Lady Olivia To The Rescue (15 page)

If anyone had asked him, he would not have been able to express the extent of his rage. He wanted very much to throttle both his friend and the foolish Lady Olivia. There she was, a delicate flower, playing with fire. She had no sense, no common sense at all. First, it was light skirts at Vauxhall, and now rakes and seduction.

And she thought she could handle them all.

“Hell and blast!” he raged, causing his coachman to pull up and ask if he should stop.

“Good God, no! Take me home.” When the carriage was under way again, he muttered, “If I didn’t have windmills in my head, I ought to have him take me all the way home to Sheridan Hall! ”

Olivia fell backward onto the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. Hawkeye, who had been asleep on the pillow, sprang to his feet and hissed. When he saw the disturbance was only his mistress, he stretched and ambled closer. A wide smile on her face, Olivia turned on her side and gathered the cat close.

“You have no idea how happy I am,” she said. “I know that he did not actually say anything lover-like, but he is so sweet to be concerned about Sir Richard’s intentions.

“Oh, I know what you are thinking. I have had other jealous suitors, but those were just boys who fancied themselves in love with me. It is not at all the same. Though he may not be conscious of it himself, Lord Sheridan is beginning to have feelings for me—warm feelings.”

She snuggled with the cat until he began to struggle. Letting him go, she sat up, blew out the candle, and climbed back into bed.

Closing her eyes, Olivia tried to sleep, but that silly grin kept her from relaxing. As the minutes ticked away toward dawn, she daydreamed about a house in the country, with Sheridan and his children, and perhaps a babe in her arms.

Sheridan found his friend at their club, in the reading room.

“Good morning, Sheri,” said Richard, glancing up from his newspaper.

“Good afternoon, you mean,” said Sheridan.

“As you wish. Do sit down. It makes a fellow feel quite insignificant having such a tall person lurking over him—rather like a predator looking down on his prey.”

Sheridan sat down. Taking his cane, he carefully pushed aside the newspaper, causing Richard to look up in surprise.

“Did you wish to speak to me? I assure you I can listen and read at the same time. Or have you forgotten how adept I was at school, listening to the teacher at the same time I drew lewd pictures for your amusement?”

Sheridan couldn’t help but smile, but his eyes grew serious again, and he said, “I want a word or two with you, and I would like your undivided attention.”

Richard set aside his paper. “Very well. I am all attention.”

“It is about Lady Olivia,” said Sheridan, lowering his voice so that no one would hear.

“A beautiful woman but one who has been too long on the shelf. I think she is ripe for the picking.”

“I know that I am not related to her in any way, but as she does not have a protector, I feel I must ask you to define your intentions toward the lady.”

“Protector? A strange word to choose. Isn’t that term more for a mistress and her…beau?”

“Never mind my terminology. Answer the question. Are your intentions honourable?”

“My intentions are my own business, but I will say this—my intentions depend entirely on the lady in question. They will be as dishonourable as she allows. And unless you plan to make her your responsibility in truth, I think you should leave well enough alone.”

“Make her my responsibility? Why would I wish to do that?” asked Sheridan.

“You tell me,” said Richard.

‘There is no need. You know how I feel about marriage. Once was more than enough for me.”

“So you have always said and continue to say. However, your actions do not reflect it. So, my old friend, before you ask me to call off my pursuit of the most delightful and stunning Lady Olivia, you must decide what your interest in the lady is. Until then, I bid you good day.”

Richard rose and left the room. The wind taken out of his sails for the moment, Sheridan only sat there.

What could he say to Richard’s objections? He was not ready to answer those questions. He only knew he did not want his friend to succeed.

Richard had always had the women flock to him. He was a charmer, but Sheridan was convinced that for Olivia, Richard spelled only trouble.

He wracked his brain for some solution. After a moment, he snapped his fingers and rose, leaving the club and going home for his carriage before making his way to Lady Olivia’s house.

She was out when he arrived, just as he had hoped.

Instead, he asked the butler to present his card to Amy. Waiting in the rose-coloured drawing room, he paced back and forth.

“Lord Sheridan, what a delightful surprise. And you asked for me specifically?”

“Indeed I did,” he replied, bowing over her hand. “I was hoping to have a few words with you in private. I know it is improper of me, but I would like to speak to you about your niece, and I don’t want her to overhear.”

“Oh, dear, Olivia is due to return at any moment. She only went to the shops for a few minutes.”

“Perhaps we could go for a drive together?”

“The perfect solution. Only wait a moment while I go and put on my bonnet.”

She was gone only a few minutes, but while she was out of the room, Sheridan heard the front door open, followed by the sound of voices.

Olivia and Richard entered the drawing room.

“Good afternoon, Lord Sheridan,” she said, coming up to him and giving him her hand. She was wearing a yellow carriage dress with a floral shawl draped around her shoulders. She looked as fresh as spring.

“Good afternoon, Lady Olivia.”

“Hello again, Sheri,” said Richard. “Wasn’t it lucky of me to leave the club and run straight into Lady Olivia at the draper’s?”

Sheridan responded to his friend with the merest nod.

“Are you here to see me?” asked Lady Olivia.

“No, I came to take your aunt for a drive. We made plans last night,” he lied. “Ah, here she is now.”

“Good afternoon, Sir Richard. How wonderful to see you again. Lord Sheridan and I were just going out, I’m afraid. I’m sure Olivia will offer you refreshments.”

Sheridan made a choking sound and said, “Perhaps we should stay, Miss Hepplewhite. Would it be quite proper for Lady Olivia to entertain a gentleman here alone?”

Richard leered at Lady Olivia, but she missed his wolfish expression as she glared at Sheridan.

“Am I not visible today?” she demanded. “Why do you speak as though I were not in the room? If you wish to know what I think, then ask me.”

Amy settled matters by saying, “This is all nonsense, my dear. Lord Sheridan, Olivia is past the age where one must be so very careful. Sir Richard is a gentleman, as well as a friend.”

“Hear that, Sheri? I am a gentleman and a friend.”

“I hope you will remember both,” muttered Sheridan.

“Very well. We should be going then. Good day, Lady Olivia.”

“Good day, my lord,” came the frosty reply.

When Sheridan had Amy settled in the carriage and they were under way, he said, “The reason I am concerned about your niece, Miss Hepplewhite…”

“I thought I was to be called Amy when we were private?”

“Very well, Amy. The reason I am concerned about your niece is Sir Richard.”

“Such a delightful man. What about him?”

“He is not the saint you seem to think him.”

“I never thought that he was. On the contrary, he is a great deal too amusing to be a saint. A saint would be unspeakably dull, and Sir Richard is frightfully merry. I find his company enormously amusing, and so does Olivia.”

“And that is the problem. She is so busy being amused that she does not realize he is quite dangerous to her reputation.”

“A rake, is he?”

“Most assuredly.”

“Hm, that may not be all to the bad, Sheri. So far, Olivia has not found anyone else quite so interesting—except you, but I think she merely feels sorry for you.”

“Sorry? For me?” he gasped, almost dropping the ribbons. He guided the horses through the park gates and then pulled them up short. Turning to face her, he demanded, “Why the devil would anyone feel sorry for me?”

“Let me see. You rarely smile, and you are rather silent. I mean, rumour has it that you are still grieving the loss of your wife some ten years ago.”

“No, I do not smile like an idiot all the time. And silent, I grant you that one. But let me assure you, Amy, I am not grieving over Anne. I never really did, and so you may tell everyone you know and see.”

“Please do not be angry, Sheri,” she said, placing a gloved hand on his sleeve.

He covered her hand with his and then patted it. “I am not angry just amazed at how very gullible people can be. I do not smile because I see very little to smile about—especially here in London. And to be truthful, I worry about people who smile all the time. Your niece, for example. Until getting to know her better, I thought she was nothing but a shatter-brained pea-goose, or worse—an incurable coquette. I thought it had to be one or the other, the way she always smiles and laughs at those obnoxious young coxcombs she manages to find for dancing partners.”

“Olivia? I have never heard of such! She is the kindest person you will ever meet, but she is not a pea-goose or a coquette. She is really very shrewd. How else could she keep so many charities afloat?”

Sheridan picked up the ribbons and sent the horses along the path. “Very well. I will accept your assessment of the lady’s wisdom where such matters are concerned. However, she is still an innocent, is she not?”

“An…of course she is!”

“Then she is no match for Richard’s seductive charms.”

“I think you are worrying needlessly, Sheri, but what is it you want of me?”

“I want you to let me know if she begins disappearing for hours at a time, acting secretive about her absence, and daydreaming all the time. Olivia may think he means marriage, but I must doubt it. Will you keep a watchful eye out?”

“Yes, I will do that, but I think your worries will come to nothing.”

“Then you will be able to say, ‘I told you so.’ Until then, we will strive to keep Olivia safe.”

“That is the second time you have called her simply ‘Olivia.’”

“I am feeling rather like a big brother to the lady, that is all,” he said gruffly. This was the second time in a matter of hours that someone had questioned his motives, and he really did not like it.

“Of course,” said Amy, smiling up at him.

In the next few days, Sheridan marshalled his forces in his attempt to keep Lady Olivia safe from his friend. He summoned Butters, a Bow Street Runner who often earned extra money working for him, and put him on duty tailing his friend, Richard.

Amy Hepplewhite kept him informed of all of Olivia’s plans, and Sheridan appeared at every event, even two routs—though he hated every moment of them. Still, except for a bit of flirtation, Richard appeared to be getting nowhere in his seduction of Olivia. She was spending a great deal of time in Richard’s company, and this alone was enough to worry Sheridan. To his knowledge, however, the couple was never alone again.

After a week, Sheridan felt more defeated than ever. He was certain from the way Olivia gazed at Richard that she was falling in love with the rake. Richard was a patient man, and it was only a matter of time before he would devise a plan to get her alone.

Sheridan sometimes felt like he was fighting a losing battle. He also wondered why he cared. He did not for a minute think he was actually falling in love with Olivia. He remembered that feeling when, at the page of nineteen, he had fallen irrevocably for the beautiful Anne Lovelace.

Oh, the atrocious poetry he had penned! The hours spent gazing at her. He had begged for her hand the first day they met. She had laughed then and every time until the last one. She had accepted his kisses and his embraces. When her father had come to see him, to tell Sheridan that he would wed Anne or be shot, he had been overjoyed. He had rushed to her side only to be cursed for ruining her life.

Sheridan sighed at the remembrance. All Anne had ever wanted was the gaiety of London. All he had ever wanted was a simple life in the country. The marriage had been a disaster for both of them.

Unable to sleep after yet another rout that ended at four in the morning, Sheridan rose and dressed, walking the chilly streets until he reached the mews where Olivia’s horses were stabled. It was daylight, and the grooms were busy with the horses. Sheridan questioned several before he found the ones in charge of Lady Olivia’s cattle.

“Good morning. Rattle, isn’t it?”

“Aye, guvner. Wot kin I do for you?”