Page 66 of The Duke of Pain

“Mary O’Toole was not interested in the offer, I take it?” he asked.

James handed her the cup and saucer and took a seat opposite. He served her favorite, orange pekoe. Taking a sip, she glanced at James over the rim. His delicate beauty sent many male and female hearts fluttering, but she had never seen him with either gender.

He had told her once that “my gate swings both ways. In this cold world, it behooves one to take love where you can find it.”

Yet, he had prevaricated when she asked him if he had ever been in love. Now she knew the whole story. If anyone understood about being involved with an aristocrat, it was James.

“No. Mary did not want to leave her girls. But I told her to think it over, and she said she would. And if she changes her mind, to ask for you at my behest.”

James tsked. “Pity, that. She is quite attractive. Could have made a pretty penny here. Perhaps she will think it over. Well, onward.” James sipped his tea. “Dearest, brace yourself. The duke was here not thirty minutes ago.”

Her heart tumbled in her chest. How dare the duke show up after having his thugs toss her in an alley? The damned cheek of the man. So arrogant. But on the other hand, why show up here if he initiated her removal from the townhouse?

“Whatever for?” Olivia sniffed. “I am out of his life as he wished.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes. No. How can I? After what he’s done to me? We’ve barely known each other a few weeks, and even at that, he abandoned me!”

The cup rattled on the saucer, so she placed them back on the tray.

“Perhaps he had reasons,” James ventured, watching her closely.

She folded her arms and huffed. “Why would I love such an unfeeling man?”

James set his cup on the table. “Come now, Olivia. You are spouting nonsense. Shall I tell you how I know? I will admit the man is a fine specimen. But what drew my attention from our first meeting was the emptiness visible in his alluring dark eyes. I observed heart-wrenching loneliness. Remember? I told you this.”

James paused. “The man who confronted me at the door was the farthest thing from that cold, indifferent man. His eyes were alive and animated. Full of concern and worry. And love.” James smiled. “And anger. It seems he has quite a temper.”

Confusion rolled through her. “But those men said—”

“When he returns in the morning, see him and have it out. Trust your feelings. Trust him. I must say he created quite a scene. Watford was very loud, profane, and insistent. He threatened to return tomorrow morning with a battering ram if needs must. I have to say, it was all rather medieval and arousing.”

Olivia snickered. James could always make her laugh in the direst of circumstances.

“I told the duke you were running an errand and not to be disturbed,” James continued. “I also assured him that you would see him tomorrow. I know that was presumptive on my part. I am sorry. I mentioned nothing of your abduction. He appeared truly puzzled as to why you left. Talk to him, Olivia, and judge for yourself. If you do not have it out with him, you will regret it for the rest of your days. Believe me. I know.”

She sobered. What could she say? Her pride throbbed with the pain of rejection. Yet, if he had her forcibly removed from his premises, why show up here and create a scene? Why tell James he knew nothing concerning her departure?

Grudgingly, Olivia agreed.

If the haughty duke did not offer a suitable explanation, she would have him forcibly removed.

* * *

Gideon had no sleep. His emotions whirled about him furiously all night. Never in his life had he lost control as he did at The Velvet yesterday afternoon. The only thing keeping him from breaking the door down was the crowd gathering on the sidewalk as he bellowed and swore at Pan and his hired bullyboys.

He pulled on his leather gloves. Well, as strong as he claimed to be, he doubted he could have made a dent in the thick, oak door at any rate. Which elucidated his threats of bringing a battering ram.

The note he received last evening claiming that Olivia would give him a brief audience was the only reason the weapon was not strapped to the roof of the carriage.

Gideon exhaled, trying to calm his raging temper. He had no idea what to expect. His plan consisted of convincing Olivia to pack her belongings and come back with him to the townhouse—permanently.

The task may be daunting, and he had to remain in control.

Giving instructions for the coachman to wait, he knocked on the door.

Once allowed to enter, Gideon was shown into a room similar to his own study. Walls were lined with a multitude of bookshelves. He wandered over to glance at a few of the titles. Books of science, philosophy and fiction of all sorts crammed the shelves. It must be this Sidle’s private area.