His Wicked Heart (35 page)

“It would be my pleasure.” He waited for
Olivia to get up and move around the table. He offered his arm as
soon as she joined him. Louisa beamed at them as he escorted Olivia
away from the box and down the Grand Walk.

They were several yards removed when she
said, “You’re wearing the waistcoat.”

He passed his hand over his chest. “It’s my
favorite. Fits divinely. My valet thinks I should sack my
tailor.”

She laughed, and his insides turned to jelly.
He had to find a way to prevent such reactions to her.

“Have you been to Vauxhall before?” he
asked.

“Yes, many times. My mother loved to come
here.” There was a wistful quality to her voice that led him to
believe Olivia loved the gardens too. “Do you mind if we go to the
Hermit’s Walk? I often escaped there.”

“Certainly.” Jasper turned her onto the Grand
Cross Walk. “What was your relationship with Fiona like?”

She was quiet a moment. “She didn’t treat me
like a daughter, more like a friend who came to stay with her. And
she wasn’t overly happy about it, especially when I wasn’t as
free-spirited as her.”

Jasper knew what it felt like to disappoint a
parent, and was frustrated on Olivia’s behalf even years later.
“You’d been raised in a vicarage. What did she expect?”

Olivia smiled sadly. “That’s precisely what I
wondered, but then she never wanted me.”

Jasper’s chest pulled. He’d been second
choice, but to never have been wanted at all? He didn’t know what
to say, so he simply laid his hand over hers.

She shrugged, the muscles of her neck and
shoulder rippling elegantly with the soft gesture. “Fiona soon
realized a fourteen year old girl wasn’t a hindrance like a baby or
small child would have been.” Her gaze flicked up to his. “Not that
she would have allowed such interruption. She simply carried on
with her life while I kept out of her way.”

Her life, as Olivia put it. The life of a
courtesan. “And were you privy to her activities?”

As they turned onto the Hermit’s Walk, she
glanced up at him. “If you’re asking if I was aware of her
profession, of course. She usually had a protector who paid for our
lodgings, so we moved as often as she changed lovers. A few times,
her protector didn’t want me in the same house and so he paid for
me to lodge elsewhere. I preferred that, actually.”

It sounded lonely. He never wanted her to
experience the hollowness of solitude or the sting of rejection
again. “I spoke with Lord Prewitt this evening. Though you looked
familiar to him, he couldn’t place you as Fiona’s daughter. And I
made sure he never would.”

She paused near the end of the Hermit’s Walk
and turned to look at him. “Goodness, what did you do?”

“Only steered him in another direction. He
thinks you look like Lord Dalrymple’s ancestor.” She looked at him
quizzically and he laughed softly. “Just trust me. He won’t bother
you.”

“I do trust you.” She smiled. “Thank
you.”

She trusted him. It sounded a simple thing,
but he knew it had to be difficult for her, given her past. She’d
never been able to rely on anyone until Louisa. He was only glad
he’d ensured Olivia never had to leave her.

A whistle sounded and all of the lanterns in
the gardens flamed with light. She jumped. “Oh!” Then she
laughed.

Jasper smiled with her. “Have you never seen
the lamps lit?”

“Yes, once or twice, but I wasn’t expecting
it.” She looked around them at the glowing lanterns as the footmen
who’d lit them disappeared into the foliage. “It’s so
beautiful.”

Suddenly Jasper was grabbed from behind and
thrown to the ground with brutal force. Olivia shrieked. Jasper
turned over to see his attacker. Gifford? The young man stood over
him with a look of fury. Dressed in breeches and a loose shirt with
the sleeves rolled up, he looked ready to fight.

“Get up,” he growled.

Jasper leapt to his feet. “Olivia, go back to
the Grove.”

She stepped forward. “Mr. Gifford, what are
you doing here?”

“Protecting your honor. I know Saxton ruined
you. The bastard thinks he can violate you without repercussion
because of your station. His kind always takes advantage of people
like us, Miss West.” He launched himself at Jasper, fists
flying.

Jasper wasn’t ready for the speed and
precision of the younger man’s attack. He’d watched Gifford fight
and knew he was quite skilled. But now, on the receiving end of the
man’s anger, and dressed in entirely too many close-fitting
clothes, he wasn’t able to adequately deflect the blows.

“Mr. Gifford, stop!” Olivia cried.

“Stay back!” Jasper called. He danced
backward to buy time to pull off his coat, but Gifford followed him
and landed a punch to his cheek before Jasper got his arms
free.

He charged forward, catching Gifford around
the middle. They tumbled to the ground. Jasper quickly rolled and
jumped back to his feet. He was ready for the man now.

They circled each other a moment, trying to
gauge the other’s weakness. Gifford was well protected. Tall and
lithe, he moved quickly, his hands perfectly poised to attack and
defend.

Jasper needed to get Olivia out of here.
“Olivia, go back to the Grove.”

“I won’t leave until he stops. Please, Mr.
Gifford, I’m not angry with Saxton.”

“You should be! Why are you with him?”

Jasper took advantage of the younger man’s
momentary focus on Olivia. He jabbed forward and hit Gifford in the
face and gut. He retreated quickly before Gifford could answer.

Gifford grunted then turned his furious gaze
on Jasper. “Olivia, you’re a fool if you think you’ll ever be
accepted by Society.” He kept his attention on the fight. “Your
true background will come out.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jasper
asked. “You’re not threatening her, are you? That would be a grave
mistake.”

“I’m threatening
you
!” Gifford struck
out and caught him under the chin and again in the side of the
head.

Pain radiated through Jasper’s temple.
Gifford kicked at Jasper’s middle, catching him in the side as
Jasper moved to avoid him. He spun, facing off with the younger man
once more. But Gifford didn’t hesitate. He dashed forward and sent
several blows, which Jasper barely deflected. Gifford may not have
been the biggest man at the club, but he was easily one of the
strongest.

Jasper needed to finish this. He flew at
Gifford, his fists pummeling at his chest and head. Gifford
stumbled backward. Off-balance, he couldn’t get his hands up.
Jasper landed several punishing blows.

“Jasper, please, stop!” Olivia’s anguished
plea broke through his focus. He paused, allowing Gifford to regain
his footing. Then he glanced at Olivia. It was a terrible
mistake.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Gifford’s
arm move down to his boot. Steel flashed in the lantern-light.
Jasper dodged to the right, but it wasn’t enough. Gifford sank a
blade into Jasper’s left shoulder.

White-hot pain stabbed through his arm and
down into his chest. Jasper’s vision darkened for a moment as he
wobbled. Gifford raised his hand again, but the blow didn’t fall.
He was pulled to the side and thrown to the ground. Sevrin stood
over him, his boot crushing Gifford’s wrist into the dirt until he
dropped the knife.

“Saxton, are you all right?”

Jasper nodded even though the agony in his
shoulder was like fire. He looked at Olivia, pale and frightened in
the lamplight, but unharmed.

“Miss West, take Jasper home. I’ll take care
of Gifford.” Sevrin stared down at the young man in cold fury.

Olivia came and looked at Jasper’s shoulder.
Her mouth tightened with worry.

“Get my coat. I don’t want to draw attention
to this.” It was astounding no one had come at the sound of the
fight, but then the Hermit’s Walk was small and rarely sported much
traffic.

While Olivia fetched his coat, Jasper tipped
his shoulder forward to see the wound. He was rewarded with an
agonizing streak of pain up his neck and down his arm. Blood seeped
through a hole in his waistcoat. His
favorite
waistcoat,
damn it.

She tried to help him into his coat, but it
hurt too goddamned much. “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice
full of concern.

“Fine,” he gritted through his teeth. “Just
drape it over my shoulders.”

“Saxton, you can’t go back through the Grand
Walk. Cut through the garden here.” Sevrin pointed at the end of
the walk. “There’s no path, but you’ll find your way out, I
imagine. Go, quickly. I’ll come by later after I deal with
this.”

Gifford hadn’t moved since Sevrin had pressed
his foot into his wrist. He stared up at the sky in mute anger, his
face taut.

Jasper nodded. “We’ll be at Queen Street.” He
took Olivia’s hand and led her into the foliage. One of the
lamplighters had disappeared this way. Sure enough, there was a
slight path. It was dark, but enough light from the walks streamed
through the trees and shrubbery to illuminate their way.

A branch hit him in the arm and he grunted.
Olivia tightened her grip and took the lead. At long last, they
emerged from the gardens and onto a path near the entrance.

Olivia paused. “We came by carriage. Did you
also, or did you come by boat?”

“Carriage.”

She pulled him through the entrance. They
found his coach first. The footman opened the door automatically,
but then his gaze arrested on Jasper’s shoulder.

“March, I need you to fetch the doctor.”
Jasper grimaced as a sharp wave of pain spiked his shoulder. “Have
him meet us at my aunt’s townhouse on Queen Street.”

“Yes, my lord.” He darted away faster than
Jasper had ever seen the man move.

The coachman climbed down and assisted Jasper
inside. Olivia followed, sitting beside him. The coachman lit the
lanterns, and asked, “Queen Street, then?”

Jasper nodded.

The door shut. Olivia eased his coat away and
tossed it on the opposite seat. Carefully, she probed at his
shoulder. Her face was drawn, and she was paler than he’d ever seen
her. “I’m sorry about your waistcoat. I’ll make you another.” She
unbuttoned the garment and pulled it off. It followed the coat to
the other seat.

She unknotted his cravat and slid it from his
neck. Gently, she pushed his shirt away from the wound and then
dabbed it with the cravat. The neck opening wasn’t large enough and
so the shirt tried to creep back over his torn flesh.

“Pardon me.” She grasped both sides of the
open neck and rent the fabric to his waist.

Lust flooded him. He would not have thought
it possible to become aroused with the agony in his shoulder, but
at this moment the pain faded until he was only aware of her
leaning over him in the sensual lamplight of the swaying coach.

She bent one leg under herself and turned
toward him while pressing the cravat against the wound. “The
bleeding seems to be slowing.”

He forced himself to listen to her words,
instead of mentally undressing her. “Does it require
stitching?”

“I don’t know.” She turned her attention to
his face. “I don’t understand why Gifford would attack you.”

Gifford’s actions made sense given he’d been
the one who’d told Jasper about Olivia’s search for her father and
her purported quest for a titled husband. “I think he possessed a
tendre for you. He’s the one who told me Merry might not be your
father. He listened to a conversation you had with some woman.”

Olivia drew back with a gasp. “He
didn’t.”

Jasper nodded. “He also tried to make me
think you’d infiltrated Louisa’s home with the sole purpose of
snaring a wealthy, titled husband. He clearly didn’t want me
thinking very highly of you.” They were the actions of a jealous
man, something Jasper realized he could relate to. When he thought
of Olivia with Gifford or anyone else, his gut churned.

She refolded the cravat to use a fresh length
of the fabric as a compress. “He visited me at Queen Street this
afternoon. I think he hoped to court me, but I wasn’t encouraging.”
She looked at Jasper with regret.

He lifted his good arm to stroke her face.
“It’s not your fault he stabbed me.”

“Nevertheless, I wish I could stab him
back.”

OLIVIA HAD never experienced a true need to
hurt someone, however that was precisely how she felt about Gifford
right now. All the times she’d seen her mother beaten, she’d hated
it, but because it was violence against another—innocent—person.
The same with Mrs. Reddy. But this feeling, this fury, was
different. It filled her up and gave her warmth, even as it cast
her into darkness. Is this how Jasper felt when he fought?

“You don’t mean that, but I appreciate your
anger on my behalf.” He gave her a half-smile.