Page 21 of Never Dare to Masquerade with a Maiden

He glanced down at where she held onto his sleeve out of habit. “I thought you were annoyed at me.”

“You know I can never stay angry at you.” It was the truth. Ian was the only one who always managed to make her forget any misgivings. “How is it you became a member of the Camden staff?”

“I had wondered how long it would take for you to ask.”

Ian was trying to bait her into one of their long-standing arguments over her incessant curiosity and how it ultimately led to no good. Olivia clenched her jaw and matched Ian step for step. Five steps later, and she was certain her teeth were about to crack, but she refused to give in. After another five steps, she let out a sigh. Ian was like a steel vault when it came to secrets. She tugged on his sleeve. “Well, if you are not going to answer, then at least tell me how much farther before we reach Warren’s townhome.”

“We are coming up to Lord Guernsey's residence now.”

Ian scanned the streets that were still illuminated by the gas lamps. It was eerily quiet, like the calm before a storm, or rather, it was hours before that the ton would finally retire to their beds.

Ian removed her hand from his sleeve and turned her by the shoulders to face the steps leading up to the entrance.

“We can’t enter via the front!”

“I agree, we cannot, but you can.” He gave her a push, and she stumbled forward.

As she regained her footing, Olivia looked back to glare at her so-called friend, but Ian had vanished. Where… no, how had Ian disappeared into thin air? Hands balled, she rubbed her eyes as she whirled around and looked both left and right. Had she imagined it all? Olivia was aware she had inherited the horrid habit of sleepwalking, but certainly her conversation with Lord Camden and then her walk with Ian couldn’t have all been a dream. Could it?

* * *

Olivia slowly turned back around and faced the front door. She was here now, regardless of how it all came about. She was no longer a child who shied away from touching others or being touched. As a grown woman, she was finally able to banish her mother’s lies that her bastard touch would harm or dirty others. It was time for her to share her decision with Warren. They could become re-acquainted and mayhap even become friends but nothing more, even if her heart beat only for him.

Deception. The word continued to repeat in his head. Warren was no fool. Intricate schemes, white lies, and deception were vices women employed to gain an advantage, yet Olivia had insisted on the opposite. Was she truly an angel? He continued to pace the length of his chamber, from door to window.

Over the years, he had pieced together a vague image of his savior from the brief glimpses his memory provided. However, Olivia was far more stunning than he’d imagined. The glimmer of fire that burned in her eyes, the tilt of her unyielding chin that tested his self-control, and her plump lips tempted him like no other. Driven to find his angel had been maddening, yet after having met Olivia, he knew he would endure everything over again — the sleepless nights, the constant fear of missed chances, and the gnawing feeling of being left alone. Hands clasped behind his back, he retraced his path once more.

For ten long years, he had vowed to track down the girl who had saved him and repay her good deed. When he had spied her at the Velvet Hell, he had set his mind on marrying the woman. Who in their right mind married a stranger? Thank goodness Olivia was sensible. Why then had his heart and mind been at war since his meeting with her?

Slow sleep-waking footsteps in the hall had him marching to the door. He wasn’t ready for the day to begin, and if his mama’s slumber was disturbed, she’d begin her insistent chatter about how he was to woo Olivia.

Warren peeked his head out and barked, “Who is there?”

“It’s me, my lord,” his aging butler yelled. The old man’s hearing was deteriorating, but with no family and no home to retire to, Warren kept him on. Shoulders stooped, the butler announced, “You have a visitor. I’ve asked the young… lady to wait for you in the front room, my lord.”

“And what is the lady’s name?” Warren asked and then sighed as the butler’s white brows knitted. “Never mind. You may retire.”

With a nod, his old butler turned and trudged down the hall, and Warren followed, ensuring the man headed back toward the servants’ quarters. As soon as his faithful servant was out of sight, he turned back to take the stairs to the ground floor. Half-fearing and half-hoping his visitor were Olivia, Warren quickened his pace until his hand rested on the drawing room door’s handle. As he pushed it open, a small figure jumped to her feet and spun around.

“Lord Guernsey,” Olivia said in a sweet, even tone.

“I thought we agreed to drop formalities when it is the two of us.” The candlelight from the wall sconce flickered over her features that he wished to see more clearly. The nervous energy swelling within propelled him over to the hearth to start a fire. When the logs were ablaze, Warren stood, walked over to the window, and pulled back the curtain to peer out onto the street. There was no waiting coach nor a hack. “Pray tell me you didn’t venture out alone.”

"Of course not. I had an escort.”

He let the curtain fall back into place. “Where is he now?” He turned away from the window to turn and look at the woman he was determined to marry.

“Well…” Olivia crossed her arms and drummed the fingers of her right hand against her shoulder. “That, my lord, is a very good question. However, I have no idea where Ian disappeared to.”

Ian? The footman! Jealousy rolled through him at her continued use of formalities with him while addressing another man by his given name. Fists balled at his sides, he asked, “How are you related to the footman?”

Her arms unraveled, and her hands landed on her hips. “You really do not recall the events from a decade ago?”

“I only have fragments of memories and the lies I’ve been fed.” He raked a hand through his hair. Who was this blasted Ian? The man’s name was common enough, and while the footman appeared to be of a similar age, Warren had no recollection of having met him before. He left his post by the window and slowly closed the gap between him and Olivia.

She rolled back onto her heels and stumbled, falling backward to sit upon the settee she’d occupied earlier. Was she afraid of him? He stopped and waited for her answer.

Olivia smoothed out her skirts and then primly clasped her hands in her lap. “I’ve not summoned you from your bed to rehash our past; however, I wished to revisit your question from earlier today.”