Olivia and the Masked Duke Page 15

  “O-Obedience?” Livy stammered.

  His chest tautened. This is why it is important to have this discussion now.

  “I admire your spirit and always have. But I will treat you differently if we are more than friends,” he said with ruthless candor. “From experience, I know that I am a possessive lover. I will want you to belong to me as completely as I will belong to you.”

  Seeing her pleated brow and obvious confusion, he felt a sinking sensation. Never was he more aware of the differences between them, not just in age but experience. Unlike him, she had never felt a lover’s jealousy. She’d never experimented with infidelity and suffered the painful consequences. She’d never questioned whether she was enough to keep her lover interested.

  “I do want us to belong to each other,” she said slowly. “But I would also want to pursue my own interests.”

  He thought of Arabella’s interests, the intrigues and peccadilloes. The nights she’d come home smelling of other men. The nights she hadn’t come home at all. While Livy was loyal, she was also headstrong, indulged by her parents and used to getting her way. And, Christ, she was young and curious, last night’s adventures at the tavern being a case in point. What if he couldn’t protect her from her wilder instincts? What if he failed as a husband…again?

  Jaw clenching, he said, “I would expect to have the final say on whether such interests are acceptable.”

  Livy’s eyes widened just as Lady Fayne’s voice sounded in the distance.

  “Take time to think upon this,” he said firmly. “To consider whether you truly want me to court you. If we halt things now, we can still turn back. Be the friends we’ve always been.”

  He didn’t know if that was true. If he could ever look at Livy and not think of how sweet she tasted, how right she felt in his arms. Yet it was better to cut their losses now, before they reached the point of no return.

  Livy swallowed. “I don’t need time. I love you, Hadleigh, and want to be with you.”

  “Take a day to contemplate,” he insisted. “Can you get away tomorrow night? We can discuss the matter then.”

  She hesitated. “I, um, unfortunately have plans.”

  “What event are you attending? I will meet you there.”

  “It is not an event per se. I…I am having a quiet evening at home with Charlie.”

  He frowned. “Afterward, then. I will pick you up, no matter the hour.”

  “Charlie will want to drink wine and chat, stay up late. I’m afraid I will be too tired.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re making excuses.”

  “I do want to see you.” As Lady Fayne’s voice came from just outside the room, Livy whispered, “How about the night after next, around ten o’clock?”

  “Done.” He wanted to kiss her but satisfied himself with giving her hand a brief squeeze. “Until then, my little queen.”

  18

  “Cremorne Gardens seems different tonight,” Glory said. “Like a whole different world.”

  “I know,” Livy replied. “It feels strange, doesn’t it?”

  While she and her friends had been here before with their parents to watch one of the famous hot air balloon ascents, the ambiance tonight felt different. The fog from the nearby Thames hung thick and heavy in the air, diffusing the light of the colored lanterns overhead. Tall, shadowy trees surrounded the sumptuous buildings and stages. All strata of society were represented in the boisterous crowd. Some folk were in fine evening wear, some in masked costumes, and some wearing very little at all.

  “Perhaps being sans chaperones and dressed like circus performers might have something to do with it?” Fiona suggested.

  “You have a point,” Livy said.

  The three girls were dressed like the many acrobats giving performances throughout the gardens. Their short dresses, wigs, and face paint concealed their identities. Blending in with the crowd, they sought out their target. They passed an ornate pagoda where a full orchestra played a polka to the delight of the dancers stomping across the stage that circled it.

  “I don’t see Longmere or his cronies,” Glory murmured.

  “Me neither. I wonder if Charlie and Mrs. Peabody are having better luck,” Fi replied.

  Disguised as gentlemen, the other ladies were somewhere in the crowd. They had split up from the Angels to surveil the gardens’ main area. The two groups were to reconvene by the banqueting hall in an hour.

  “Do you smell that? Roasted chestnuts.” Glory sighed. “My favorite.”

  “You ate supper just before we came. How you manage to maintain your figure while—oof.” Fi’s reply was cut off when a gangling adolescent bumped into her.

  “Pardon, miss. Weren’t watching where I was going on account o’ being distracted by your beauty.” He winked, tipped his cap, and continued along.

  Livy caught him by the arm. Remembering to disguise her accent, she demanded, “Give my friend back ’er coin purse.”

  “My coin bag?” Fiona searched her reticule, her gaze thinning at the pickpocket. “Why, you thievin’ rotter. Give it back!”

  Livy twisted her captive’s wrist.

  “Ouch!” he protested. “Bleedin’ ’ell, no need to break a man’s arm o’er a few coins.”

  “I’ll break more than your arm if you don’t return my friend’s blunt now,” Livy stated.

  Grumbling, the thief gave the purse back to Fiona.

  Livy released him with a shove. “Get on wif you.”

  “Feisty filly, ain’t ye?” He grinned cheekily at her. “’Ow would ye like to kick yer ’eels wif me on the dance floor?”

  She scowled, and he scampered off.

  “Jolly well done,” Glory said admiringly. “Your Cockney accent is improving.”

  “Thank you.” Dusting her hands, Livy said, “Shall we?”

  They continued on. Livy tried not to be distracted by the spectacle around them, but it was difficult when there were fire-eaters swallowing flames, monkeys dancing jigs, and acrobats performing tricks on horseback. Passing by a throng of drunken masked men, the girls had to dodge groping hands.

  Fi swatted the men away like flies. “Now, fellows, I be workin’—”

  “I’ll pay your wages, dove.” A cad leered at her. “Why don’t you and I get acquainted in one of the alcoves off the walk?”

  “Not tonight, dearie,” Fiona said firmly.

  Not ever, Livy thought with a shudder.

  The proposition made her think of Hadleigh: he would have an apoplectic fit if he knew what she was up to. Since he had laid out his expectations for marriage yesterday, she’d been torn between yearning and confusion. She knew she wanted him, yet his rules went against the grain of who she was. While she understood his possessiveness—she felt the same way about him—his desire for obedience was an obstacle. She could not give up her independence any more than she could give up the man she loved.

  You have until tomorrow night to figure something out, she counseled herself. For now, concentrate on the mission.

  They were almost at the banqueting hall, a long building with two levels of supper boxes, arched windows framing the diners enjoying their half-crown supper.

  Glory drew to a halt. “Over there, by the wine stall,” she whispered.

  Livy shifted her gaze to the bustling stall some fifteen yards away. A queue of guests waited to sample what the stall’s sign boasted was “Cremorne’s World-Famous Sherry.” She saw Longmere immediately. Accompanied by his four cronies, he cut a dashing figure in an oxblood-red jacket. As she watched, an urchin approached the group. If she hadn’t been vigilant, she would have missed the boy slipping something—a piece of paper—to Mr. Thorne before vanishing into the crowd.

  Thorne scanned the note, whispering something to his companions.

  “I need to improve my lip-reading,” Glory said under her breath. “I cannot tell what he’s saying other than something about a fountain.”

  “They
’re moving,” Fi replied. “We must follow.”

  The three wound their way through the crowd, using the sea of people as their cover while they followed the men. They ended up on the arterial walk that traversed the gardens north and south. Stalls selling food and trinkets lined the graveled path, and a glowing fountain splashed up ahead.

  Smaller paths branched off from the main route, and as Livy glanced at the openings to those dark veins, a shiver chased over her skin. Cremorne was infamous for its labyrinthine “lovers walks,” used by trysting couples and those seeking paid pleasure.

  As they neared the fountain, the throng thinned, and it was harder to tail the targets discreetly. The men paused at the fountain, and Livy pulled her friends behind an unoccupied stall.

  “We should split up to surveil Longmere,” she whispered. “We’re too easy to spot as a group.”

  Fi nodded. “We’ll meet up at the banqueting hall as planned.”

  As Livy was about to reply, she felt a familiar tingling sensation. She peered around the corner of the stall…and her heart banged against her breastbone at the sight of the tall, masked figure who’d emerged by the fountain.

  She whipped back around. “Zounds. Hadleigh’s here.”

  “Hadleigh?” Glory’s brow puckered. “Are you sure—”

  “It’s him by the fountain. Dash it, he always sees through my disguises,” Livy said in a panic.

  She was lucky to have muddled her way through an explanation about the Black Lion; there was no way Hadleigh would accept her presence here tonight. If he found out, he would end things between them. Every fiber of her being resisted the possibility.

  I cannot lose him, she thought desperately.

  “Leave Longmere to Glory and me,” Fi said. “Focus your energies on evading the duke.”

  Livy nodded. “You will take care?”

  “Of course,” Glory said.

  Livy leaned in, her friends doing the same.

  “Sisters first will see us through,” they whispered together.

  One by one, Glory and Fiona returned to the main walk, blending with the passersby as they headed after Longmere. Counting to ten, Livy left her hiding place, going in the opposite direction. She did not dare to look back at the fountain and tried to keep her pace brisk without raising suspicion. As she melted into the stream of people, a feather of warning brushed her nape.

  She paused at a flower stall, pretending to examine the offerings as she covertly glanced behind her. Her gaze collided with Hadleigh’s. Through the eyeholes in his ebony mask, recognition flashed like lightning, jolting her into action. She half-walked, half-ran, trying to put distance between them. She passed a theatre, and luckily a show must have just ended for the audience flooded the walk. Livy took refuge in the swarm. Spotting a wooded offshoot up ahead, she let the crowd carry her there and then ducked into the opening.

  She dashed down the narrow path, moonlight filtering through the ancient trees. Thumping filled her ears; she didn’t know if it was footsteps chasing her or the cadence of her own panic. She ran into the twisting maze toward a source of light. Rounding a corner, she halted: bathed in a lantern’s glow, a couple was rutting against a hedge. The woman’s exposed breasts jiggled in her unlaced bodice, her skirts bunched at her waist. A man stood between her legs, his trousers down, and he was pumping his member in and out of her.

  They both paused to stare at Livy. The man’s assessing glance made Livy’s skin crawl.

  “Care to join us, dove?” He withdrew from his partner, brandishing his glistening member with a leer. “Plenty to go around.”

  Cheeks aflame, Livy ran on, the couple’s laughter ringing behind her. The deeper she delved into the maze, the more distant the sounds of the pleasure garden became. The creaking and swaying of the ancient forest created its own music, and she found herself running to the primal beat. A strange exhilaration filled her: she would escape and find a way out of this catastrophe…

  She skidded to a stop. Her path had turned into a nook bordered by tall hedges. There was a stone bench…and no exit. Dash it, a dead end. Turning to leave, she gasped as a large, cloaked figure emerged, blocking her way out. She took a step back as Hadleigh advanced toward her; he’d removed his mask, moonlight casting his features in icy silver.

  “I-I can explain,” she stammered.

  He stalked her, his voice a low growl. “No more lies, Olivia.”

  Uh-oh. He never calls me Olivia unless he’s furious. I’m in for it now.

  Her spine hit the hedges. He planted his hands on either side of her head. He leaned his face into hers, so close that she could see the flames raging in his eyes.

  In a lethally soft voice, he said, “What in blazes are you up to?”

  As Ben stared into the face of the woman he thought he knew, a dark undertow threatened to suck him under. It wasn’t the first time he’d been betrayed, not by a long shot, but the impact of Livy’s lies sent him reeling. With Arabella, he’d come to expect duplicity and prepared himself for it.

  But for Livy to deceive him? Pain tore through his chest. Like a trapped animal, he wanted to sever the part of him that kept him ensnared. To claw out the aching organ that left him open and vulnerable.

  This is what happens when you concede control to a female. They run roughshod over you.

  Livy wetted her lips. “If I tell you the truth, you must promise you won’t be angry.”

  Was she insane?

  “You play behind my back and think I won’t be angry?” he snarled.

  “Play behind your back…” She blinked.

  In the moonlight, her eyes were luminescent pools, and their apparent innocence, paired with her harlot’s attire, enraged him more.

  “Why else would you be at the pleasure gardens by yourself? Dressed like a light-skirt?” He drove a fist into the shrubbery, the sharp jab of twigs a welcome distraction from the pain of betrayal. “I knew you were lying to me about why you could not meet tonight.”

  “I’m not here to…to consort with men,” she protested. “You must believe me.”

  You must believe me. God, how many times had he heard those very words from Arabella? Each time, he had given in and taken her back. Because he was weak and did not guide his wife with a firm hand. Because he would rather challenge men to duels than face the fact that the woman he loved cared for no one but herself.

  He could not change the past. But he would be damned if he travelled down this path again.

  “I told you I will accept nothing but honesty from any future wife of mine,” he said bitterly. “I will escort you home. After that, what you do no longer concerns me.”

  “Please, Hadleigh, let me tell you the truth—”

  “I don’t give a damn what you have to say, Olivia. Thinking we could be lovers was a mistake from the start, and I’m putting an end to it,” he bit out. “I will not be with a woman whom I cannot trust.”

  He turned to go. She grabbed his arm, her expression stricken.

  “This is about the Earl of Longmere,” she blurted.

  He froze. “You are having an affair with Longmere?”

  “No.” She looked so appalled that he knew she told the truth. “He is Pippa’s husband, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Then how the devil are you involved with him?” When she didn’t reply, he caught her chin. Forced her gaze to his. “Do not try my patience any further this eve.”

  “I’m involved because of Pippa. She’s in low spirits, and you know she is never that way.”

  Having socialized with the countess, Ben knew she was possessed of a sunny disposition.

  “And how does this pertain to you?” he asked, frowning.

  “Well, she, um, told me that she was concerned about Longmere. He hasn’t been himself, apparently. He’s been moody, not sleeping well, staying out until all hours at his painting studio…he’s a painter, you’ll recall.” When Ben gave a curt nod, she went on, “Pippa even suspects that he might be unfaithful. I could n
ot stand to see her in such distress…so I offered to help her. To find out what he is up to.”

  Ben stared at her. A thousand responses flew through his mind.

  He settled for, “Tell me you are joking.”

  “It is no jest.” She had the audacity to raise her chin. “I consider my friend’s happiness a serious matter. If I can do something to help, why wouldn’t I?”

  Pressure built in Ben’s head. He opened his mouth…and closed it. As far-fetched as her story seemed, it was also exactly the sort of damned foolish thing Livy would do. She was loyal to a fault, would do anything for the people she loved…and the recognition punctured his bubble of rage.

  This was Livy. Not Arabella. Livy was a maddening, mischief-making minx…but she was no cheater. Relief flooded him with almost painful intensity.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” Livy searched his face with anxious eyes. “I swear to you, I would never betray you in that way, Hadleigh. I couldn’t. I love you.”

  Already shaken by the force of his relief, he was staggered by her profession.

  “Livy—”

  “I didn’t want to lie about tonight.” Her beseeching look melted away his fury. “I just didn’t think you would understand my desire to help Pippa.”

  “I understand your motivation; it is the way you are going about helping your friend that alarms me.” Another realization struck him. “Were you at the Black Lion because of Longmere as well?”

  “Yes,” she said in a small voice.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t think you would approve.”

  “I absolutely do not approve.” He gave her a severe look. “Putting your life and reputation at risk is unacceptable, no matter the reason.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “But I have to help Pippa—”

  “That is no excuse,” he stated. “As for Longmere, leave him to me. I have business with him.”

  Business that had once again been delayed because of Livy. By Jove, the chit was a handful. The kind of woman who would age a man before his bloody time.