Lady Olivia To The Rescue (9 page)

He kissed her, his lips rough on hers. She stiffened, twisting her head, but he held her in his grip and continued. Then she was kissing him back, her lips searching his, her arms around his neck, her fingers ruffling his hair. He tasted her sweetness and only wanted more. His arms wrapped around her, pressing the length of her body against him.

They staggered, and Sheridan set her away from him.

His senses reeling, he panted. “See? What is to prevent that? Or worse!”

Her eyes were glazed, and she bit at her lower lip in the most provocative manner. Sheridan restrained himself from reaching for her again, but his anger was returning and he resisted temptation.

His breathing almost normal again, he demanded, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

The fire returned to her eyes. “Harold!”

Sheridan took a step back when a large figure stepped into the light. Behind this giant was another, a youth also dressed in livery.

“What I have to say, Lord Sheridan, is that if you had been a ruffian, Harold and Rattle would have knocked you flat.”

She signalled to the servants, and they withdrew into the darkness again.

Sheridan couldn’t help but smile. She was drawn up to her full height—little more than a child—and looked like a kitten with the fur standing up on its back.

“And if I had produced a knife?” he asked, his amusement growing.

She reached for her reticule, but before she could produce the pistol hidden there, he heard the unmistakable sound of two pistols being cocked. When his gaze returned to Lady Olivia, she had pointed a small pistol at his chest. He raised his hands in defeat, and she smiled again, returning the pistol to its hiding place.

Offering her his arm, he said, “Would you care to accompany me to a more comfortable spot where I can try and reason with you, and you can tell me to mind my own business? I think there is a secluded arbour with a bench close by. If we are the first to think of it, we should have it to ourselves. I would like to hear more of your tale.”

A companionable silence fell as they walked to the small arbour. Sheridan was aware that Olivia’s servants were following. They didn’t speak, but their presence was palpable. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, though he wasn’t sure why. He felt certain that they knew he meant their mistress no harm and that they would not assault him without a command from her. Still, it was a peculiar feeling.

When Lady Olivia was seated on the bench, he stood over her, but she moved to one side, patting the small opening.

“I don’t want you looming over me like some sort of vulture,” she said.

Drew sat down, and he had to admit it was better sitting next to her. When she lifted her face to him, the moon’s glow revealed every emotion, and her eyes sparkled like jewels.

“Now, what is this all about?” He resisted the urge to say “this foolishness,” for he knew it would only annoy her.

“As you know, Lord Sheridan, I have a number of charities I support. Unlike some, however, I do more than give money. My school, for instance—I keep close tabs on how it is run, day-to-day. I visit it often.”

“You go into the city—into the depths of the city—to this school?”

“It is perfectly safe. I have Harold to protect me. There is also Mr. Pate, my driver, and Rattle, my tiger. Nothing has ever occurred to make me reconsider.”

“Speaking of Harold. He looks very familiar.”

She chuckled. “Perhaps you know him from his days as a prizefighter?”

“That’s it! Horrible Harry!”

“Yes, but he simply goes by Harold Hanson now.”

“So you take Harold everywhere you go?”

“Yes, almost everywhere.”

“And you think that makes it acceptable for you to go to these rather seedy neighbourhoods?” asked Sheridan.

“My visits to the school are not open for debate. I merely told you about them so that you will know that I take my charity work very seriously and very personally.”

“I understand that, but it still does not explain why you would choose to stroll through the darkest, most dangerous pathways of Vauxhall.”

“I was perfectly safe. Harold and Rattle are here.”

“An overgrown…” He stopped, arrested by the look of warning in her eyes. He continued more temperately. “A large protector, perhaps, and a young man—hardly more than a boy. What would prevent someone from coming up behind them and knocking them senseless?”

“What nonsense! I suppose while this someone is attacking them, I will be standing there completely oblivious? That is not going to happen. I would scream, and then I would run away to get help for them.”

“As I get to know you better, my dear Lady Olivia, I believe you would be more inclined to wade into the fray, both small fists flying.”

She smiled at this, and he had the almost overwhelming urge to take her into his arms again and taste those sweet lips once more. Some hint of this desire must have shown on his face, for Lady Olivia bowed her head. Whether she found it amusing that she held this power over him, he did not know, but the prospect gave him the strength to curb his lascivious impulse.

When she looked up again, her eyes pleaded for his understanding as she said, “I know it is not the wisest course of action, Lord Sheridan, but it is the only course open to me. I have long wanted to help these poor, unfortunate girls who, through the chance of birth, are doomed to live the life of prostitutes.”

“My lady,” he mocked. “Such language!”

She squared her shoulders. “Neither the language nor the situation is acceptable, my lord, and I intend to do all I can to change this situation. Never think that I have deluded myself into thinking that I can help all of them, but if I can help a few, it is my…”

“Your passion does you credit, Lady Olivia, but there has to be a better way to go about it, a more efficient way than putting yourself and your servants in harm’s way.”

“Perhaps you would be willing to…”

“No.” Her face fell, and he wished he could make her smile again, but he didn’t know how. “Coming to Vauxhall and hoping for a chance encounter with one of these ladies is not the answer. First of all, she may not want your help, like the one tonight. She may be perfectly satisfied with her situation.”

“Nonsense. If you had not interrupted…” she said, turning her face away from him.

“She was about to leave anyway, and you know it.” He took her chin in his fingertips and turned her to face him again. “Admit it.”

“Yes, I admit it.” Her eyes now sparkled with tears that trickled down her cheeks like silver ribbons.

Sheridan fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and wiped her cheeks. At that moment, he would have done almost anything to make her smile again.

And then she did. Her eyes began to dance, and she clutched at his lapels. “I have it! I know what we will do—there are places where one can find all sorts of these girls, all in one place. Brothels, I think they are called? Surely you know where these are, and you could take me there!”

He wrenched free and jumped to his feet, all the while shaking his head and holding up his hands to ward off such an improper suggestion. She was at his side, babbling.

She grew quiet when he took her by the shoulders and said firmly, ‘There is no way in this wide world, nothing in the power of the entire universe, that could make me agree to such a foolhardy scheme. Do not say another word about it.”

“But…”

He put up one hand to stop her. “What is more, I want you to promise me that you will not attempt such a ramshackle plan on your own.” She shuffled her feet, and he added, “Promise, I say.”

She heaved a sigh and hung her head. Mumbling, she said, “I promise.”

“Good. Now, I don’t know about you, but I have had my fill of Vauxhall for the night. Let me escort you to your carriage.” She took the arm he offered, and they walked away.

When Sheridan had put her into her carriage, he leaned inside and said to the giant, “Her ladyship is to go straight home, is that understood?”

Harold looked to his mistress, who nodded. Then he nodded and said, “Very good, my lord.”

Exhausted, Sheridan found his own carriage and headed home too. He leaned against the soft squabs and thanked the heavens that he had been the one to discover Lady Olivia in the darkened pathways. It made his blood turn cold to think of what might have happened.

Now, however, he could rest easy. She had given him her word. She would not break it.

Chapter Six

“T
onight was certainly a disaster,” said Lady Olivia when the carriage was under way.

“I’m just glad it is over,” muttered Harold.

“Hardly over.”

“But, m’lady, you promised.”

“It is not over,” said Olivia with a smug smile. “I never said I would not try to rescue them, Harold. I merely said that I would not do so alone. There is a difference.”

“You don’t mean you’re going back to that Vauxhall place, do you, mistress?”

“No, I gave my word about that, but I have something else in mind. Don’t worry, I am certain you will approve this time. It may take me a few days to put things in motion, but I shall come about.”

“His lordship said…”

“Pish and tosh on his lordship. He has no power over me. And I do admit that perhaps I was going about things in the wrong way. I mean, how many nights could one spend at Vauxhall?” She was talking more to herself now than to her servant, but she was aware that he was listening intently.

“I have come to realize that I need help, and I think I know just the person to help me.”

“Women,” grumbled Sheridan as his valet pulled off his coat. “I sometimes wonder how men and women manage to live in the same world. Women are such nonsensical creatures. I mean, you can never depend on them, can you, Fenwick?”

“No, my lord,” said the valet, divesting him of his waistcoat and then the cravat.

“And who can understand them? They give the impression of being these delicate flowers, but they are made of steel, I tell you. Do not be fooled by appearances.”

“Certainly not, my lord.” Fenwick held out his dressing gown for him to put on.

The valet stepped back when this was accomplished and waited patiently for further instructions.

“Lady Olivia, for instance. She gives the appearance of being an empty-headed, empty-hearted lady of society—caring nothing for people, only for fashion—but there is a depth there that she doesn’t show. She is quite an amazing lady.”

“If you say so, my lord.”

“Well, I do. Not to say that she is less maddening than other women. No, I would have to say that she is the most maddening of all the women I know.”

Sheridan went to sit beside the fire and put his feet up on a footstool. He picked up the book he was reading but didn’t open it.

Behind him, his valet retrieved the bundle of discarded garments and waited. Finally, he said, “Will that be all, my lord?”

Sheridan waved a hand and said, “Yes, that’s all. Goodnight, Fenwick.”

“Goodnight, my lord.”

When he was alone, Sheridan tried to erase the troubling evening from his mind. Suddenly, the logs cracked and sent a shower of sparks onto the hearth.

His mind was drawn back to the arbour and Lady Olivia’s sparkling eyes. He should have kissed her again. There had been that moment—that hesitation. If he had taken her in his arms, he knew she would not have resisted.

With a frown, he wondered if she would react the same with some other man.

No, that was unfair of him. Despite his musings about her spending the afternoon with Richard, he felt certain there was nothing between the two of them.

Still, it was not the first time she had been kissed.

The thought made him get out of his comfortable chair and take the poker to stir the fire. Sparks flew, and again, he thought of Lady Olivia. There was fire beneath the empty-headed exterior she showed to society. He certainly had been fooled.

With a frown, he returned to his chair. There was more than fire. There was compassion. Passion and compassion, a formidable combination. The sort of combination that might make a fellow forget the past and its pain.

“Hell and blast! ” he muttered. “You, you old fool, need to get out of town for awhile.”

Sheridan glared at the fire. He would be dashed if he left town because of some female. Besides, who would see to it that she kept her promise? Her foolish generosity would land her in the suds, or worse. No, he had to stay close to keep an eye on her.

What Lady Olivia needed was a husband. That was it. Some kind-hearted clunch who would fill her nursery with children.

Sheridan found he was grinding his teeth at this thought, but he ignored it. Instead, he tried to focus on that insipid smile she always had on her face at balls—the one that was permanently placed there despite how many country boobs stepped on her toes. And then there was her sweet consideration of others like that annoying chit Miss Featherstone. No, Lady Olivia might not be as shallow as he had at first thought, but her everlasting sunniness would drive him mad in a fortnight.

Yes, a husband was what Lady Olivia Cunningham needed, and he was the one to help her find one!

Olivia stroked the little cat’s fur and looked out at the driving rain. She pulled her shawl more tightly about her shoulders and sighed.

“Wretched weather,” said Aunt Amy, entering the room and walking across to the windows to pull the drapes closed. “We should find something to do that will pass the time. What about a puzzle? Mr. Pendleton sent me a new one yesterday.”

“He did?” said Olivia with a coy smile. “What else has the good Mr. Pendleton sent to you?”

“Do not bother to tease me on that, my dear child. Mr. Pendleton sent me a puzzle because I mentioned that I enjoyed putting them together. He was just being kind.”

“I see.”

“No, you do not see. Heavens, Olivia, the man must be seventy! I know I am nearing the half-century mark, but I will not settle on just anyone. I am quite content to remain as I am, a companion to my spinster niece.”

Their eyes met, and they burst into laughter.

Amy went to fetch her new puzzle, and when she returned, she poured out the pieces onto a table, and Olivia joined her there.

“What is it?” asked Olivia.

Holding the box, her aunt read, “It is called
Wallis’s Royal Chronological Tables of English History
. Hm, so it is not a dissected map like the others I have. This should be quite amusing.”

A silence descended on the duo as they concentrated on finding connecting pieces in the puzzle. After several minutes, Olivia noticed that her aunt’s attention had wandered. She looked up to find her aunt staring at her intently.

“Yes?”

“Oh, nothing,” said the older woman, picking up a piece of the puzzle and turning it over and over.

“Your attention is not being diverted by nothing, Aunt. What is it?”

“You are right, my dear. It was what I said a few minutes ago. About you being a spinster.”

“I assure you, I did not take offense. After all, it is perfectly true.”

Her aunt put down the piece. “But it need not be true. As a matter of fact, it
should not
be true. There is no reason for you to remain single. I know that I have voiced the opinion that it doesn’t matter, and to some extent, that is true. For me, that is. Many years ago, I chose not to settle for second best.”

“Did you?” asked Olivia, hoping to redirect her aunt’s train of thought. “So you did turn down an offer that you sometimes regret.”

“No, not at all. I do not regret it, not even now, after all these years.”

“Who was it?” asked Olivia, hoping, after all these years that her curiosity would be satisfied, that she would finally learn why her aunt had chosen spinsterhood when she had had offers.

“It doesn’t matter who it was. Suffice it to say, that for me, I could not accept a marriage where I would not come first. The young man had other things to accomplish in his life, and I was just an afterthought. That much was evident when he wed someone else not two months later.”

“I am sorry, Aunt. Even though he was not worthy of you, it must have been a difficult decision for you.”

“It was, but as I said, I still do not regret it.”

Olivia asked quietly, “Did you love him so very much?” ‘

When tears sprang to her aunt’s eyes, Olivia jumped to her feet and circled the table, giving her aunt a quick embrace.

Aunt Amy shook her niece off and said gruffly, “I am not that distressed, my dear. After all, it was thirty years ago.” Suddenly, she gripped Olivia by the shoulders. “Besides, we were speaking of you.”

Olivia grinned and scampered around to her side of the table. “No, we were speaking of you. Do not trouble yourself with me, Aunt. I will marry if I decide I want to. Otherwise, I am quite content as I am. I have you, my friends, and my charities.”

“Charities do not keep one warm at night.”

“Blankets do,” said Olivia. “Now, cheer up. This wretched weather has made both of us mope-eyed. Let’s talk about other things. What gown are you wearing this evening? We must attend both the Winterses’ musicale and Lady Osgood’s rout, you know.”

“Yes, and we shall be soaked before we get inside the first one. I would prefer to stay home, but I know Louisa Winters will have that son of hers singing, and he is so very talented. Sings like an angel.”

“And looks like a bloodhound.”

“Olivia! He does no such thing!” Her aunt’s eyes started to twinkle. “Well, he does, but one mustn’t say so, or it will be all I can do to sit and listen to him without laughing.”

The front door opened with a whoosh of wind.

“Now, who on earth could that be?”

“Someone very wet,” whispered Olivia.

“And foolish,” said her aunt.

The butler entered and inquired if they were at home to visitors. They nodded, and he threw open the door and announced, “Sir Richard Adair.”

“Good afternoon, ladies. So good of you to see me.” He bowed over their hands and pulled up another chair to the table.

“Good afternoon, Sir Richard. Won’t you join us?” said Olivia.

“I see you have found a way to amuse yourselves on this cold, wet day.”

“We were just beginning. We can put it aside, if you prefer,” said Aunt Amy.

“No, no, I would like to participate, if I may. I am so happy to be in company. I was like to be moped to death, sitting in my rooms.”

“Then we are delighted you chose to visit us,” said Olivia. “We were feeling much the same, weren’t we, Aunt?”

“Indeed, yes. So glad you have called. I’m sure Witchell will come with a tea tray before long. You will join us, won’t you?”

“Thank you, I would love that. Are you going to Lady Osgood’s rout tonight?”

“Yes, one cannot allow the weather to hinder our little pleasures. Will you and the marquess be coming?” said Aunt Amy.

“Sheri? Heavens, no! I’m afraid he is a bit displeased with me after I missed our rendezvous at Vauxhall last night.”

“Oh, Vauxhall,” said Aunt Amy. “I adore Vauxhall.”

“Yes, but I simply forgot where I had asked him to meet me, never dreaming that we would not find one another. Anyway, when I saw him at the club earlier today, I asked if he was attending the rout, and he said that after that last one when Miss Featherstone fainted, he has sworn off them completely. Wouldn’t even discuss the matter.”

Olivia frowned. She had thought the handsome marquess might…not that she cared, though she had hoped to thank him for his concern the night before.

And for that kiss.

“Olivia, your mind is wandering. Sir Richard has asked what time we will be going.”

“What? Oh, yes. Well, I am not certain. We plan to go to the Winterses’ musicale first. Would you care to join us for that?”

“I hadn’t planned to attend, but I might as well. Do you think you might grant me the honour of escorting you ladies?”