Read Scandalous Summer Nights Online
Authors: Anne Barton
Tags: #Fiction / Romance / Historical / General, #Fiction / Romance / Historical / Regency, #Fiction / Romance / Erotica
“Good, the conversation is always lively at our family dinners. No one will hear me above the chatter.” But Olivia had already decided that she’d toss her portmanteau out the bedroom window into the flower bed below as a precaution. If someone caught her leaving the cottage, she could claim she was sneaking out for a pre-wedding rendezvous with James. Unfortunately, the opposite was true.
“I’ll linger downstairs as long as I can after dinner,” Sophia said, “to give you as great a head start as possible.”
“Thank you for your help.” Olivia squeezed her hand. “You mustn’t go to great lengths to cover for me. Just act as though you are as surprised as anyone. The letter should explain everything.”
“Be careful, Olivia. If there’s one thing that I’ve already learned about this family, it’s that they adore each other—and you, in particular. I understand why you feel the need to do this, but don’t put yourself in jeopardy. Now that I’ve finally met you, I should hate for anything to happen to you.”
Olivia swallowed and gave her half sister a wobbly smile. “As soon as James is on his way to Egypt, I shall come out of hiding, and I promise you that I shall lead the safest, most boring existence of any woman in England.”
“I wish you luck.” Sophia hugged her and kissed her cheek, then quietly slipped out of the room.
Olivia locked the door just in case Rose, Anabelle, or Daphne decided to peek in on her before making their way downstairs for dinner. She sat on the bed, holding her breath and praying that Fate gave her a little help tonight.
She was going to need it.
J
ames rapped on the front door of the cottage, determined to see Olivia in spite of any ridiculous superstitions that forbade it. He wanted to tell her that he’d canceled his trip and hoped that the news would make her happy. He’d missed her smile, like one missed the sun after a week of rain.
A small, gray-haired woman answered the door, and when he introduced himself as the groom-to-be, she was all too happy to usher him into the crowded sitting room. Huntford sat next to his wife, who was sewing a mound of blue silk on her lap. The duchess’s sister, Daphne, cooed at the swaddled baby in her arms. Lady Rose and Miss Rolfe stared thoughtfully at the chess pieces on the table between them.
Only Olivia was missing.
Once the others saw him, the room erupted in a chorus of exclamations.
“Averill,” Huntford said. “Finally, someone to join me in a glass of port.”
The women welcomed him more effusively, inviting him to sit and congratulating him on his impending nuptials.
“It’s wonderful to see you all,” he said. “I don’t wish to disturb the family gathering, but I’d like to visit with Olivia briefly. Is she here?”
“She’s resting,” Miss Rolfe said quickly. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. Olivia had been “resting” when he called that morning as well. He couldn’t imagine Olivia—the girl who was constantly moving—taking two naps in one day. Something was definitely wrong.
“Is she feeling well?”
“I think so,” Anabelle said. She surreptitiously swept the blue silk off her lap and covered it with a pillow on the settee. “I was with her before dinner. It’s been an eventful few days for her, however, and she wants to be well rested for tomorrow.”
“I understand.” He twisted the brim of his hat. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something is… wrong.”
“Wrong?” Daphne looked up, her blue eyes full of concern. “In what way?”
“I’m not certain, but I haven’t seen her in a while, and the last time she seemed troubled and distant.” Lord, he felt like a fool, standing before her family and discussing… feelings. But he had to see Olivia.
“Her unease is understandable,” Miss Rolfe said. “I fear my presence has been an added strain during an already hectic time.”
“You mustn’t think that, Sophia. Olivia wanted you here. Indeed, we’re all glad to have the opportunity to
meet you and spend time with you.” Rose frowned slightly at the chessboard between them. “Especially since you’re the best chess opponent I’ve had in years.”
“Would you care to join us?” Anabelle asked. “Owen would be glad for your company—as would we all.”
“Thank you. Perhaps Olivia will wake and put in an appearance.” Too agitated to sit, James paced the length of the small sitting room. Short of charging upstairs, there was little else he could do. If he knew which room was Olivia’s, he could come back in the middle of the night, scale a trellis or some damned thing, and enter her window. But knowing his luck, he’d end up in Huntford’s room.
“I’ll tell you what,” Lady Rose said kindly. “I’ll go upstairs and peek in on Olivia. If she’s stirring, I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Miss Rolfe stood abruptly, jarring the chessboard. “Why don’t you let me check on her?”
Lady Rose waved her back into her chair. “My legs could use a stretch. Besides, a short break will give me time to contemplate my next move.” To James she said, “Perhaps I’ll be able to put your mind at ease.”
“You are most kind.” He let out a breath and hoped against hope that Olivia would soon walk down the stairs. But the gnawing feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away.
Lady Rose swept gracefully from the room. He continued pacing while Huntford watched him, a bloody amused look on his face.
A frightened cry from upstairs drew gasps from everyone, and James bolted, taking the steps two at a time. “Lady Rose?”
She met him in the corridor, her face a mask of shock and confusion.
“What is it? Where’s Olivia?”
“She’s not here.”
His stomach dropped. “I don’t understand.”
“This was on her pillow.” She handed him a folded piece of paper, his name penned across the front.
Huntford bounded up the steps. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“You mustn’t lose your temper,” Rose warned.
The duke growled. “Too late.”
James moved between them. “Olivia wasn’t in her room. She left this on her bed.” He held up the note, and when Huntford tried to snatch it from his hand, he quickly moved it out of his reach. “It’s addressed to me.”
He walked into her bedchamber and stood by the window where there was more light and at least a shred of privacy, then slipped his finger under the seal.
Dear James,
I pray that you will one day forgive me for leaving this way, and for what I must now say: I cannot marry you.
You were right from the start. When you told me at the Easton ball that what I felt for you was infatuation, you were correct. I professed to love you without having the faintest understanding of the emotion. When you left for Haven Bridge, I impulsively followed you, creating trouble for both of us—trouble that you neither asked for nor deserved. Now I must set things right, not just for your own sake, but for mine as well.
When Owen first decreed that we should marry, I did not think there was any alternative. Admittedly, I
did not object overmuch. I fear I was very much smitten by your good looks, charm, and kindness—but we both know that love requires something deeper, more lasting.
Of course, I am still fond of you, and I always shall be. I also respect you greatly, which is why I would not subject you to a marriage—nay, to a life—without love. You should not be forced to marry. You have a dream to pursue and that is what you must do.
I realize that my brother will not be pleased with me, and I am sorry to disappoint him once again. While I have no wish to create more trouble for him or my family, I’m afraid I must. Even Owen—powerful and determined though he may be—cannot make a marriage happen without a bride. And so, I have run away.
Please assure my family that the location to which I’m traveling is safe. I have suitable lodgings at my destination and will not want for anything while I am gone. I would urge them not to waste their time looking for me, but I suspect they will search nevertheless. While I truly appreciate their concern, they should know that their efforts will be in vain.
I do not plan to live in exile forever (unless my family should deem it necessary). I will return to our home in London after you have left on your expedition to Egypt, for I am fairly certain that even Owen cannot orchestrate a wedding while you are on another continent. In any event, once you are away, I will return to my family, beg their forgiveness, and willingly, if not gladly, face the consequences of my actions.
Please tell my family that I regret they traveled so great a distance, all for naught. I am blessed beyond measure to have their love and support, and I hope to one day make up for the trouble I’ve caused. Please tell Anabelle that the gown she made for me is the most exquisite thing I have ever seen, and she should be the one to wear it—not I. Please tell Sophia that I am delighted to know her and look forward to many sisterly visits and chats when we are back in London. Finally, please tell Owen that I love him and that I borrowed one of his horses. I shall take excellent care of her.
I hope that this news does not come as too great a shock. Indeed, I suspect and pray that once you have had time to adjust to the idea that we shall not marry, you will find you are relieved. Enjoy your time in Egypt, for exploring is what you were meant to do.
Sincerely yours
,
Olivia
James shook his head, barely able to comprehend the words on the page.
Huntford jammed his hands on his hips, impatient. “What does it say, Averill?”
He tossed the letter onto the bed. Olivia may have written it, but he didn’t believe a word. “Read it if you’d like. I’m going after her.”
Huntford grabbed the note and scanned it. “Damn it. Where could she be headed?”
Rose worried her hands. “What about Aunt Eustace’s? Olivia knows that Aunt Eustace was coming here for
the wedding… maybe she means to hide out at her house?”
James was already moving toward the door. “Anabelle said she saw Olivia just before dinner. That was, what, three hours ago at the most? She can’t have gotten far, even on horseback.”
“She’s an excellent rider,” Rose called out as he jogged down the corridor and the stairs. Owen was using a stable about a mile up the road, not far from the inn where James and Olivia had stayed. His own horse was tethered to the fence out front of the cottage and he quickly untied the reins and launched himself into the saddle. He rode hard, ignoring the curious stares of village folk out for an evening stroll. When he burst into the stable, a lad with a freckled, dirt-covered face emerged from a back stall and waved his cap. “Good evening, sir.”
“Have you seen a lady?” James panted. “A pretty young woman with brown hair?”
“Pa saddled a horse for her, just before he went home for dinner.”
James was already leading his horse back outside. “Which direction did she ride?”
He jabbed a thumb at the air. “South, toward Sutterside. She asked Pa about the mail coach.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“No, sir. But she gave Pa and me each a coin.” He flipped his in the air. “Nice lady.”
“She is.” James dug in his pocket for a coin and tossed it to the boy, who snatched it out of the air with one hand. “Her brother, the Duke of Huntford, should arrive here in a few minutes. Tell him that I’m heading south and that I’ll find Lady Olivia.”
The lad bobbed his head. “Yessir!”
James launched himself back onto his horse and charged down the road, kicking up dirt behind him.
The sun sunk behind the hills, and the evening light faded fast. What in God’s name was Olivia thinking, traveling alone at night?
Obviously, she was desperate to escape marriage to him, and that stung—worse than Huntford’s right hook. The things she’d written in her letter didn’t match his memories. Where was the woman who’d lain with him by the river and laughed when he’d tickled her belly with wildflowers? How could that
not
have been love?
Other questions echoed in his head, repeating themselves in time to the rhythmic pounding of his horse’s hooves on the ground. But the answers weren’t going to come from a letter, and they most certainly weren’t going to come from inside his head. Only when he looked into Olivia’s eyes would he know the truth.
And he prayed that truth wouldn’t devastate him.
For now, his mission was to find her and make sure she was safe. He told himself that with only a three-hour lead, Olivia couldn’t have traveled far… and that in the sleepy countryside, no trouble would befall her.
Unfortunately, trouble did seem to have a way of finding her, or vice versa.
By the time James reached Sutterside, darkness had fallen. He jumped off his horse, handed the reins to a stable boy, and asked him a few questions, but the boy hadn’t seen a woman riding a gray mare. James strode into the inn—the very same one where Huntford had found him and Olivia—and saw the innkeeper behind the bar of the taproom.
The portly man scowled when James approached. Perhaps his displeasure had something to do with the two splintered doors that had coincided with his stay.
“What’ll you be havin’, Mr. Averill?” He sighed. “Not a room, I’m hoping.”
“Just information, good sir. Have you seen Lady Olivia Sherbourne?”
“I have not.” The innkeeper busied himself rubbing an invisible spot off of the bar.
“That is a shame,” James said dryly, “for I would have compensated you handsomely for any helpful information you might have had.”
The man looked up and raised a wiry brow, as though insulted. “Then it’s a shame I don’t have any.”
“We only want to make sure she’s safe,” James said thoughtfully.
“We?”
“Did I mention that Lady Olivia’s brother, the Duke of Huntford, will likely walk through that door within a quarter of an hour? You remember the duke—big, dark, brooding fellow, with a violent temper? But if you don’t know anything…”
“Wait. My wife spoke with her.”
James’s pulse quickened. “Get her. Now.”
The innkeeper left and returned a few minutes later, pushing his wife forward as she dragged her feet. “Tell him, Sally.”
She eyed James suspiciously, her lips clamped.
Clearly, her loyalties lay with Olivia—and the fairer sex in general. He tried a softer tack. “I understand my fiancée was here. It’s important that I find her. It’s not safe for a young lady to travel these roads alone, especially at night. Please. Tell me what you know.”
The woman raised her chin. “Lady Olivia didn’t reveal her plans to me, but it was clear that she didn’t wish to be found. I’m sure that a kind lady like her has her reasons.”
“She doesn’t want to marry me,” James admitted. Saying the words out loud was like pulling the bandage off an oozing wound.
“But you’re forcing her to,” the innkeeper’s wife spat.
“No one can force Olivia to do something she doesn’t want to. But I
am
hoping to convince her.” He sighed. “All of that is irrelevant. She’s three hundred miles from home and could be in grave danger. Is she here?”
The woman deflated, her shoulders slumping. “No. She left a couple of hours ago.”
James nodded encouragingly. “And what did she say? Do you know where she was headed?”
“She asked when the mail coach would be going through Mapleton. I told her early tomorrow morning.”
“Mapleton… the village just south of here?”
“Yes, she asked about the inn there. And then she inquired about the villages farther south. She was in a hurry, like she wanted to go as far as possible before nightfall.”
James was already itching to get back on his horse and go after her. “Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything else I should know?”