The Seduction of Lady X (10 page)

“Why?”

The question astonished him.
“Why?”
he repeated.

“Yes, Mr. Tolly, why is it
your
duty to keep scandal from the Carey name? I cannot see that you would suffer from it.”

Harrison shifted uneasily at the truth in that.

“It seems to me that
you
would wish to marry someone whom you esteem, someone you find compatible in temperament and station.”

“Naturally that would be my preference, but I think perhaps it is too late for me. And, I daresay, too late for you.”

“Why is it too late for you?”

For the second time today, Harrison was forced to say aloud a secret he’d carried for many years. “As it happens, Miss Hastings, the woman who holds that particular allure for me is regrettably unattainable. That is all that needs to be said of my situation. We are speaking of
your
situation.”

“Who is she?” Miss Hasting asked curiously.

“That is neither here nor there.”

“I say that it is. If we are to be married, I have a right to know.”

He arched a dubious brow. “Are we to be married, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Who is she?” she asked again.

He smiled as patiently as he could manage, given the uncomfortable direction of the conversation. “Let us call her Lady X.”

Miss Hastings laughed. “Lady X? Who might that be? Olivia?” She laughed at her jest, and Harrison smiled, too. “Is it Olivia?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

“That is an absurd suggestion.”

“Oh, I know who it is!” she said suddenly, her smile brightening. “Lady Martha Higginbottom. Yes, it must be! Olivia said she calls quite often, and she never has much of anything at all to say.”

Harrison chuckled. He’d played this guessing game at the Cock and Sparrow as his friends teased him about his mysterious Lady X. They had their theories, as well.

“You must see my point, do you not, Mr. Tolly? If you esteem Lady Martha, you must find a way to marry her. I should think that Lord Higginbottom would be quite pleased to marry her to a steward. She is the third daughter, after all.”

He smiled wryly. “I do not intend to marry Lady Martha, Miss Hastings. Now then, I would suggest that as we are two reasonable people, we keep our attention to the problem at hand and determine how we shall find our way.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning . . .” God in his heaven, Harrison had no idea what he meant. He no more wanted to marry this girl than she wanted him to marry her. And as she’d astutely mentioned, he had no hope that he’d find a workable solution. But Miss Hastings was so young she didn’t understand that the few choices she’d had as a female in general had been eliminated the moment she’d conceived the child she carried. “Meaning, we must plan carefully. For your sake, and for the sake of your sister. Are you quite certain that the father of your child will not stand up to his responsibility?”

Miss Hastings’s cheeks turned crimson and she glanced down. “I shall be perfectly frank, Mr. Tolly. I do not care to speak to you of such personal matters. I should like to speak to Olivia.”

“I am trying to help you, Miss Hastings. If you are frank and honest with me, the better we might see our way out of this quagmire.”

Miss Hastings groaned as if he taxed her. Harrison remembered when Olivia had been as spirited. When she’d first married the marquis, she’d infused that old house with a sunny enthusiasm that only a pretty young woman might do. She’d delighted in hosting teas and picnics. As Miss Hastings paced before Harrison now, speaking very passionately about how she had no desire to marry, that she would find a way to raise the child all on her own even if that meant selling vegetables, Harrison tried to remember when exactly the sunshine had begun to fade away from the main house. It was as if the gravity of Lady Carey’s difficult marriage was pulling her down, pulling the lightness out of her.

“I am not afraid of work, you know,” Miss Hastings said, finishing her soliloquy. “Not in the least.”

“That is excellent news for any husband-to-be,” Harrison said. “I will not stand in your way if you feel you must sell vegetables. However, I should like to avoid it if possible, which means you must be forthcoming with me. Shall we have tea while we discuss it?”

She sighed. The young woman knew she was defeated, and began to yank the gloves from her fingers. “Very well. But on the morrow, I shall return to Everdon Court where I belong. I won’t ask your permission, either. I intend to go of my own accord.”

Harrison smiled as he walked to the bell pull. “Very well.”

“I mean what I say, Mr. Tolly,” she warned him as she tossed her gloves aside and began to undo the clasp of her cloak. “You had best know now that I am quite independent. And by the bye, if we are to be forthcoming, you may call me Alexa. And what shall I call you?”

He rather thought she might call him stark raving mad, but he said, “Harrison.”

“All right. Harry, then,” she said as he led her out of the salon.

E
dward didn’t appear for supper that evening. Olivia didn’t know or care where he was and dined alone, then retreated to her rooms in peace. She settled in with a book Mr. Tolly had given her one afternoon when she’d discovered him reading it. When she had expressed an interest in the book, he’d insisted she have it.

“I couldn’t possibly,” she’d said, admiring the red leather binding.

“But you must,” he’d said with a winsome smile. “It’s just been delivered from London. I understand it to be a rather fascinating tale of a steward.” He’d smiled a little lopsidedly, as if that amused him.

“A steward? Truthfully?”

“Truthfully. You may not be aware that stewards are generally a rather fascinating lot,” he’d said, his eyes twinkling. “They are stuffed to their hats with secrets and intriguing tales.”

“Really?” she’d asked laughingly. “What sort of secrets?”

“Oh, the usual,” he’d said casually. “Gambling and marauding and mayhem. Illicit loves and bamboozles.”

Olivia had smiled. So had he. “I could not possibly be more intrigued.”

“No?” He’d pressed the book into her hand, and Olivia had wondered if he’d felt the spark between them as she had. “You must have it,” he’d said. “It is a jolly good tale of the inhabitants of Castle Rackrent.”

Olivia had glanced anxiously down the hall, expecting Edward to appear at any moment and demand to know what she was about. “Thank you,” she’d said softly. She could not recall the last time Edward had given her anything, or had desired to please her. “I appreciate it more than I can say.”

Mr. Tolly had given her a smile that made her skin tingle, and Olivia had quickly walked away, the book clutched tightly in her hand.

He was quite right about the book—it was indeed entertaining, and when Olivia finished it that night, she laid it on her lap, then leaned her head against the chaise, her eyes closed. She imagined Mr. Tolly seated in a chair at the dowager house, quietly passing an evening with this book in his lap, chuckling to himself from time to time.

She heard Edward coming down the hall before she saw him—there was a thump, as if he’d bumped into something, followed by a curse. Foxed again, she thought, and in the next moment, Edward stumbled into her room, blinking at the light. “What are you about?” he demanded.

Olivia put the book aside and smoothed her lap. She could smell the whiskey on him from across the room. “I was reading.”

“Reading!” He snorted as if he didn’t believe that she was capable of reading. “I sincerely hope you are reading something that will improve your mind,” he said, and began to untie his neckcloth, yanking at it. “Frankly, I find your education lacking, Olivia. You have no knowledge or opinions on matters of import.”

Olivia wondered how this man, who couldn’t stay out of the bottoms of his cups, could possibly think he knew what her opinions were on anything. He never inquired and was quick to cut her off when she did try to speak. “What matters?” she asked casually.

Edward sighed impatiently. “That is precisely my point. I should not have to enumerate them for you, should I? What are you reading?”

“A book.”

“Clearly it is a book! What is the book?”

“
Castle Rackrent,
” she said, and stood from her chair, walking to the hearth.

Edward paused from his fumbled attempts to disrobe and peered at her, swaying a bit. “That does not sound like a book with any redeeming value. What sort of book is it?”

And here they went, Olivia thought grimly. “A fictional tale,” she said with a shrug.

Edward dropped his hands from his waistcoat, his face darkening. “Must I instruct you in everything? Is your judgment so poor? I do not approve of your reading
fiction,
Olivia. For God’s sake, if you choose to read, do me the small courtesy of reading something of value. Not something that will weaken your mind any more than it suffers already.”

Olivia imagined herself with her archery bow, an arrow pulled taut, and letting it go, watching it pierce Edward between the eyes. “Yes, dear,” she demurred, and when he eyed her suspiciously, she smiled as innocently as she could.

But of course Edward was not satisfied. “Where did you obtain this fictional tale?” he asked snidely.

Olivia hesitated only slightly, but long enough for Edward’s face to redden. “I asked you a question.”

“Mr. Tolly lent it to me.”

Something flickered in Edward’s eyes. “Tolly,” he said. He turned away from her and worked at his waistcoat. “That one seems to be entirely too involved in the affairs of women of late,” he said, at last managing to discard the waistcoat. “I will admit that I was rather disappointed in his stepping forward for your whore of a sister. But then again, he himself is a bastard. Who better to raise a bastard than a bloody bastard?”

“Edward!” Olivia said, appalled by his remarks. “How can you say such a thing? Mr. Tolly has always been steadfast in his service to you and this family.”

He shrugged. “Does that make him any less a bastard? Is he not the child of a whore, just as your sister’s child shall be?”

Impotent anger tightened like a vise around her chest. She knew better than to argue, but she could not hear Mr. Tolly or Alexa maligned and not speak. “Alexa is
not
a whore—”

“And now I find that he is passing books about to the feebleminded,” Edward continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I shall have to address his lapse of judgment.” He swayed as he pulled his shirt from his trousers.

“It was not his lapse of judgment,” Olivia said quickly. “I asked him to bring me a work of fiction and he did as I asked.”

Edward stilled. He lifted his head; his eyes had gone hard. “You
asked
him?”

Olivia’s pulse ticked a little faster, but she looked him directly in the eye. “I did. The days can be rather tedious without an occupation.” She cringed inwardly at the look that came over Edward, the frown of disapproval that deepened the creases between his brows.

“Well.” He threw his shirt aside and stood with his narrow chest and arms exposed. “It seems I must explain to the
marchioness,
” he said, his voice full of disgust, “that Mr. Tolly has responsibility for overseeing four estates and various business interests on behalf of this family.”

“I am well aware of his responsibilities, Edward.”

“Are you truly, Olivia?” he asked snidely. “For surely, if you were aware of his responsibilities, you would understand that it is beneath the man’s time and effort to be sent on a chase for fictional tales to amuse
you
.”

“For heaven’s sake, it is only a book—”

“Do not presume to tell me what it is or isn’t!” he snapped. “You are ignorant, Olivia. You bring to mind a cow standing before me now.”

Olivia hated him. Reviled him. She hated his constant belittling, hated the way he smiled so cruelly, hated the air that he breathed, the space that he occupied. Her hope of a happy marriage had been so foolish, so naïve! For so long, she’d believed the best way to endure him was to agree with him. And in the beginning, there had been less trouble for her. But as time went on, the things she was forced to agree upon were more and more ludicrous or demeaning. Tonight she felt as if she couldn’t abide it another moment.