Barely a Lady (16 page)

It was scandalous. It was frightening. It was right, and she knew it. And it was only Jack she could say it to, only Jack she trusted enough to hear it.

In answer, he kissed her thoroughly, as if softening the word to wonder. “You don’t mind?” he asked against her neck.

She yanked at his sweat-soaked shirt until it came free, then slid her hands up his bare torso. “I know I should never admit it,” she said with a siren’s smile, “but it excites me.”

He kissed her again. He devoured her with his tongue and his teeth and his hot, wonderful mouth. “As long as you never admit that to another man as long as you live.”

She remembered laughing again. “Why would I ever need to?”

Why, indeed?

She had struggled so hard to create a new image of herself, one that was independent of Jack—of needing him. Out of ashes and ruin, she had crafted a life she was proud of. No matter what she had faced, no matter how tempted she had been to succumb to despair, she hadn’t. She had stayed true to herself, and she thought she had grown into a strong, worthy woman. If she had never seen Jack again, she would have survived.

But all Jack had to do was touch her, and suddenly she was scrambling to shore up her defenses. She had trusted him once. She had believed he would hold her heart as carefully as she’d held his. But she hadn’t realized how fragile a thing trust was. Now it was the most precious gift she bestowed.

She trusted Georgie. She trusted Lady Kate and Grace and Lady Bea. But Jack? She loved Jack. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape that. Whatever else she felt for him, she had never stopped loving him.

But trust? No. She no longer trusted him. And as she’d learned to her distress, love without trust was an empty vessel. And passion without either was pointless.

But, oh, sweet heaven, she wished she could convince her body that were true.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t anticipate company. She should have expected him, of course. This was, after all, the first time she’d been far enough from Lady Kate to be vulnerable. And God knew his best talent was sniffing out vulnerability.

He slid down next to her on the bench. “Hullo, Livvie.”

It might have been because she was still so distracted. It might have been that the control she maintained over her memories had slipped. For whatever reason, the sight of Gervaise only irritated her.

She found she could look at him without going pale. In fact, for the first time in her life, she could see him for what he was. An infant in a man’s body. A spoiled little boy who simply didn’t understand that he couldn’t always have his way.

“Hullo, Gervaise.”

His sunny hair glowed in the dappled light, and his eyes crinkled with humor. He was golden. He was breathtaking. “How did you let yourself get so far from safety, Liv? Aren’t you afraid I’ll snatch you right off the path and run off with you?”

Olivia didn’t have the patience for him right now. “Good heavens, no. There are too many witnesses. It might prove difficult to maintain an air of innocence when fifteen soldiers, three nannies, and a cleric watch you commit a crime.”

His laugh was delighted. “Not a crime, surely, unless it’s a crime of the heart.”

“Clichés, Gervaise? I’m disappointed.”

“Oh, Livvie,” he said, reaching out a finger to stroke her cheek. “And you wonder why I’ve never been able to forget you.”

“You never forgot me,” she said, cold with the crawling dread of his touch, “because I’m the only one who said no.”

“Not true,” he said with a conspirator’s smile, “and we both know it. We had wonderful times together, Liv.”

“Obviously your definition of
wonderful
differs from mine.”

He studied her for a moment, as if trying to understand her behavior. “You’d rather be a paid lackey.”

She studied him back and realized that his face was completely unlined by worry. Gervaise never worried. It never occurred to him that he should have to. “Why, yes, Gervaise,” she said. “I would rather be a paid lackey.”

His smile cooled. “Ah, but what happens when people learn there never was a Mr. Grace?”

A surprise bubble of laughter caught in her chest. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You think I’ll be ruined for using my sister-in-law’s name?”

“You did get it from Georgie, then? I wondered.”

She shrugged, as if it mattered not at all. “She and James helped me when I needed it.”

“Why aren’t you still with them?”

“I’ve done quite well on my own.”

“Not as fine as you could have with me.”

Wearily, she shook her head. “Again, my definition differs a bit from yours. I am perfectly comfortable where I am.”

And there, finally, she saw it. Just a flash, no more, for he would never give himself away in public. But the petulant boy was in a rage. His pupils dilated. His nostrils flared just a bit.

“Please, Livvie,” he begged, his voice silk-soft. “Don’t make me hurt you again. You don’t know how it distresses me.”

Olivia knew perfectly well how pernicious he was. But suddenly all the threats made him seem small and petty. So she stood. “You hurt anyone I love again,” she said, leaning close, “
anyone
, I will kill you.”

He burst out laughing, until he looked more carefully into her eyes. “Don’t be absurd.”

She straightened and pulled at her gloves. “Don’t doubt me, Gervaise. I believe I’ve finally had enough.”

And without waiting for his answer, she walked away.

She was almost to the street when she remembered that Gervaise had been looking for Jack. He might even know Jack was in the city. Olivia stopped at the edge of the bustling street, her courage faltering badly. She thought she was hidden well enough, but what about Jack?

And why hadn’t Gervaise just mentioned him? He had to know Jack’s return would be a perfect threat.

She almost turned around. She almost looked to see what Gervaise was doing. But she knew he expected it. So, dragging in a calming breath, she finally crossed the street and went home.

She came across Grace in the foyer. “I need to speak with you all.”

“Later,” Grace said, linking arms. “Lady Kate has guests, and Mrs. Harper is looking for you.”

Olivia set aside her bonnet. “Of course.”

She followed Grace to the kitchen to find Mrs. Harper feeding a plate of scones to one of their remaining patients, a young hussar who had lost his left leg. He sat at the scarred oak table with a dragoon she didn’t recognize.

“I’d take it a bit easy on those scones, Peter,” she advised, smiling, “or you’ll be too heavy to mount a horse.”

After hearing how Lord Uxbridge had laughed off the loss of his own leg, Peter had vowed to be back in the saddle by the end of the month.

“Ah, leave off, ma’am,” Mrs. Harper said with a grin. “Aren’t these lads still growin’ an’ needin’ their sustenance?”

“I’m growing all right,” Peter agreed, patting his belly. “Sideways.” Waving a scone, he indicated his guest. “Like you to meet a friend, ma’am. Kit Braxton, late of Kent, like me.”

The blond dragoon stood to reveal a pinned-up sleeve on the right and a puckered burn scar up the side of his face that pulled at his mouth. But his smile was strong and his bow courtly. “Pleasure, ma’am. The little colonel has mentioned you. You performed a great service for her.”

Olivia frowned. “The little colonel?”

“Gracie,” Braxton said, looking to Grace. “Term of affection, you know.”

Olivia turned to see that her friend was blushing like a debutante. “I imagine our Grace is quite a managing female, Major.”

Braxton chuckled. “The veriest tartar, ma’am. But the best of comrades.”

Yes, Olivia thought sadly. It was exactly how most men would see Grace, overlooking the deliciously dry wit and dear heart that hid beneath that plain facade.

“She is also the very best of friends,” Olivia assured him with a smile for the embarrassed Grace.

As if aware how mortified her charge was, Mrs. Harper quickly turned the conversation. “The garden, ma’am.”

Olivia lifted an eyebrow, but when no answer was forthcoming, she stepped out into the small walled garden.

It was another warm day, but clouds had moved in to blunt the sun. The few trees present shaded the begonias that edged the path and lent the garden its sense of privacy. The shadows were spicy with the scent of roses. Stopping on the path, Olivia looked around for whatever it was she was to see.

He was standing back in the shadows. Olivia checked the windows to make sure no one was watching, and then approached.

“Chambers,” she greeted the fastidious middle-aged man.

Chambers gave her a brisk nod of his ruthlessly groomed, graying head. “Mrs. Grace. I am glad to see you looking well.”

“And you. May we sit?”

They settled on the bench tucked away beneath a drooping birch.

“I have spoken with Mr. Finney,” Chambers began. “The earl truly can’t remember anything?”

“No. He can’t. Can you tell me how he knew where to find you?”

“It is something I have thought much of, ma’am. I have no answer. Of course, he knew I was Mr. Gervaise’s man, and he possibly knew that we were in Brussels. Beyond that I cannot say.”

“Do you still have the message he sent?”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. I burned it immediately. But I can tell you what it said. ‘Chambers. Need help. Meet me on Nivelles Road two miles south of Mont St. Jean.’ ” He looked up, frowning. “It was actually serendipitous that I tripped over him. He was not where he was supposed to be.”

“He never spoke to you?”

“Never.” Chambers shuddered. “I was so afraid he was…”

She nodded, trying to piece the story together. “Would you tell me what happened five years ago after the duel with my cousin? I thought the earl went to the West Indies.”

The little man nodded. “We did. The earl spent a year managing his father’s plantations on Jamaica.”

A year. Olivia ruthlessly quelled memories of that same time. “And then?”

The valet shrugged, looking very uncomfortable. “He released me. We returned home in the fall of 1811, and the master called me into his office and handed me a severance payment and a letter of recommendation. Said his cousin was looking for a man and would be happy to take me.”

“You don’t know why he released you?”

He drew himself up. “It was not my place to ask. I think he never recovered from… uh, the duel. He dismissed his entire staff, although many of them went to work for his family.”

“You don’t know where he went?”

“There was some talk of the fur trade in Canada.”

Olivia shook her head, frustrated. This was no help at all. “And you haven’t seen him since?”

“Maybe two years ago. Mr. Gervaise met Master Jack in London. Something about family business.”

She nodded. “Yes, the Duchess of Murther remembers seeing him then. You don’t know what the business was?”

“Mr. Gervaise only said it was good to see his cousin in such a situation. He seemed delighted by it.”

If it had been anyone else, Olivia might have thought he’d meant that Jack was well set up. With Gervaise, she wasn’t so sure. “And he didn’t tell you anything more?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. Only that the earl seemed to benefit from his adventures, whatever that might mean.”

Olivia nodded. “The earl’s family never said anything about him in your presence?”

Chambers looked away. “Only to blame you for his absence, I’m sorry to say.”

Olivia smiled. “Oh, that is no surprise, Chambers.”

“There is one thing, ma’am.” When he looked up, Olivia saw how troubled he was. “Please do not misunderstand. Mr. Gervaise has been a good employer. But he has talked about that time. The duel and… all. I wanted you to know that I am sorry for my part in it. Mr. Gervaise has since boasted to me about his schemes.”

He really did look distressed, something Olivia never thought she’d see. She patted his small, tidy hand. “You weren’t the only one who believed him, Chambers.”

He flushed and dipped his head. “Is there anything I can do now? I bear much affection for his lordship.”

Olivia thought hard. “I wonder if seeing you might pry loose a few memories.”

“I would be delighted to help, ma’am.”

She got to her feet. “Follow me.”

Returning to the house, she led him back through the kitchen, where Mrs. Harper stood alone now, pounding out bread dough. Poor Cook must have been frightened back into the root cellar again. “Mrs. Harper…”

The big woman never looked up. “Mr. Gervaise has arrived.”

Which meant that Chambers was in danger of being discovered. “You’ll return?” she asked the suddenly nervous man.

“Indeed, ma’am,” Chambers agreed, casting anxious glances toward the front of the house. “Please give his lordship my best wishes.”

Olivia ushered him back out through the garden. “One more thing, Chambers. Was there ever anyone in Jamaica named Mimi?”

Chambers frowned a moment, then shook his head. “No, ma’am. Not to my knowledge. And the community was a small one.”