TuesdayNights (38 page)

Michael rested a hand on her arm and slid it down until his hand closed around hers, covering the ring. “I forgot about the bet until after we were to be wed,” he said, his head leaning over her shoulder, his lips suddenly very close to her neck. Olivia felt his warm breath wash over her skin, and she inhaled quickly.

“Why ever did you make such a bet in the first place?” she asked, a bit of anger still in her voice. “You’ve made a fool of me!”

“I did not,” he replied quickly, “And you’re not. I have made sure everyone at White’s – and I’ll make sure everyone here tonight – knows that you were my intended all along.” His lips took purchase on her neck while one hand moved to rest on her other shoulder, its warmth seeping into her suddenly chilled skin. Olivia closed her eyes and allowed him the kiss, but tried hard not to simply give up and lean against his hard body for support.

“Sir Richard started that damned bet many years ago, and ... I believe it took on a life of its own as my twenty-eighth birthday approached. I wasn’t obviously courting anyone, so I am sure it looked like easy money to anyone reading the betting book at White’s.”

Leaning her head to one side, Olivia gave him a sideways glance. “If you knew you were going to ask for my hand, why didn’t you just ... why didn’t you just ask me? Why did you wait so long?” she whispered in wonder, a tear finally trailing down her cheek.

Michael gently turned her around, wrapping his arms loosely about her waist and pulling her so that she was nearly pressed against him. “I was trying to make my fortune in the world. Unlike other sons of aristocrats, I cannot count on an inheritance. My older brother has a penchant for gambling. And losing. And ... I ... I lost track of time,” he explained as he took a deep breath. At her raised eyebrow, he continued, his head shaking from side to side. “I lost track of how old I was. And a few weeks ago, I was in Wiltshire visiting my sister. She thought I was there to announce my impending nuptials, and I thought I was there just to visit, and the next thing I knew...” His voice trailed off as he continued to shake his head from side to side. “I couldn’t simply ask for your hand.”

“Why ever not?” Olivia demanded, another tear escaping her eye.

Michael reached up to brush away the droplet with his thumb. “I had an obligation to your sister – to make arrangements for her to be settled,” he said in his defense. He rolled his eyes as he made the statement, very aware of Olivia’s wince at the mention of her sister. “The reading of the banns would have required three weeks. You would have wanted a real wedding. A few months to plan it...”

“No,” Olivia replied with a quick shake of her head. “A vicar would have been fine,” she countered quickly. “It ... it was fine,” she amended as she took a quick breath to stave off a sob.

Taken aback, Michael sighed heavily. “I honestly thought my only option was ... was to ruin you,” he murmured. At Olivia’s expression of shock, he added, “Actually, it was Elizabeth’s idea.”

Olivia closed her mouth and swallowed, incredulous. “The Duchess of Somerset suggested you ruin me?” she whispered in disbelief. “A duchess actually suggested such a course of action?” the rhetorical question coming out with a good deal of doubt.

“Yes,” Michael affirmed with a quick nod. “Well, she was suggesting it as my
sister
first, I suppose. Not as a duchess,” he added, a bit uncertain as to Elizabeth’s motivation. His sister wanted a governess, but she obviously wanted a sister more. “Those children for whom you would have been a governess are now your nieces and nephews,” he added suddenly.

Olivia blinked. “I’m an aunt,” she whispered, her voice soft.

“And, trust me, as boisterous as they are, you’re much better off as their aunt,” Michael continued, grinning suddenly. He sobered quickly, though. “Truly, I didn’t want to ruin you ...”

“Well, it worked,” Olivia acknowledged with a short nod, her response not giving away whether she was impressed with the plan or not, nor if her opinion of the Duchess of Somerset had changed now that she knew it was the duchess who had recommended Michael’s course of action.

“But not
well
,” Michael quickly replied as he placed his hands on either side of her face. “If I had it all to do over again, Olivia, please know that I would have courted you properly, and then I would have asked for your hand, and then I would have given you a proper ring and had a proper room readied for you that would have been far more beautiful than the purple room that Edward showed you.” He paused as he noticed her surprised expression at the mention of the salon. “It is truly your bedchamber, you know,” he said, leaning over to kiss her hair.

Sniffling, Olivia sighed. “Not Anna’s?” she replied, a wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

Michael moved his thumb over the wrinkle and smoothed it. “I had it decorated for you before we were wed, and then,” he rolled his eyes and kept his face bent up before continuing, “In my hurry to see Sir Richard, I forgot that Jeffers cannot always see colors quite right, and he took you to my mother’s bedchamber instead of to the room I had decorated for you.”

Her smile broadening, Olivia regarded him for several seconds before she reached up a hand to cup his jaw. “’Tis a beautiful room,” she whispered. “Like a room for a ...”

“A room for a queen,” Michael matched her comment, kissing her forehead and then tipping her chin up so that he could capture her lips in a kiss. He pulled away after a moment and regarded her in the moonlight.

“What else would you have done, Michael?” she asked, reaching up with a gloved finger to wipe away another tear.

Michael lowered his head so that his forehead rested against hers. “I would have taken you to the bed in your purple room and made mad, passionate love to you for our entire wedding night,” he intoned, his eyes closing as he said the words.

Olivia’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones. “You can still do that, at least,” she whispered, her face coloring up as she realized what she was suggesting.

A grin split Michael’s face and he pulled her all the way against his body. “Yes, I can still do that,” he agreed happily.

The sound of a throat being cleared startled them. They released their hold on one another and turned in unison to stare at their interloper.

“Sir Richard!” Michael said in surprise.

An impeccably dressed man not much older than Michael stood resting his hands on the top of a rather ornate cane. “I’m here to make the acquaintance of the woman who helped you win your bet, damn you,” Sir Richard said with a teasing grin. “And here I find you in what could be considered a scandalous liaison in the Harvey’s garden. This is your wife, I hope?”

Michael winced at the words, but Olivia was smiling, obviously recognizing the man. At the moment, Sir Richard looked like the devil incarnate, with his black hair, sinister eyebrows and a grin that was closer to a sneer than a smile. “Olivia, I’d like you to meet my other business partner, Sir Richard Waggoner,” Michael said as the older man gave a leg and Olivia curtsied.

“I am very pleased to see you again, Sir Richard,” Olivia said as she held out her hand, hoping she sounded sincere even though she found herself feeling a bit annoyed at the interruption. And she was very tempted to take that very same hand and slap the man very hard across one of his perfect cheeks. If she wasn’t married to the son of a viscount ... and if she hadn’t recognized Richard Waggoner to be one of her father’s friends ... she wouldn’t have bit back the rest of what she was about to say.

Sir Richard brushed his lips over the back of her gloved hand and regarded her for a moment before returning his attention to Michael. “Waterford finally let you have his daughter, then?” he said with a bit of amusement.

Stunned by the comment, Michael took a quick look at Olivia before returning his attention to his friend. “He practically promised her to me years ago,” Michael said in his own defense. “And what makes you think Waterford let me have her?”

Sir Richard was grinning. “Harold and I play faro at the club when he’s in town. He’s quite fond of you. Always wanted you as a son,” he said, even though his attention was on Olivia as he said the words.

Olivia dared a glance in Michael’s direction, wondering if Sir Richard’s information was news to her husband. The surprise in his reaction seemed to indicate it was, indeed, news.

“Really?” Michael replied, his eyebrows cocking. “He never mentioned it to me,” he lied, his head shaking back and forth a bit. At least, he did not say it in so many words, he reconsidered.

His friend pulled an envelope from inside his waistcoat. “I believe this will make us even,” Sir Richard said as he started to hand the envelope to Michael. “Best hundred pounds I’ve spent this year,” he commented, turning to hold the envelope in front of Olivia. “Take it darling. You’ve earned it, waiting all this time for this fool to make his move.”

Grinning shyly, Olivia took the envelope and thanked Sir Richard. “May I use it to buy his wedding gift?” she wondered, her voice low so that Michael couldn’t quite hear her query.

“Absolutely not,” Sir Richard replied with a snort. “You must use it for the most useless piece of frippery you can find, I should think.” He made a quarter turn and seemed to listen for a moment. “Or you might use it for his birthday gift. He turns eight-and-twenty tomorrow, you probably know by now.” He seemed to pause again as if he was listening. “I must leave you two lovebirds. I have promised the next set to someone quite gorgeous.” He gave a nod and Michael and Olivia returned the gesture.

Her head suddenly swimming again, Olivia stepped back a bit to keep her balance and the sense of falling consumed her for a very long second before she was suddenly pressed against the front of Michael, his arms pulling her forward and capturing her in his embrace.

“Are you feeling faint again?” he asked as he slid his hand down the back of the bodice of her dress.

Olivia felt his warm hand pressed hard against her skin, his fingers dancing a bit beneath the upper edge of the back of her dress. Just as she felt a sharp tug – the tie of her corset was suddenly undone and the laces loosened – she was able to take a deep breath. ‘What a relief,” she breathed, continuing to rest her head against Michael’s chest as she inhaled fresh air and the scent of him. “I won’t ask how you learned that trick,” she murmured as she handed him the envelope. “I believe this is yours,” she said with a cocked eyebrow.

Michael regarded the envelope before returning his attention to Olivia, his face taking on a look of disbelief. “Oh, so now I am the most useless piece of frippery you can find?” he teased as he snatched the envelope from her gloved hand and shoved it into a coat pocket.

Olivia considered how to reply before she gave him a brilliant smile. “Happy birthday,” she whispered, standing up on tip toes to give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He did not immediately acknowledge her kiss as his hand remained down her back for a few moments, his other hand joining it as he apparently refastened the corset strings before he finally, very slowly, slid his hands back up to the nape of her neck. His lips captured hers in quick but thorough kiss – a kiss from which Olivia was sure she would have fainted dead away had he not loosened her stays. “We need to rejoin the other guests,” he whispered softly, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“Of course,” Olivia replied, stepping away from him and taking his arm and another deep breath.

They made their way back to the ballroom, biding their time as they strolled along the garden terrace until they were through the double-wide doors. They moved through the growing throng of guests and towards the table of champagne.

Lady Harvey would be quite proud of the crush her ball had become. Several couples approached, offering congratulations and doing their best not to seem overly curious about Olivia. She felt relief when they finally reached the table laden with glasses of champagne. She took the glass that Michael offered and they touched rims before taking a sip.

“Is this your second ball?” Michael guessed as he leaned toward her, using the guise of the room’s increased noise level as an excuse to put his nose near her ear.

Olivia demurred and rolled her eyes. “I have been to every district ball since I was sixteen and every assembly since I was born,” she replied, leaning up to answer so that her lips were near his jaw. Michael took the opportunity to kiss her again, making Olivia blush. “You are shameless!” she whispered loudly, shocked he would do such a thing with so many people nearby.

“He always has been, m’dear,” a woman commented as she seemed to appear from nowhere. About forty or so, she wore a stunning gown in gold satin and gold velvet, cut to fit her perfectly. Her hair was swept up in a flawless chignon that sported a gold ostrich feather held in place with a gold comb. Long, gold earbobs dangled on either side, matching the gold of the many chains that hung about her neck, several bedecked with emeralds.

Her most stunning accessory, though, was the man on whose arm she arrived. He was the spitting image of Michael, although his hair was nearly white and he sported a much straighter nose. Olivia smiled at the couple and wondered why the woman would say such a thing when, at the same time, she felt Michael’s arm tense under her grasp.

“Mother. Father?” Michael stated as he bowed his head, obviously surprised by their sudden appearance.

“Lord and Lady Cunningham, I would like you to meet my wife, Olivia,” he said formally just after taking his mother’s gloved hand and kissing the back of it.

He moved to shake his father’s hand, but the older man smiled and pulled his son into a hug. “Congratulations, son,” Mark Cunningham said, his face beaming. “I see Waterford finally let you have his daughter,” he whispered before he reached over and took Olivia’s hand, kissing the back of it and then raising an eyebrow at the sight of the ring. “I see my son inherited my taste for beautiful women,” he commented, his glance going from Olivia to his wife. Violet Cunningham blushed like a schoolgirl, her fan suddenly open and beating the air about her face.