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Lady Lacey’s face twisted, as if some great emotion had caught her unawares. “My son. Yes, he is my son, I cannot deny that. But he has destroyed himself, and me, and I can never forgive him for it.”
The outburst was bitter and shocking, and Olivia searched for an answer. She knew there was something, an awful scandal—her father had hinted as much, as had Nic himself. I have done things… But surely his mother, of all people, would be on his side whatever awful crime he might have committed? And Olivia did not for a moment believe it was so awful.
“Lady Lacey, I do not pretend to know what it is that he has done,” she began tentatively. “But I am sure that—”
“You are sure that what, Miss Monteith? That he is very sorry? Please, keep your opinions to yourself. You are ignorant of our circumstances, more ignorant than you know. Now, will you please leave me.”
“Lady Lacey—”
“I am not in the habit of asking for something twice, Miss Monteith.” Her voice was icy. “Leave me. Now.”
For the second time that day, Olivia walked away, her back straight, her fingers clenched on the parasol. Tears stung her eyes but she would not let them fall. Perhaps Lady Lacey was right, perhaps she was ignorant and foolish and knew nothing of Nic. I was bored. His words came back to her. At the time she’d believed he was simply trying to drive her away, but now she wondered if they were true. She had loved Nic all her life, but what if she had been in love with a man who didn’t exist?
Olivia stood alone in the gardens, remembering the past, every treasured memory, from the age of ten until just a few moments ago. There were reasons to doubt, yes, but there were also reasons to believe in her vision of Nic. Olivia, he’d groaned as she held him against her breast, and she’d heard all the longing in his voice, all the need he could not express for fear of hurting her or being hurt.
Whatever the real reason for his abandoning her three years ago, she would discover it, and she was certain it was not due to boredom. Nic, the Nic she knew, wouldn’t do that.
“I am not going to be beaten,” she told herself for the second time. So Nic thought of her as too fragile and innocent to be in his company? He would not soil her with his presence? Olivia smiled to herself, her plans crystallizing in her mind. What better way to convince him otherwise than to go to the demimonde ball? And Estelle would help her.
Gripping his cane in one hand, Nic heaved himself up from his chair. Slowly, painfully, he began to make his way down the long walk, every step exquisite agony. He refused to rest any longer like a cripple. He must get away from Castle Lacey and leave behind the memories of his past.
The demimonde ball was less than two weeks off, and he was damned if he was going to miss it. He needed the hot forgetfulness of being with a stranger, when nothing mattered but losing himself in the pleasure of the moment. No past, just the here and now.
Then why did an image of Olivia’s face pop into his head, as he ordered her to leave? Betrayed, abandoned. And why could he think of nothing but the sweet anguish of her hand stroking his cock?
Irritably, he turned down another avenue, which ran beside the old bailey wall. He remembered his father scaling that wall, turning his head to grin down at him, urging him on. Come on, son, you can do it. You should see the view from the top. This will all be yours when I’m gone, the Lacey estate.
His mother always said that one day his mountaineering father would fall and kill himself, but in the end it wasn’t he who fell, it was Nic. And it was Nic who killed his father.
He stopped and placed his hand against the wall, feeling the warmth of the sun on the aged stones. Hard to believe he’d been happy once, hard to believe it could have been destroyed so completely in a moment of bad decision.
He heard the sound of a step and he turned, just in time to see his mother’s black skirts swirl as she spun around and made her way swiftly back the way she’d come. No words, no glances, nothing. He didn’t exist for her; he hadn’t existed since 1828.
Nic didn’t feel this was his home, not any longer. He could never be happy here with the past suffocating him, and now there was Olivia to confuse matters. It was time, he thought bitterly. Time he left Castle Lacey, and with any luck he wouldn’t be back for a very long while.
Abbot stroked Estelle’s bare back as she snuggled closer to him in the narrow bed. They’d taken advantage of Olivia’s visit to slip away to his room and spend some time together.
“He plans to send her away once and for good,” Abbot explained, as they lay quiet, pondering their situation.
“Can’t you persuade him to see her again?” Estelle murmured at last, her breath soft against his neck.
“He won’t. He thinks he’s being noble, or as noble as it’s in his nature to be.”
“I thought he was a rake. Don’t rakes seduce girls?”
“Lord Lacey may be a rake but he has his self-imposed limits.”
“Scruples! What sort of rake is he if he has scruples?” Her voice trembled. “There must be a way. There has to be a way.”
Abbot tried to move aside to see her face, but she clung closer. “Estelle? What is it? Are you crying?”
“They have to marry, they have to…”
Her tears were hot and damp against his skin, trickling down into the bedclothes.
“My love, tell me what is wrong?”
It took a while but eventually she did tell him. And Abbot, stunned, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
