My Only Love (29 page)

"Well..
."Olivia put her tea and toast aside. "It doesn't matter. I've turned
him away twice. He's hardly liable to forgive and forget that."

"Seduce
him."

"I
can't. Not under the circumstances. To do so could risk everything, Emily. I
won't take that chance. Not where my loved ones are concerned."

"There
are solutions to the circumstances, Oli. I know someone who is most
trustworthy, and very discreet. He could help you with your 'problem,' and your
husband needn't ever know the truth."

Olivia
left her chair. Emily followed, catching Olivia's hand. Angrily Olivia said,
"Are you suggesting I have an affair? What sort of game are you playing
now, Em?"

"I
admit to motives—"

"I
thought so."

"I
also admit that I've been a sorry sister. I truly had no idea how much I
depended on your strength and support until after you'd gone. Now there's no
one, Oli, and for the first time I realized just how alone you must have been
all those years. I was never there for you, and I'm sorry. Can you forgive me
just once more?"

"Emily
.. ." Olivia closed her fingers around her sister's hand. "I want
desperately to believe all that you're saying, but I cannot help but question
this sudden turn of disposition."

Emily
appeared to falter, and her cheeks blanched gray as ash.

"For
the love of God." Olivia gasped, and as her sister swayed into her arms,
she eased her back down into her chair. Grabbing the hankie from Emily's palm,
Olivia gently pressed it to her sister's forehead.

Her
eyes glazed, her lips colorless, Emily did her best to smile. "Dear
Olivia. I knew you wouldn't forsake me. Regardless of my sins, you do love
me."

"What's
wrong, Em? What's happened? Are you ill? Shall I call for Dr. Whitman?"

"I'm
in trouble, Oli. Dreadful trouble. You'll see me through it, won't you? You'll
help me tell Papa?"

Sitting
back on her heels, Olivia stared into her sister's pinched face and frightened
eyes, the cold chill of awareness snaking up her spine. "Emily—"

"I'm
pregnant," Emily whispered.

'Cautious, very
cautious,' thought Emma,- he advances inch

by inch, and will hazard
nothing till he believes himself

secure.'

—Jane Austen, Emma

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The
vague sound of rain slashing against the windows needled its way into Miles's
consciousness, rousing him from sleep. The previous day he had traveled to
Gunnerside, returning last evening near midnight, bone-weary and half frozen.
He'd discovered his wife asleep on a settee in the blue drawing room. The image
of her mahogany-colored hair spilling from the cushions to the floor still
burned behind his eyelids ... as did the memory of her gossamerly draped body
standing before him in the pool.

He
opened his eyes, and caught his breath.

Bryan
lay beside him, his little head on the pillow near his.

"Mummy's
cryin'," the boy said.

Blearily,
Miles blinked and raised his head. "What?"

"Mummy's
cryin'. She's been cryin' since yesterday after Aunt Emily came to visit."

"Well
then. That explains it." Rolling onto his back, Miles rubbed his eyes and
stretched. Bryan did the same.

"Will
you play with me when Grandpapa leaves?"

"Grandpapa?
Lord Devonshire is here?"

Bryan
nodded and mounted Miles like a horse, bouncing up and down on his stomach.
"You never showed me them secret passageways, sir."

He
winced and caught the lad in mid-bounce. "What's your grandfather doing
here?"

"Don't
know. He told me to bugger off just before he slammed the door and began
yellin' at Mummy. Will you take me for a ride on your horses?"

"It's
raining. What the blazes are you doing in my bedroom anyway?"

"Helpin'
Bertrice to find her cat. Can I call you Papa now?"

Frowning,
Miles slid Bryan onto the bed and tossed back the bedcovers. . "Can
I?" Bryan asked.

"Can
you what?" Reaching for a green silk wrapper emblazoned with dragons,
Miles slid from the bed.

"Call
you Papa?" "No."

"Why
not?"

Miles
yanked the wrapper closed and secured it with a tie.

"Why
not?" the lad insisted.

"You
ask too many questions."

"Grandmama
says that you don't spend enough time with me and Mummy."

"Grandmama,"
he said in a sarcastic tone, "should learn to mind her own business.
Besides, she hardly has room to criticize."

*     *     *

"Pregnant.
For the love of God how could she do this to me?" Lord Devonshire fell
into a chair before the hearth and buried his face in his hands. His brow was
flushed and sweating when he again looked up at Olivia. "One scandal in
this family was enough. What did you do to influence her? Tell me, girl. No
doubt this was all some plot you contrived—"

"I
can hardly be blamed for this," Olivia replied hotly.

"Do
you expect me to believe that Emily fell without encouragement from you? I don't
know who to strap first. You or that bastard Clanricarde." Sinking in his
chair and gripping the coat over his heart, Devonshire shook his head. "I
should call him out—after he's married her, of course."

"Someone
was taken advantage of, Papa, but it wasn't Emily."

"Are
you insinuating that Emily—"

"Papa."
Olivia hurried to her father and dropped to one knee beside him. "Emily
was desperate. Clanricarde had become evasive about setting a wedding date and
she was afraid of losing him. We all knew that the reason for this marriage was
to give Clanricarde an heir, and that's exactly what Emily's doing."

"Are
you saying that Emily intentionally got herself with child ... to trap the
scoundrel?"

"That's
exactly what I'm saying, Papa."

He
glared at her in fury. Then he slapped her face hard enough to send her
sprawling against the floor. Rising out of his chair, his fists clenched and
trembling, Devonshire said, "You would sully your sister's reputation so
that you might feel better about your own. Admit it. No doubt the bastard raped
her—"

"He
didn't!"

"I'll
make certain he regrets the day he was born. I'll bring charges—"

"He
intends to marry her as soon as possible."

"Wicked
girl. You've been jealous of your sister since she was a child. You would say
or do anything to spoil her in my eyes. Admit it!"

"That's
not true, Papa."

"No
doubt this is some plot you've contrived to make me suffer for foisting you on
Warwick. Everyone in this bloody county knows how miserable you've made him.
Where is he now, gal? Off with his mistress?"

"He's
standing right behind you," came Miles's dispassionate voice from the
doorway.

Devonshire
turned as Olivia struggled to sit up, her hand pressed to her throbbing cheek.

Miles
filled up the threshold, shirt only partially buttoned, the tail of it hanging
to his hips. His hair looked a glorious curling mess that framed his lean face
and coiled against his shoulders. His dark eyes shifted to Olivia, then slowly
back to her father.

Without
speaking, Miles moved gracefully across the floor and offered his hand to
Olivia. She stared at it, as taken off guard by his sudden appearance as she
was by her father's unreasonable behavior. At last, she put her hand in his and
he helped her to stand, though she kept her face averted.

Taking
her chin in his fingers, he tipped her jaw and acknowledged the mark on her
cheek. "Did you strike her?" he asked her father softly.

"Keep
out of this, Warwick. It's no concern of yours."

"Ah,
but I beg to differ, my lord. When you invade my house and abuse my wife, it
most definitely is my concern.

I
should call you out for what you've done here."

"He's
upset," Olivia tried to explain, but he cut her off abruptly by raising
his hand. He moved in a slow, catlike manner toward her father, who backed away
until coming up against a chair.

Towering
over the smaller man, Miles fixed Devonshire with eyes that glittered with a
wild and threatening expression—yet contained. "Upset," he said in a
deeper voice. "About his dear, sweet, innocent Emily. My lord, I will tell
you about your dear, sweet, innocent Emily—"

"No!"
Olivia grabbed his arm.

He
turned his dark head and stared down at her. "Very well, pet. Then you
tell him."

She
shook her head.

'Tell
him or I shall."

'Tell
me what?" Devonshire demanded.

"That
Emily is a whore," Miles snapped.

Devonshire
gasped. He groaned. He drew back his hand and tried to drive it across Miles's
cheek, but Miles quickly dodged the blow. Crying out, Olivia flung herself at
her father, only to be brought up short as her husband shoved her aside.

Twisting
his hands into Devonshire's lapels, Miles raised the short man onto his toes.
"I should kill you, Devonshire. But I won't. Your punishment will come in
knowing that I fucked your darling daughter Emily some years ago. And if that's
not enough to turn your stomach, maybe the fact that I wasn't the first
will."

"Liar!"
he blustered. "Emily would never allow the likes of you to take such
privileges!"

Miles
laughed and gripped him tighter. "Really? Then how could I possibly know
that she has that dainty little mole on the inside of her thigh—"

With
a howl of rage, Devonshire twisted from Miles's grip and stumbled toward the
door. With his eyes bulging, he turned on Olivia. "How can you stand there
and allow him to disparage your sister in such a manner? Slut! After all I've
done for you—you'll stay away from me from now on. Do you hear? And you'll stay
away from Emily or I'll—"

Spinning
on his heels, Devonshire stormed from the room. Olivia ran after him.
"Papa, please! You're being irrational. Please—"

Suddenly
she was yanked off her feet as Miles hefted her up against him, dragging her
back into the parlor.

"He's
my father, damn you. I can't allow him to leave this way."

"And
I am your husband!" he roared in her face. "You will do as I say and I
say you won't allow him to degrade you and hurt you any longer."

But
he released her, allowing her to run to the door before he stopped her by
saying, "If you follow him, Olivia, you might as well take your son and
his crazy old nanny with you."

"What
do you mean?"

"Simply
put, dear heart, it's your father or me."

Laughing
almost hysterically, Olivia shook her head. "What a tragic ultimatum you
offer me, sir. A choice between two men who couldn't care less if I live or
die—whose lives I've obviously made miserable with my idiotic attempts to help
them."

"Don't
you mean control them, pet?"

"Oh.
Is that your problem, husband? Is that why you disappear from Braithwaite for
days? Why you prowl this house in a brood? Why you stumble through life
ignoring the fact that you're married—"

"Married?"
He barked a laugh and moved toward her. "You speak to me of marriage and
its obligations when it is you who avoid the marriage bed as if I were some
leper whose touch disgusts you."

Olivia
covered her ears with her hands. He grabbed them down and pinned them to her
sides as she raised her chin and met his fierce and furious eyes with her own.

"Do
you ache for him so badly?" Miles said through his teeth. "Wh—"

"Don't
play daft, sweetheart. It seems to me there's only one reason a woman like you
would turn her husband away and that's because you're still in love with
Bryan's father."

Olivia
shook her head.

"Can
you deny it? It's strange you never speak of this man you've sacrificed your
life for. Well, I'm tired of the evasions. If you're still so goddamn in love
with him, then go the hell back to him, Olivia. If you can."

Outside,
the snow swirled in blinding clouds, and somewhere in the distance the clouds
thundered. It seemed the entire world thrashed in an undertow as Olivia watched
her sister weep.

"Fiend!"
Emily cried at Miles. "Detestable fiend! That you should tell my father of
our affair—oh! I would kill you if I could. I shall! I swear that I'll kill you
as you sleep. I'll cut out your heart as you have my father's." Turning
her wild eyes to Olivia, Emily ran to her sister, and fell to her knees beside
Olivia's chair. Emily gripped Olivia's hand. "I beg you, Oli, come home.
You mustn't stay here another hour with this horrible brute. Come back to
Devonswick where you belong. I need you, Oli. Papa needs you. He's a madman.
I'm frightened, Oli. Horribly frightened. I've never seen him so angry. Not
with me."