Lady Olivia And The Infamous Rake. Janice Preston
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Olivia wrenched her horrified thoughts from that dreadful game of piquet. ‘No. But I’m in such trouble. Oh, what am I to do, Nell?’
‘Shhh.’
Nell dragged Olivia into her bedchamber and thrust her towards the bed, where the rumpled sheets were—Olivia discovered as she slumped to the mattress—still warm. Nell lit a candle on her bedside table and then sat next to Olivia, her arm around her, as Hector padded across to flop down on the fireside rug.
‘What is it, Livvy? What happened?’
Olivia tugged at the ties of her domino and let it slide from her shoulders as her hands went to her neck, exploring the bare skin in the vain hope that the entire episode had been a dream—or a nightmare—and, somehow, miraculously, her mother’s necklace would reappear. Tears stung her eyes again.
‘Oh, I am a wicked, wicked girl.’
‘Livvy! You are frightening me. What has happened?’
Nell shifted away from Olivia and, grabbing her by the shoulders, she shook her.
‘Please. Tell me, Livvy. It cannot be so very bad, but I cannot help if you do not tell me.’
Olivia sunk her head into her hands, her thoughts muddled and sluggish as she tried to remember it all. Slowly, disjointedly, she told Nell about her wager with Alex, their trip to Vauxhall and that disastrous card game with Lord Clevedon.
‘Lord Clevedon? I am shocked. I thought he was a gentleman.’
‘He is. But he did not know it was me. He thought I was a floozy. He probably thought I only got what I deserved...but...oh, Nell! I could have asked Lord Hugo for help... I am certain he would have helped me. But I forgot all about it because I was so certain he would try to kiss me in the hackney and when he did not—’ Olivia sniffed and rubbed her eyes. ‘He is as bad as Dominic and Alex. He thinks I am a s-s-silly child and not even p-p-pretty enough to steal a kiss. I was at his mercy, and he...he...’
He was kind.
He listened.
And I...oh, no...
‘I told him all about Alex and Foxbourne and everything. Why did I tell him? I did not mean to, it just all poured out.’
‘But... Livvy...who is Lord Hugo? How is he involved?’
‘Lord Hugo Alastair.’
Nell gasped. ‘Livvy! Do not tell me you were alone with him in a hackney.’
‘Yes,’ said Olivia, miserably. ‘And he did not even try to kiss me.’
‘But where did you meet him? Where was Alex? Surely Alex did not allow you to go off alone with a rake like Lord Hugo?’
‘Alex was not there. He went off with that strumpet Lady Shelton,’ Olivia said, tartly. ‘He left me with Lord Clevedon and Lord Hugo. But then, after I lost Mama’s necklace, I went to look for Alex and Lord Hugo rescued me and he brought me home.’
‘Well, it is Alex’s fault. Let him retrieve the necklace.’
‘I cannot. He already scolded me for wearing it. And he’s like to go off and challenge Lord Clevedon to a duel or something. You know how hot-headed he is.’
‘We shall confide in Freddie, then. He will know what to do,’ Nell said.
‘Freddie already knows, but he does not know about the necklace and I cannot tell him, because then he will feel he has to tell Papa and then he will cast Alex out and it will all be my fault. Oh, Nell. What am I to do? Papa will be home in a few days and he is bound to see it is missing.’
‘Well...’ Nell frowned, clearly thinking. ‘Well. I suggest we sleep on it. I am sure we’ll think of something in the morning.’
* * *
Progress was slow when Hugo and Freddie arrived back at Vauxhall Gardens. Hugo matched his pace to that of his companion as they turned down yet another path, searching the faces of the numerous young men in the dimly lit thoroughfare, seeking Alex. Hugo curbed his impatience—Freddie could not help being slow, and Hugo was keen to help him find Alex. Everything he had learned tonight about the Duke’s son had reminded him of his younger, wilder self.
And then there was this weird, completely out-of-character compulsion to help Olivia—he made it a rule in life not to burden himself with unnecessary responsibilities—but there was something about her spirit that drew him to her. And the odd glimpse of bewildered child beneath the bold front she exhibited to the world roused his normally well-concealed protective instincts. The decision was made. If he could help the two of them, he would do so.
Hugo scanned the couples they passed, but there was still no sign of young Beauchamp. Freddie was noticeably struggling to cope with the crowds and the distance they needed to walk.
‘I have an idea.’ Hugo halted as they entered the main area near to the rotunda. ‘We could walk around for hours and keep missing Alex. Why do you not wait here...’ he indicated a nearby bench ‘...and I will search the pathways. That way, you will see him if he should happen to pass.’
‘And it will take much less time,’ Freddie said, with a rueful smile.
Sweat beaded his upper lip and he took out a handkerchief to dry it. Out of nowhere, three youths sped past, knocking him back. They snatched the handkerchief from his hand. Hugo grabbed Freddie to prevent him falling and, as soon as he was steady on his feet, he spun around, ready to chase the thieves.
Freddie held him back. ‘Leave it. They have gone.’
Sure enough, they had melted into the crowd.
‘Are you hurt?’
Freddie shrugged. ‘Only my pride, but I am accustomed—Hoi! Alex!’ He had straightened, craning his neck to see over the crowd. ‘I saw him, Alastair. Over there.’
Hugo dashed in the direction he pointed and, sure enough, there ahead of him was Lord Alexander Beauchamp and Neville Wolfe.
‘Beauchamp,’ he roared.
Alex swung around, searching the faces near to him. As he neared, Hugo could read the desperation in his eyes, the tightness in the set of his lips.
Alex grabbed Hugo’s arm. ‘Do you know where she is? You were with her. Neville here saw you both, but he lost you in the crowd. Where did she go, Alastair? What have you done to—?’
‘Hold hard there, Beauchamp.’ Hugo wrenched his arm from Alex’s grip. ‘Do not throw any accusations at me that you are not prepared to back up.’
He held the younger man’s gaze. Saw the leap of muscle as Alex clenched his jaw. Then Alex’s amber eyes widened and his jaw went slack. ‘Freddie? You here? Where’s Livvy?’
Neville Wolfe nudged Alex. ‘Not Livvy! Beatrice!’
Oh, God, they can’t even get their stories straight. Was I ever as wild and stupid as this pair of buffoons?
‘Lady Olivia is safe at home, no thanks to you pair of numbskulls. What the devil were you thinking, bringing your sister here and then abandoning her like that?’
Hot colour swept Alex’s face, but he scowled nevertheless.
‘There’s no harm done,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t want to bring her...you don’t know what she’s like...kept going on about debts of honour and the word of a gentleman. I didn’t think there’d be any harm in it. She was supposed to stay put. She’s safe at home now, you say?’
‘Yes, thanks to Lord Hugo here,’ Freddie said.
Suspicion clouded Alex’s face. ‘You were alone with her? In a carriage?’
‘You