His Wicked Heart (23 page)

The final moments in the vicarage all those
years ago flashed through Olivia’s mind, as so many times before.
There were countless things she wished she’d said. Olivia stood
taller. Despite her defeat, she would find pride. She was not to
blame.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Family is
family, and I shall love you in spite of everything. Thank you for
taking me in when you did. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, and
I actually believe you’d be quite pleased with how I’ve managed
things, owing to your influence.”

Mildred blinked. Her mouth opened, but she
snapped it shut.

“Good day, then.” Shaking, Olivia turned and
quit the vicarage. The footman helped her into the carriage, and
within a moment they were on their way. She turned to look back at
the house, only to see her aunt standing on the front step with her
hands on her hips.

She banged her head back against the velvet
cushion. Foolish, foolish errand. She’d resolved nothing. In fact,
she’d only watered and nurtured a seed of doubt. Doubt that was
even now blooming in her mind and sending tendrils of ice to her
extremities.

Which man was her father? More importantly,
why had none of these people cared enough about her to keep her
close?

JASPER BLINKED against the bright sunlight as
he walked across Hyde Park toward his mother’s annual picnic.
Blankets were artfully placed about the ground. Little boats bobbed
along the sun-sparkled Serpentine. The affair might’ve looked
inviting if last night’s excess of whiskey hadn’t given him a
crashing headache and if Olivia’s deception wasn’t keeping his mind
utterly distracted. Best to get through his obligation so he could
be on his way to Benfield.

Lady Philippa sat with her mother, Lady
Herrick, on a large blue blanket about five yards distant. Jasper
shoved aside his preoccupation with Olivia and made his way toward
them.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” He smiled at Lady
Philippa, a picture of sophisticated beauty with her upswept
chestnut hair topped with a splendid wide-brimmed hat tied beneath
her chin with yellow gauze.

Jasper deposited himself on the pale blue
blanket. The matted grass beneath the cotton offered little cushion
to the hard ground, but he didn’t plan to sit here long. “Have you
taken to the Serpentine yet?” he asked Lady Philippa.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not too
keen on boats.”

Jasper gave an inward sigh of relief. One
less thing he’d have to do today, which meant he could leave for
Benfield even sooner.

“You should walk a bit, Philippa, enjoy the
day,” her mother urged, with a glance toward Jasper.

“I should be happy to escort you,” he
offered.

Lady Philippa looked to her mother who
answered with a tiny nod. Jasper stood and helped Lady Philippa to
her feet. Their gloved hands met, and he felt…nothing, which was a
trifle disappointing since he’d be marrying her. He blamed his lack
of response on his obsession with Olivia. Soon he would be able to
focus on duty again.

He wrapped Lady Philippa’s arm around his and
led her along the Serpentine. “Do you mind walking by the
water?”

“Not at all. I just have no desire to be
on
it.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling. She was very pretty,
but he still wasn’t stirred. She wasn’t Olivia.

Jasper searched for a topic of conversation,
both to appear a gentleman and to try to keep from thinking of
Olivia. “Is your father here today?”

“No, he’s in Oxfordshire. You needn’t worry
he’s off scouting husbands for me. Not yet anyway.” She smiled. “I
jest. The choice will be mine.”

He was surprised by her candor. “Choice is a
valuable thing.”

She peered up at him with intelligent, golden
brown eyes. “Yes, we women don’t get many of them. You, on the
other hand…”

He let out a bark of laughter. “Don’t get as
many as you think.”

Her brows knitted together. “I see.” They
walked in silence a moment. “Are you here, with me, of your own
choice?”

Jasper concentrated on keeping his feet
moving. “Of course. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Now who
was the liar?

“I see your parents casting furtive looks in
our direction. They have an expectation.” She glanced at him with
those warm, assessing eyes. “It’s all right. Last spring was not my
first Season, you know.”

He found her wisdom disquieting. But also
encouraging. He didn’t want a ninnyhammer for a wife. His eye
caught his father standing off to the right, chatting with some
other gentlemen. The duke wouldn’t want a ninnyhammer for a
daughter-in-law, either. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. She
could be a ninnyhammer provided she was a well-placed one.

And that’s really all it was, wasn’t it? Lady
Philippa was plenty good enough, intelligence notwithstanding,
because of the “lady” preceding her name. And Olivia wasn’t. Even
if she were Merry’s cousin, her lack of a titled father made her
less desirable than Lady Philippa. Just as Jasper’s second son
status made him less desirable in the duke’s eyes.

Lady Philippa paused. “Shall we return?”

Jasper realized he’d continued moving, while
she’d stopped. He shook the thoughts of the duke from his mind and
turned her back toward her mother’s blanket. “May I call on you
tomorrow?”

She didn’t immediately respond. “No.”

He’d bungled this with his inattention.
“Oh.”

She laughed softly. “I have an appointment
already tomorrow. How about the day after? It would be…nice to see
you without your parents lurking about.”

Very wise. And understanding. “I should like
that.” He felt guilty courting her while Olivia was omnipresent in
his mind. He owed Lady Philippa more than he was giving her. “We
have things to discuss.”

She arched a brow. “We do? Are you ready for
that?”

“Are you?” he countered, almost wishing she’d
say no.

“I suppose I must be.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Your
exuberance overwhelms me.”

She blushed, and he wondered if he’d gone too
far. “You know how this is, Saxton. A silly dance. But I like you,
and I think we may get on well together.”

Jasper felt the same but couldn’t completely
ignore a hollow sensation in the pit of his belly.

Upon returning her to Lady Herrick, he
conversed with them for a polite few minutes before excusing
himself. Hastily, he strode to where Malheur was tethered with the
other horses. The duke arrived as Jasper took Malheur’s reins from
one of the grooms.

Holborn glared the groom into a hasty
retreat. When he turned his attention to Jasper, his eyes were hard
chips of ice in his furious face. “Where the bloody hell are you
going? This is your mother’s annual picnic!”

“Yes, and it’s lovely. I’ve other business to
attend.”

“Business? What could be more important than
courting Lady Philippa?”

Jasper didn’t bother concealing his contempt.
“I’m going to visit your sister. You’re aware, I believe, that
Louisa hurt her ankle and is recuperating at Benfield, not that you
seem to give a damn. Besides, I’ve done my duty today. I’m certain
you saw me with Lady Philippa.”

“A ten minute walk is not courtship!”

“It is for one day. Would you rather I secret
her behind a tree and toss up her skirts?”

“Base, foul…” The duke gritted his teeth.
“But what should I expect after that country girl? You’re an
embarrassment.”

His constant recollection of that decade-old
mistake was beyond tedious. Jasper tried to quell his rising anger.
“I’m calling on Lady Philippa day after tomorrow. I may have agreed
to marry someone of whom you approve, but never again try to entrap
me with her or any other female.”

The duke stepped forward, throwing his
shoulders back. “I’ll do whatever I must to get what I want,
Saxton.”

Jasper froze as the arrogance of the duke’s
words sunk in. This was precisely what he was doing to Olivia. He’d
do whatever necessary to obtain what he wanted:
the truth from
her
. His investigation into her background…was that to protect
Louisa or was it ammunition to somehow manipulate Olivia?

He glared in lieu of saying goodbye and swung
himself up on Malheur’s back. The horse picked up his hooves, as
eager to quit the picnic as Jasper. They turned and galloped away
through the park.

Nearly an hour later, Jasper arrived at
Benfield invigorated. He took the steps two at a time. The footman
just barely managed to open the door before Jasper reached the
threshold.

The butler, a robust man in his mid-forties
called Ruben, greeted him in the entry hall. “Good afternoon, Lord
Saxton. Your aunt is resting abovestairs presently.”

Excellent
. “And where is Miss
West?”

“Out, I’m afraid.”

Disappointment deflated Jasper’s expectant
mood. “She’s not riding?”

Ruben gave a nearly imperceptible shake of
his head. “Exploring the heath via carriage.”

Bloody hell
. “When is she expected to
return?”

“I’m not certain, my lord.” Ruben’s bushy,
dark brows—so at odds with the thinning hair atop his head—drew
together. “In fact, she’s already been gone several hours. I might
have expected her back by now.”

A bead of apprehension worked its way down
Jasper’s spine. “Do you think we ought to search for her?”

Another tiny shake of Ruben’s head. “She had
a coachman and a footman, my lord. I doubt they’ve run afoul.”

He hated that she wasn’t here now. He’d
worked himself into a pique on the ride from Town, planning each
moment of their encounter.

“I’ll be happy to inform you of her arrival,”
Ruben offered.

He had a better idea. “No, thank you. I’m
going to my bedchamber, and I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Very good, my lord.”

Jasper climbed the stairs with considerably
less excitement than he had a few moments ago, but with utmost
deliberation. He knew which bedchamber Olivia was using, and he
would await her there with avid impatience.

IT was late in the afternoon before Olivia
returned to Benfield. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but she
wasn’t hungry. More than anything she craved the quiet solitude of
her chamber, but doubted she’d get that until later. Louisa had to
be wondering where she’d been.

Much to Olivia’s relief, Ruben greeted her at
the door and informed her Louisa was resting. Olivia took the
opportunity to retreat to her room. As she ascended the stairs, she
reflected that Benfield seemed even larger and more splendid than
usual, punctuating her sense of isolation and disconnection.

There were equally plausible arguments for
both men to be her father, but it seemed more likely she was the
vicar’s spawn. The shared birthmark—which she planned to search for
immediately—seemed the most persuasive evidence, because it was
visible proof of something she shared with one of the men. The
other “evidence” was simply coincidence or could be linked to
either of them, which made it useless.

She removed her hat and gloves before opening
her door. Once inside the sanctuary of her bedchamber, she secured
the lock and sank back against the wood.

She blinked.

Jasper, the fair-haired devil, sat in a chair
on the other side of her bed, his long legs stretched in front of
him. He’d removed his coat, and his cravat was loosened. His hair
was a bit mussed, giving him a careless appearance that only
enhanced his good looks.

Instantly, her muscles tightened, ready to
flee. “What are you doing in here?”

He rose quickly. “I shall ask the questions,
I think. Where have you been?”

Words clogged in her throat as he approached,
his pale blue eyes spitting a fire that held no warmth.

He stopped just before her, giving her a
thoroughly assessing perusal. “Where. Have. You. Been.”

She stepped around him, uncomfortable with
the energy pulsing from him, and tossed her hat and gloves on a
chair. As angry as he’d been after her failed seduction scheme, he
looked even more infuriated now. Her stomach flipped. What lie had
he unraveled? For that had to be the reason for his fury.

He grabbed her arm and spun her back around
to face him. “You’re not avoiding me. Not today.”

His eyes bore into hers with singular, steely
intent. Her limbs shook with emotion. Fear? She refused to feel
that. He wouldn’t hurt her, even if she told him the truth about
visiting her aunt. Which she couldn’t. To share such rejection
would be the ultimate humiliation. “I was driving around the
heath.”

“Liar.” His soft tone was at odds with the
sentiment. “Try again.”

She swallowed, seeking moisture for her
parched throat. “I was visiting a friend.”

“What friend?” His grip on her arm loosened,
but he didn’t let go. His touch was almost tender.