Jordan, Nicole - Notorious 1 (8 page)

Vanessa remembered seeing the roses on the Sinclair coat of arms displayed on the coach door.

“If you will permit me, my lady, I’ll fetch warm water for you to wash with and light a fire to keep away the night chill. Would you like your tea served in the parlor or drawing room, or would you prefer a tray be brought here?”

“Here would be fine, but first I should like to meet Miss Olivia.”

“Certainly, my lady. I’ll take you to his lordship directly.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Nesbit.”

“Did an abigail accompany you, my lady?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, I have no abigail with me.” While a lady’s maid would have lent her a measure of consequence and respectability, she could ill-afford personal servants all her own, nor did she want to take them away from her mother or sisters.

“If you wish,” the housekeeper offered, “I shall send Miss Olivia’s personal maid to help you dress for dinner.”

“That would be most appreciated.”

When she was alone, Vanessa turned back to the window to gaze down thoughtfully. Damien Sinclair was turning out to be a man of unexpected depth. And she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or wary.

When Vanessa had freshened up, the housekeeper escorted her to a bedchamber in the main wing. The door had been left open, but the curtains were drawn and the room was dim, just as she’d been warned it would be.

In the faint light, she could see Damien sitting beside the bed, silently contemplating the invalid lying there. When Vanessa rapped softly on the door panel, he rose with a murmured “Come in.”

His features remained expressionless as she entered, as if he had clamped down on any show of emotion. His tone of voice, however, held a hint of anger. “Lady Wyndham, please allow me to present my sister, Olivia.”

When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Vanessa could make out the young woman on the bed. The Honorable Olivia Sinclair was more striking than beautiful, with the same ebony hair and elegantly chiseled features as her older brother. Yet she had none of the intensity or vitality or aura of tightly leashed power that Damien Sinclair had in such abundance. Olivia’s complexion was pale, her expression wan and listless.

Her heart aching for the girl, Vanessa smiled gently and stretched out her hand. Asking “how do you do?” would have been totally inappropriate, so she said instead, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Olivia made no effort to take the proffered hand. She merely turned her head away.

“Olivia

” Lord Sinclair said in a low, warning voice.

Vanessa shook her head briefly. Olivia’s spirits not only had fallen into a decline, they seemed to be nonexistent. Yet haranguing her would serve no purpose.

“Might we have a few moments alone, my lord?”

His dark brows drew together as he glanced sharply at her, but he acquiesced. “If you wish.”

Vanessa waited until he had gone before taking the chair beside the bed and addressing Olivia in a friendly tone. “I wished to speak to you without your brother present. He is a formidable figure, is he not?”

There was a long silence. “I suppose some people might think so.” Her tone was flat, as if she could summon little interest in anything.

“But you do not?” Vanessa prodded gently, believing even a grudging response was better than none at all. When none was forthcoming, she added, “But then you have known him all your life, so you wouldn’t find him intimidating—”

“Lady Wyndham,” Olivia interrupted softly, turning her head to gaze at her, “I know my brother means well, but I have no need of a companion.”

Vanessa smiled easily and settled back in her chair, refusing to be defeated. “Perhaps not. And in your circumstances, I might feel similarly. It cannot be pleasant to have a stranger foisted upon you. But you and I do not have to remain strangers. Indeed, I hope we might become friends. If you don’t wish it, however, perhaps you might just allow me to attend you occasionally, to provide you with company.”

“I don’t wish to seem impolite, but I do not want any company.”

“Even so, you might agree to bearme company. Since I am to be here in the country for several weeks at least, I imagine I will grow exceedingly lonely with no one to talk to. Would you mind very much if I visited you occasionally? You wouldn’t have to speak to me, or even acknowledge my presence. And I could refrain from conversing with you. Then again, it might prove awkward with us each ignoring the other. We would resemble an old wedded couple who scarcely say a word to each other from dawn to dusk.”

The image brought the faintest hint of amusement to the girl’s lips, and Vanessa felt a small ray of hope that eventually she could get through to her.

“Of course,” she added casually, “you might come to find my companionship agreeable. I could read to you, comb your hair, share confidences

the sort of things sisters do.”

Olivia looked away, before saying sadly, almost wistfully, “I’ve never had a sister.”

“I have two of them, both younger. Come to think of it, you remind me a little of Fanny. She has your coloring, although I cannot tell about your eyes. Are they gray like your brother’s?”

There was a long pause. “Blue. My eyes are blue.”

“I’ve always wanted to have blue eyes. Mine are dark, like a horse’s. My brother always ribbed me unmercifully about them when we were children. He used to call me Old Ned, after an aging hack who had been turned out to pasture.”

When Olivia remained silent, Vanessa leaned forward in her chair. “I brought you a present.”

For the first time, Olivia showed a spark of interest. She cocked her head a degree. “A present? What is it?”

“Telling would spoil the pleasure, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

She held out the small package. “Would you care to open it, or shall I?”

“You do it.”

Vanessa carefully untied the ribbon and removed the tissue paper. Inside was an exquisite gold-embossed volume bound in calfskin. It had cost her dearly, a sum Vanessa could ill-afford, yet she considered it a small price to pay if one counted what her family owed this young girl.

She handed the book to Olivia, who peered at the cover but couldn’t seem to make out the title in the darkness.

“Should I light a lamp?”

“Yes

please.”

Vanessa obliged, but although she kept the flame low, Olivia shielded her eyes as if in pain. A moment later, however, her vision seemed to adjust.

“Oh

” The word was a whisper spoken almost reverently.

The gift was a collection of sonnets by William Shakespeare, chosen because Aubrey had said Olivia liked poetry.

Vanessa felt a sharp twinge of guilt at the reminder. She was here under false pretenses, and yet her subterfuge was necessary. She couldn’t reveal her connection to the man who had brought the girl low. Olivia would certainly never allow her close enough to help if she knew the truth. “Thank you, Lady Wyndham.”

“Do you think you could bring yourself to call me Vanessa?”

“Yes

Vanessa. Thank you.”

“So you enjoy Shakespeare?”

“Very much. And the edition is beautiful. I shall cherish your gift.”

“I would be happy to read to you sometime, if you would permit me.”

For a long moment Olivia regarded her, searching her face with intelligence and a quiet wisdom. “You are very persistent, I think.”

Vanessa smiled. “Quite. My mama says it is my greatest failing. But, like Old Ned, I have excessive reserves of endurance.”

To her delight, the two of them shared an intimate moment of accord.

“Where did you find so lovely a volume?” Olivia asked softly.

“At Hatchard’s bookshop in London. If you like, I shall take you there the next time you are in town.”

“I doubt I will be going to London anytime in the future,” the girl replied bitterly.

“No? Your brother told me he hoped to take you there next year for your come-out.” That wasn’t quite true, but Vanessa had no doubt that if Olivia expressed even the slightest interest, Damien would give her a dozen come-outs.

Olivia raised eyes that were full of pain. “How can I have a Season,” she asked, her voice low, desolate, “when I cannot walk, let alone dance?”

Her heart hurting, Vanessa reached out to take the girl’s hand. “My dear, I cannot pretend to know how difficult thisall must befor you, but I do know you needn’t face it alone. You have people who care for you, who will help you through the worst of it, if you only let them.”

“I suppose Damien told you

what happened.”

“He told me that you met with a tragic accident which you in no way deserved.”

“I thought

he was angry with me

for behaving so foolishly.”

“No. If anything, he is angry at himself for not protecting you better. From what I’ve seen, your brother cherishes you. He would do anything in his power to help you get well.”

“He doesn’t cherish me, not really.” Olivia’s voice trembled. “He never paid me the slightest heed until my

accident. I’ve always been alone.”

“I know he regrets that. And you aren’t alone, Olivia. The servants obviously adore you, and I’m certain you have friends who are concerned for you.”

A tear spilled down her pale cheek. “Some of my friends called at first, but I

turned them all away. I didn’t wish them to see me like this.”

“That is understandable,” Vanessa said gently. “And were I in your place, I daresay I would have felt the same way. It would be easier simply to give up, to believe my life over, to lie on my couch and never have to face the world. It would be easier

but it would not be fair.”

“Fair?”

“To your brother. I cannot believe you have any notion how much he blames himself for letting this tragedy befall you.”

“He wasn’t to blame,” Olivia admitted in a low voice.

“You will never convince him of that, not as long as he can do nothing to help ease your misery. He is hurting for you, Olivia. Is that what you want?”

There was an obvious hesitation. “No

” she said reluctantly. “I don’t want Damien to hurt for me.”

“Then you might begin by agreeing to see the physician he has engaged for you. Even if you show little progress, you will at least have tried for his sake.”

When Olivia turned her face away, Vanessa felt her heart sink.

“There,” she murmured, “I believe I’ve said enough. I shan’t badger you any longer, but will leave you to rest.” She paused. “Would you like me to turn out the light before I go?”

“No

” Olivia said in a small voice. “Leave it on, please. I should like to read my sonnets.”

Vanessa felt the constricted feeling in her chest ease a little. She had made a tiny measure of progress, at least. And she had given the girl something to think about besides her sorrow and shame. Yet it would be a long, difficult task to bring Olivia Sinclair to any semblance of her former health or spirit.

She changed for dinner several hours later with the assistance of a maid whom the housekeeper sent. With inordinate care, Vanessa chose a high-waisted gown of powder blue silk, more for its demureness than for its admittedly flattering lines. Unfamiliar with her new role of rake’s mistress, she preferred to err on the side of modesty.

It was with renewed trepidation that she sought out the drawing room on the lower floor. Daylight was fading with the setting sun, and the moment was swiftly approaching when she would be required to fulfill the amorous duties she had agreed to.

She found her nemesis standing at one of the open French doors, staring out at the courtyard gardens. The soft golds and crimson of approaching twilight bathed the scene and entwined with the scent of roses to create a magical aura, yet Damien Sinclair did not seem to have passion on his mind. He stood still as a statue, his lean-muscled frame looking sleek and powerful in a tailored blue dinner jacket.

Drawn to him in spite of herself, Vanessa crossed the elegant room silently and came to stand beside him. He didn’t immediately acknowledge her presence, and yet she was certain of his awareness. Her own senses had taken on a fresh alertness, heightened by misgivings about what the evening would bring.

When at last he spoke in a low voice, the question he chose surprised her a little. “Do you like roses, Vanessa?”

“Very much. Your gardens are spectacular.” When he made no reply, she ventured her own comment. “I understand they are your own creation.”

“Not creation. Resurrection. In my younger days I rescued them from oblivion and my noble sire’s willful destruction.”

Hearing the edge of cynicism in his tone, Vanessa glanced up at Damien’s profile. The snowy white linen of his cravat seemed to accentuate the chiseled beauty of his face. Her pulse quickened, as it always did at his overwhelming nearness. And yet his mind was obviously not on her.

“So what is your assessment of my sister?” he asked with a casualness that seemed feigned.

She hesitated, not wanting to raise his hopes excessively. “I think you were correct. She is a deeply troubled young lady. Not only because of her physical infirmity, which is daunting enough in itself, but because she perceives little reason to hope for a better future. But I also believe it is too soon to despair.”

His gaze remained hooded as he stared out at the golden-hued beds of roses. “Olivia used to love roaming these paths. Now she won’t come near the gardens.”

“You care for her very much.” It wasn’t a question.

“If I could bear her suffering in her place, I would. Gladly.” The soft conviction in his voice left no room for doubt.

Vanessa looked away. She could not imagine this strong, vital man as an invalid. He was a man who would reach out and grasp fate and shape it to his own desires.

With a shake of his head, however, he seemed to shrug off his dour mood, while the grim line of his mouth relaxed. “But I am acting an uncongenial host. Forgive me.”

He turned to regard her. His gaze swept over her slowly, lingering on the modest cut of her neckline. His smile, when it came, was soft, apologetic, ripe with unconscious sensuality.

Vanessa shivered at the quivering feeling of intimate warmth that overcame her.