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Chapter 20
Vivianna should not have been surprised by the savage note in his voice. But she was. He was a stranger to her, this man. No longer Oliver the rake, the gentleman in need of redemption.
Not this new man. He didn’t need saving. He was Oliver the avenger, and he was cold and focused and very self-contained. He no more needed Vivianna’s help than did Lawson.
Vivianna knew it was stupid, ridiculous, but she preferred the rake. She wanted the man who had kissed her and made her come alive in his arms, the man who had made love to her in the most inappropriate places. She had always known he was completely unsuitable, that she could never ever marry him, and yet his charm, mixed with a touch of vulnerability, had appealed to her. She had fallen in love with him.
She missed him.
Vivianna swallowed her own grief, and found that Oliver was watching her again. But now there was no lurking smile in his eyes, no teasing light to make her heart pitter-patter. He was withdrawn, suspicious. He would use her if he could for his own ends and then discard her, just as he had after the night at the Anchor. Oh yes, this man was indeed a stranger.
And that was how she must treat him.
“You may have heard that I have been named heir to Angus Fraser’s fortune.”
Oliver frowned at her cool, polite tone.
“I won’t go into details,” Vivianna went on, as if this were an ordinary conversation in the most ordinary of circumstances. “Suffice it to say that I will soon have more than enough money to make you an offer for Candlewood. I assume you will not need to demolish it now?”
Oliver felt disoriented. Did she know what she was saying? And disappointed. She had given him the letters, placed herself in danger, and now he learned it had all been for the blasted house after all. Candlewood. Everything she did was for Candlewood.
Nothing had changed.
He turned away, so she wouldn’t see how much the realization had affected him. He might be a fool, but he didn’t want her to know it.
“My aunt called to tell me about your father,” he said, as if it mattered to him not at all. “Should I congratulate you? He is very wealthy, isn’t he? More money for your orphans.”
“He is very wealthy, and there will be more money for my orphans. More money for houses and hospitals, too. I will be quite unstoppable now.”
He laughed, but there was that note of bitterness in it.
“I expect Lady Marsh forbade you to see me again,” she went on, and seated herself upon the lion’s back.
Oliver eyed her uneasily. This was becoming more bizarre by the moment. “Actually,” he said, “my aunt is not easily shocked.”
“Does she know that my mother is Aphrodite?” Vivianna asked woodenly. “She and Fraser were lovers and she had his child. I was taken away from her when I was six, and Lady Greentree found me.”
Aphrodite!
He opened his mouth, closed it again. He had a feeling she was watching him very closely and anything he said may be misconstrued. It was wiser, he felt, to say nothing.
Her eyes blurred with tears.
Oliver cursed silently. Maybe there was something he could say after all. “Vivianna, let me help you. The Montegomeries are an old and distinguished family. I can help you weather this storm. Surely it would be better than running back to Yorkshire and hiding on the moors? I’m sure Lady Marsh would be more than happy to champion your cause, and I…”
But already Vivianna’s face had grown cold and distant, and her eyes hard. “I’m sure the blue-blooded Montegomery family would welcome the child of a courtesan and a brewery owner. I am not a fool, Oliver, although you continually seem to think me one.”
“I never thought that,” he insisted earnestly. “Far from it. I admire you, Vivianna. You are the woman of my dreams. Let me help you, I want to.”
The woman of his dreams? Vivianna stared. He seemed to be sincere. Was it possible he was telling her the truth? Had it all been a ploy to keep her safe from Lawson? Had he agreed to the night at the Anchor because he wanted her as much as she wanted him?
It would explain so much.
And yet, Vivianna did not dare trust him.
“Do you know,” she burst out, “I much preferred you when you were a rake! Everything was so much simpler then. Now, will you just answer my question?”
“Question?” He felt utterly baffled. She preferred him when he was a rake? What in God’s name did she mean by that? After she had lectured and harassed him for his lack of compassion, now she wanted that man back again? Or…Oliver frowned. Was it his physical attentions she was missing?
