A Love So Dark (The Dark Regency Series Book 4) (5 page)

That prompted his eyebrows to raise in disbelief. “No one is ever content at Darkwood Hall. I daresay the rocks would march from the fields to flee it were they able.”

She sighed heavily. “Then I shall not say I will be content. I shall simply offer the truth with all that is left of my pride… I have nowhere else to go.”

The admission had cost her dearly. He could see it in the slight deflation of her previously squared shoulders and in the way she avoided his gaze. Pity was not something she would ever accept, and in truth, was not something he would offer. But he was not without feeling and it saddened him for her that her lot in life had become such that her only option had been marriage sight unseen to a man she did not know the first thing about.

He’d goaded her thoughtlessly, and in doing so, he’d hurt her in ways she would not be quick to forgive. “Whatever occurs, you will always have a home and always be provided for,” he offered. “That is all I can promise at this time.”

“It is enough,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

Griffin nodded. His appetite was gone entirely. Food held no appeal for him and the one thing he hungered for was completely off limits. “I am going for a ride. I will see you at dinner,” he said and quickly moved to escape the damning pleasure he took in her presence. She was dangerous to him in ways he had not envisioned and he would need to proceed cautiously.

O
lympia had been staring
down at the table, but when she looked up, she pinned him with a sharp and direct gaze. It was clear that she had something on her mind, and he undoubtedly would be put on the spot.

“I understand that you have not had time to make a decision on whether or not I am to remain here with you, my lord, but do you have some notion of how long a time will be required for you to decide?”

He had. From the moment he’d walked into that room, there was simply no turning back. It was a foolhardy decision, one that they would both come to regret he was certain, but having her and keeping her were inevitable. Since their soul scorching kiss, she’d become as necessary to him as breathing. Her presence had invaded his home, invaded his mind. His awareness of her had continued to grow. Where she was, what she was doing, how she was being treated in his strange and not entirely welcoming home—all of those things had consumed his thoughts. And in seeing to her comfort, in doing the things that a husband would do, it cemented that relationship even further in his mind.

To deny it was futile. “For better or worse, Olympia, you will remain here. But there are rules to follow if this is to work… and once you hear them, it may be your wish to leave.”

She put down her fork and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Very well.”

Griffin turned to the door and the footmen standing there. “Leave us.” They looked at one another before doing his bidding. Undoubtedly they were off to report to Mrs. Webster. The woman was out of control. Something would have to be done. Moving toward the table, he took a seat across from Olympia, one that would allow them to converse more easily than if he’d sat at the head of the table as usual.

“Your rules, my lord?”

He smiled slightly. “The first one is to stop ‘my lording’ me every time we speak. You will call me Griffin. I prefer it. I have not held the title for very long and find I am not accustomed to it yet.”

She frowned at that. “Were you not anticipating becoming Viscount Darke, then?”

“No,” he replied. “The title was initially my uncle’s, and it should have gone to my cousin or his younger brother, but he… there was a tragedy,” he finished lamely. “Suffice to say, I had not expected the title and find myself acclimating slowly.” His tone made it quite clear that he intended to say no more on the subject and he only hoped she would not press him. The lurid tale was not fit for her ears.

“I see. And your second rule?”

This one would be more difficult. “There are areas of the house that are unsafe. I will give you a tour later and show you where you may and may not go within these walls… Also, the moors are dangerous, incredibly so. The grass grows so tall that it conceals deep crevices in the earth and prevents you from being able to tell whether the earth beneath is firm or simply a well concealed bog. You should not go out alone.”

The tension emanating from her was palpable. Her shoulders squared and her chin came up while her eyes hardened as if ready for battle. She was extraordinary, he thought.

“Am I to be a prisoner here, then?” she demanded.

“Not at all. If you wish to go out, you may, I would only ask that you alert someone to where you are going and take a servant with you who is familiar with the area,” he replied in an attempt to reassure her. “But I should warn you, we are not well received in the village.”

“Why?”

“The tragedy,” he replied coolly. “Small minds give rise to great rumors. If you must go there, pay them no heed… that is a suggestion, not a rule.”

“I feel I should be making notes,” she responded.

“There is only one other rule, but I suppose it falls more under the heading of a demand,” he answered.

“Do go on. I find myself on tenterhooks,” she replied with complete sarcasm.

“I admit to my own foolishness in even considering the possibility that I could have a marriage in name only with a woman I find so wholly appealing. But regardless of whether or not our marriage is consummated, Olympia, precautions will be taken… We will have no children.”

S
he’d been told not
to wander, but as the source of her instruction had been Mrs. Webster, Olympia felt fully justified in ignoring the edict. A housekeeper had no jurisdiction over her, she reasoned.

The brief exchange with Lord Darke over breakfast had offered her some peace of mind. Of course, trusting him to keep his word might be an awful mistake, but it was all she had to cling to at the moment. Even a false sense of security was better than living in terror of being turned out into the streets.

Not even Collins knew what she was about. In truth, it wasn’t a proud moment for her. But she needed a strategic advantage and that meant doing a little spying on her own. Slipping along the same corridor where she’d had her earlier confrontation with Mrs. Webster, Olympia ducked into an alcove to keep watch and observe her new household.

After what seemed like hours, the door at the end of the hall opened. Olympia held her breath as the housekeeper moved past her, the black bombazine of her gown swishing with her brisk steps. Peeking around the corner, Olympia quickly shrank back when the woman paused and glanced over her shoulder.

Fearing she’d been caught, Olympia braced for battle, but instead Mrs. Webster simply walked over to a marquetry table in the hall. She ran her fingers over the top of it, grimaced at the dust there and then went on her way.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Olympia immediately dashed out toward the door the woman had recently exited. It was unlocked, which surprised her, but also worried her. Would Mrs. Webster come back to check? It was a risk she would have to take.

Ducking through the door, she closed it firmly behind her. She leaned against it for a brief moment to catch her breath and still her racing heart. Clearly a life of crime was not in her future as just sneaking into a forbidden area of the house had her on the verge of apoplexy.

The corridor stretched before her. Dust covered the floor and cobwebs draped from the ceiling. But in the center of the hallway, there was a wide swath of floor free of any dust at all. It was marked with the occasional footprint that strayed from the path. Staring at those footprints, Olympia recognized that one would clearly have to be Mrs. Webster’s. The other, much larger and clearly belonging to a man, could only be her husband’s.

Making her way as stealthily as possible, Olympia tried the first door on the left. It opened easily enough. Peering inside, she saw nothing but furniture draped in Holland cloths. Closing the door, she moved along the corridor, investigating each one. It wasn’t until she neared the end that she found what she was looking for. The room was stacked high with trunks and books. Personal items were interspersed amongst everything else. It was the haphazard lot of a household hastily moved into storage.

Stepping carefully over the threshold to avoid leaving visible prints in front of the door in the hallway, Olympia stepped into the room and closed the door. The quiet immediately set her on edge. There was no sound of bustling servants. None of the general liveliness of a house well occupied. That room was as silent as a tomb.

“And if Mrs. Webster comes back and locks the door, it could well be
your
tomb,” she told herself. To that end, Olympia began her search. She went through each stack of books, looking for anything of a personal nature. When they failed to yield anything, she moved onto the trunks. She’d just searched the third one when the wailing began.

It was much louder, and so much clearer this close to the source. Olympia longed to go to her, whoever she was, and offer some comfort, but it would surely not end well for her. Without a doubt, those cries would bring Mrs. Webster rushing back, which meant her time was limited. Dusting off her skirts, she rose, but her recently injured ankle betrayed her. She stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the trunk and the lining ripped beneath her hand. A small packet of letters fell out.

Olympia picked them up carefully and then examined the torn lining. Hidden behind it was also a slim book, clearly a journal. Satisfied with her haul for the moment, she tidied up behind her. Just as she reached for the door, and opened it just a crack, she heard footsteps in the hall.

Terrified to move or even breathe, she stood there with her face pressed to that tiny opening. The housekeeper rushed past, halting at another closed door at the end of the corridor. As Olympia watched, she removed the ring of keys at her waist and unlocked the door. A flight of stairs was visible as she opened the door and disappeared inside.

Olympia didn’t hesitate for a second. She opened the door, stepped out carefully into the cleared swatch of floor in the center and ran. In her soft kid slippers, her feet were nearly silent on the floor as she hurried toward the door. Once in the main hallway again, she ducked back into the same alcove where she’d hidden earlier and tried to catch her breath.

Running in stays, especially when terrified of being caught, was torture. Her ankle pained her something fierce and she was bound to come face to face with Mrs. Webster at any moment.

The door at the end of the hall opened again, and Olympia leaned back against the wall. She would surely be caught and then any agreement she might have reached with Lord Darke would surely be null and void. He’d send her packing. The fate of any woman turned out by her husband was bound to be a gruesome one.

But once again, Mrs. Webster simply brushed past her, never pausing as she deposited a vial in the pocket of her dress, just beneath the clinking chatelaine at her waist. As Mrs. Webster’s steps receded, the wailing and shrieking began to lessen. What, Olympia wondered, was in that bottle?

After waiting several moments to be sure the housekeeper was well and truly gone, Olympia drew her shawl from her shoulder and bundled her purloined items in the center and folded them up inside. Reaching beneath the hem of her gown, she secured the shawl about her waist, and then smoothed her dress. If she were caught, she would simply say she was out for a walk. It was a much more palatable explanation than snooping through forbidden rooms in a house where she was barely welcome to start.

Stepping from her hiding place, she made her way along the corridor. Before turning the corner into the main hall that would take her back to her own chamber, Olympia peered carefully around. Mrs. Webster stood near the door to her chamber. She’d raised her hand to knock, just as Collins popped out of one of the many servants’ doors that lined the hallway.

“Where is your mistress?” Mrs. Webster demanded.

“She’s sleeping,” Collins lied smoothly.

“I knocked… quite loudly,” Mrs. Webster stated. “Her door is locked!”

“She had no wish to be disturbed,” Collins replied. Her gaze skated past Mrs. Webster to Olympia’s pale face just visible as she peeked around the corner.

“Then why are you here?” The housekeeper was clearly having none of it.

“Because it is the time that she asked me to wake her,” Collins retorted.

“Then I shall wait,” Mrs. Webster stated smugly.

Collins squared her thin shoulders and met the housekeeper’s hard gaze. “M’lady’s instructions, specifically, Mrs. Webster, were that she had no wish to be disturbed by you. I will inform her that you wish to speak to her, but whether she wishes to speak to you is her choice, I reckon!”

“You cheeky girl! I’ll have you sacked for this!”

Collins never blinked. “You can’t. The only person who can send me packing is her ladyship. And as I’m only doing what she asked, I doubt she’ll see it your way.”

Mrs. Webster appeared to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit. Olympia could see her trembling from her present vantage point. The woman’s hand flew back as if she meant to strike the maid, but before it could happen a masculine voice called out.

“What the devil is going on?” Lord Darke shouted as he opened his chamber door. “Mrs. Webster?”

“This girl is refusing to wake her mistress!”

“As her mistress undoubtedly instructed her, Mrs. Webster. You may have the run of the house but you do not have the run of a peer or his wife,” Lord Darke reminded her imperiously.

As Olympia looked on, the housekeeper glanced back over her shoulder toward her hiding place. If she’d turned just a few more inches, Olympia would have been spotted. Finally, the woman glared at Lord Darke one last time then swept past all of them toward the main staircase, as if she had every right to use it.

Never in all of Olympia’s dealings with the upper class had a servant, even one in such a lofty position as housekeeper, made so free with the house that employed her. Eventually, Lord Darke retreated into his room. Warily, Olympia left her hiding place and approached Collins who still stood in the hallway looking like a ghost.

“I thought she’d take my head clean off,” the younger woman muttered.

“I think she’d prefer to have mine,” Olympia replied in a conspiratorial tone. “Why is my chamber door locked?”

Collins blushed. “It isn’t the first time I caught her sniffing around this door today. She was waiting to go through your things when you went down to breakfast.”

Olympia wanted to be angry, but since she’d just done the very same thing, she simply moved on. “But she has a key!”

Collins smiled. “It isn’t just locked with a key, my lady. I put a chair under the knob. I’ll be going through the servants’ entrance through your dressing room and will let you in that way.”

Collins was proving far more resourceful than she’d ever imagined. Hairstyling could be taught, but what she’d just done could not. “How did you know she didn’t use the servant’s entrance?”

The maid shrugged, a slight lift of her thin and frail looking shoulders. “She won’t sneak in that way, because she feels it’s her right to go in like quality… bold as brass, my lady. Or so I suspect.”

“Let me in quickly. We’re going to have a very long afternoon,” Olympia said.

She felt exposed in the hallway, as if there were eyes watching and ears listening in to every word that was said.