Led Astray by a Rake (22 page)

It didn’t change what she thought of him. He was at heart a good man. Of course he would care for the woman and child, she wouldn’t expect any less of him. And the tragedy of his father’s death and his mother’s lack of understanding would hurt him terribly. No wonder he spent so little time at Castle Lacey and the rest of his life traveling, with a different companion every year. Once he’d been burned he wouldn’t want to risk his heart again.

Olivia was so deep in thought she hardly heard Estelle speaking.

“When the message came tonight, and Abbot told me, I knew I should have warned you before, when I first found out. I blame myself.”

Olivia tried to focus, to understand. “The message? I presume it came from this woman who is…was Nic’s mistress? Is something wrong, is that why he had to go so abruptly, without time for explanations?”

Estelle clasped her hands together and stared at them, as if working up her courage. “Abbot told me that this woman calls herself Mrs. Lacey.”

Suddenly Olivia felt cold. “Mrs. Lacey?” she gasped.

“Mrs.
Lacey. She sent for Lord Lacey tonight and he went to her. You know he did. I don’t understand the hold she has over him, unless it’s the boy, but there’s something odd and I can’t help but
think it isn’t going to make you very happy. My lady, I am so sorry I—”

Olivia had stopped listening. Was it possible that Nic was already married? Estelle had wondered why, if this woman was respectable, Nic hadn’t simply married her, and now Olivia found herself wondering, too. Perhaps he had married, then kept it secret. But was it really possible he would do such a dreadful thing, and then marry Olivia and lie to her? No! She didn’t believe it. The “Mrs. Lacey” might well be a courtesy title, in which case this woman and Nic must be close—close enough to be assumed to be married.

Tonight she had told Nic she loved him, and he said he loved her. She had believed him, utterly and completely. What had happened since then that she was here alone, doubting him, and he was with another woman? She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore.

“I think I will go to bed now,” she said at last, in a small voice that didn’t sound at all like her own.

Estelle seemed relieved. “I think you should sleep, my lady. When Lord Lacey returns he’ll explain everything, and…and…” But her voice trailed off for lack of anything more positive to say, and she hurried back to the bed, fussing about, turning down the covers.

Olivia slid off her wrap and climbed into the bed. She lay back and closed her eyes, and Estelle turned out the lamp and gently closed the door, leaving her alone.

Olivia opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling.

She felt empty, as if her heart had been removed from her chest and her body was just a shell. Nic had betrayed her, he’d lied to her. Olivia had believed in him, trusted him. She’d believed she knew him as well as she knew herself. How could she have been so completely wrong?

The question was: What should she do now?

Outside a vehicle clattered by, hurrying on to its destination. Was Nic already tucked up in bed with his lover, this Mrs. Lacey? Had he completely forgotten the promises he’d made to Olivia? Well, she needed to know, and if Nic wasn’t here to tell her, then she’d find out the truth for herself.

Tomorrow she would go and visit this woman who called herself Mrs. Lacey, and see her for herself. She’d call upon her and ask her exactly what was going on, and then she’d make whatever decision she could about the future.

Whether she would stay or whether she would go.

Nic closed the door to Olivia’s bedchamber, causing the candle in his hand to flicker wildly. He paused while it steadied. He was tired, beyond tired. Unfortunately, as he’d feared, once she got him to the house, he had the devil of a job getting away again. He’d been bearing this burden alone for far too long, and now he wanted nothing more than to share it with Olivia.

The bedchamber was quiet apart from the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Nic made his
way toward the bed. The flaring light of his candle showed him his wife’s shape beneath the covers and her fair hair like spun gold upon the pillow.

She was asleep.

He stood, looking down at her calm and beautiful face for a very long time. The sight of her, the memory of her love for him, seeped in and eased his troubled soul. He was tempted to climb into bed beside her and hold her in his arms, but she was sleeping so peacefully.

Tomorrow, Nic told himself, he would tell her the truth. From start to finish. He could only hope she would understand and forgive him, and then they could begin to make their lives together. His decision made, Nic turned and made his way back across the room to the door. Tonight he’d sleep in his own bed and leave Olivia to her own sweet dreams, free of his dark shadows.

T
he narrow house was neat and respectable, and it stood on a quiet street in the direction of Hampstead. When Olivia finally worked up the courage to use the knocker, the door opened on a soberly dressed maid with a flat, unsmiling face and unfriendly eyes.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“I’ve come to visit the lady of the house,” Olivia said, stepping over the threshold. “Can you fetch her for me, please?”

The maid backed away, allowing Olivia in, but she wasn’t happy. “My mistress doesn’t see visitors, ma’am.”

“She will see me. I am Lady Lacey.”

The name acted as a key. The maid’s eyes widened, and reluctantly she nodded her head, unwillingly agreeing.

Olivia removed her gloves, curiously looking about her. The entrance to the house was spotlessly clean, and the banisters on the steep staircase shone with polishing. The housekeeper—as she now said she was—showed Olivia into a sit
ting room and left her there. The furniture was old and well kept but rather too large for such a small room. An Oriental rug added color, as did the flowers in a large Chinese vase. Outside the window was a view of a handkerchief-sized garden, and when Olivia went to the window, she saw a child there, reading. He was perhaps nine or ten, with dark hair, and he kept glancing up at his companion, a young maid, who was evidently there to keep watch on him.

Olivia scrutinized the boy. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a thin, narrow face. He reminded her painfully of Nic, and there was only one person it could be—Nic’s son, Jonah.

She hadn’t expected to feel such a pain in her heart. Nic’s past was nothing to do with here and now, and she wasn’t foolish enough to believe he was squeaky clean—normally it would not matter to her. Her heart was warm enough to allow her to forgive him, and even to embrace this boy who was part of him and love him as her own.

Except she was certain now there was more to this than a long-ago affair.

The way Nic had rushed off last night, refusing to explain…Whatever was in this house was important to him, and his emotions were as engaged now as they’d been ten years ago.

Olivia had to know, even if it meant the end of her brief happiness.

“Lady Lacey?”

She hadn’t heard the door open behind her. The voice was soft and breathy, as if its owner had
hurried down the stairs, and as Olivia turned she didn’t know what to expect.

A petite woman stood in the doorway, neatly dressed in a blue wool skirt with a waisted jacket of the same color. Her hair was so fair it looked white against the shadows behind her. She was ethereal, ghostlike, her eyes the only things that were really alive. They were bright blue and burning with emotion.

Exactly like Olivia’s own eyes, and those of her mother.

Olivia felt the floor beneath her feet begin to rock, and reached out to grasp the windowsill for support. The woman came toward her, but cautiously, as if she wasn’t quite sure if Olivia was real. She reached out her hand, her fingers stretched wide, but didn’t touch her, allowing them to drop to her side. “Is it Olivia?” she whispered. “My own sweet Olivia?”

“Sarah.” There were tears on Olivia’s cheeks, but she didn’t remember crying them. Her elder sister Sarah was dead. That was what she’d always been told, what she had accepted without question. But here she was, living in London, and very much alive.

“I don’t understand.” She forced the words through the lump in her throat. “Why did I think you were dead? Why do Mama and Father think you are dead?”

Sarah’s mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “The scandal,” she said. “You
know
it is better to be dead than ruined, Olivia.”

“What scandal?” Olivia cried, but inside her head an inkling of the truth was beginning to reveal itself, and she didn’t like what she was thinking.

Sarah gestured for her to sit down, and arranged herself neatly on the chair opposite. There were dark shadows under her eyes, Olivia noticed. Ten years was a long time, but Sarah still looked a great deal older than she should have. Olivia sat, as the shock receded, thinking it strange that she hadn’t hugged her sister and her sister hadn’t held her.

“You call yourself Mrs. Lacey,” she said. “Why do you do that, Sarah?”

Sarah stared at her a moment, and then gave a delicate shrug. “I feel like Mrs. Lacey.”

“I don’t—”

“Let me explain, Olivia.” The name seemed to please her, and she smiled. “I did not think I would ever see you again. Do you remember when—” But she stopped herself, shaking her head. “No, first I will explain, then we can talk of the past.”

“I would like that.”

Sarah gathered her thoughts. “I fell in love. I suppose that is the beginning of my story. I fell in love and agreed to allow my lover to keep me.”

“But didn’t Mama—”

“Mama didn’t know until I told her. By then the situation was beyond our parents’ control. I left Bassingthorpe. My lover kept me here, in London, and I was happy. By the time I realized he’d tired
of me, or had begun to listen to the persuasions of his family and friends, I was with child. He didn’t answer my letters, and I was desperate, so I wrote to Mama and she and Father arranged for me to go to Cornwall, to a distant relative, to have the child there.”

“Why was I never told this?” Olivia said, torn between anger and sorrow. “I should have known.”

“You were a child,” Sarah replied matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t have understood. As far as you were concerned I was away at school.”

“You wrote to me, I remember,” Olivia said, the memories coming back to her. “You told me all about your lessons.”

“Yes.” Sarah smiled sadly. “I enjoyed making up those stories. I thought of your face when you read them, and I wanted you to smile and believe I was happy.”

“But you weren’t happy.”

“No. I missed my lover.”

“Sarah…”

“You can’t tell your heart who to love, Olivia. I’m sure you know that by now. I decided to come back to Bassingthorpe and throw myself upon his mercy.”

“You were the woman with the babe in her arms,” Olivia said as the pieces fell in place. “The woman who turned up at Castle Lacey.”

“Yes. But he abandoned me. Again.”

Responding to the pain in her voice, Olivia reached forward and grasped her sister’s hand.
Her skin was cool and dry, and her fingers lay limp in Olivia’s. “Oh Sarah.”

“My parents abandoned me, too. They decided to say I had died while I was away, to save themselves the embarrassment of a scandal and explanations. Tidy me away, you see. Father couldn’t bear to be looked down on by his colleagues, and Mama was embarrassed.”

Remembering her mother’s woebegone face and her father’s reticence, Olivia didn’t think it had been quite that easy, but now was not the time to come to their defense.

“Nic bought me this house and I live here. I see him when he comes to London, and he pays my bills and sees that Jonah is cared for as befits a Lacey.” She smiled, gazing toward the window, where her son sat in the garden.

“So you’re not abandoned after all. Nic
hasn’t
abandoned you.”

Sarah turned to stare at her, her expression confused. “Dominic. Is he here?”

“No, Sarah. I’ve come alone.”

“My husband will be here soon,” Sarah said, her fingers closing tightly on Olivia’s, painfully so. “He comes to see me when he can. But it’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone.” She lifted a finger to her lips and gave an exaggerated shhh. “No one must know.”

It occurred to Olivia then that her sister wasn’t altogether well. She was staring at the window again, humming softly, as if she’d forgotten who Olivia was and what they’d been saying. Olivia
wanted to ask more questions, she wanted answers, but it was clear she wasn’t going to get any.

“The mistress is tired.”

The voice startled her. The sober housekeeper was back, and Olivia wondered if she’d been there all along, outside the door, listening to their conversation.

“You should go now,” the woman added, with a meaningful look. “Mrs. Lacey needs to rest.”

Olivia stood up, hesitated, and leaned forward to clasp her sister firmly in her arms. Sarah felt small and vulnerable and not at all the big sister Olivia had remembered with love all these years. Sarah hugged her back, smiling, but she appeared puzzled, as if she wondered why this stranger was being so affectionate.

“Good-bye, Sarah,” Olivia murmured. “I will come again, and soon.”

“Good-bye,” Sarah echoed vaguely.

The housekeeper led the way to the front door. “Mrs. Lacey has lucid moments, but they are short. You were lucky.”

“What is the matter with her?” Olivia asked, pulling on her gloves.

“The doctors don’t know. A disease of the brain, a nervous disorder.” She raised her eyebrows as if to say she didn’t hold much with the opinions of the medical profession. “She has suffered and now it is telling on her. We keep her as quiet as we can and she wants for nothing.”

“And her son, Jonah?”

The housekeeper smiled, and the change to her dour face was quite remarkable. “He goes to school, a good school, but he only boards during the week. He doesn’t understand why his mother is sometimes so odd, but he loves her anyway. Lord Lacey takes a great interest in him, and one day he will live at Castle Lacey where he belongs.”

Olivia tried not to look surprised. “I’m sure everything will work out as it should,” she said neutrally. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Lady Lacey.”

The door closed behind her, and Olivia was alone on the doorstep.

She’d been lied to. For half of her life she’d believed her sister was dead and it wasn’t true. Her parents, Nic, everyone, they had all lied. Anger gripped her, and as she turned through the gate and began to walk away, it began to build. Her cheeks were wet with more tears, and she dashed them away with her gloved fingers.

Nic had seduced her sister and then abandoned her. No wonder her mother had been so distrustful of him. She’d lost one daughter to the Laceys and she didn’t want to lose another. Her father, more pragmatic, had accepted the situation and Nic’s generous settlement, but her mother…Olivia took a shaken breath. They should have told her. If she’d known the truth she’d never have hunted Nic. She’d have despised him for his selfish and callous actions.

But isn’t he looking after her now?
a voice in her
head reminded her.
She is being cared for, and her son—his son—has everything he might need. If he was such a monster, wouldn’t he have refused to do anything to help?

Olivia accepted the truth of that, but the fact he’d treated Sarah so ill in the beginning—and no, she wouldn’t accept his youth as an excuse—told against him. She didn’t know if she would be able to forgive him for that. Certainly she could never forgive him for lying to her. He was arrogant, she knew that, but there were numerous times when he could have told her, explained, apologized, but he hadn’t. All this time he’d kept his guilty secret.

Nic Lacey had seduced her sister, abandoned her and her child, and now he’d married Olivia, while continuing to keep Sarah hidden away. Olivia wondered how long he’d planned to keep the truth from her. Forever? Or until he had his legal heir and would no longer be bothered if she stayed with him or not?

There was a hackney stand in front of her, with a queue of vehicles waiting for fares. She gave her destination to the driver, climbing aboard like an automaton, and sat back to stare blankly at the passing scenery, going over and over in her head the truth as she now knew it.

And yet, how did she reconcile Sarah’s experience of Nic with the man she loved? She had always found Nic to be a basically decent human being, a man to be trusted and relied upon. She had held firmly to that image despite her parents’
rejection and Nic’s own opposition to her wish to marry him. Why, now, was she discarding it?

Olivia put her head in her hands. She felt betrayed; she felt like a fool. What she needed was to get away from here, go back to Bassingthorpe and try and decide what to do. Not to the Monteith house, she couldn’t go there, but Castle Lacey would be empty. She didn’t imagine Nic would follow her when he discovered she knew the truth about him.

She would flee to Castle Lacey.