Betrayed by Your Kiss (10 page)

That, at least, was something. And yet the relief of knowing he didn’t hold her accountable for his pain made her want to cry.

“Well,” he said, pushing himself away from the window. “Although I’ve enjoyed our little talk immensely, I have much to do.”

“Such as?”

“I still have estates to run . . .” He smiled a sinister grin that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’ve neglected them far too long. And I need to see my mother and sisters and tell them I’ve returned. Then, I need to dispose of my worthless cousin. And, of course, there’s the matter of finding out who’s trying to sabotage our shipping company.”

“Is that where you go, Damien? To the waterfront? Is that why you leave in the middle of the night?”

He turned his head, his dark brows arching, the right side of his mouth lifting, almost as if he’d found something she’d said humorous. “I didn’t realize you were so interested in my affairs.”

“I’m not. I’m only concerned when people come and go from my house at all hours of the night. It’s hardly something I’m used to.”

“That will change as soon as I can risk going out into the open.”

“When do you anticipate that will be?”

“Soon. We have less than a month before we must marry.”

Olivia’s heart flew to her throat. “I don’t have to marry you.”

“Yes, you do. Oh, I know you’d like to think you have a choice. That you could consider marrying Rotham. But you can’t, Olivia. You know your father didn’t intend for you to marry anyone but me. That’s why he stated his will as he did. Because he intended for Pellingsworth Shipping to remain with us and be passed down to our children. In order for you to obey his wishes, we have to marry.” Damien laughed. “It will be one of life’s small injustices, Olivia. An ironic twist of fate that’s beyond laughable.”

He walked across the room and opened the door, then stopped. “We will both finally get what we dreamed of four years ago, and what neither of us want today. It’s quite humorous, don’t you think?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but walked away from her, closing the door behind him.

Chapter 12

Olivia sat in the carriage at Rolland’s side. Prudence and her mother, Lady Chandler, sat opposite them. They were returning from Lady Conover’s musicale, and for reasons Olivia couldn’t explain, she was as tense as a longbow pulled taut and ready to fire.

The cause couldn’t be the music or the performance. Lady Conover’s musicale had been exquisite, the performers having done such a magnificent job with Mozart’s mastery of lyric melodies and pure harmonies, Olivia was still in awe.

Nor was it the company. Lady Prudence and her mother had been ideal companions. Prudence was warm and open, and a stunning beauty in her polite, quiet way. Olivia was drawn to her the moment they met.

It was something else. And Olivia knew where the blame lay. At Damien’s feet.

Ever since they’d had words this afternoon, she’d battled an intense fury because he’d been so presumptuous to assume he knew what she had to do. And guilt because she knew he was right—
if
she intended to keep the ships.

Even though her father had left the choice to her of whether or not she would marry Damien, she knew he’d been positive of what her decision would be. She knew her father had always intended Damien to take charge of Pellingsworth Shipping, as well as the investments and lands he’d left her. That it would all be passed down to her heirs some day. But . . .

Surely her father would understand why she couldn’t do it.

“. . . isn’t he, Olivia?”

Olivia turned her head to the side and stared at Rolland in confusion. “I’m sorry. Isn’t he what?”

“My, but you’re in a strange mood tonight. We were discussing Mozart. His talent.”

“What? Oh, yes. Remarkable.”

“I agree,” Prudence said, showing a burst of enthusiasm. “Last year when we came to London, we heard a performance of his Symphony in G Minor, and I’m embarrassed to admit I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. It was one of the most exciting pieces I had ever heard.”

Olivia nodded. “Yes. That’s one of my favorites, too.”

Prudence breathed a dainty sigh and sat back against the squabs. “Can you imagine what he might have left the world if he hadn’t died at such a young age?”

Olivia nodded. “It would have been stunning.”

Olivia spun the maudlin conversation to a more jovial tone. She turned to Lady Chandler. “How long do you and your daughter plan to stay in London?”

Lady Chandler smiled. “A month, at least. Prudence and I get to Town so seldom we have to make the most of it once we arrive.”

“Yes. Mother has spoken of nothing but the chance to attend the opera. And next week a dear friend of hers, Lady Fortinier, is hosting her annual ball. It’s always the highlight of our visit and is so well attended there is always quite a crush. Are you and Rolland planning to attend?”

“Yes. Everyone looks forward to Lady Fortinier’s ball.”

“Good. Perhaps we’ll see you there.”

“Better yet,” Olivia said, smiling at the excitement on Prudence’s face, “why don’t you and your mother join us?”

“Are you certain?” Prudence asked, her flawless manners showing some hesitancy as she glanced at Rolland to make sure she wasn’t intruding.

“Of course,” Rolland chimed in. “We’d like nothing better than to have you and your mother as our guests.”

Prudence looked at her mother, and when the elder lady nodded her approval, Prudence smiled. “Oh, that would be wonderful.”

“We’ll pick you up around eight then,” Rolland instructed, as the carriage slowed in front of Lady Chandler’s townhouse.

Rolland disembarked first and helped Lady Chandler down the steps. Prudence slid to the edge of her seat then stopped. “I can see Rolland is quite fond of you, Olivia,” Prudence whispered, placing a gloved hand gently on top of hers. “I want you to know how pleased I am you have helped him take the step he needed to continue his life.”

“I assure you, I did nothing.”

“Oh, but you must have. I was afraid after Felicity’s death he would never come out of mourning to make another attempt at life. Rolland is the most wonderful man I have ever met and has so much to offer a wife.” She squeezed Olivia’s hand then looked into her eyes. “I’m truly happy for both of you. You are exactly what he needs.”

Prudence rose quickly, and Olivia watched her step out into the street.

While Rolland escorted Prudence and her mother to their open front door, Olivia sat in the semidark carriage. Had she just imagined tears in Prudence’s eyes when she spoke of Rolland? Had she just imagined a hidden sadness when Prudence voiced her congratulations?

Olivia pushed the thought to the back of her mind and smiled as Rolland opened the carriage door and joined her inside.

“So what do you think of Prudence?”

“She’s wonderful. I can see why she and Felicity were such close friends.”

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m so glad the two of you have met.”

Olivia could only smile.

He sat forward as the carriage rumbled through the busy London streets on its way to Olivia’s townhouse, then slid across the seat to sit next to her. “But I don’t want to talk about Prudence right now. I’d rather talk about us and the date we need to set.”

Olivia’s heart lurched, then settled to a surprising calmness. Yes, they needed to set a date. She had less than a month to marry; less than a month unless she intended to marry Damien.

And she did not. She could not.

But she could not go into a marriage until everything was out in the open. Until Rolland knew about Pellingsworth Shipping and about Damien.

Olivia lifted her chin and looked into Rolland’s expectant gaze. “Yes. We need to set a date. But there is something I need to tell you first. And when I do, I won’t hold it against you if you decide you don’t want to marry me.”

She clenched her hands in her lap, unable to go on.

“What, Olivia? Why on earth would I not want to marry you?”

Olivia cleared her throat. “Pellingsworth Shipping will not come with me when we marry.”

There was a slight pause while Rolland digested what she’d said. Then he laughed.

“This has all been about Pellingsworth Shipping? Your nervousness, the worry on your face, the circles beneath your eyes? All because you think I only want to marry you for your ships? Oh, Olivia.”

He reached out and took her hands in his. He brought them to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I have many vices, as I’m sure you already know, but greed is not one of them. I have enough ships of my own. I’m not marrying you to obtain more.”

Olivia breathed a shaky sigh. “It’s not just the ships. It’s . . . it’s . . .” She needed to tell him. Before they set a date, she needed to tell him Damien was alive. That Damien would get the ships. That Damien would get everything. But the words were so difficult to say.

“I didn’t know father had willed his ships to . . . to . . .”

“It doesn’t matter who, Olivia. Although I can guess readily enough.”

Olivia’s gaze darted to Rolland’s. No, he didn’t know. He couldn’t even guess.

She shook her head and pulled away from him. There was no way he could have known that Damien had been alive all this time.

“Olivia, it’s all right. No one is going to fault your father for leaving Pellingsworth Shipping to Captain Durham. It was widely known they were not only the best of friends, but business partners as well. It’s only natural he left the ships to someone he valued so highly.”

Olivia nearly choked as she gasped for breath. Suddenly the truth was even harder to say. She pulled her hands out of his grasp and wrapped them around her middle to ward off the tremor that shook her. “No” was the word she tried to form, but the sound barely made it past her lips.

Rolland reached for her again. “It doesn’t matter to whom your father left his shipping company. Captain Durham is an admirable man. Your father couldn’t have entrusted his ships to a better person.”

“No. He didn’t—”

Rolland placed his finger against her lips to stop her words.

“It doesn’t matter, Olivia. I don’t care about them.”

“Oh, Rolland,” she said, the truth so painful it made her tremble.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” he said, the expression on his face turning serious.

Olivia’s hesitation was only slight, yet long enough to give Rolland pause. When the expression on his face turned blank, she quickly shook her head. “No. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Even though her voice sounded reassuring enough, her body betrayed her by shivering. “Don’t worry, Olivia. The ships aren’t important.”

“Oh, Rolland. Would you mind if we married soon? Very soon?”

“Of course not. If that’s what you want.”

“It is. Yes. We can marry three weeks from today.”

Even in the shadowy carriage, Olivia couldn’t miss the surprise on Rolland’s face. “Very well. I will apply for a special license.”

Olivia leaned over to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Yes. We’ll announce our engagement at the Fortinier ball on Tuesday next, and be married two weeks later on the last Wednesday of the month. That will be three weeks from today.”

“Thank you, Rolland,” she said again. “I know this isn’t how you envisioned our wedding, but it will be for the best.”

“It’s not my wedding I’m so concerned about. I’ve already gone through a big wedding with all the pomp and hundreds of guests. It’s you. You’ve never had the wedding of your dreams.”

“It hardly matters. The day will be special no matter how many people are there to witness it.”

“Yes, that’s true,” he said, as the carriage slowed in front of her townhouse.

Rolland jumped down onto the street and held out his hand to help her. Olivia wanted to look him in the eyes and tell him the rest. The part she’d omitted. The part she knew he’d never understand when he found out she hadn’t told him. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until after their engagement was announced, and it was too late for anyone to do anything about it.

Because there would be all kinds of hell to pay the minute Damien found out what she intended to do.

“Olivia?”

She shook her head and turned her attention back to Rolland.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Until Tuesday then.”

“Yes. Tuesday.”

Rolland jumped down from the carriage and escorted her to the house. Olivia looked out the window and watched the man she was going to marry leave in his carriage and felt a painful tug.

Instead of the elation she felt the first time she’d agreed to be someone’s wife, Olivia was overcome by a sadness that was indescribable.

She handed Chivers her wrap and walked to the stairs. “Is Lord Iversley home?” she asked, stopping halfway up the winding staircase.

“No, my lady,” Chivers answered from below her. “He went out over an hour ago.”

Olivia continued on her way up the stairs, thankful Damien wasn’t there. Facing him tomorrow would be difficult enough. Facing him tonight would be impossible.

She’d already lost him once. On Tuesday, she’d lose him a second time. Only this time it would be forever.

Chapter 13

Olivia pulled the shutters closed on the windows at Pellingsworth Shipping and blew out the lamp, blanketing the outer office in total darkness. She stepped into her father’s office and closed the door, so that to any observer, it would look as if Pellingsworth Shipping was empty.

She knew she was taking the coward’s way out again, knew she was putting off the inevitable. But for at least one more day, she’d avoided seeing Damien. She’d avoided his blatant insistence she set a date for their wedding. She’d avoided telling him again she refused to marry him but intended to marry the Earl of Rotham. She’d avoided the pain she felt when he looked at her as if he enjoyed the dilemma she was in.

Pain gnawed inside her when she recalled his confidence that her conscience wouldn’t allow her to marry someone else. And sometimes she didn’t think she could go through with marrying Rolland. Then Damien would say something or do something to remind her his only reason for marrying her was to get what he thought he deserved and make her pay for stealing it from him four years ago.

Olivia pulled out a folder of cargo receipts and began the tedious job of entering them in the ledger. This was a task she could have done at home, but she was less likely to run into Damien here, especially if she made it appear as if the office were abandoned for the night. She’d even sent her driver home with instructions not to come back for her for two more hours. Only Captain Durham knew she was here. He’d just returned with a cargo of wine from Bordeaux that morning. She’d talked to him earlier this evening, but made him promise he wouldn’t tell Damien she intended to work late.

The captain was scheduled to leave again in two weeks for the second shipment of wine. Perhaps if she asked, he’d stay another day or two to stand in for her father when she married Rolland.

The thought weighed against her like a heavy burden pressing against her heart, but she refused to allow it to bother her. She shoved any reminder of the wedding she’d looked forward to four years ago far back in her memory and concentrated on the figures she needed to enter into the ledger and the lists of cargo she needed to add to Pellingsworth’s inventory.

At first, she didn’t realize how uncomfortable the office had become, how closed-in she felt, how difficult it was to breathe. She rubbed her eyes and thought that exhaustion was the reason the numbers swam on the pages before her. But when she lifted her head to pour a glass of water to soothe her burning throat, she noticed the dense haze that darkened the room and the acrid smell that burned her nose.

Her heart pounded in her breast as she shoved back her chair and raced across the room toward the door.

Thick, black smoke now billowed beneath the door, filling the room so that she could barely see. She reached to open the door, but pulled her hand away from the blistering metal knob and stepped back.

Escape from the front was impossible. There was a small side door on the opposite side of the room that exited to the warehouses—if she could reach it. But when she turned around, the room was engulfed in smoke; thick, black, billowy clouds that choked the air. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face.

She stumbled across the room, certain the door was in front of her, but instead ran into the table where her father kept his collection of maps. She’d gone the wrong way. She turned around and went back, praying she was headed in the right direction.

Her eyes burned until the tears ran down her cheeks and her lungs felt as if they were on fire. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. The room spun around her and she sank to her knees on the floor.

Olivia inched her way across the room, trying desperately to find the door, but nothing was where she thought it should be. And the longer she tried, the more lost she became. Finally, she was too exhausted to try any longer. Even breathing took too much effort. And Olivia curled up in a tight ball and let the smoky darkness consume her.

Damien stormed through the empty house for the second time, searching for Olivia in every room. She wasn’t there.

“Chivers!”

The servants avoided him as if he were an invading army come to rape and pillage. Only Chivers was brave enough to venture near him, although not with relish if the fearful look on his face was any indication.

“Did you need something, my lord?”

“You know damn well what I need,” Damien bellowed, maneuvering the stairs after checking in Olivia’s empty bedroom. “Where is she?”

Damien stopped at the foot of the stairs and waited. Chivers’s gaping silence indicated he knew, but was debating whether or not to divulge the information. Damien clenched his fists. Chivers would tell him, or by the time Damien finished with him, he’d wish he had.

For two days, she’d avoided him as if he had the plague. Every time he got close to her, she escaped through a rear door or the servants’ exit, going through every back hallway and stairway. But he wasn’t about to give her one more day. Not one more hour.

Not one more bloody second!

“Where is she, Chivers? It’s already dark outside. Tilly admits she didn’t have an engagement tonight, so wherever she went, she left here to avoid me.”

“Perhaps she had an errand to run, my lord.”

“How did she get there? Her carriage is still in the stable and that idiot driver of hers refuses to say where he took her.”

“I’m sure she’ll return shortly, sir.”

Damien glared at him. “After all that’s happened, you know as well as I she might be in danger.”

An anxious look crossed Chivers’s face. “Perhaps she doesn’t wish to be disturbed, my lord.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t. But I don’t much care.”

Damien’s temper rose another notch. What was she trying to prove? He wanted this over. He wanted a date set. And he wanted his ring on her finger.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t still love him. If the kiss they’d shared was any indication, she still did. So why was she being so bloody stubborn? Surely she didn’t expect him to forgive her so easily for betraying him? Surely she didn’t think things would be like they’d been before she’d sent him away?

He’d learned a lot in the four years he’d been gone. He’d learned that love wasn’t an emotion to be given away lightly. That loving someone meant giving them a special part of your heart and soul. And when the person you loved trampled on what you gave them, the pain never went away.

And he’d learned another valuable lesson. He’d never love Olivia that deeply ever again. He’d never give her that much power over him. Never risk that much of his heart. Especially when she’d already proved she could never love him as deeply in return.

“Where is she?” he bellowed at Chivers, and this time he left no doubt he’d do the man bodily harm if he didn’t get an answer. “Where!”

Damien watched the expression on Chivers’s face change and knew the moment he capitulated.

“She went—”

But before Chivers finished his sentence, the front door flew open and one of Olivia’s footmen burst through the opening.

“Fire! There’s a fire. Everything’s in flames!”

Chivers caught the gasping footman before he collapsed into a chair beside the door. “Where, Willy? Where’s the fire?”

“At the warehouse,” the footman choked out. “I followed Lady Olivia . . . like you said. And waited to make sure nothing . . . happened to her. And all of a sudden, the whole place was in flames.”

“Where’s Lady Olivia now?” Damien asked, his feet already carrying him across the foyer to the stable.

“She’s inside! I tried to reach her, but the fire’s too bad.”

Damien froze for a fraction of a second, then raced down the long hallway and out through the kitchen exit. His mind refused to believe this could be happening. But the fear mounting inside him knew it could.

A groomsman threw a bridle on his horse as Damien grabbed the reins and hurdled onto the gelding’s bare back.

The ride to the waterfront was the longest few minutes of Damien’s life. A fire. Olivia was inside a burning building. He fought the overwhelming fear that consumed him. He knew how quickly a fire could devour everything in its path. Knew how terrified Olivia must be. Every muscle in his body trembled as he pushed his horse harder.

Breathing became more difficult, whether from remembering the horror of being trapped beneath burning beams aboard the
Princess Anne
, or from the heavy smoke that filled the air as he neared the Pellingsworth Shipping office. Damien rode as close as his horse would take him, then jumped to the ground and ran the rest of the way.

A long line of men were passing buckets, throwing water on the front of the building. Captain Durham had taken control and was issuing orders to the crew of sailors, but Damien knew it was too late. The whole front of the building was clearly engulfed in flames, and no amount of effort would save it. Damien raced through the downpour of glowing ashes to get to him.

“Where is she?”

Captain Durham turned around when Damien yelled. He had a confused look on his face. “Where’s who?”

“Olivia! Where is she?!”

Damien looked around, frantic to find her. To see her sitting off to the side. He didn’t. Damien started to run toward the burning building, but Durham stopped him.

“You can’t go in there,” Durham yelled through the thundering noise. “It’s too late to save anything. The fire’s too far gone.”

“But Olivia’s in there!”

“She can’t be. The building was dark. It was empty.”

“She’s here!” Damien said, rushing forward. “Her footman said she didn’t get out.”

Fear and terror darkened Durham’s features, and he threw down his bucket. “The back! There’s an exit to the back.”

Both Durham and Damien raced around the side of the building. Smoke billowed from beneath the closed door, but Damien couldn’t see flames.

“Get the men over here. Maybe we can stop it from this side.”

Durham ran a few steps back, then turned. “Don’t go in, Damien. Wait until I bring help.”

“Go!”

Damien raced for the door. He had to get to her. If the fire hadn’t reached her, the smoke had. And that could be just as deadly.

Damien pulled his cravat from around his neck, then kicked open the door that led to Olivia’s father’s office. A rush of choking smoke came out at him, blinding him.

“Olivia!”

Nothing.

“Olivia!”

When he heard no answer again, Damien put his cravat to his nose and rushed in. He couldn’t see her, the room was too dark, so he went by feel.

His legs trembled beneath him. His nose and throat burned so that taking a breath was nearly impossible. He remembered that night aboard the burning ship. The night he’d nearly died.

Damien pushed himself farther into the room, over to where Pellingsworth’s desk sat. Empty.

He worked his way to the right and bumped into the table where the earl had kept a collection of maps. He moved his feet, praying he’d find her lying on the floor, then dropped to his knees and crawled. Dear God. Where could she be?

“Oliv—” he tried to yell, but his throat was so raw he barely made a sound. He got back to his feet and moved to the other side of the room. His lungs burned with every breath he took, and Damien knew from experience it wouldn’t be long before the smoke suffocated him. Or the flames reached him.

He looked upward as long, licking flames shot across the ceiling and knew it was too late.

In frantic desperation, he swiped his hand across the floor in great arcs. Nothing.

She had to be here. She had to!

He crawled to another spot, this time in front of Olivia’s father’s desk and swept his arm in front of him again. Nothing. He moved and felt again. His hand came into contact with something soft. A piece of material. The hem of her gown.

Damien crawled closer and followed the fabric with his hands. It was Olivia. She was huddled in a tight ball with her face buried in her arms. Damien scooped her up and walked with her to where he thought the door should be, but couldn’t find the exit.

“Iversley!”

Damien stopped to listen.

“Iversley! Here!”

Damien heard Captain Durham’s voice and made his way toward it.

Fresh air hit him like an updraft on a clear, cold night at sea. Strong arms steadied him as he stumbled from the building with Olivia tight against him. He took in one huge gulp of air after another, then sank to his knees and cradled Olivia in his lap.

“Olivia! Liv!”

Damien swiped his fingers over her face, pushing her hair from her eyes.

“Is she breathing?”

“I don’t know. Liv!”

“Here.”

Someone handed him a cold, wet cloth and he placed it on her forehead, then ran it down her cheeks. “Liv. Can you hear me?”

Damien placed his hand on her chest, praying he’d feel her chest rise as she struggled to take a breath. Nothing. Next, he placed his hand on her stomach and pushed. Nothing. He pushed again. Harder.

Olivia’s stomach lifted and she took a narrow gasp of air. Damien lifted her so she could breathe easier and she flailed her arms, struggling with more strength than he thought she had. Then the wracking coughs started. Damien sat her up straight and pressed his hand against her back while she coughed to clear her lungs.