“Not the paragon of virtue this book claims her to
be,” Olivia murmured. Phinn pushed off the doorjamb he’d been leaning on and
moved to the chair by her bed. “Was your brother the most accomplished sportsman
and beloved member of the local community? Because if not, this author is quite
a liar. For he goes on at length listing every sport your brother excelled
at.”

“Aye, everyone adored George,” Phinn said.
“Especially me. Especially our father, since George was everything I was not,
and everything our father wanted in a son. Which was just as well—they left me
to my scientific studies while they went off on sporting adventures.
Mathematical equations and laws of physics don’t try my temper the way my family
had a knack of doing. And three Radcliffe tempers, plus my mother’s flair for
hysteria, add up to one thing: disaster.”

Olivia nodded, drinking in every word. She
continued to read the story.

“Everyone adored George. He thought about sport,
Nadia, and ale. That was all.”

“This book says you coveted Nadine—Nadia—for
yourself and tried to dissuade your brother from marrying her,” Olivia said
softly. He glanced down at the book open on her lap. It was just an absurd
fictional story to so many people. For Phinn, it was a hand reaching out from
the past and dragging him back to scenes and memories he’d rather forget.

“Nadia didn’t notice me,” Phinn explained. “I was
the quiet younger son with the peculiar interests in science. Nadia wanted
George. She didn’t bother trying to win me over and she never paid me much mind.
She’d forget her pretty manners, thinking no one that mattered was looking. I
saw her strike a maid for forgetting her gloves. And I saw her behind the
Assembly rooms with John Huntford.”

“I suppose these are the ‘the horrendous’ lies you
told your brother about?”

“George didn’t want to hear them. He said even if
it were true, it was too late.”

“Had he already proposed?” Olivia asked.

Phinn paused, considering how to answer that.

“He’d already made her his,” he said, hoping that
was sufficient.

“Oh.” She seemed to understand. “Was it truly a
dark and stormy night with violence in the air when this occurred?”

“My brother and I fought as only two Radcliffes
can. He would not hear a word against her,” Phinn said. He took another deep
breath. He hated that night, hated the memory of it, hated having to relive it.
But he also hated the fear he had seen in Olivia’s eyes and the secrets that
kept them apart and led to her getting hurt. “I have a temper, Olivia. I can’t
help it. I don’t like it.”

“I can see you counting back from ten and exhaling
slowly,” she said with a half smile.

“It’s supposed to help,” he said with a shrug.

“Does it?”

Phinn lifted his eyes to hers. “Not as much as
looking at you.”

Olivia reached out for his hand in a consoling
gesture. But then she moved aside on the bed, making room, and beckoned him with
her eyes and a half smile. Phinn joined her on the bed. Side by side they lay,
reclining back on the pillows.