Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

" W ho is there?"

Haughty and used to being obeyed, the tone was instantly recognizable. It was like a repeat of their first meeting, in the castle garden by the Pan fountain. Olivia tried to breathe calmly, wondering if it was possible for her to turn and run. If she reached the stairs she could reach the safety of the trees. But Nic and the gamekeeper were over there, she reminded herself. What if Wilson recognized her? What if he thought she was a poacher and shot her?

But she had dillydallied too long and it was already too late. Lady Lacey moved from the shadows and stopped directly behind her, trapping her against the wall of the pool and preventing her from going anywhere.

"You are trespassing. Who are you? Turn and face me, I say, or are you a coward?"

Olivia was no coward, and she turned, keeping her face deep in her hood. She was surprised to see that Lady Lacey was holding a thin cigar in her fingers, the pungent smoke mingling with the strong perfume of nightscented stocks. She knew that there were women who had taken up the masculine habit of smoking, but Lady Lacey seemed like the very last person she could imagine joining their ranks.

"II'm sorry to have startled you, my lady," she said, in a low, husky voice, disguising her usual calm tones as best she could. "I didn't realize you were still awake."

Suspicious, Lady Lacey peered at her, but Olivia only lowered her face further into the folds of her hood. Just then the voices of Nic and his gamekeeper drifted toward them from the woods, rising and falling over the distance. Lady Lacey looked in their direction with a frown.

"What on earth is going on? Who is out there? I am going to call my servants—"

She turned away, taking a step toward the house, but Olivia reached out and caught her wrist, holding it tight. It was the hand holding the cigar and it dropped from her shocked fingers.

"No, you must not, Lady Lacey."

Lady Lacey stared at her in amazement, as if no one had ever dared to tell her no before. "How dare you! Release me at once. I will not—"

The glow of the lantern shone out, then faded into the trees, and a moment later Olivia could hear someone coming quickly up the stone steps. She recognized Nic's tall figure as he reached the terrace, and was silhouetted against the night sky. He saw them at the same time and slowed, taking in the situation, before he approached them .

"That is my son," Lady Lacey said, her voice heavy, as if the weight of the words was actually causing her pain. Her gaze slid back to Olivia, sharpening. "You must be one of Dominic's unmentionables."

That was when Olivia made her decision to run for it. As if she'd read her mind, Lady Lacey's bony wrist twisted in her hand, and the woman's fingers fastened painfully about hers, holding her prisoner.

Nic's tall figure stopped in front of them, and Olivia could feel the agonizing tension between mother and son. She didn't understand it.

"I hope for your sake my son paid you well," Lady Lacey said with a dry bitterness, speaking to Olivia but looking at Nic. "He prefers to pay. You see, that way he doesn't feel he needs to engage himself, emotionally. My son doesn't feel, he doesn't care. He's selfish and immune to the suffering he causes those around him. Heed my words, girl, or you'll end up as one of his victims."

The words must have stung, although Nic said nothing. But Olivia wasn't going to be silent—if he would not stand up for himself then she would do it for him.

"You're very wrong."

"Oh, am I!" Lady Lacey spoke angrily. "Well, then, speak up, girl. Tell me why I am wrong about my own son."

"Olivia," Nic murmured, "don't."

"It's not true," Olivia said boldly. "Nic isn't like that. You may be his mother but you don't know him at all."

Lady Lacey peered more closely at the dark formless shape of Olivia in her cloak, with her face hidden inside the shadows of the hood. In response Olivia tried to make herself smaller.

"Who are you? Answer me, girl! I will not be ignored."

For a brief moment Olivia considered playing at being one of the women she'd met at the demimonde ball, but it seemed a poor trick to play on Nic's mother, no matter how wrong she was about her son.

"I am no one important. A friend. Someone who has known Lord Lacey all her life and who trusts him. I know he would never hurt me."

Nic groaned softly in despair.

Lady Lacey was silent. Olivia had expected her to be furious. No one liked to be told she was wrong, and Her Ladyship seemed like the sort of woman who was used to being deferred to rather than challenged. But when Olivia dared to lift her head and glance up at the other woman, she saw that Lady Lacey wasn't angry after all, but pensive and sad. Lady Lacey's haughty face was old and wan and tired, and for the first time Olivia found herself pitying her.

"My son lives his own life. He does what he does, and although I don't approve of it, I don't try to stop him. I decided a long time ago that my son must go to hell in his own way."

"Very wise of you, Mother," Nic said dryly. " Never allow yourself to have unrealistic expectations about me, then you can never again feel disappointed."

There was a silence. Olivia tried to pull away from Lady Lacey's grip, but the older woman only tightened it further. It was a mistake because it drew her attention back. "Who are you, girl?" she demanded yet again. "I know your voice."

"I told you, my lady. I am no one."

"Then take off your hood and show me what ‘no one' looks like."

Olivia looked at Nic, caught in a trap. They really had no choice, and he gave a nod, looking resigned. She reached up and slowly slid back her hood, letting it fall about her shoulders. Her hair was pale gold in the moonlight, and as Lady Lacey stood, peering into Olivia's face, there was no doubting the appalled recognition gathering in her eyes.

"Miss Monteith!" She gaped. "It is Miss Monteith from the village, isn't it? Oh dear Lord, another one."

"Lady Lacey, please, I must go," Olivia said breathlessly, her fingers beginning to ache. "I really must go. Please."

But Lady Lacey had no intention of letting her go. She was so distraught she didn't even appear to realize she was still holding her. "Miss Monteith, have you no care for your reputation? Are you so lacking in good sense that you would risk everything? I can hardly believe what I am seeing."

"Lady Lacey— "

"How could you?" She was glaring at Nic. Her voice dropped, and there was a tremor in it, as if she could no longer contain her emotions. "Have you forgotten what you did last time?

Have you forgotten your promise? Despite myself I believed you when you said you would never harm an innocent girl again. I believed Abbot when he said you only indulged yourself with trollops and trulls. And yet here . . . here is Miss Monteith, as large as life . . ." She put a hand to her chest, as if she was finding it difficult to breathe.

"Mother." Nic moved as if to touch her, but she stumbled back, away from his hand.

"I cannot let this pass," she whispered. "This time I cannot look the other way. There will be a price to pay, Dominic."

And with that she turned and half ran across the terrace toward the house, her skirts rustling furiously. A door slammed, and afterward the silence seemed twice as loud.

Olivia was shaking. She wrapped her arms about herself, tucking her hands inside the cloak. "What will she do?"

Nic's face was bleak. "I don't know."

"Should I speak to her?" Olivia offered. "Perhaps I can make her understand."

"I doubt that." He put his hand on her waist, urging her toward the terrace steps. "Come. The coach is waiting. When you are home, tell your family you had a fine time at your friend's birthday. Say nothing of this, Olivia. "

"Of course not."

"I'll try and smooth things over. When my mother understands that your reputation is safe, she will agree to leave the matter lie."

Olivia doubted it. Lady Lacey had been so fired up with selfrighteous anger, Olivia wondered if anyone could stop her from carrying out her threat.

"What did she mean, Nic? About last time? About the other one? And what promise did you make?" Olivia hurried after him as Nic increased his long strides.

He didn't answer her.

"Nic," Olivia murmured, "do you really think everything will be all right?"

But if he heard her, again Nic didn't answer.

Abbot was beside himself by the time Olivia and Nic finally arrived at the coach. It was pulled up by the side of the road, half hidden among some elm trees. He didn't give them a chance to explain or say goodbye, before bundling Olivia inside and banging his hand on the door as a signal to the driver to move. Then he and Nic stood and watched as the heavy vehicle trundled away toward the village.

"No one will know," Abbot said, eyeing his master, who seemed very quiet. "The girl's reputation is safe."

Nic gave a strange breathless laugh. "Oh, do you think so, Abbot?"

"Yes, of course. Why not?" he asked curiously. "Have I forgotten something? "

Briefly, unemotionally, Nic told him what had happened.

After he was finished, Abbot stared at him for several long, horrified seconds. "But what will Lady Lacey do?" he said at last, trying to take an optimistic view of what was a catastrophic turn of events. "What can she do?"

"Don't be deceived, Abbot. My mother may be old, she may be a recluse, but she has a great deal of power. The Laceys once owned this village and everyone knows it. She can do me, and Miss Monteith, a great deal of damage."

"Would she be so vindictive, my lord?"

Nic turned to look at him, his eyes full of pain. "I think she would. I didn't realize just how much she hated me until tonight. Stupid of me, perhaps, but I thought that, one day, she might forgive me. Now I know she never will."

Abbot wanted to reassure him, but for once he could find no words to say. He felt drained and exhausted. Even when Nic began to walk back to the castle, and Abbot knew he should follow like the good servant he was—the good friend—he didn't.

For years he'd protected Nic, tidied up after him, smoothed over his problems. Well, he was sick of it. Nic was old enough to look after himself. It was time he and his mother actually spoke to each other, facetoface, instead of exchanging notes through him. Perhaps if they'd spoken to each other before, this situation would never have occurred .

Abbot began to walk in the direction of Bassingthorpe. He didn't see the shadow against the window of the cottage on the opposite side of the road—he was too deep in his own thoughts. And even if he had, he would have thought nothing of it. Mrs. Brown lived in the cottage and she was almost blind, and her maid, Jenny, came in only during the day, returning to her home and family at night.

As far as Abbot was concerned they could not have been seen, and besides, he had other things on his mind.

Estelle opened her eyes, sitting up in her warm bed, and wondering what had woken her. And then she heard the sounds outside—a vehicle and horses. Voices. She knew one of them belonged to Miss Olivia. She had come home safe and sound from her risqué adventure. Estelle was glad about that—she was fond of Miss Olivia—and hopefully she had won Nic Lacey over, or at least forced him into making her a proposal of marriage. Estelle smiled to herself, imagining Abbot's face when she told him they could finally live together as man and wife.

Her smile faded as she contemplated what he would say to her when he knew she'd been behind Olivia's attendance at such a scandalous gathering as the demimonde ball. Abbot was far too straitlaced, but conversely that was one of the traits about him she loved the most. She accepted that it was up to her to take the risks and dodge around the obstacles, so that they could get the conclusion they both wanted. Surely the end justified the means? Well, it did in her book, anyway.

"Estelle!"

The hissing whisper had her out of her bed and reaching for the latch on her window. When she leaned out and looked down she saw Abbot standing below, his face a pale blur as he gazed up at her. Never before had he visited her like this, in the middle of the night. For one brief, excited moment she thought he must be so full of love for her that he couldn't keep away, and then common sense reasserted itself.

If Abbot was there, then there was a practical reason.

"Wait there," she called out softly, and hurried to the door, slipping on her robe and shoes as she peered out into the narrow corridor. No one else was about, and she was soon creeping down the back stairs. When she opened the tradesmen's door, Abbot was waiting right outside.

He put his arms around her, drawing her against his body, and held on tight.

Surprised, but pleased all the same, she hugged him back. But this was so unlike him that she couldn't help but worry that something was wrong.

"What is it?" she murmured, pressing her lips to his chin, which was the only part of his face she could reach. "Abbot, what's happened?"

"I need you," he groaned, with such longing in his voice that tears stung her eyes .

"Something's happened," she declared sharply, drawing away so that she could see his face in the moonlight. "Abbot, you must tell me what's happened or I'll go mad."

His mouth was a grim line, and the heavy crease between his brows looked as deep as a valley. "Lord Lacey has ruined Miss Monteith. He told me he wouldn't, but he did it anyway. I trusted him, Estelle. After all these years, I thought I knew him. I never thought he'd do something so unpardonable again, not after what happened the last time."

Estelle hardly heard him in her mounting excitement. Wicked Nic and Olivia were lovers; he'd have to marry her now.

"You're glad, aren't you?" Abbot accused her, correctly reading her expression. "You think it's a good thing."

"I . . . yes, I suppose I do. But what did you mean, ‘after what happened'? I don't understand."

Abbot shook his head, turning stubbornly away.

She reached up to cup his cold face in her warm hands, forcing him to look at her. "I'm sorry if I'm not as upset as you. I'm glad because I love you and I want to marry you and live beside you. Is that so terrible?"

He shook his head, the grim line softening. "No, it isn't so terrible."

"Then tell me what you meant. What has Lord Lacey done that makes his compromising Olivia so much worse? "

He bent over her, urgency in his voice. "You must swear to me to tell no one else. Swear to me, Estelle."

"Yes, yes, I swear."

He took a breath, and she could see what a struggle it was for him, the loyal manservant, to break a confidence. "Before Nic's father died there was a woman, a—a respectable young woman. Her parents were welltodo, but that didn't stop Nic. He seduced her . . . ruined her. Her parents hid her away, but one day she returned to Castle Lacey. She was carrying a child—a mere babe in arms."

"Oh dear," Estelle murmured, her spirits falling.

"Lady Lacey was out calling on friends, so the girl was taken to the library, to speak with the late Lord Lacey, Nic's father. Nic arrived, and soon afterward the girl and the baby were taken away in the coach, to London. Nic and his father remained in the library—they had a dreadful argument. It could be heard all over the castle. His father kept shouting: ‘Swear to me. You must swear to me.' It went on for a long time, and then Nic slammed out of the library and went to saddle his horse. He rode off across the park. When he came back, he seemed calmer, though he still looked dreadful. He went back to the library, but when he opened the door he found his father lying on the floor. He'd taken a turn and was close to death. In fact, he died moments later."

"The shock killed him," Estelle breathed.

"When Lady Lacey returned and discovered what had happened . . . well, I don't think she has ever recovered from the shock of it. She blamed Nic entirely for what happened, which is why she's never spoken to him since."

"What happened to the woman and the child?" Estelle said, after a moment's respectful silence.

"They live in London, and Nic visits them whenever he is there. He pays for their home and all their expenses."

Estelle chose her words carefully. "This isn't unique, Abbot. There are a great many gentlemen with bastards, and not all of them treated as well as this one. I'd be more shocked if Nic had abandoned the child into squalor."

"I heard him swear to his father it would never happen again," Abbot said stubbornly. "After his father's death he was so consumed with guilt and grief, he got drunk and climbed the old wall. He fell and broke his leg, badly. When his mother regained her senses, she came to his bedside, and she made him promise he would never prey upon a respectable young woman again. It was the last thing she said to him for nine years."

"You heard him swear?" Estelle said after a moment.

Abbot nodded. "I was in the room."

"So he has broken his word." Estelle shrugged. "I'm sorry, Abbot, but sometimes it is necessary to break your word. A promise is only good as long as it makes sense. Olivia Monteith is set on capturing Nic Lacey, and no promise was going to stop her, especially when he is wild for her, too. "

Suddenly Abbot looked exhausted. "Is that what you really think?" he said. "That promises are worthless?"

Estelle wrapped her arms about him and held him, cradling him against her. "I didn't say that, not exactly. Besides, what are the Laceys to you? This isn't your fault. Let them sort it out among themselves."

His voice was muffled against her hair. "What was Miss Monteith doing at the demimonde ball, Estelle?"

Estelle felt a moment of panic, but it was brief and she pushed it firmly aside. She convinced herself that her interfering had not jeopardized anyone's happiness, or harmed the man she loved.

"Never mind about the ball. You have more important things to think about. You're going to be a father, Abbot. We're your family now, and we love you. You need to take care of us."

"Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I need to take care of you and the babe."

Estelle longed to take him upstairs, but she knew she didn't dare. The Monteiths were very strict about such matters, and if she was caught she would be instantly dismissed. It made her angry that she couldn't lie down with the man she loved when he so desperately needed her. They must marry, and soon.