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“Is that clear, Olivia?”
It was useless to argue. They would not listen and they would not see. They had made up their minds that Nic was the villain and the only way to save her was to hand her over to the hero, in this case Theodore Garsed.
“Yes,” Olivia said dully, “it is very clear, Father.”
Her father was pleased with her, now that she’d given up the fight to be independent. He drew her into a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head. “You have been ill, my dear. That has made you a little testy, perhaps. When you are better you will realize I am right. We know what is best for you, and you must follow our advice, not Sarah’s. Theodore Garsed is a good man. Your mother is very keen on him.”
Then she should marry him, Olivia thought mutinously. She was glad when they decided she’d had enough excitement for one day, and left her to rest on the chaise longue.
Alone and beaten into submission.
Or so they thought.
But Olivia had no intention of giving up. She’d sworn to the other members of the Husband Hunters Club that Nic Lacey was her chosen husband, and nothing had changed. In fact, after today, when he’d told her he wanted to save her from Theodore Garsed, she was more certain than ever that Nic was the man, the only man, for her.
And she was more determined than ever to have him.
The church bell was ringing as Theodore took the path by the village pond and into the woods that bordered Nic Lacey’s land. Ahead of him, Nic was riding slowly, evidently deep in thought. Theodore was not sure yet what he was going to say to the other man, but he knew he must say something.
He was still reeling from the realization that His Lordship was a rival for Olivia’s affections. The way Lacey had ogled her! How had this happened, and right under Theodore’s nose? Well, he had to put a stop to it. Lacey’s reputation was of the worst, and if Theodore was officially engaged to her, he’d have ordered Lacey from the house. As it was he’d been insulted and routed, and forced to leave Olivia alone with that rake.
Theodore ducked under an overhanging branch just in time. After he’d rearranged his hat, he peered ahead through the shadowy woods and saw that Lacey was still there. Mrs. Monteith had been in a terrible state, but he’d sworn to her she could rely on him to do everything in his power to save her daughter.
“I know how you feel about a duel, my dear madam, but believe me, if necessary I will face Lacey at dawn and finish him once and for all.”
Brave words, and he was certain he’d impressed Mrs. Monteith with his fervor, but in reality he knew he was at a disadvantage. There were rumors that Nic Lacey had shot a man in scandalous circumstances in Paris, and there had been other encounters in the time since. Theodore wasn’t much of a shot, and he wasn’t very courageous, either. He couldn’t really see himself turning up at dawn and taking turns to try and put a bullet in his opponent. Such barbaric behavior was repellent to a gentle soul like Theodore—he was a poet at heart, not a soldier. Now, if it was his brother, Alphonse, standing against Lacey, things would be very different!
Ahead of him there was a cry. He looked up and saw Nic Lacey’s horse rearing up on its hind legs. Something, a bird perhaps, had startled it. Lacey, taken by surprise, clung on briefly, but the next moment he was thrown and landed heavily on the ground.
Theodore didn’t move, staring at the scene before him, certain that in another moment Lacey would get up. But as the seconds ticked by, Lacey remained unmoving, while his horse wandered a few paces away and began to crop the grass.
I should go and see if he’s badly hurt, Theodore thought. I should go for help.
But like Nic Lacey, Theodore didn’t move.
His mind was racing.
If Nic Lacey was seriously injured, if he was—God forbid!—dead, it would be a tragedy, of course it would be, and yet there was another side to the coin. With Lacey out of the way, Theodore’s difficulties would be over. Olivia would be safe and everything would go back to being comfortable, and Theodore need do nothing courageous at all.
No duels, no messy arguments, no fisticuffs.
But could he really be such a coward? No, he told himself firmly, not a coward. He was simply using his reasoning and his intelligence to extract himself and Olivia from a potentially tricky situation. If Lacey had an accident on his way home, it had nothing to do with Theodore. If he hadn’t just happened to be here, completely by coincidence, he would never have known.
Decision made, he turned his mount around and rode back the way he’d come, leaving Nic Lacey alone to his fate.
Chapter 7
Olivia was glad to be alone. After yesterday’s excitement she had been exhausted and eager to go to bed, but this morning she was almost herself again. Her mother had agreed she could sit in the garden, as long as she wore her warmest shawl and tucked a rug about her feet. It was better than nothing.
She reached into her sleeve and took out the note Nic had sent with his flowers. Olivia had read it several times already, but it didn’t hurt to read it again. Not that it was in any way improper—he wished her a speedy recovery—she simply liked to see his heavy scrawl and the way he signed his name: “Lacey.”
She closed her eyes and sighed, remembering his kisses. How could she ever make do with good-enough when she’d tasted paradise? If he thought he was going to be noble and she was going to give up, then he was making a grave mistake. There was an overflowing well of passion inside her, and she refused to dam it shut or let it dry up. She wanted to live her life to the full, and he was the man to help her do it.
“Miss Monteith?”
Olivia opened her eyes, blinking against the sunlight. Estelle was standing in front of her, hands twisting in her apron, looking worried.
“What is it, Estelle? My mother—”
