Tempt the Devil (26 page)

Olivia went down on her knees beside Lady Roma and took the girl's hand. “It will all turn out right, you'll see.”

Lady Roma took a shuddering breath and stared at Olivia through reddened eyes. “How can it? He'll go away and never come back. Just like he did when Mamma died.”

“My dear, I know how hard it is for you.”

Then just as she would if she'd found Leo so distressed, she put her arms around the girl's shaking shoulders and drew her down to rest against her. She had no right to touch this child. But the sheer scale of Lady Roma's sorrow made it impossible to resist extending comfort.

“I just want my father back. That's all I've ever wanted.” Lady Roma clung sobbing to Olivia.

“I know, I know, sweetheart,” Olivia crooned as she'd crooned to Leo when he'd been a baby.

The girl wept with an extravagance that made Olivia want to cry herself. The poor child had lost her mother when she was far too young, then her father had abandoned her. Julian was aware of his wrongs against his family, but Olivia suspected he had no idea of the depth of unhappiness he'd caused.

How could she blame him for what he'd done? He'd been little more than a child himself when Joanna died and crippled with grief. He'd been in no fit state to take over two infant children. Whereas his sister was already married with a family of her own.

Eventually, Lady Roma's wild storm of emotion subsided. She pulled away and wiped at her eyes with her hands. It was such an intrinsically childish action that Olivia's heart was touched anew.

How could this girl contemplate marriage in a few weeks? She barely seemed mature enough to be out of the schoolroom.

Olivia reached behind her and picked up the now cold tea. “Here, have a sip. It will help. I'll call for more in a moment.”

Any fight had drained from the girl. And thank goodness, with it, the urge to insult the woman she saw as competition for her father's attention.

Lady Roma nodded and took the cup, lifting it to her lips. Her hand shook so badly, Olivia reached out to support it.

The girl took a gulp and choked. Olivia rose and put her arm around her shoulders through the brief fit of coughing. “Slowly. I have a feeling you're an impetuous creature, my lady.”

The girl's muffled giggle was still thick with tears. “You sound like Aunt Celia. I'm always in trouble for leaping before I look.” She sobered and studied Olivia with grave blue eyes. “You're not what I expected.”

Olivia smiled and sat back. “A painted harpy with a cockney accent and a dress cut down to her knees?”

Lady Roma gave another choked giggle. “I've never met a wicked woman before. Well, not one acknowledged by everyone as wicked. Of course, I know about affairs within the ton.”

Olivia tried to frown but failed. “You listen to too much gossip, my lady.”

“I like to know what's going on.” She put her cup down on its saucer and lifted her chin. “Thank you. You've been kinder than I deserve. I treated you with ill grace.”

“You were upset. With some justice. But I can't—”

“Good God, Roma! What the hell are you doing here?”

J
ulian filled the doorway, his high-top beaver hat in one hand, his cane in the other. An expression of unspeakable horror darkened his handsome face.

Olivia's heart rose to clog her throat. She felt like a child caught in some forbidden act. But his incendiary rage swiftly banished the harmless image.

He looked like he wanted to kill someone.

“Papa…” Lady Roma bounded to her feet with an ungainly movement that briefly reminded Olivia of the way she sat a horse. As she lurched up, she knocked the tea table and the tray went flying.

Olivia leaped aside as tea, milk, lemon, and the drying remains of food shot everywhere. With a resounding crash, china smashed against furniture and the floor.

“Oh, heavens!” The girl wrung her hands as she surveyed the disaster. She glanced in panic at her father, then back to the shattered remnants of their tea.

“It doesn't matter.” Olivia rushed across to put her arm
around Lady Roma. She glared at the tall, furious man who hadn't shifted from the door. “Lord Erith, you're terrifying the child. For heaven's sake, come in and sit down.”

“Terrifying her?” The deep voice that could be as warm and caressing as sable was icy with barely contained temper. “I'd like to take her over my knee and spank her like the irresponsible devil spawn she is.”

“Papa, please…” Lady Roma's eyes filled with tears and she huddled closer to Olivia.

“And will that help?” Olivia forced a note of command and tightened her protective hold. “Leave the girl until you calm down.”

“Calm down?” His nostrils flared with an aristocratic disdain that cut her like a razor. He took a few emphatic strides into the room. “I find my daughter in cozy conversation with my mistress, the most infamous jade in London, a lightskirt whose exploits are the toast of every tavern in the land, and you expect me to like it? Damn it all, Olivia, this is outside of enough.”

She flinched back a step away from the trembling girl. He was in a rage and prone to say things he didn't mean. Nonetheless savage hurt arced through her.

He spoke to her like he'd speak to a whore. A whore he despised.

She strove for balance, for reason. He had a perfect right to his outrage. She was a notorious demimondaine. She'd done shameful and wicked things. His daughter shouldn't have come within a thousand miles of her.

That didn't mean she appreciated hearing him say so aloud. And in front of an audience.

She forced a rebuke through numb lips. “Roaring like an angry bear isn't going to improve matters.”

“How the Devil did she even get here?” He shot Olivia a killing look. “
Blast you, did you ask her to come?”

Olivia felt the blood seep from under her skin. She fumbled for the back of a chair. Her legs alone wouldn't support
her. The room receded as shocked distress left her dizzy and lost.

He didn't know her at all.

How could he claim to love her yet have such a poor opinion of her discretion or good sense? How could he imagine she'd endanger his daughter's reputation? How could he claim to love her yet address her with such flaying contempt?

Her hand curled hard around the chair as she fought for control. Her answer emerged as a croak. “Of course I didn't.”

He didn't heed her vehement denial. With suppressed violence, he flung coat and cane to the sofa. “I cannot believe you encouraged my daughter in this featherbrained behavior. You must know the consequences could be calamitous. Or you would if you'd given the matter a moment's reflection. You have a role in my life, madam. But you have no permission to insinuate yourself into private family business.”

“Papa, you're being unfair,” Roma interjected in an unsteady voice. “I—”

“Roma, you will not defend this woman.” He spat the last two words as if they described a creature lower than mud. “You will not ever mention her to me.”

“But, Papa—”

“My lady, don't,” Olivia said, trying to deflect his anger even as her heart fractured into two bloody halves. The agony was excruciating. “This is between your father and me.”

She succeeded too well. She staggered as furious silver eyes incinerated her. His voice seared. “You've exceeded the bounds of propriety, Olivia. You've exceeded the bounds of acceptability, even.”

Hard to believe he'd held her tenderly through the night as she sobbed out her misery over her brother's betrayal. Hard to believe he'd been so deep inside her that she thought he'd touched her soul. Hard to believe they'd laughed and shared a bond that could almost have been friendship.

“My lord, listen to me,” she said urgently. “I didn't invite Lady Roma here. She came of her own free will. She realizes how foolish she's been. She'll never do it again. Your chastisement serves no purpose.”

He arched his eyebrows with dismissive hauteur as if he caught her out in a lie. “So how did she know where to find you?”

He was pale with fury and a muscle jerked spasmodically in his cheek. She knew concern for his daughter underlay his overwhelming anger. But nothing could excuse either his accusations or his attitude.

If this was his love, it was worthless.

She called on the pride that had sustained her for so long and drew herself up to her full height. Her spine was so rigid, she thought it might snap. She relinquished her grip on the chair. She didn't need any support but her own outrage.

“The girl has ears, my lord.” Then she added in an acid tone, “Apparently she's used them to listen to a lot of unsuitable gossip.”

Julian had reached a pitch of anger where her tone and her use of formal address made no impression. He seemed blind to anything but his own fury. He loomed closer, a menacing, masculine presence, and fixed his fierce gray gaze upon his daughter. “Roma, we're leaving now.”

The girl backed away awkwardly. “I don't want to go.”

“I don't give a damn what you want. I'm more worried about what you need. From what I see, that's a keeper.” He clenched his fists at his sides and spoke in a harsh voice. “Good God, girl, you're getting married in a few weeks. You'll soon have children of your own, yet you act like a child yourself.”

Lady Roma abruptly ended her retreat and stiffened her shoulders. She scowled at her father. “You wouldn't know how I acted as a child. You were never there.”

“Don't start, Roma,” he growled, his brows drawing together in a ferocious scowl. “I'm not in the mood.”

“When will you be in the mood?”

Olivia had already witnessed Lady Roma's foolhardy courage when her temper was up. If she didn't quickly halt the escalating argument, father and daughter would destroy any chance for reconciliation.

“Lady Roma, Lord Erith, please sit down,” she said in the tone that always quelled Perry's wilder companions.

Julian glowered from under his lowered brows. He bit his response out as if he could hardly bear to speak to her. “I'm taking my daughter home.”

“Not in the state she's in right now, you're not,” Olivia said with equal firmness. “Lord Erith, you're acting like an ass.”

“Curb your tongue, madam. I'm acting as any father would. She's my daughter. Damn it, you have no rights in this matter.”

She struggled to contain the acrid nausea that swam in her belly. How could he speak to her so patronizingly, with such loathing? He'd begged her to trust him yet he betrayed her with every poisonous word.

She swallowed and forced an answer out through her tight throat. “No rights, perhaps. But any fool can see you both need to calm down before you face the world.”

“Devil take you, I will not treat this lightly,” he snapped.

She gestured to the sofa against the wall, away from the chaotic battlefield of the tea table. Her voice hardened as she turned to Julian. “Lord Erith, pray control your temper in my house.”

With a heavy heart, she waited for him to insist the house was his, as he paid for it. But even furious as he was, he wasn't as far gone in anger as that.

She watched him fight for composure. If he hadn't trampled her feelings in the dust, she might have felt sorry for him. He only wanted to protect his daughter. That wasn't a sin.

His sin, and it was irredeemable, was that he'd made Olivia believe he respected and loved her, when clearly he did neither.

After a delay, he spoke more evenly. His jaw worked as he fought for control. His anger was still only barely leashed. “Your pardon, Olivia. Of course you didn't invite my daughter here. Roma's thoughtlessness has dragged you into my family troubles. I realize you have no wish to be involved.”

He just condemned himself further. Of course she was involved. She loved him. He said he loved her.

She hid her surging pain and sent him the disdainful courtesan's stare that had cowed so many men before him. “Your daughter is welcome to call whenever she wishes.”

Roma's mouth fell open in surprise. “I…I am?”

“I don't expect you to take up the invitation.” Olivia sent her a small reassuring smile then narrowed her eyes at Julian. “I refuse to throw a distraught girl out on the street just because some bully insists I must.”

“Some bully?” Indignant color darkened his cheeks. “What the blazes do you mean by that?”

“I mean that if you don't sit down as I've requested, my lord, I will ask my servants to show you the door.”

He flinched and the overwhelming, unthinking rage seeped from his face. For the first time since he'd stalked into the room, he really looked at her. She saw the exact moment when he realized what he'd done. Shock and regret seeped into the silver eyes, turning them a flat iron gray.

She kept her expression determinedly neutral, but damn him, he knew her well enough to penetrate any mask. Pray God he wouldn't guess her desolation. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how mortally he'd wounded her.

Dear heaven, why had he been so cruel? Did he have to shred her soul?

He had every reason to be angry. But he must know she'd never do anything to harm him or his. He must know when he treated her as a harlot, he shattered any trust that had ever existed between them.

He slumped as the bristling self-righteousness drained
from his body. “Oh, hell, Olivia, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this. I'm acting like a savage.”

He sounded dismayed, upset. He sounded like the wonderful, considerate, passionate lover who turned her nights to incandescence.

Bitterness surged up to choke her. How could he still act like he cared when he was false to the core? He told her he loved her yet it was apparent at the deepest level that he felt nothing but contempt for her.

He ran his hand through his hair, leaving himself charmingly disheveled. But Olivia was a long way from being charmed. She sought the core of steel within her. The core that had helped her survive trials that would destroy most women.

She turned to the girl who watched them with a mixture of trepidation and wild curiosity. “Lady Roma, will you please sit down? I'll arrange for more tea and have the servants clean up this mess.”

“The rug is ruined,” the girl said blankly.

The rug, the tea set, and undoubtedly her life were ruined, Olivia wanted to say. But she stifled the words. The afternoon had already provided enough histrionics.

“It doesn't matter.” Olivia gestured toward the sofa. The girl finally moved across and sat down. Praying for control, Olivia turned back to Julian. “My lord?”

With unconcealed impatience, he went across and threw himself down next to his daughter. Olivia rang the bell and tense silence reigned while her efficient staff—who sadly, she would miss—did a makeshift job of cleaning up broken china and spilled food and drink.

By the time the servants left, Julian had stopped fuming and Lady Roma no longer looked torn between bursting into another storm of weeping or attacking her father with one of the fire irons.

Olivia wished she felt like doing violence to him. As time went on, anger seethed more powerfully. But far sharper than anger was lancing pain.

He'd created something precious then smashed it without thought to consequences.

She wished to heaven she'd never met him.

“Tea, Latham,” she said when finally the mess was under control.

“No.” Julian stood, his air of command in place once more. He waited for the butler to leave before he continued. Chillingly, his coldness and steely lack of emotion reminded her of the man who had offered her carte blanche at Perry's. She hadn't liked that man. “Olivia, I need to get Roma home. The longer she's here, the more risk of someone talking. The servants are loyal but…”

“They're servants,” Olivia finished for him. She strove for a veneer of civilization. What point screaming that he'd broken her heart and devastated her life? Her only choice was to pick up the tattered remains of her existence and move on.

Julian turned to his daughter. “Was it just silly curiosity that brought you here? If so, indulging it may cost you more than you'd like to pay.”

He didn't sound angry anymore. Instead he sounded disappointed to the bone. A humiliated flush rose in Lady Roma's cheeks, and she sent Olivia an uncomfortable glance. “I wanted to talk to Miss Raines.”

Surprise arched Olivia's eyebrows. That a young lady of such standing would refer to her so respectfully astonished her. Especially when Lady Roma had begun the meeting calling her “whore” and “harlot.”

Olivia's respect for the girl rose another notch. Yes, she was spoiled and thoughtless, but there was quality in Lady Roma too. She just hoped Julian wouldn't break her spirit before the quality had a chance to shine.

“I can't imagine what about,” Julian said shortly.

Olivia hid a wince. Of course a filthy slut and his sweet innocent daughter had nothing in common. Except their love for him. And he wouldn't reckon that in his assessment.