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Chapter 1
Seven summers later…
Jarvisstoodinthefamiliar drawing room, staring at the dearest pair of amber eyes but disbelieving what he had just heard.
“I do not want to remain a spinster,” Olivia continued, innocently looking at him. “And you are the only gentleman I am comfortable asking this.”
His eyes widened as his heart constricted in pain. His breathing seemed to cease, his mind going blank for one long moment.
It wasn’t that what Olive asked of him was inappropriate. Or even scandalous. It was uncalled for a young lady to be so brazen in her pursuit of a gentleman. But even if they weren’t as close as they once had been, there was nothing she could ask of him that would even give him pause.
Except, perhaps, for this.
She stood in front of him in her simple white gown with green overskirts that accentuated her round amber eyes; her chestnut brown hair was in an intricate coiffure, her hands clasped together in front of her. She chewed on her bottom lip and picked at her fingertips, which betrayed her nervousness, awaiting his reaction to what she probably considered to be an innocent favor.
Well, it wasn’t innocent. At least, not for him.
As much as he tried to keep away from her, he was still utterly and completely in love with her.
In hindsight, he should have known that this moment would come. He’d anticipated her fancying another gentleman, eventually. He’d known that someday she would be betrothed and then married. But as time went by, he got used to the idea of Olivia always being alone. And as hypocritical as it’d been, he was comfortable with the reality of Olivia becoming a spinster and sparing him unnecessary heartache.
Until today.
He blinked, coming back to the present. She stood in front of him, looking at him pleadingly, earnestly, holding his gaze, completely oblivious that with her innocent question, she’s just ruthlessly crushed his heart. He chided himself for not claiming her as his seven years ago. If he had, he would not be in the predicament he was in now.
“Will you help me?” she repeated her plea.
His throat went dry, so he had to clear it before speaking. He answered then, with the only response she ever got from him, “Always.”
Her expression cleared. She clapped her hands together in glee before hugging him fiercely for one moment and twirling the next.
She was so happy. Damn him. He knew he would curse this moment in the future, too. The moment he agreed to help her ensnare another man.
Olivia twirled happily about the room. “Oh, thank you, thank you, dear Jarvis!” She plopped on the settee and tapped her palm against the seat next to her. “Will you sit?”
“Now?” His voice was oddly hoarse.
“Unless you have some other matter you need to see to?” She frowned at him.
He’d just gotten in. Surely, he wasn’t leaving already?
Jarvis scratched his jaw and shook his head. “Um, no.”
He sauntered over to where she was seated, but instead of taking the seat she’d indicated, sat across from her on a chaise. Olivia beamed at him, happy that he would be helping her with this endeavor.
She’d been so nervous about her inquiry. She’d been almost certain he would not agree to her ploy, but there was no one else she could have asked for help.
Jarvis had always been her dearest friend. Someone she looked up to. She knew she could trust him with anything. True, he had removed himself from her ever since her come-out, but he was still the only person who really knew her.
And who better to help her catch the attention of a gentleman than another gentleman?
Olivia had never been interested in men in a way that made her heart flutter. Not until Bradshaw, that was. She’d met Alan Boyle, the Earl of Bradshaw, for the first time many years ago, shortly after her debut. She didn’t pay any attention to him then, and she’d barely thought of him since. But as time went by, she heard more and more stories about his virtues and started paying attention to his graceful movement, to his fluid speech.
Bradshaw was tall, broad-shouldered, and extremely handsome. He was serious and stern. He was what many ladies in society called a real man. And since Olivia spent most of her life imitating other ladies, she listened to what they said and took note.
Olivia didn’t know the definition of a ‘real man,’ but she imagined whatever the definition was, it looked a lot like Bradshaw. Tall, harsh, and dangerously appealing. He always wore his powdered wig, and his skin was ghost white.
In contrast, there was nothing remotely dangerous about her friend Jarvis. He was only a few inches taller than Olivia. When he was standing, if she rose on her tiptoes, she could look him squarely in the eyes. He was slim and lean, his shoulders quite proportional to the rest of his body. He had dark, almost black hair that he often collected in a ponytail, no wig to speak of, and dear ocean blue eyes. Sometimes she thought she knew those eyes better than her own.
