His Wicked Heart (14 page)

THE following morning, Jasper—Louisa always
referred to and addressed him as Jasper and so Olivia had already
taken to first-naming him in her head—arrived sharply at ten of the
clock to escort them on their shopping excursion. The rest of their
visit yesterday had gone quite well, with no further mention of her
origin. Nevertheless, Olivia remained on her guard.

His appearance in the Rose Room had shaken
Olivia to her very roots. Louisa hadn’t said a word about his
insinuations, for which Olivia ought to be grateful, but she
couldn’t shake a niggling dash of guilt. She should tell Louisa the
truth, that she
had
been on stage at the Haymarket, but fear
of losing what she’d only just discovered kept her mouth firmly
closed.

Their first stop was Deacon and Bothe, one of
the largest linen drapers in London. Olivia’s steps dwindled to
nothing as she entered a seamstress’ wonderland. Fabrics of every
kind, color, and pattern filled the store. Her fingers longed to
stroke every piece. Her feet twitched to dance between each vibrant
display. Her eyes couldn’t fix on just one thing, instead devouring
everything with a child’s Twelfth Night-glee.

Jasper and Louisa came abreast of her in the
shop.

“Where shall we start, Olivia?” Louisa
asked.

Overwhelmed by the need to wrap herself in
every square inch of fabric, Olivia tried to focus. “Chronological,
I think. Day gowns?”

With a crisp nod, Louisa led the way to a
display of muslins and cottons. They spent over quarter of an hour
discussing patterns and styles. An employee came to their
assistance, noting which fabrics and the quantities they wished to
purchase. They moved on to other areas, ultimately finding
themselves at a table of rich silks.

Olivia’s eye was immediately drawn to a
silvery blue shot with dark indigo stripes.

Louisa noted her interest. “You like that?
It’s rather masculine, but I suppose it would make a nice
skirt.”

Olivia did like it, but not for herself. The
color—minus the stripes of course—reminded her of Jasper’s eyes.
She snuck a glance at him only to find their full attention upon
her. The look he directed, as if they were the only people in the
draper’s, was dangerous.

She turned back to Louisa. “This would make
an excellent waistcoat for Saxton.”

Louisa studied the fabric. “You’ve such an
eye. It certainly would.” She motioned to the employee trailing
them to mark this down on their list of purchases. “Do you have a
design in mind? I didn’t realize you fashioned men’s clothing as
well. How extraordinary.”

And probably inappropriate. No, she’d never
designed men’s clothing before, but the fabric was too perfect for
him. A picture of his bare, muscular chest rose, unbidden, in her
mind and a design for the waistcoat came along with it. Was it
horribly scandalous for her to think of him wearing it without a
shirt?

Yes
.

She bowed her head to hide her overheated
cheeks, hoping Louisa and Jasper wouldn’t note her reaction to her
thoughts. After a moment in which she composed herself, she said,
“I haven’t constructed any men’s apparel. I’m certain his tailor
can manage it.”

Jasper removed his glove and stroked the
silk. The gesture was more than a bit provocative. He looked at
Olivia. “I’d rather you made it.”

If she were honest, she’d thank him for the
opportunity. The challenge of designing something new was
incredibly tempting. Of course, she’d have to measure him and
conduct one, perhaps two, fittings. All of that meant time with
him. Time
touching
him.

Louisa perhaps sensed Olivia’s hesitation.
“You should do it if you like. I’ll chaperone, of course.”

She
did
want to. And if Louisa would
chaperone, well then it would be perfectly safe, wouldn’t it? “All
right, then.”

They concluded their business at the linen
draper’s and exited the shop. Louisa gestured down the right side
of the street. “I thought we’d visit the boot maker next. You’ll
need several pairs, including riding boots.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Olivia said. “I
don’t ride.”

“You don’t like riding, dear?”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve never done it.”
Olivia hated admitting this in front of Jasper. He would likely
interpret this information as support of his theory that she was
lying about being Merry’s cousin. Certainly, the cousin of a
viscount would have ridden a horse. Except that Louisa had advised
her not to lie, and so she wouldn’t. She decided to add, “My
parents had but one horse.” Which was true—her aunt and uncle had
possessed a rather ancient nag. “We preferred to walk most
everywhere. The country is like that, of course.”

Louisa nodded. “Well, a riding lesson shan’t
come amiss then! She’s also to have a watercolor lesson in a few
days’ time, Jasper.”

But Jasper didn’t seem to be paying attention
any longer. He was staring at a boy—perhaps ten years
old—struggling to carry far too many packages for his tiny frame.
He seemed to be trailing a pair of women who’d no idea he’d fallen
behind to pick up a parcel he’d dropped. He bent at the knees,
trying to keep the remaining packages balanced in his arms
when—
crash
—the lot went tumbling to the sidewalk.

The two women turned with identical faces of
shock and dismay. Identical because they appeared to be twins.
“Logan! You pathetic whelp! Pick up those packages at once!” one of
them ordered, while the other approached him with her umbrella
outstretched. She couldn’t mean to…

The umbrella landed on the poor child’s back
as he knelt to pick up the parcels. She lifted the weapon a second
time, but it didn’t fall. Jasper’s hand clutched the end of it and
pulled it from the woman’s grasp.

She sucked in her breath and raised her head
to look at Jasper. “Of all the audacious—” As soon as her gaze
connected with Jasper’s, the words died on her lips. Lips that
suddenly stretched into a grotesque attempt at a smile. “Goodness,
my lord. I didn’t see you there. I’m sorry, is our boy in your
way?”

“Not at all.” He still held the woman’s
umbrella. With his other hand, he helped the lad to his feet. “Are
you all right?”

“Yes, my lord.” He kept his gaze firmly on
the ground.

Jasper seemed to know the boy. “Logan, I
should like you to call at Saxton House on Upper Brook Street. I
can see this assignment isn’t for the best, and I’ve something else
in mind. Here.” He removed a card from his pocket and gave it to
Logan. “Give this to my butler—Thurber is his name—and tell him I
sent you.”

Finally, the boy looked up at him, his huge
hazel eyes brimming with tears. “But my lord, my mother...”

“This new arrangement requires your mother,
too.”

The boy swiped his hand over his eyes. “Yes,
my lord.”

“Very well, then.” He turned his gaze, now
frost-laden, to the twins. “Please have the Logans’ things
delivered to Saxton House as soon as possible. Logan, do stop to
fetch your mother on the way.”

The boy smiled tremulously. “Thank you, my
lord.” He dashed off.

“But,” whined one of the twins, “who shall
carry our things?”

Jasper toed one of their packages with his
gleaming black Hessian. “That is none of my concern.”

Olivia knew how frigid his stare could be,
but couldn’t feel sorry for the women given how they’d treated
young Logan. She could, however, gaze in wonder at Jasper. He
really was a decent sort. So different from any other man of her
experience. Which made her deception all the more painful.

Olivia looked at him with a burst of respect.
“That was most kind of you.”

Louisa nodded as she patted Jasper’s forearm.
“It seemed as though you knew that boy.”

“Just someone with a pitiful plight. I
recently employed his aunt and had thought to arrange a good
situation for him and his mother. Clearly I was unsuccessful with
the first try.” The grim set of his mouth told Olivia he was not
used to failure and it rankled him most fiercely.

Then it hit her—Mrs. Reddy. That was Mrs.
Reddy’s nephew. Not only had he helped her, he’d also made certain
her sister and child didn’t suffer.

“Where will they go?” she asked, curious to
see how Saxton would ensure their care, but also knowing he
absolutely would.

A hint of a smile tugged up one corner of his
mouth. “As it happens, I know a boot maker whose family is in need
of a new housekeeper.” He stared at her in unspoken
communication.

Did he mean The Beattys? Had he helped them
too? She couldn’t help but smile at him. In fact, she had to
repress the urge to hug him.

Her smile faltered—she hadn’t wanted to hug a
man since her uncle, and that had been years and years ago. Her
guard was failing, and though Jasper was different from her
mother’s men, she still couldn’t afford to trust him.

SEVERAL EVENINGS later, Louisa’s carriage
halted in Berkley Square before a large townhouse at precisely
eight o’clock. With its glowing windows and cheerful guests
marching up the stone steps, it seemed inviting. However, Olivia
was reminded of the Lord’s Prayer, which she’d oft repeated in her
youth.
Lead us not into temptation
…

“Are you ready, dear?” Louisa patted Olivia’s
arm while Jasper stepped from the coach.

She summoned a smile but felt as though it
might break her face. “As ever.”

Louisa nodded and climbed down with Jasper’s
assistance. Olivia slid to the other end of the cushion, her nerves
tightening. Over the past several days, she’d done her best to
prepare for this debut into Society, but now, confronted with her
imminent presentation, stark fear glued her to the seat. Though
Louisa had assured her this was a tiny dinner party, perfect for a
first foray, Olivia’s stomach knotted with dread.

Jasper held up his hand. Despite her overly
tense state, little shivers skittered along the bare flesh above
her glove and beneath the puffed sleeve of her silk gown. They’d
spent plenty of time together in recent days, but never alone, and
his unanswered questions burned between them.

“Are you coming out?” He gave her a
half-smile that made her heart miss a beat.

“Yes.”

Olivia gathered her skirt between her fingers
and stepped down with his aid. The trio ascended the steps to Lord
Farringdon’s townhouse where they were admitted into an entry
chamber glistening with polished marble, and then to the drawing
room where the other guests mingled. Olivia clung to Jasper’s arm.
So many people. Over thirty. More than she’d anticipated. Next time
she would ascertain from Louisa what she meant by “tiny.”

Jasper leaned down and spoke near her ear.
“Don’t be nervous. If anyone can maneuver these people, it’s
you.”

Louisa still clutched his other arm and
immediately struck up a conversation with the first person they
encountered. Introductions were made, and Olivia did her best to
remember the gentleman’s name, Sir Barnaby Addicock.

Jasper offered to fetch drinks. Olivia
watched him complete the task. In the meantime, others joined their
circle, which meant more introductions and more names.

“And where is it you hail from, Miss West?”
asked Sir Barnaby, wielding a quizzing glass.

“Devon.”

“Goodness, that’s quite far.”

The woman next to him—his wife, Lady
Addicock—tapped his elbow with her fan. “My mother grew up near
Exeter.” She peered at Olivia with interest. “Are you familiar with
Exeter?”

“I’m from a very tiny village.”

Jasper returned with glasses of sherry for
both her and Louisa. Olivia accepted her glass, her fingers
brushing his.

Lady Addicock asked, “Do you know
Whitestone?”

Olivia shook her head, glad the woman hadn’t
said Newton Abbott.

“Mother married out of there as soon as she
could and never looked back. How are you finding London?”

“Splendid, thank you,” Olivia said with more
courage. The conversation wasn’t going badly at all. Jasper was
right, she could manage this.

The woman winked at Louisa as she said, “Lady
Merriweather must be treating you to all the sights. Vauxhall
yet?”

Olivia shook her head again. She’d been to
Vauxhall many times, but never to the boxes these people surely
visited.

“The theatre? Of course not, it’s summer. Oh,
but the Haymarket is running.”

A surge of anxiety crested in Olivia’s chest,
squeezing down on her lungs. She purposely avoided looking at
Jasper, instead sipping her sherry. Gulping the amber liquid
suddenly held great appeal.

The woman turned to her companion. “Isn’t
Colman a friend of yours?” The man nodded.

She looked back to Olivia. “Colman manages
the Haymarket. Lively fellow.”