The Spare (18 page)

Diana gazed at Hew from beneath her thick lashes. "How wonderful to meet you, Mr. Willow." Those tilted eyes did their work; Hew held her eyes a moment too long. "Did we meet in London?"

"I had not that pleasure." He swept the floor with his hat. "I look forward to our acquaintance." A grin leapt to his mouth. "With your permission, that is, my Lord Fitzalan."

"I believe you know Miss Willow," Sebastian said when he came to presenting Olivia. He acknowledged his treacherous state and took care to keep any hint of it from his voice. "Of Far Caister."

"Yes. Of course." He put his hat on the mantel before going to her. "Dear cousin Olivia." His voice softened. "I am so very pleased to see you again."

"Hew." She stood, clutching a book in her hands as if it were a shield.

He took it from her. "I have been away too long." He looked first at James, then Sebastian. "Do not tell me I am too late."

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Sebastian watched Olivia. Though she appeared composed, he felt the slightest pressure would break her apart like porcelain stressed to the point of shattering. The turmoil beneath the surface was a living thing. Another cloud moved over the sun. Shadows skittered behind Olivia again, taking shape. From across the room, a man's eyes glittered like blue ice. While Sebastian watched, the apparition reached both hands behind him and drew the sword from its scabbard. He heard the ring of metal vibrating. The light changed, and he vanished.

"Dearest cousin," Hew Willow said. "I am glad to find you in such good health and excellent looks." He scanned the room again and, once again, paused when he got to Sebastian, long enough for an up-and-down glance.

He knew he didn't imagine the challenge in Hew's eyes. He itched to throw the fellow out on his breeches-clad arse. Hew dropped Olivia's book onto the table and grasped her hands. She stiffened. Her face was blank. No blush, no smile, not a hint of welcome. And not that ridiculous vapid stupidity she sometimes affected either. She seemed paralyzed. James, frowning at Hew's hands enfolding Olivia's, stepped forward.

With a twist of his upper body to take in Sebastian and the others, Hew said, "I've known her since she was a girl."

She tugged on her hands, but he did not let go. Emotion flashed over her face. Distaste? Fear?

"I used to watch her running through the fields, all arms and legs and braids bright as a new penny." He shook his head, smiling still. This time, Hew directed himself to Sebastian. "Your father, my Lord, warned me she'd grow into a beauty one day." He spread his arms wide, taking Olivia's with him. "And she has. Look at you, Olivia."

Olivia tugged on her hands. "Hew."

Though his smile remained, something moved in his dark eyes, disquieting. "You want your book." He reached for the volume but rather than return it, he examined the spine. "Southey.
Not only a beauty, but an intellect. Certainly, one cannot quarrel with your
reading." He handed it to her. "Lord Fitzalan," Hew said, turning. "I believe I
met your aunt, Mrs. Carmody, in Naples last June. Delightful lady. Just delightful. I was pleased to make her acquaintance. I hope she continues well."

"As well as can be expected." James brushed a speck of lint from his sleeve.

Olivia let the book slide from her fingers and onto the table. She sat down, back stiff as a dressed hide. With trembling fingers, she took her cards and squared them in preparation for shuffling. Instead, she let go the deck and pressed her palms onto her lap.

"Do give your aunt my regards," Hew said to James.

"Staying long?" James looked less and less pleased by Hew's polish. That he could claim some acquaintance with his family must rankle almost as badly as his close one with Miss Willow. Olivia bowed her neck, pressing her fingers to her temples. Her head must be hurting again. Lord, but he could feel her tension. More and more of it every minute. He thought about how she'd taken care of him in Far Caister. She spent her life looking after other people, and no one looked after her. Least of all her prodigal cousin.

"That, my Lord," Hew said to James, "is not entirely certain." He craned his neck to look at Olivia who stared at her lap. "That depends upon—matters I must attend to whilst I am here."

"And what does bring you to Far Caister?" James's smile was spring, but his voice was pure winter.

"I've neglected the estate, and my duties at it, for too long. It's time I came home. To stay."

"You live near here?" Diana languidly waved her fan.

"Just over the hill, as a matter of fact."

"Perhaps we've seen your home while we've been taking advantage of Lord Tiern-Cope's fine stables."

"Likely so, Miss Royce. The Grange abuts Pennhyll on the east."

"The Grange?" Diana said. "Yes, I recall. A very pretty estate."

"Are we to meet your wife, Mr. Willow?" Just a hint of vinegar lurked behind James's inquiry.

"That, my Lord, is yet another obligation I have neglected to satisfy." His gaze flickered over the room but at last landed on Olivia. "And one I hope soon to remedy."

Under other circumstances, Sebastian would have been hard pressed not to laugh. Two weeks ago, he would have, and heartily. Hew's reappearance in Cumbria was doubly fatal for James. Not just a male relative to look out for Miss Willow, but one who all but announced himself her suitor. Hew Willow sounded exactly like a man prepared to offer the world in order to be forgiven some transgression. God knows, Olivia deserved someone to care for her, someone willing to look after her and see that she was protected, as a wife, not a mistress.

"You've come just in time," said Diana.

"So it seems," Hew said with a look at James.

"We're to have dancing on St. Agnes' Eve, Mr. Willow." Diana's eyes sparkled. "If you are looking for a wife, you must come. We'll have any number of eligible young ladies."

He made a leg, and Sebastian would have bet a fleet of ships he'd perfected it at Almack's. "I hope, Miss Royce, you will reserve a dance for me." He turned to Olivia. "Save me one, too, cousin Olivia. You will be there, won't you?"

"Of course." She reached for her cards. No one but Sebastian noticed her hands tremble while she laid out a game of Patience. He leaned against the mantel, removing himself from the ebb and flow of the gathering in order to watch and let matters settle. This was unexpected, his dislike of Hew Willow, and more, his dislike of Olivia's reaction to her cousin.

"I'm keen on seeing the Black Earl," Hew said when Diana told him of her plans. "When I was a schoolboy home on holiday, I used to sneak into Pennhyll and look for the Black Earl. All the other boys in Far Caister bragged of at least one dread encounter with the Black Earl. Your brother, my Lord Tiern-Cope, had not yet come here, you were sailing the oceans and your father off to London."

"Did you ever see him?" Diana asked, eyes round with excitement. "I should adore hearing about your encounter. The more I know, the more likely I shall succeed in summoning the Black Earl."

"Never got past the caretakers, more's the pity. They were well prepared for young boys looking for thrills. Price, as I recall, was particularly fierce. He caught me in the library once and threatened to tan my hide. I believe he meant it." A smile lit his face. "What an ogre. I worried he might follow through when I called just now."

One gained nothing by denying the truth, however unpleasant, and the unpleasant truth here was that if Hew Willow were married he would not care one whit how much attention the fellow paid to Olivia. Hew represented not just a rival for James but for him. The truth, once acknowledged, could be dealt with. He would deal with this revelation about the depth of his attraction to Olivia Willow. He must, since he had told James he would marry Diana. He pushed off from the mantel, checking the shadows. Nothing. He wasn't going mad.

Hands clasped behind his back, he started a circuit of the room. Hew kept pace with Sebastian's progress around the room, turning so as to keep him in sight. From the corner of his eye, Sebastian occasionally caught a flicker of shadow, a flash of blue eyes. But whenever he looked, he saw nothing. Hew Willow was free to marry where he liked, while Sebastian was not. If Olivia's cousin indeed wanted to marry her, then he, Sebastian, ought to do all he could to encourage the union. He wondered if Hew knew about the money kept from the Willow women. He must know. Melchior would have made it his business to contact the successor-in-interest. He stopped at the side table and put a selection of food on a plate. Two petit-fours, ham, bread, some cheese. He carried it to Olivia and set the plate by her elbow. "Miss Willow."

She stared at the offering and then him.

"There's no harm in accepting a kindness. Even from me." No men lurking in the shadows.

"Thank you."

"Shall I ask your cousin to stay to dinner?"

She placed a queen atop the king of spades. "You are master of your own table."

"The jack there." Sebastian pointed at the queen. "I am very much master here. But, as you well know, sadly lacking in the social graces. Advise me."

"Very well." Again, she turned to look at him. "Do not ask him to stay."

"Why not?"

"If you do, the numbers will be uneven."

"I believe he declared himself your suitor."

Her eyebrows drew together. "You are mistaken."

"He acts as if he is." His finger brushed the curls from her neck. The sensation rocked him. Her skin felt warm. Rose-petal soft. "When a man stares at a woman like that, the way your cousin looks at you, what else can he mean? I would not want to deprive you of a suitor who might bring you flowers."

"He is not my suitor." She looked behind them, to where her cousin sat next to Diana, and in so doing left Sebastian staring at the way her torso twisted, the line of her waist and bosom and her throat. Small she was, but her figure was in no way insubstantial.

"Liar, Miss Willow." He wanted her. Pure and simple. Lust. Nothing deeper. Nothing more complicated. A man could always control his lusts, however urgent.

"As you say."

"He seems quite the jovial young man, yet you went the color of chalk when he came in."

"Did I?" She turned her head, and the connection between them, at the very spot where his palm touched her nape, flared with heat. He'd settled on Diana. He would marry Diana, not a copper-haired spinster far too used to managing for herself. A woman so tied up with the Alexanders he might never make sense of the past or her role in it. He was not Crispin or Andrew or his father. He knew the meaning of restraint.

"I wonder why?" he said.

She shook her head. He felt the pull of attraction when he looked into her eyes. More dangerous than sailing unarmed into a sea of enemy ships. His head filled with thoughts of her in his bed, of claiming her as his and none other's. He could not. He was not free to attach himself to anyone other than Diana.

"Mr. Willow." He faced Hew. "Take a turn about the room with your cousin. You must have a great deal to talk about."

Hew stood. "Indeed, my Lord. We do."

He never felt so helpless in all his life as when Olivia took Hew's hand. He stood there, feeling ridiculous and jealous both, and over a woman he was supposed not to like. He returned to the mantelpiece, one foot propped on the grate while he pretended not to watch Hew and Olivia, though he followed them with his eyes every step. It seemed to him that as Hew walked with her, Olivia's mouth thinned with tension. Her smile never once appeared.

Mr. Cage approached him for an opinion on the war, and for some minutes he lost track of Olivia. When he was free again Hew and Olivia stood by an arched doorway partially concealed by a fern on a high stand. Shadows in the doorway shifted. He blinked. Shook his head. Olivia faced the room, listening to her cousin with fists clasped at her sides. A man stood in the arched passage behind them. The same blue eyes. Sodding shadows. He strode to the doorway, eyes fixed on the figure. Any minute he expected the figure to vanish. He wasn't mad. He wasn't.

Hew threw a hand in the air. "…Olivia. Why not?"

A footman walked through the door, balancing a tray. He had blue eyes and wore the Tiern-Cope livery. Hew looked over his shoulder. "Oh, it's you, Lord Tiern-Cope." He turned to Olivia. "Do you mind awfully, Olivia, if I have a moment with Lord Tiern-Cope?"

Sebastian glanced at the doorway. A mirror hung on the corridor wall, just opposite the door. He must have seen reflections in the mirror, not the ghost of his long-dead ancestor.

"Not at all." She reached for Hew's arms and gently pushed so she could pass. "Do excuse me. My Lord."

Sebastian bowed and, like Hew, watched her walk to the center of the room. James intercepted her, drawing her into conversation. "She is my relation," Hew said when Sebastian and he faced one another. "I have some responsibility to her."

"I'd say that's so, Mr. Willow."

"I am quite aware, my Lord," Hew said, "that I have neglected certain obligations."

"You have."

"I am here," he said, "to remedy my neglect."

"Full amends?"

"If possible."

"Then I would say your first order of business is a frank talk with Lord Fitzalan about his intentions."

Hew's eyebrows shot up. "You were cozy with her when I saw you in Far Caister, and you've been watching her like a hawk from the moment I came in. Perhaps the first act of my reformed relations with my dear cousin should be a frank conversation with you about your intentions, my Lord."

"Mine are simple enough. While she is my guest at Pennhyll, she is under my protection."

Hew cocked his head. "Really?"

"A responsibility I take quite seriously." Sebastian clasped his hands behind him, tucking a fist into the small of his back. "Let's you and I talk about your intentions first. Past, present and future."

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January 20

"Price told me I'd find you here, Miss Willow."

Startled, Olivia turned on her chair. Tiern-Cope stood just inside the parlor, tapping one hand against the side of his leg. His eyes were two shades lighter than his blue coat. Surely, it was unnatural for anyone to have eyes so piercing. From the mud on his boots and his mussed hair, she supposed he was just done walking as opposed to on his way to it. She closed her journal. "My head aches, and I wanted a moment's quiet, that's all."