Chapter 33

Chapter

Thirty-Three

N ic had lost her.

He'd seen a glimpse of Olivia in the orangery and after that she'd vanished. He knew she was there, somewhere, but with so many nooks and crannies to hide in, he could search all day and never find her.

Why had she run?

When he'd come upon Estelle, she'd told him Olivia was downstairs somewhere. Now he knew she was lying, drawing him away from his wife so that she had a chance to escape. Was he such a monster that she couldn't even speak to him? He'd hoped for a chance to explain, but it seemed she didn't even want to allow him that much.

In his heart Nic couldn't blame her.

From where she was standing his failure to tell her the truth must look like a terrible betrayal. An unforgivable betrayal.

He tightened his lips and kept going, peering around hedges and under shrubs. Nic wasn't going to give up. He was certain that if he could only speak to her, look into her eyes, he would be able to begin to mend matters between them. Not completely, perhaps, and not immediately, but he could make a beginning.

He loved her. He couldn't live without her. Nothing mattered when it came to that, not his pride or keeping his awful secret or the fact that she might no longer want anything to do with him.

Olivia sat on the edge of the fishpond and trailed her fingers in the water. Nic had probably given up looking for her and was waiting for her inside the house. She knew she'd have to go back eventually; it was ridiculous to keep running away from the inevitable. At some point she would have to listen to what her husband had to say, she just wished it was later, when she'd had a chance to sort out her own feelings and compose her reply.

The clop of horses' hooves and a rumbling of wheels heralded the arrival of a vehicle. Nic had probably ridden ahead of the carriage, and now it had arrived with Abbot and the remaining luggage from the house in Mayfair. At least Estelle would be happy again; she'd been as miserable as Olivia ever since they left London.

Poor Estelle. Olivia felt a niggle of guilt, remembering how happy the maid had been when Olivia married Nic, and she knew that she and Abbot could at last be together. Perhaps Nic would allow Abbot to stay with Olivia? More likely, she thought darkly, he'd refuse to let Abbot go, forcing them to remain apart. At the moment she would believe him capable of any malice .

She left the pond and began making her way down the long walk toward the ruin of the old castle wall. Over by the rose garden she could see a woman in a black dress and bonnet, stooping to inspect the denuded stems. Lady Lacey was about, and Olivia didn't want to run into her and have to explain, so at the end of the walk she turned to her left, quickening her pace as she followed the old wall, intending to return to the house the long way.

Nic stepped around a perennial border and stood in her path. He was still twenty yards away but there was nowhere for her to go apart from back the way she'd come. She glanced behind her. Lady Lacey was strolling up from the rose garden, heading in her direction. Olivia turned back to Nic.

He looked dangerous, and intent on capturing her. His smiling mouth was a hard line, and his dark eyes were narrowed and fixed on hers.

"Olivia, come here," he said, and it was an order.

Olivia had no intention of coming willingly to a treacherous man who had betrayed her and lied to her and made her life a misery. She turned again, this time toward the wall, and looked up at the top of it. There were some flowering vines growing along and through the old stones, and there were plenty of hand and toe holds, for anyone crazy enough to want to climb it.

"Olivia!"

Too late, she thought triumphantly. Nic himself had told her about the times he and his father climbed this wall. If he could do it, then so could she. She put her hand up and gripped the agesmoothed corner of one of the blocks and, dragging her skirts out of the way, stuck her slipper into a gap between two smaller stones. She began to haul herself up, concentrating on getting high enough, so that by the time Nic reached her, he wouldn't be able to pull her back down again.

"What the devil . . . Olivia, come down at once!"

Nic's shout was loud enough to be heard in Bassingthorpe itself, but again Olivia ignored him. Her skirts tangled about her legs and she reached down with one hand to pull them out of the way, allowing herself free movement as she climbed. A quick glance at the wall stretching above her showed she'd made surprisingly good progress—of course, climbing like this was a dangerous thing to do, but she couldn't think about that now.

She just wanted to get away from him.

"Olivia, what on earth do you think you're doing?" It was Lady Lacey, her haughty tones as rich as plum pudding. "Dominic, get her down at once."

"I would if I could, Mother," Nic said between gritted teeth.

Olivia ignored them, searching with her hands and fingers for the next ledge, stepping up with her abused slippers. Another step up, another ledge. It wasn't so difficult, she told herself, and made the mistake of glancing down.

Her head spun dizzily as she saw how far she had now come. Lady Lacey's pale face gazed up at her, fear in her eyes, while Nic was glowering as if he'd like to strangle her. Olivia gulped and pressed her body hard to the wall, wishing she could squeeze inside it. Her fingers and knuckles were already bleeding, but she didn't care. She felt lightheaded from the height and the need to escape Nic, but Olivia knew she had no choice but to go on.

Slowly, heart in her mouth, Olivia began to climb once more.

Nic wanted to curse her and stamp about, but he knew that although that might help him to feel better it wouldn't achieve anything. Besides, his mother was there now, and if he remembered rightly she didn't appreciate bad behavior.

But when he saw her begin climbing the wall he thought his heart might stop, so afraid was he she'd fall, but as she climbed higher he saw how nimble and quick she was. Not that she couldn't still fall. He needed to get her down.

"Olivia!" he shouted, looking up at her bright skirts and white petticoats, her legs and arms outstretched as she clung on.

"Why is she doing this?" his mother wailed—he'd never heard her wail before. "She knows you fell from this wall? That was how you broke your leg, Dominic. "

"She knows," he said grimly.

"Then why . . . ? I don't understand."

"Olivia!" he roared.

She stopped and glanced down. Her face looked pale but he couldn't really see her expression. She released one hand and tucked her hair out of her eyes. "Please don't distract me," she called down primly.

"Distract you!" he blazed. "What the devil do you think you're doing?"

"I want to see the view," she said blithely. "You said it was magnificent."

For a moment he was speechless. "You're risking your life for the view?" he choked.

"Why not?" she said. "What else should I do? I suppose I could sit and wring my hands."

"Don't be so bloody melodramatic!" he growled.

"You lied to me," she replied, her voice like ice.

"Olivia, please . . ."

She looked away from him, back at the top of the wall, and then began to climb again. Another couple of steps and she clamped one hand over the top, then the other, and soon afterward she'd pulled herself up and was sitting astride the wall, her feet dangling either side. Olivia peered down at him, her bright hair silhouetted against the gray sky.

"Go away, Nic," she called breathlessly. "I have nothing to say to you."

"What does she mean, you lied?" Lady Lacey interrupted .

"Not now, Mother."

"If you won't tell me, Dominic, then go up and get her down."

Nic hadn't climbed since he fell and broke his leg—he hadn't wanted to. Now he looked up, gauging the distance and the hand holds of the route he had once known so well he could have climbed it in his sleep.

The memory of the agony when he'd broken his leg was still sharp, and it was difficult to gather any enthusiasm for what he knew he must do. But this was Olivia, his wife, and he loved her. He didn't want to lose her. Climbing up to be with her was probably the only possibility at this point, and he knew he had to do it.

Nic stripped off his jacket and handed it to his mother. She didn't try and dissuade him, but he could see she was worried. Just before he stepped up to the wall, she caught his arm and forced him to look around at her. Her dark eyes searched his. "Take care, Dominic," she said.

Nic smiled, and then she let him go and he moved to the wall.

His heart was pounding. His hands were sweating. He took a deep breath and, reaching up, began to climb. At first he felt clumsy and out of tune with his body. His leg ached, and at one point his foot slipped, so that he almost did fall. It took him a moment to find his courage again, and to still the thudding of his heart.

As he climbed farther the old rhythm began to come back to him, while as if by magic his hands went to the correct holds, and his feet slid into the gaps. A feeling of elation came over Nic as he realized that despite his lame leg he was still more than capable of achieving the top. Perhaps he wasn't a cripple after all.

Before he knew it, he was lifting his head and there was Olivia's solemn face, just above and to the right of him, gazing down into his.

"You were right, the view is wonderful," she said evenly. "Worth the climb."

She spoke as if he was a stranger, and a not very interesting one. If he'd felt as if he was in a hopeless situation before, then it was worse now. His chest constricted with loss and misery, but he knew he still had to try.

Nic dragged himself onto the top of the wall beside her and swung his leg over the uneven stones, settling himself nearby. His estate lay all around him, the woods and the park and the garden, the gatehouse, and the castle. He could hear his father's voice in his head, telling him what his future held and what sort of man he needed to be to make a good master.

"The land is what counts. The land is what makes us what we are. We must care for the land and all those who live upon it, under our authority, just as we have for hundreds and hundreds of years."

He spoke aloud, remembering. As a boy he'd found the thought of such responsibility daunting, but his father had assured him that with time, and training, his position would become natural to him.

"My father told me that I could mold myself into the kind of man needed to take charge of the Lacey estate. I was his son and he expected great things from me. I idolized him."

He tipped back his head and looked at the sky, feeling the sting of the wind against his face. It looked like it was going to rain, but as much as he wanted to urge Olivia to climb down with him, he had to tell her the truth. It was his only hope for the future he wanted.