The Forsaken Love of a Lord (10 page)

At first.

Edward suspected there was more now.

But he turned his attention back to Olivia.

Maybe her reaction would save him from himself, from the unwanted attraction he felt for her.

Yet a whispered thought warned him that it might not be that simple.

Was it worth the risk?

“Your eyes,” Olivia answered.

“Pardon?”

“You asked what was familiar. It’s your eyes. There’s something familiar yet… not. As if I remember them, yet their depth has altered in some way.” She shook her head. “I’m not making sense. Forgive me.” She glanced away.

It was no or never.

“Miss Olivia, sometimes what we see is actually the truth. We simply find that we want to see something different. So we believe the lie.” Edward spoke in his regular tone, holding his breath.

Waiting.

Her gaze shot to his, widening. “Your voice is so familiar, but I can’t quite place…” Her eyes narrowed.

Edward glanced away. The song was coming to an end, but devil take it, he wasn’t ready to let her go. “Come with me,” he demanded, then paused and added, “Please.”

Olivia didn’t hesitate but followed him through the crowd. Edward guided her through the hall, passing one balcony, then another. Finally, he rounded a corner and, just as he remembered, there was a private alcove just far enough out of sight that few would know of its existence.

If he were caught with her, it would ruin her.

Rather, it might ruin him, because her family would demand he marry her.

Yet, he couldn’t leave their conversation at such a suspenseful point.

He should.

But he couldn’t.

Apparently, he’d left all his good sense at home.

“Say something else,” Olivia pleaded, her blue eyes searching his, trying to lift the answer from his mind.

“You truly are beautiful. I didn’t quite… expect it,” Edward confessed, immediately calling himself ten kinds of fool.

As if she’d wish to hear such words from her former brother-in-law.

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer.

“I know you… I just don’t…
know
you,” she whispered, her gaze caressing his face and landing on his lips.

She licked hers.

Edward’s body hummed with desire, as if coming to life after being cold and dead for so long. Before he could talk himself out of such a foolish action, he leaned forward, giving her a chance to back away from him.

Rather, she tilted her head and swayed forward.

It was all the invitation Edward needed; closing the distance, he let the sweet anticipation swell a moment before he tasted her lips, savoring their soft luxury and delightful flavor. Her flavor was reminiscent of peaches and cream, and like wildfire, his body immediately burned with a furious desire for more than a simple kiss.

Yet he restrained himself.

Only barely.

Because through the thick fog of desire, he was all too aware of her innocent attempt at kissing him.

He’d bet his last farthing he was sampling her very first kiss.

Rejoicing over the knowledge, he silenced the internal warning that he was being a cad.

A rake.

Because she didn’t even know his name.

Of course, that was why he was kissing her now. When he could. Before she ran away from the knowledge of his identity.

Because that’s surely what would happen.

Wouldn’t it?

She lingered as he pulled back slightly, her warm breath inviting, calling to him. And powerless to resist, he met her lips once more, only this time, he savored her. Softly, he pulled her lower lip with his teeth, caressing it with his tongue.

She gasped but didn’t pull away; rather, tentatively she mimicked his action. Her velvet tongue driving him half mad, he reached around and pulled her into the cove of his embrace. Her soft form fit against his perfectly, too perfectly—

“Bloody hell!” Curtis’ voice was like a knife, slicing through his desire and dousing him with chilled water.

Olivia gasped and immediately pulled away, her lips swollen from his demanding kiss.

Edward felt a swirl of primal delight, knowing it was his kiss that had christened her lips. Yet in the next moment, all delight was replaced with cold fear.

“Langley, what have you done!” Curtis exclaimed with bitter tones.

Olivia’s shocked gasp stopped his pounding heart.

Time stood still.

“Lord Langley?” she whispered the question.

Unable to speak around the fear in his throat, he simply nodded.

Then she shocked him further.

She smiled.

Langley?
Olivia felt her lips bend into a smile.

As if placing the last crucial puzzle piece into the picture, full understanding washed over her. Tilting her head, she saw it, rather she saw
him.
The full lips, still wet from their kiss — her face heated remembering it — were so familiar, and now she knew why. Tentatively she reached up, her hands slightly trembling as she locked eyes with Edward, Lord Langley, the one she’d been so desperate to discover.

His gaze held hers, unflinching, yet she could see the indecision flickering in the depths of his eyes. Slowly, she gently touched his mask. “May I?” she whispered.

Lord Langley nodded once.

Carefully, she lifted the mask from his face. His soft black hair tickled her gloved hands as she removed the mask fully. She was so close that the heat from his body warmed her, called to her — sang to her. The enticing fragrance of peppermint and clove hung to his skin. How did she not know? As she looked upon his unmasked face, she wondered just how she had been so blind? It was so readily seen, his familiar face without the mask.

She lowered her hands and tossed the mask aside, causing a slightly metallic clink as it hit the marble floor.

“Bloody hell, what in the name of all that is holy is going on!” Mr. Sheppard’s voice startled Olivia since she had quite forgotten he was present! She turned and met his confused and angry gaze.

“I — Mr. Sheppard… could you please give us a moment?” she asked kindly, folding her hands in front of her.

“I— that is— no.” He stuttered then broadened his stance in a resolute manner. “You cannot remain unaccompanied with this gentleman. Especially
this
gentleman! Do you have any idea what would happen to your reputation should you be found with him? Or
yours?”
His gaze shot to Lord Langley.

“Curtis—“

“Don’t you
Curtis
me! I’ve defended you, been your loyal friend, and this is the treatment I receive? Your deceit? Your corruption of whatever moral fiber you previously possessed.” Cutis shook his head.

“Mr. Sheppard—“

“No. Forgive me, but you don’t know the man Langley has become. The man
your sister
made him. The fact that you’re standing here,
kissing
him tells me that you haven’t a clue as to what truly happened with Marybelle. Because if you did, you, my dear, would be running to the safety of the ballroom as fast as your little slippered feet could carry you.” He snorted in disgust as he glared at Langley, defiance blazing in his eyes.

Olivia shifted her gaze to Langley, watching, as he seemed to struggle between anger and acceptance.

With a defeated sigh, he met her gaze. “Mr. Sheppard is correct. And my…” He glanced to his friend as he continued. “…last shreds of dignity…” He turned back to Olivia. “…require that I act as a gentleman. Which I, admittedly, haven’t acted as such tonight. For that, please forgive me, Miss Olivia.” He bent slightly, picked up her hand, and kissed it tenderly. Without a further word, he left. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the hall as Olivia watched the proud stance of his back. He didn’t return to the ballroom, but made a left, one that would lead him toward the foyer and presumably, to his carriage home.

“Damn the man,” Curtis swore.

Olivia turned to him, unsure as to how to proceed. Anger, contempt, and disappointment all welled within her, focusing on him as a target.

She opened her mouth to say something, but thinking of nothing that would even remotely come close to conveying her displeasure or her confusion, she simply shook her head and walked away.

“Miss Olivia!” Curtis called in an overly loud whisper.

Olivia ignored him and picked up her pace. The ballroom was just beyond, and, if she hurried, she could make it without having to address Mr. Sheppard.

“Please wait. I can explain.”

Anger stealing her common sense, she spun on her heel and changed directions. Aggressing toward him, she watched as he stumbled to a halt, and his eyes widened.

“The question is not
if
you should explain, but if
you’re
the one who should explain. Tell me, Mr. Sheppard, is it your secret to tell? Or in telling me would you be, in fact, committing the very same crime of which you previously convicted your friend? Or is friendship so easily bought and sold today that you were willing to throw it to the wind over a small matter?” she asked directly.

“I don’t think it was any small matter, Miss Olivia,” he whispered, his gaze softening.

“Regardless, any explanation I receive should come from the source, or else it’s no better than the gossip from an old dowager.” She turned abruptly and walked toward the crowded ballroom.

“Even if that means you never learn the truth of what happened with your sister?” Mr. Sheppard called out.

Olivia paused. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh. Turning she focused on Mr. Sheppard. “Yes. Even if that means I never learn the truth. You see, that is where I keep
my
integrity intact, Mr. Sheppard.” With that, she turned and walked into the ballroom, intent on finding her parents.

If she pleaded a headache, perhaps they would be swayed to leave early. And it wouldn’t be a lie either. Lips trembling, she felt a pounding in her heart and head that reminded her that one can be close, yet still so very far away.

Too far.

And that might mean that she never knew the truth.

But more importantly, it might mean she never found herself in Lord Langley’s company again. Because, in spite of what Mr. Sheppard had said, Olivia knew Lord Langley’s character. And it had only been proven when he walked away.

Because it was for her sake that he’d done it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

E
DWARD HUNG HIS HEAD
as he sat up on his bed and cursed the seeming eternal night hours. He had immediately left the Symth Masquerade and come home, only to find that he was a man haunted.

Only this time, he wasn’t haunted by Marybelle’s memory, rather her deception.

But haunted by her sister’s kiss.

For the first hour after his arrival, he had half-expected Curtis to show up and beat him bloody.

He would have let him, not even putting up a fight.

Because he deserved every blow, every drop of blood that would have been drawn. It would have been his penance for his utter lack of honor, lack of control.

Yet, as remorseful as he was for his actions, he would do it all over again.

Closing his eyes, he remembered the fresh and inviting fragrance of her skin, the bright hue of her guileless eyes. The soft form of her body sent his blood to racing simply from memory. When Curtis had interrupted their kiss, Edward felt sure that his heart had stopped. He was planning on telling her, but when Curtis bit out his name like an oath, it felt like blow to his midsection, stealing his air.

He was so sure she’d run, slap him, or call him a rake of the first order.

But she hadn’t.

Rather she’d looked up at him with those shimmering blue eyes and smiled.

She bloody grinned like a fool!

Why? More than anything, he wanted to know why. True, she had been asking Curtis for information regarding him, but he had always assumed it had been because of her sister, even when Curtis had hinted that it wasn’t that simple.

Could he be right?

Or was it even simpler?

He didn’t dare allow himself to hope that she might have interest in him. It would be insane, not to mention forbidden by her parents.

He was forsaken by her family, forsaken because of someone else’s sin. Someone else’s weakness.

Forsaken because of his own.

He had given up on love, on life. Become a shell, yet with one evening in her company, one kiss from her lush lips, he felt himself rising. Rather, he felt hope. Something he didn’t deserve.

He had accepted his fate, allowing the bitterness to rule him, to feed him, nourish his life only to discover now, that rather that sustain him, it was stealing his life breath by breath, moment by moment till so little of who he was remained, he hardly recognized himself.

Curtis was right. He had no business with one such as her, one so… pure.

Yet he craved her like water, like air.

But it was futile. Even if he wanted to see her, he wouldn’t be admitted into her house.

She could never come to his.

Any social function was out of the question. The worst part? He was a victim of his own terms.
He
was the one who’d set up the perimeters for Olivia’s family after the deception of Marybelle had been uncovered.
He
was the one responsible for the reason he could never approach her in public or private.