An Unexpected Gift (23 page)

“So I could show you to my chamber, so you could make love to me in a bed,” Olivia snapped. “I may have led you to believe I am without modesty considering what we just did, but I have no desire to risk running into Jennings half clothed.”

Will closed his eyes, and he sagged against the edge of a club chair. When he met her gaze, his were filled with remorse. “Olivia, I…I’m sorry I took something beautiful and ruined it because I let my past rule my tongue.”

She stood in front of him and took her hand in his. “Perhaps you can make it up to me.”

“How would I do that?”

She placed his hand on her breast. “By showing me how sorry you are.”

He nuzzled her neck, his fingers caressing her satiny skin. “I think it may take me hours.”

“I hope so.” Her fingers entwined with his, she led him from the room.

Chapter Sixteen

Olivia fidgeted with the lacy edge of the drapery. Where was Mr. Finch? She glanced at the clock on the mantel and felt her temper begin to spark. He was twenty minutes late. And he had chosen to meet at the Brass Key saying it was neutral ground, whatever he meant by that. Mayhap she should have heeded her first instinct to turn down his request to teach him to read after all.

She gave Daniel and Bridget an apologetic smile. Neither one of them was happy with her at the moment. Both felt she should have nothing to do with Mr. Finch, but she found it hard to turn down someone who wanted so badly to learn to read and in that at least, he had seemed earnest. But considering his lateness, perhaps she hadn’t read him as well as she thought she had. He owned a gaming hell after all. Weren’t most successful gamblers better liars than most, able to fool others into believing what they wanted them to?

“We will wait a few more minutes. If Mr. Finch doesn’t arrive, we shall leave.”

“That be the most sensible thing ye said all morning,” Bridget muttered, her arms folded across her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

Daniel hid a grin but at least held his tongue.

A knock at the door was preceded by its opening. Olivia turned away from the window, glad Mr. Finch had finally decided to make an appearance. But it wasn’t he.

The proprietor, his bald pate shiny with sweat, stuck his head around the door. “You’re certain I cannot bring you refreshments?”

“No, thank you.” She didn’t see the point of having refreshments if they would be leaving soon. “But thank you for your trouble,” she added, knowing by occupying a private dining room, she was costing him money.

“Very well,” he said, a frown creasing his forehead as he withdrew.

She drummed her fingertips against the mantel, her impatience growing. She and Bridget still had stops to make at the dressmaker’s and the stationery shop, and she had hoped to be home in time for afternoon tea.

Deciding Mr. Finch’s desire to learn to read had been a ruse after all, Olivia gathered her cloak and reticule. “I think we’ve wasted enough time.” She withdrew a few pound notes to pay the proprietor for the use of the room and his patience.

Daniel stood just as Mr. Finch sauntered into the room, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Ah, Miss St. Germaine, you are looking as lovely as ever.”

“You, sir, are late,” she bit out, angry at being kept waiting without so much as an apology.

“Because you, madam, were determined to meet at an ungodly hour.”

“Eleven o’clock is not an ungodly hour. I have been up for hours and am normally so.”

Mr. Finch plopped down on the small divan pushed against the far wall. “You know what they say. ‘Early to bed, early to rise—’”

“Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise,” Olivia interrupted, “which you seem to be none of.”

“Wrong, it makes a man want to hang himself out of boredom.”

Olivia barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Shall we begin your lesson?” She took a seat at the linen covered table and began laying out small squares of vellum.

Mr. Finch pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. He frowned as he gazed at each square.

She touched the first piece of paper. “This is the letter A.” She tapped her finger on the next sheet. “This is the letter B.”

He sat back and scowled. “I’m not daft, I know my letters.”

“You do?” She was surprised. Teaching him to read might be easier than she had expected if he already knew the alphabet.

He placed five of the squares in front of him, the letters F, I, N, C, and H. “This is my name.”

“Correct.” Olivia placed the letters O, L, V, and A in front of her, then reached over and took the sheet containing the letter I from him and placed it between the L and V. “What does this say?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “I can’t read.”

“Then how did you know the letters you picked out spell your name?”

“I learned that much myself. How do you think I would have managed to fool everyone so long if I couldn’t spell my own name?”

Conceding he had a point, she pointed to the sheets in front of her. “This is my name, well it would be if we had two squares showing the letter I. The second one should go here.” She pointed to the space between the V and A.

He folded his arms on the table. “So how did you and Lazarus come to meet?”

“If you are as good friends with Lazarus as you claim, I’m sure you already know.” She pulled the pieces of paper from under his forearm.

“I do know Lazarus can’t deny a damsel in distress. It’s his one failing.” Mr. Finch leaned closer. “So, tell me what trouble is Lazarus protecting you from?”

“The only trouble I’m having at the moment is your unwillingness to pay attention,” Olivia retorted. She would be sharing no secrets with him.

“Do you know your hair is quite lovely? It is beautiful in the lamplight.”

“Flattery will gain you nothing.” She laid out the letters in his name. “Do you know what sound each of these makes?”

“Fingers tells me you tended to Lazarus after he was shot.” He ignored her question. “How did you come to do that?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what he is talking about,” Olivia prevaricated. She wasn’t certain how much Mr. Finch knew and how much he was guessing at, but she wasn’t going to give him any information until she knew if he truly was a friend of Will’s or not.

“Fingers doesn’t lie.” He rearranged the squares to spell his name once more. “I tried teaching him, told him it makes things easier when dealing with a woman.” He winked at Bridget who turned a bright red. “But the lessons never took.”

“These lessons won’t take either if you don’t pay attention.” Olivia didn’t appreciate the fact that he admitted to lying to women as a matter of course. Was he lying to her right now? Could he in fact read and was merely toying with her for reasons of his own?

“Lazarus tells me he’s helping you search for your brother. Have you succeeded in locating him yet?”

“I did not come here to answer your idle questions,” she said, losing patience. “Do you or do you not know the sounds these letters make?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

“No, I have had no word from Sir Phillip and have no idea where he might be.” Deciding to turn the tables, she raised her finger when he started to speak. “What do you know of Mr. Hammond?” Will had refused to discuss the man with her, and this might be her only chance to learn about him and why he and Will seemed to be enemies.

Mr. Finch sat back, his gaze wary. “Nothing.”

From his shuttered expression, she was certain he knew something. “Nothing?” She let her disbelief drip from the word.

“Yes, absolutely nothing. It’s a religious thing, you see.”

“Religious?”

“Yes, I’m a devout coward.”

“What does that have to do with Mr. Hammond?”

“We cowards know better than to have anything to do with or know anything about Hammond. It’s much safer that way.” He pointed to the letter C. “So, what sound does this make?”

Knowing he wasn’t going to tell her anything more, she allowed the subject to drop and answered his question. They spent the next thirty minutes going over each letter and the sound it made and the sounds certain letters made when put together.

****

Olivia exited the stationer’s shop. Will stood just outside the door. She came to an abrupt halt, causing Bridget to bump into her. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in the three days since they’d spent the night of Amanda’s birthday ball making love. When she had awoken the next morning, he was gone but had left a note saying he had another lead on Mary’s whereabouts and would be in touch soon.

“Will.” She smiled at him, feeling her cheeks grow warm and a well of happiness bubble to life.

“We need to talk. Where is your carriage?”

Olivia pointed to where Daniel stood two shops away.

Will took her package from her and handed it to Bridget. “You may return to your mistress’ home in the coach. I will see Miss St. Germaine home.”

“I can’t be seen entering your coach without a maid or chaperone of some sort,” Olivia protested.

He looked around. “Can you be seen in a public establishment?”

“I guess.” She didn’t know what was going on. Had Will found Mary? Had he finally found out where Phillip had gone? Why didn’t he just say so? He must know he could speak freely in front of Bridget.

“Then it’s settled. Bridget will return home with your footman, and I shall see you home after we’ve spoken.” He ushered her toward a small shop wedged between a millinery and a jeweler’s.

Olivia looked back at Bridget and shrugged. “Go,” she mouthed. She didn’t want the young maid standing outside waiting when she wasn’t certain how long she was going to be.

As soon as she stepped inside, the delicious aromas of bread, cakes, and muffins caused her stomach to rumble. She pressed a hand to her midsection, hoping it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. It had been hours since she’d eaten breakfast that morning. He guided her to a small section where tables for two were set near the window.

He waited for her to take a seat, then dropped into the remaining chair, his eyes closing for a moment in what looked like relief. Olivia thought it strange, but maybe she misinterpreted his expression. Perhaps he was enjoying the heavenly smells as well.

She tried to take a shallow breath through her mouth hoping if she didn’t smell the cakes and such, her stomach would cease its rumbling. Instead it seemed as if she could taste the sweet confections, and her hunger increased. Much too late for it to do any good, she realized she should have had something to eat before leaving to meet Mr. Finch for his first reading lesson.

She glanced at Will. He was speaking, but her attention strayed to the display of treats. She forced her gaze back to him and nodded, hoping she hadn’t just agreed to something she would regret.

In an effort to concentrate on the conversation, she focused on the people seated behind him. A handsomely dressed gentleman sat facing her, his movements prissy as though he were afraid the simple act of eating might stain his bright yellow waistcoat.

Her gaze dropped to his hand. His fork stopped partway to his mouth as he responded to his companion’s question. A golden yellow bite of muffin rich with plump raisins, or were they currants, clung lovingly to the tines of the fork. Olivia licked her lips, feeling saliva pool in her mouth.

Her hunger taking over, she checked the pocket of her cloak. Nothing but a bit of lint. As Will droned on, she rooted through her small reticule, knowing she’d spent all of the funds she’d brought with her at the stationer’s. Hopefully a coin had gotten lost in the bottom. She didn’t believe so but searched frantically.

“Are you listening to me?”

Olivia looked up from the depths of her reticule, trying to recall one word he’d said. Something about Sandhurst, but that was when they first sat down. Surely, he’d gone on to another topic since then.

“Well?” Will asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

She bit her lip. Her stomach growled, reminding her of its empty state. She was consumed with hunger, and he was chastising her for not paying attention. No doubt, he carried a purse full of coins to buy any delicacy that caught his fancy.

Her gaze flitted back and forth between him and the tempting display of treats. She leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, “Would you purchase something for me to eat? I’m famished and haven’t any money left.”

He stiffened, his mouth compressing into a hard, tight line of anger.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Olivia said, taking note of his expression. She gathered her cloak and reticule and stood. “I’d like to leave.” She took a step back from the table.

His hand shot out, catching her by the wrist. “Sit down.” His voice was low and harsh, an unmistakable order.

Glaring at him, she tried to wrench her arm free.

“Sit. Down.” The demand louder this time.

“Have you forgotten? I am not one of your minions to be ordered about as it pleases you.” She pulled free.

“You will do as I say.”

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. She couldn’t believe his arrogance, but then he was used to people bowing and scraping to do his bidding. He could have been a nobleman acting the way he was; after all, they always thought they had the right to treat others however they wished.

“I think not.” She turned and headed for the door.

He was at her side in an instant, his hand closing around her arm. “Come sit down. I will buy you something to eat.”

“I don’t want anything. I’m not hungry anymore.” As soon as she said the words, she realized it was true. Her hunger had evaporated under his highhanded treatment.

“Yes, you are.”

“No. I’m not.”

“You are making us the center of attention,” he growled.

Olivia pushed his hand from her arm. “No, you are doing that all on your own. I want to leave.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then met her gaze. She saw the anger banked there but didn’t care. “Come and sit down, and we’ll both have tea and cakes.” He stared at her. “Please.”

She gave a small nod and led the way back to the table. She didn’t believe he wanted tea. It was his way of exerting control. She was certain what had happened to him when he was a child made him determined to control every situation.