Olivia raised her hands to either side of his face and kissed him. A kiss that caught him completely off guard. A kiss that drained the anger right out of him. A kiss that set off the strange yearning he felt whenever he was around her.
She lifted her mouth from his all too soon but stayed close, their lips a hair’s breadth apart. “Feel better?” she asked.
He gazed into her beautiful eyes at an utter loss as how to respond. He pulled her closer, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms and keep her safe. She slid her hands down to his chest, laid her head against him, and sighed. He rubbed his chin against the silky softness of her hair and felt his anger and fear drain away.
“You lost your H’s,” she murmured.
He froze. She was right. So consumed with fear of what could have happened to her, he’d reverted back to the way he’d spoken before he realized that his manner of talk proclaimed him as one of the lower classes. He’d taught himself the proper way to speak. Determined to erase any sign of his poor upbringing, he spent hours mimicking the lords and ladies whose pockets he’d picked, particularly the way they spoke. Not once in thirteen years had he ever used less than proper speech. Until now.
She must have felt him stiffen because she raised her head and looked at him. “I meant no insult. It was just an observation, nothing more.”
He stepped away from her, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up his neck. “My apologies for my loss of control.”
“Will.” She tried to close the distance between them, but he moved further away with every step she took. As though sensing his discomfort, she took a seat on the settee. “You never did say if Harry is all right.”
“He’s fine. I don’t care about Harry right at this moment. Why won’t you tell me who attacked you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She stood. “I’m glad Harry wasn’t hurt.” She paused as a sudden thought occurred to her. “How did you know I was hurt?”
“Your footman sent a message.”
“Daniel? Why would he do that?”
“That night I saw you home from the Riverton’s ball, the night you…” he faltered, not certain how to go on.
“The night of the storm when I had one of my episodes, when I thought there were wounded soldiers to be cared for.” Olivia hugged her arms to herself.
“Yes, then. I told Daniel how to get word to me if you ever needed help. And because he knows I’m trying my best to keep my life from touching yours. By the looks of that…” He pointed to the bandage. “I am failing miserably. But that will change once you tell me who hurt you. Whoever did this to you will become an example to others who think that attacking you is the best way to get to me.”
“I’ve heard rumours about your brand of justice, and I know what you had done to Willoughby. I want no part of it. I want no one hurt or worse, killed because of me.”
“Your wishes have no bearing in this.”
“Then you and I have nothing left to discuss. Jennings will show you out.”
Will stalked across the room to stand in front of her. “Why are you in a great hurry to be rid of me? Are you expecting someone?”
“I’m not expecting anyone. It’s well past calling hours. I think it’s best if you go and that we refrain from contacting each other.”
“Refrain from contacting each other?” he echoed her words, disbelief and an unnamed emotion flowing over him. He couldn’t imagine not seeing her on a daily basis. He would not let her leave him. And he’d hold her to him by any means necessary. “Do you forget we have a bargain?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten. But neither one of us seems to be much help to the other in our search for our loved ones.” She sank down onto the plush divan cushion and pushed her hair off her face.
“You’ve been a great deal of help to me. You gave me entrée to the Riverton’s ball, which in turn allowed me to make contact with Sandhurst. The fact that he has fled London only proves he had something to do with Mary’s disappearance.” Will sat beside her. “Although it may not seem like it, I am trying to find your brother. I have men searching for him and have a…an acquaintance who is also looking for him. It can be difficult to find a person who doesn’t want to be found.”
“But why would Phillip be hiding? What could he possibly have gotten involved with that would cause him to leave without a word?”
Unable to tell her the truth about her brother, Will took her hand. “Sometimes a man can get into a situation that he doesn’t know how to get out of. Sometimes we think it’s best to leave and take our trouble with us in an attempt to protect those we’re leaving behind.” As the words left his lips, he couldn’t help wondering if he were also talking about himself. He left Mary to work as a governess rather than keep her with him as he tried to make a better life for them both.
“Phillip is a doctor. What trouble could he possibly have gotten into that he feels it’s best to leave me here alone?”
“I don’t know,” Will lied. He couldn’t tell her, her brother was addicted to the laudanum he prescribed to patients, making him a man desperate enough to do anything to get it. “But whatever it is, perhaps he thought this is the only way to protect you.”
Olivia jumped to her feet. “I don’t need protecting.” She paced in front of the fireplace. “I just need to know where he is and that he is all right.” She glanced in the mirror and scowled at her reflection. “It’s ridiculous for him to think I am unable to help him after all that I faced alongside him on one battlefield or another.”
Will stood. “It is no more ridiculous than you refusing to tell me who attacked you.” He moved to stand beside her. “Who are
you
trying to protect?”
She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they were a dark blue and filled with utter sadness. She reached out to touch him, closed her fingers into her palm, and dropped her hand to her side. “You,” she whispered.
“Me?” he said, taken aback. He was the last person he expected her to name. “Was it Hammond then who hurt you? You have no need to protect me from the likes of him. I’ve been tangling with him for years. One could say we understand each other.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever met him.”
“He has an unusual scar on his face. Did the man who accosted you have a scar?”
Olivia shook her head and looked into the mirror. Will couldn’t help feeling she was purposefully avoiding his gaze. He watched while she tried to set her hair to rights but after a few futile attempts, gave up.
“I shall have to buy new hair pins. I doubt I have but three left,” she muttered under her breath.
He grasped her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “Olivia, I’m not a patient man at the best of times and seeing you injured makes me even less so. Tell me who did this to you and why you feel you need to protect me from him.”
She took a deep breath. “It was…Patrick. It was Patrick. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Patrick!” Shock sent him stumbling back a step.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you. I know how much he means to you.”
“But why?” He raked a hand through his hair. He had taken the youth under his wing, tried to teach him there was a better life to be had than one as a thief. Had come to feel like an older brother to the boy.
“He warned me to stay away from you, to stop asking questions about you, which I haven’t done since I was trying to find you that first night.”
“And if you don’t stay away from me?” Will asked, anger burning away his initial shock.
She swallowed and touched her bandage.
“He threatened to kill you if he saw you with me again.” It was a statement, not a question.
Olivia nodded, her expression solemn.
“I couldn’t understand why you were so afraid of him.” Will spoke the words aloud though he was in truth talking to himself. He turned away, raking a hand through his hair once more. He knew what he had to do. “You will have nothing to fear from Patrick in the future. I guarantee it.” He strode toward the door.
Olivia ran across the room and grabbed his arm. “Wait. You cannot blame him for what he did. He was only trying to protect you. He sees me as a threat to you.”
He shook her off. “Then he should have come to me and told me of his concerns.”
“Perhaps he was trying to show his loyalty to you by taking care of the matter himself.”
“After what he did to you, why are you defending him?” His voice was calm, quiet even. But he was furious. He was beyond even that, but this time he was in control. And he would remain so.
“I don’t want you to hurt him because of what he did.”
“He’ll be lucky if I don’t kill him. If you would like him to apologize, I will make certain he does.” He pulled her into an embrace. “I’ll make this right,” he said against her hair. “You will never have to fear him or any of my men again.”
Olivia pushed out of his arms. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him.”
“No, I said I wouldn’t kill him.”
“Will.”
“As long as he keeps his distance from you and causes you no more harm, I’ll not hurt him. But if he doesn’t…”
The implied threat lingered in the air.
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia stared out the window at the colorful blossoms filling the garden without seeing them. Had she made a mistake in sending a missive to Will telling him she’d arranged for them to attend the Smithfield musicale? She hadn’t seen him since he left in search of Patrick four days earlier.
She still wasn’t certain how she felt about telling him it was Patrick who had attacked her. She tried hard not to think of it, but it preyed on her mind a great deal. She sighed and pushed her worry over Will’s response and what it might have driven him to do out of her mind. She needed to concentrate on his lack of response to her note instead. Perhaps she’d given him too little notice to agree to attend this evening’s entertainment, but she’d barely managed to secure the invitations at all.
The sound of Jennings clearing his throat drew her attention. “This arrived for you.” He held out a silver salver with a folded piece of parchment on it.
She took the note and broke the plain black seal. It was from Will declining to attend. A strange pang of disappointment thrummed through her chest as she read it. As Sandhurst was no longer in London, he no longer saw the need to suffer the company of the
Ton.
Had Sandhurst truly left London, or was Will telling her a falsehood so he didn’t have to spend time with her? Deciding to test her suspicions, she crossed to the small desk in the corner of the parlour where she often wrote correspondence. “Is the messenger waiting for a response?”
“If you mean the grubby lad who brought the note, then yes.” Jennings didn’t bother to hide his distaste.
“Good.” Dipping a quill into the inkwell, she penned her response, sanded it, and sealed it with a drop of wax. She opened the desk drawer and withdrew a coin. “Give this to the boy along with the coin. Be sure to tell him it’s of utmost importance.”
Jennings took the letter and coin and left the room. Olivia didn’t expect Will to respond to her note, but at least she had in her own way let him know she didn’t quite believe him. She had always known in her heart if he had to make a choice between one of his men and herself, she wouldn’t be the person he’d pick. Patrick, with his actions against her, had forced Will to decide who was more important to him. His men were willing to lay down their lives for him and she…she was just a means to an end, a way to secure invitations to various social events as a way to reach Sandhurst, nothing more.
She sighed. For the first time in her life, she felt lonely. Wished for someone she could confide in without having to temper her words or tell half-truths to for fear of being ostracized by society or looked on as someone who was on the verge of losing her mind. “Oh, Phillip, why are you never there when I need you the most?”
Certain Will had no interest in keeping their bargain, she headed back to the desk and pulled a fresh sheet of vellum toward her, dipped her quill in the ink, then hesitated. Would Mr. Durant be able to help her find her brother? Would he be willing to take on a case where there was no sign of a crime having been committed? Did Bow Street Runners even take on cases looking for people who hadn’t been in contact with their families for weeks? Phillip was a grown man after all and free to come and go as he pleased.
She set the quill aside and rubbed her forehead. Perhaps it was best to wait a few more days before contacting the Runner.
****
“Miss, miss.”
Olivia rolled over. She blinked to bring Bridget into focus.
“He’s here. Lazarus, he be waitin’ for ye.”
“What?” She sat up.
“He be dressed mighty fine, too, if ye don’t mind me sayin’.”
“What time is it?” She looked around, realizing the room was rather dim. How long had she slept? She’d only meant to lie down long enough to ward off the headache she felt hovering all afternoon.
“’Tis eight-thirty.”
“He must be here to attend the musicale.” Olivia pushed off the bed. “Hurry, help me change my dress. I’ll need to do something with my hair.” She rushed to the wardrobe and sorted through the gowns hanging there, discarding one after another. “Heavens. Why didn’t he send a note saying he’d changed his mind?”
She chose a blue gown and laid it on the bed. “Tell him I shall be ready forthwith.” She glanced at the maid standing by the bed. “Go.”
“But I thought ye wanted me to help ya dress.”
“I do. Just go tell him then come back.”
Bridget turned to leave.
“Wait,” Olivia called. “Undo my dress first. I’ll take this one off while you’re gone.” She turned around, her back to the young maid.
Bridget quickly unfastened the gown and hurried from the room.
Olivia removed the dress and stepped out of it, leaving it in a puddle on the floor. Normally, she took great care of her clothing, but there was no time. She slipped the more formal gown on and holding the bodice against herself, went in search of the matching kid slippers. Dropping them by the bed, she poured water into a small basin and washed her face and hands. Drying them, she sat at the small table that held her lotions and perfume and quickly pulled a brush through her hair.
What was taking Bridget so long?