Sweet Torture (Fated for Love) (11 page)

“Actually
, I was looking for you, you vile cretin.” Olivia strode forward with angry strides until she rounded the desk.

Devon sighed and looked up. “What have I done now?”

“You tell me, you… you… frog footed bald weasel!”

Devon
would have laughed, but the minx grabbed his ear and twisted it. “Ow!” He yelped. He had the infuriating urge to yell for their mother but tramped it down. “What has gotten into you? And for the love of God, Olivia, if you are going to insult me, please do it better.” He batted her hand away when she reached for his ear again.

“This is no laughing matter Devon. Last night I could hear Lydia crying her eyes out
, and I know it must be your fault. What have you done?”

Devon stiffened
. He stood and turned away from Olivia. The pain and anger was acute. He folded is arms over his chest and took a deep breath. “Why do you think it is I who has done something? Perhaps it is Lydia who has made her bed and must lie in it?”

So
, she had shed tears for him? She had mourned the loss of what they had? She was so willing to give him up last night, but if she felt that strongly, then maybe he had a chance. What could he do to convince her?

“I know there is something going on between the two of you. I know both of you too well not to see it. Tell me.”
Olivia gripped the back of her father’s chair.

“What is there to tell
, Livie. I—.” He paused, and looked at his sister, hesitant to expose his bleeding heart. “I'm in love with her, and she thinks I'm not worthy of her affections.” It felt good to say it out loud. His chest was heavy with the emotion of it, but finally he could admit it to someone else. Who better than to someone who loves Lydia like the sister she never had? Devon walked over to the decanter and poured himself a finger of brandy. It was early, but he didn’t give a damn.

“That can’t be true
. I have seen the way she looks at you.”

“I know how she feels
, Livie, but it is what she says that throws me for a loop. I suppose you know about Lord Caverly?”

“
Yes, I have met him. I know she thinks she can be happy with him but…”

“She doesn’t want happiness
. She wants to be safe from a husband who might cause scandal. If she wanted happiness she would marry me.”

Olivia gasped. “You asked her? What did she say?”

“She flattened me like a runaway carriage.” Devon finished his drink in one gulp, and relished the burn of the brandy sliding down his throat. He nearly choked when he felt Olivia throw her arms around him. “What the deuce?” He coughed.

“Oh Devon
, I’m so sorry. I can see why she is so upset. She truly wants you. I know she does, but if it weren’t for her wretched father, she would accept you.”

“I am nothing like her father
, and she knows it.”

“I don’t think she does
. How does one undo a lifetime of thoughts and teachings? Her mother has convinced her of what kind of man to avoid marriage with, and you fit the bill.”

“Ridiculous.
I am nothing like that scoundrel,” Devon growled into his empty glass.

“Be that as it may, it will take some serious convincing on your part to change her and her mother’s mind about you as husband material. How can I help?” Olivia clapped excitedly.

“You can stay out of the way,” Devon grumbled.

Olivia’s face fell. “I’m not going to let you muck this up. Lydia’s happiness is at stake!”

“I am not kidding with you, Olivia. Stay out of this. Now if you will please let me return to the correspondence. Father wants me to join him at whites and time is pressing.”

“You will need my help
, Devon, and when you do, I will make you beg for it.” Olivia turned on her heel, miffed at being so easily dismissed. It galled her that no one appreciated her willingness to help, or even sought her opinion. She was not some empty headed ninny, but everyone, including Lydia, treated her like a child. She was not about to leave the situation alone. If she did, she was sure Devon would ruin everything.

“If you have a care for her
, Devon, do not go to the Stillwort ball. Give her a chance to make up her mind on her own.” Olivia warned. Lydia was as brittle as bone china right now, and it wouldn’t do to humiliate her in society.

“What would I do
, Livie, challenge the old bat to a duel?” Devon scoffed.

“No, but let her face her future with
Lord Caverly without having to deal with you for one night. She would never forgive you if you make a scene, or upset her in public.”

Devon waved her away. He was
too agitated to deal with a nosy little sister. He did agree, however, a night apart could certainly do them both good and hopefully, Lydia would miss him. If only she could face her own feelings, and put an end to both their misery.

*~~~

The evening of the Stillwort ball, Devon left London altogether. He chose a tavern on the outskirts of a small village, and began an early evening of drinking his sorrows away. If he were lucky, he would get in a fight, but as it stood, the tavern was quiet, and the other occupants inclined to sip their mugs of ale in peace. A somber fire snapped in a cavernous fireplace better used to roast an ox rather than heat the small taproom. The walls were dingy from smoke and time, the bar beneath his fingers rough and carved with the scribbling’s and names of past souls. Devon stared into his mug, but instead of seeing the swirl of cheap ale and foamy head, he could only see Lydia. She would be dressing right now for the ball. Perhaps sitting before her vanity while her maid did odd things to her hair with whatever contraption ladies used these days to curl and create those masses of perfectly placed curls. Devon fantasized about undoing it all, pulling each pin, and running his fingers through her long pale gold tresses. He would bend and kiss her—No! No! He shouted at himself inside his torturous mind. He couldn’t think about her tonight.

Tonight
, she would be wooing her future husband and trying to forget about him. Tonight, she would both rip his heart out and leave it on the ballroom floor, or she would realize that love was worth fighting for. Devon prayed that she would pick him, and that tonight she would think only of him, yearning for him the way he was yearning for her.

Each minute felt like an hour.

Every time Devon checked his timepiece, barely a quarter hour had passed and he growled in frustration. He waved for another tanker of ale and slapped some coins on the bar. The ale was piss, but it would serve to get him good and drunk before the night was over, and that was all that mattered. Total oblivion was the only way to survive this night, and stop him from doing something truly wretched. Bride theft was only acceptable in the highlands among the clans, from what Devon understood; London frowned on such tactics.

*~~~

Lydia arrived at the Stillwort ball on Lord Caverly’s arm. She immediately scanned the crowd for Devon’s dark head upon their entrance into the ballroom, but it was fairly early and many of the guests had yet to arrive. Lord Caverly was not yet accustomed to the late hours kept in town and it planned to be an early evening, but Lydia could already tell it would be the longest evening of her life. Since her mother’s return, all talk had been of Lord Caverly. Her mother went on and on about his estate, his family, and how interesting his letters were. Lydia wished to feel some semblance of interest, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to form the appropriate responses and nods. She had actually nodded off yesterday while her mother retold a story of his visit to Greece. Thankfully, her mother had been quite intent on her embroidery and had not noticed. Lydia had been jolted awake by the arrival of the tea service, and a note from Olivia. Lydia and Olivia were going to help promote a respectable story for Lilly’s absence and would reunite the day after tomorrow.

Her mother accepted the news of Lilly’s return with skepticism
, but seemed to recall Lilly’s reclusive aunt from up north. Lydia sighed warily. Her life was turning into a web of lies that continued to grow bigger and bigger. She hated to deceive her mother, but what choice did she have?

The dancing would not start for some time
, so Lydia led the way to the refreshment table. With glasses in hand, they selected a row of chairs to sit and watch the other guests arrive. Lady Covvington kept the conversation flowing with Lord Caverly as Lydia listened half-heartedly and watched the door. The evening wore on, guests entered and mingled, and still there was no sign of Devon. Lord Caverly claimed the first dance and the final dance before supper, after that they would make their excuses to Lady Stillwort. Lydia was thankful it would be a short evening and glad for each dance that would take her away from Lord Caverly. For these thoughts, she felt supreme guilt. It was not Lord Caverly’s fault for her lack of interest. He was very kind and attentive, listened intently when she spoke, and was the consummate gentleman. If only she could feel a return affection. He was everything she had thought she wanted, and her mother shared her idea most insistently, but clearly something had changed inside her and it scared her.

Lydia smiled and nodded through her first dance with Lord Caverly. By the time it was
over, she felt as if she had sat through an Oxford lecture on Greek literature. Thankful for a reprieve, she met her next partner and returned to the dance floor. Her night continued as thus until a quarter after eleven Lydia excused herself to the ladies withdrawing room. Breathing a sigh of relief, she accepted a cool glass of water from a maid, and sat down on a chair to rest her feet.

“Good evening
Lady Lydia.” Lady Burnes took the chair beside her and fanned herself languidly. “I am surprised to see Lady Olivia not by your side. I hope she is well?”

“
Lady Olivia has a familial engagement this evening.” Lydia replied. She did not want to encourage more conversation with the likes of Lady Burnes. The woman was a viper, and strained the definitions of the title Lady with her reputation.

“Hmmm
, so that is why Devon did not grace us with his presence.” Lady Burnes smiled coyly behind her fan.

Inwardly
, Lydia stiffened as a jolt of shock ran through her nerves like ice, outwardly she returned Lady Burnes stare with calm boredom. “Pardon me. I was not aware you had an acquaintance with Lord Wilhelm.”

“Well…
most ladies of the ton do on some level, don’t they?” Lady Burnes snickered behind her fan.

Lydia felt her stomach drop with a nauseating plop. She could feel her palms growing damp and her skin go clammy as Lady Burnes fanned herself and looked over Lydia with a predatory gleam in her eye.
“I only wish to warn you, dear. You have impeccable standing in society, and I would hate to see that tarnished. I have noticed the attention Devon has paid you of late, and I can see that my comment has struck some nerve. You would be wise to trust your affections to Lord Caverly. It is clear what his intentions are towards you.”

Lydia tried to laugh but it came out as more of a breathless gasp.

“Oh dear, I see I have upset you.” Lady Burnes pouted for effect. “Don’t worry, dear, I shall see Devon later at a private party. I will tell him that you are much too precious for him to tamper with, and should seek his entertainment elsewhere. Before you know it, you will be married and happy as a hen.”

Lydia could scarcely believe the
white-hot rage that consumed her. In that moment, she wanted to rip Lady Burnes’ pouty red lips right off her face. She took a shuddering deep breath and summoned all her self-control. “There is no need to go to such trouble on my behalf, Lady Burnes. I would recommend perhaps that you not associate yourself with a young gentleman like Lord Wilhelm. Young men can be so tedious at his age. You need a man to match your maturity. Should I ask Lord Caverly if he has any acquaintances in town?”

The insult hit its mark
, and Lady Burnes narrowed her eyes into slits. “Why you…you—.” She hissed.

“I really must return to my mother, have a pleasant evening.” Lydia smiled tightly and quickly took her leave. She was positive that wasn’t going to be the end of Lady Burnes’ spite
, but whatever that harpy dished out, Lydia could handle. What Lydia couldn’t handle was the idea that Lady Burnes and Devon had some sort of intimate relationship. The thought made her want to vomit all over the parquet floor. She knew Devon was no saint, and it didn’t change the feelings she could no longer deny, but only intensified what she knew all along. She could never marry a man like Devon, a man so charming and seductive that scores of women fell to his feet. No wife could keep such a man to herself, and thanks to her mother, this was not a lesson Lydia would have to experience to appreciate. She wanted him more than anything in this world, but she could never have him, not in any permanent way, at least not in any way accepted by society. She saw the path before her in her mind’s eye, a future she would embrace with dignity. She would hold her head up high, even if her heart would never be the same.

Being reunited with a dear friend is a pleasant distraction from one’s own heartache. Lydia shed far more tears than were warranted, but the flood of joy upon seeing Lilly, daughter to the late Duke and Duchess of Cranston, so whole and happy was a release for her emotions. They met in the drawing room of Olivia’s home and the three hugged tightly, shedding unabashed tears for the time lost and the worries they had held on to for so long. Lydia was in awe of Lilly. She looked absolutely wonderful and had a glow of happiness about her. Lilly and Chance got them up to speed about their plan to reintroduce Lilly into the good graces of society after her family scandal and hopefully trap her treasonous stepfather. It was up to Lydia and Olivia to spread the word about her return from a visit with a distant aunt. Lilly told them about the Earl of Redwick who had found her out and was now helping her. He would be acting as her guardian for the time being since Lilly’s true guardian, a distant cousin and new Duke of Cranston, had not returned from the continent nor been in touch with the family.