The Blackmailed Bride (22 page)

Olivia’s portmanteau was on the bed, and she was walking back and forth from her closet to the bed, carrying armloads of clothes and shoving them in the carrying case.

“Packing,” she answered.

“Are you planning on going somewhere?” he asked with an amused half smile.

“Home.”

Marcus sighed and pushed away from the door. “Are we back to this again? The wedding is less than a fortnight away. We
will return home right before the ceremony.” The plan was for Reverend Thomas to officiate at the small ceremony at Westin Park.

“There will be no wedding.”
At least not to Nick,
she added silently.

Marcus came to the bed, grabbed some dresses and headed back into the closet. “Yes, there will be.” His tone was firm.

She ignored him and continued her haphazard packing.

He put his hand on her shoulder to stay her from returning for more garments. “It’s a sound match,” he told her. “Nick wants this wedding. He is a good man. You’ll be taken care of.”

“Have I been so troublesome that you are so eager to be rid of me?” she snapped. Her nerves were frayed, and her tongue sharper than she intended.

Marcus’s face fell. “Of course not. I love you, but you will marry eventually anyway. And I couldn’t think of anyone better suited to you.”

“I’ve told you, I will not marry him.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

Olivia looked away from her brother, not wanting to see his disappointment. “Please. Would you have me marry a man I don’t love?” She was careful in wording her question.

Marcus didn’t have anything to say. “You know what this means, don’t you? You’ll be ostracized.”

“All the more reason to return home. I hate it here. And you’ve been gone more than you’ve been in town. Is this not best for us both?” She held Marcus’s hand, wanting the power of touch to sway his mind.

“I can’t understand this,” he said helplessly.

“Just trust me. My life will be ruined if I marry the marquess.”

Marcus obviously found it difficult to argue with such dramatics. He sighed in defeat. “I will see you home, but
I will probably have to return in order to finish matters at Parliament.”

She hugged her brother, squeezing with all her might.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” he told her. His frown, etched into his face.

“I know,” she said as the door shut behind him.

O
n her hands and knees in their father’s old study, Olivia scoured the floor, looking for her lost earring. Where had the thing gone? She smoothed her hands across the carpet, trying to catch the feel of it before the trinket was stepped upon. Perhaps it had fallen farther under the desk. She scooted along, trying to feel ahead with her hands.

With a few more scoots, she was completely under the desk. And still no earring.

Were she in any mood to find humor in herself, she would have laughed at the picture she presented. Thankfully, Marcus was out and not due back at the house for some time. Not that he would be in the mood to look for her. They’d been back at Westin Park for three days, and he’d only had a handful of words to speak to her.

And even though she’d sent the baron a missive letting him know she’d returned to Westin Park, Finley had yet to send word.

The waiting was making her anxious.

She began backing up, resigned to having to search all over the stupid study for the earring. Without looking, she raised up so she could stand and walk normally. Unfortunately, she had not cleared the desk.

“Ow,” she yelled, rubbing the back of her head where it had come in sharp contact with the wood.

There was no blood, she noted, pulling her hand down to check her fingertips. She’d certainly be contending with a headache later, however.

There had been a clicking noise though, she thought, after she hit the wood. Her hands groped underneath the desk, looking for the place where she’d come in contact with the desk.

There was an open compartment.

She chuckled to herself. Marcus had become more secretive than she’d given him credit for. Curiosity over what was in the compartment was a sure temptation to her, but she resisted the urge to look. She would simply close the door back, and he would never know she’d been this close to his secrets.

She had to smother a laugh. What kind of dire secrets could Marcus really have?

She found out when the folded piece of paper fell out of the compartment and onto the floor.

Something about the page looked familiar.

Of their own accord, her hands reached out and picked up the paper, meticulously unfolding it in order to see what was contained within.

She didn’t have to read the words in order to know what it was. The familiar slashing handwriting called to her the moment her eyes rested on it.

It was her mother’s letter.

The letter Finley had claimed to have.

The letter she’d ruined her future for.

She couldn’t process it. It was too much information to take in. How had Marcus come by the letter? Why did he never say anything to her? How had it been safe for so long when she had thought it was lost to the possession of a man who would use it against her?

She took the letter, and on shaky legs, crossed to the sofa. Sitting down heavily, she clasped the paper in suddenly ice-cold fingers.

Marcus found her there when he arrived home. “What are you doing?” he said on a laugh, before he saw the expression on her face.

When he finally noticed the grim set of her mouth, the laughter died in his throat. “What do you have?” His voice was hoarse. He didn’t need to ask. He knew what was clutched in her hands—what he had tried so hard to hide from her.

“This,” she said, holding up the page, not bothering to look at him.

“Where did you get that?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Her voice was tight.

Was she angry with him? He almost shook his head at his own foolishness. Of course she was. She’d have every right to be after what she’d discovered.

“Mother left it for me.” There was no need to shelter her any longer, it seemed. She had read the worst of it.

She rose and turned to look at him then, and her eyes were haunted. He hated himself for what he’d done to her. “In the rosewood box in the library?”

How did she know?
“Yes,” he answered cautiously.

“Mother didn’t leave it there.”

It was his turn to be confused. “She didn’t?”

Olivia shook her head.

“Who did then?”

“I did.”

“You did what?” he asked.

“I put it there. I found it with her, and I hid it in the box.” Her words started coming faster until Marcus had to strain to keep up with the flow of conversation. “I didn’t think anyone used the box anymore. I thought it would be a safe place.”

She laughed, a broken, heartbreaking sound. “I thought no one would ever find it there.”

Marcus didn’t understand. How did she know about the letter? What was she talking about?

Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Don’t you understand?” she asked on a sob.

He shook his head, hating to admit he was still confused.

“How long have you known?” she asked.

“I found out the day before the funeral.”

Her eyes flashed fire. “This whole time? This whole time I’ve lied and pretended, and you knew?”

He stammered, but no words came out.

“I’ve thrown everything away to protect you.” The words were harsh but not accusatory. “I’ve worried and sacrificed.” Marcus had the distinct impression she was no longer talking to him. It was as though she were having a private dialogue with herself, and he just happened to be in the room.

“You knew,” she said, her voice torn somewhere between irony and horror. “This whole time, and you
knew
.”

He wondered if perhaps she had run out of phrases to say.

Marcus, ever the diligent, concerned brother, took her arm and led her to the settee.

She waited until she felt the piece of furniture behind her legs before sitting down heavily.

“You need to calm down, Olivia.”

“You knew,” she said again. It seemed to be the one thing she could push past her lips. Her disbelief was so great she feared she’d never be able to form a coherent thought again.

Marcus looked tormented. “I’m sorry I never said anything. How was I to imagine you would know as well? Mother had covered her deed so well, I thought you would never have to know.”

“Mother covered her deed? Explain.”

“Mother must have broken the window before she did…it.
She wanted us to think she’d been murdered. It was easier than the stigma of her suicide. I thought it would be easier for you, too.” He kneeled down in front of her, his eyes beseeching, asking for forgiveness.

But she had nothing to forgive him for. It was herself she was most upset with. For years, she had carried a lonely burden that her brother had apparently shouldered in silence as well. Had she but had the faith in him to confess the truth, all of her pain could have been avoided.

When she thought about it, the situation was so absurd she feared she might start laughing and never stop.

“Olivia,” Marcus asked again, “are you feeling unwell? You’re beginning to frighten me.”

“Mother didn’t care enough to hide her intentions.
I
made it look like someone had broken in and killed her,” she said almost soundlessly. “Yet everything I did to protect you was worthless—you already knew.”

“You…?” he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“When Finley told me he had the letter, I looked.” She turned to him with beseeching eyes. “You have to believe me. I would never have agreed to his scheme if I had known the truth.”

“Slow down,” her brother’s voice was urgent. “What are you talking about?”

She turned her own eyes to him, eyes holding years of secrets and shame. “When Finley asked me to marry him, I said no. But then he told me he had the letter. He said he would make it public—would ruin our reputations—if I refused to be his wife. So I said yes. Even though I knew the match would upset you, I said yes—so I could protect you. And instead, I just made things worse.”

Her brother seemed to be struggling to absorb what she’d just told him.

But she couldn’t give him the time to come to it gently. Now
that she had revealed the truth, the words tumbled out of her mouth without any stopping.

“It is I who must apologize to you. I’ve lied for so long, any time I thought about telling the truth, the situation seemed too far gone to know where to begin.”

Marcus raised himself off the floor, reaching out and enveloping her in a hug as she stood. He squeezed her tighter than he ever had, and while the hold bordered on the verge of being painful, she didn’t say a word.

“We were both foolishly trying to protect the other,” he said. “There is nothing to forgive.”

A new, sudden, sickening thought occurred to her. She’d destroyed her chance at marriage with the one person in the world she loved all for the sake of an unnecessary lie. The truth of it staggered her.

“I need to sit,” she gasped.

“Olivia?” But Marcus’s voice suddenly sounded like it was coming through a tunnel. The edges of her vision were blurring black as well.

“Olivia?” The pitch was higher, but the sound was farther away.

Then she heard nothing.

For the first time in her life, she’d fainted.

Marcus carried Olivia to her old bedchamber, called a servant to watch over her and barricaded himself in his study. The revelations of the morning were still swimming in his mind, making him feel as though he was no longer in touch with reality.

How had he
not
known what Finley was planning?

When the baron had approached him at Westin Park asking for Olivia’s hand, Marcus should have seen through Finley’s anger at being denied. Marcus had, of course, suspected Finley’s finances were not what he wanted everyone to believe
they were, but he’d never imagined Finley possessing the gall to blackmail his sister.

To blackmail her with something he didn’t even possess.

How foolish had Marcus been not to anticipate the threat, or to see through Olivia’s sudden fascination with someone so unscrupulous?

Marcus’s first reaction was to head straight for London…and pummel Finley. Yet while that might have been instantly gratifying, Olivia’s well-being had to be his primary concern.

And Marcus knew just who could help his sister.

Hours later, Marcus, dusty from a breakneck horse ride, marched up the steps to the Marquess of Huntsford’s country estate. He said a prayer of thanksgiving that Nick had sent a message to let him know he would also be retiring to the country. London was too far away to make it in time. But as it was, Marcus had only to travel a short distance to find and retrieve his friend.

After three raps, the butler warily pulled open the door.

“My lord,” the man greeted.

“I’m here to see Huntsford,” Marcus said curtly.

The butler looked torn by indecision. “I’m not certain he is available…” But he let the sentence die as Marcus narrowed his eyes.

“See if you can’t make him available.” Marcus had to be careful to rein in his temper. Unleashing his fury at Finley on his innocent friend would make matters worse and upset Olivia when she found out.

Well, she was going to be upset enough after she found out he had come to play the mediator. There was no need to give her extra impetus to be angry with him.

Mathis disappeared, leaving the front door open but without having invited Marcus in. But Marcus took the lack of a closed door as an invitation to enter anyway. He stood rather awkwardly in the front hall, wondering what excuse Nick was
going to give as to why he couldn’t see him. Not that an excuse would matter much to Marcus; he planned on having his say whether Huntsford was inclined to listen or not.

“His lordship will see you in his study,” Mathis said as he descended the stairs.

Marcus was in such haste he didn’t stop to thank the butler. He took the stairs two at a time, suddenly eager to help the soon-to-be-wedded pair mend their lives together.

Nick wondered what Marcus’s visit meant. Was he here to berate him for what had happened with Olivia? Or to offer unsolicited counsel? In truth, Nick didn’t feel like entertaining guests, but he could hardly turn his oldest friend away. That was why, against his better judgment, he’d told Mathis to send him up. And if it was a lecture he was coming to deliver, Nick would rather get it over with.

There was no knock at the door, no pretense of asking permission to enter. Marcus looked like a man sent on a holy crusade, solemn and determined to overcome any obstacle in the path of his mission.

“You look awful,” Marcus said without preamble.

Nick could feel the stirrings of a laugh in his chest, but he restrained the urge. “I’m sure you will forgive me if I don’t thank you for the observation.”

“I’m not here to flatter you, anyway,” Marcus returned brusquely.

“Why
are
you here then?”

“I’ve got something of yours I think you might want back.”

“What would that be?” Nick asked, interested in spite of himself.

“Your fiancée.”

Nick tried to ignore the sudden furious pounding of his heart.
Of course, Olivia was with her brother. He didn’t think she’d run to Finley. Right?

“Last I checked,” Nick began, “we were no longer betrothed.”

“Don’t you want to mend things?”

“I don’t think it much matters if I would like her to come back. She has to make her own choices.”

Marcus appeared to ponder before delivering his own verdict. “Stop acting like an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, Olivia has some things to tell you. I won’t take that right and obligation away from her. The fact is she needs to be the one to say them, and you need to hear them from her. But both of you need to stop acting like idiots in order to clear things between you.”

“Should I assume you have given her a similar lecture?”

“Not precisely. Not yet,” Marcus smiled sheepishly. “I’ve no wish to lose any more of my artifacts, especially not over my own head.”

Nick thought this through. He loved Olivia. That seemed to be the only thing he could say with any certainty. But just because you loved someone didn’t mean she automatically returned the sentiment. The poets heralded the pain of unrequited love, and Nick could understand now what the fuss was all about.