The Seduction of Lady X Page 3

  Mr. Tolly just as subtly refused her offer.

  The tedious conversation aside, she thought the evening progressed rather well. She did not feel a sense of foreboding, which she often felt when only she and Edward dined. Her husband seemed in good spirits, the guests enjoying their meal and the company. And then the bishop asked Olivia about Alexa.

  “Unfortunately, my sister is ill,” Olivia said when the bishop asked why she had not joined them.

  “Ah, that is a pity. I do so enjoy her company—very lively, that one. Her health is not in peril, I pray?”

  Olivia smiled and shook her head. “She is fatigued after such a long journey from Spain.”

  “Ah, yes. And what is next for our Miss Hastings?” the bishop asked, settling back in his chair.

  “Well . . .” Olivia hadn’t thought of what she might say about Alexa just yet. “London, I suppose,” she said. That seemed safe; everyone would naturally assume she’d be off for the Season to begin the search for a marital match.

  The bishop obviously assumed so, for he said rather loudly, “Yes, of course she’ll be to London now. A young woman as pretty and spirited as Miss Hastings will make a fine match indeed, particularly with the Carey name to sponsor her!”

  “Are we speaking of my sister-in-law?” Edward suddenly asked from the other end of the table, startling Olivia. Conversation ceased, and everyone looked to Olivia; she felt the warmth begin to creep into her cheeks.

  “We were indeed, my lord,” the bishop said, and shifted around in his seat so that he might have a better look at Edward. “I was remarking how fortuitous it is that Miss Hastings might have the Marquis of Carey to sponsor her in the Season.”

  “Me?” Edward chuckled as if he’d never considered it. “Do you not have an uncle in London who might see after her, darling?”

  Olivia tensed. Her father’s brother was in debtor’s prison, which Edward knew very well. “No,” she said, and smiled as she shook her head.

  “But I think you do,” he insisted. “What is his name, again? Ah yes. Barstow.” He looked around at the faces of his curious guests. “Mr. Barstow is the brother of my wife’s late father. Her stepfather, Lord Hastings, adopted her. Perhaps because her nearest blood relative was something of a wastrel.” He chuckled again, but it was met with an uncomfortable silence.

  “I was very young when my father died,” Olivia said. “I always considered Lord Hastings to be my father.”

  “Rather advantageous for you to do so, I should think,” Edward said jovially. “And where is our Uncle Barstow, my love? Still in debtor’s prison?”

  Lady Ames gasped. The bishop frowned into his wineglass. Mr. Wallaby looked rather surprised and turned to Olivia, clearly interested in her answer.

  There was a time when Olivia would have tried to make a jest of Edward’s jabs, but she no longer had the patience for it. There was no point in denying it. “Yes,” she said. “King’s Bench Prison, as I last understood.”

  “Gambling debts, was it not?” Edward asked casually. “Incapable or unwilling to pay his wagers?”

  “I suspect he is trying to gamble his way out even as we speak,” Olivia said, and smiled at her husband.

  “If I may offer a toast, then,” Mr. Tolly said. “To your uncle Barstow, my lady. May his luck improve.”

  Olivia smiled gratefully and lifted her glass. “Hear, hear, Mr. Tolly.”

  “Hear, hear,” the Duke of Rutland said, and laughed as he lifted his glass. A round of laughter went up around the table, and the guests lifted their glasses, calling out a hearty hear, hear to Mr. Tolly’s toast.

  Olivia was aware that Edward’s gaze was on her as he lifted his glass. She could feel it burning a hole in her skin.

  At half past two in the morning, when the duke and duchess took their leave, most of the other guests followed them, leaving only the bishop and Mr. Wallaby behind. Mr. Wallaby was determined to show Edward an African spear he’d discovered in a London market. The three men disappeared into the study with their ports. Olivia heard Edward instruct a footman to bring a bottle of whiskey.

  That bottle and the spear would keep her husband occupied. Olivia retired for the night. She was quite tired and quickly fell asleep, dreaming of paintings of galloping horses.

  She was rudely awakened by a heavy weight pressing down on her and found Edward on top of her, clothed only in a shirt. He smelled of drink, and he was pushing her legs apart, jabbing at her.

  “Edward—”

  He clamped a hand over her mouth and twisted her head to one side as he tried to enter her. But the whiskey had made him flaccid again. He growled and did his best to bring himself back to life, but could not manage it. “Do something!” he snarled at her.

  “What might I possibly do?” Olivia asked, unwilling to touch him and hoping that he did not force her to do so.

  Edward tried again, grunting with the effort, and finally rolled off her. He fell onto his side beside her and his arm lay heavy across her abdomen. The drink had finally put him out.

  Olivia lay looking up in the darkness with his arm on her, imagining how she could use Mr. Wallaby’s spear to pin Edward to a wall. She would need some help, as the spear looked heavy, and there would be the matter of keeping Edward still so that she might spear him. She had in mind to pin him below the waist.

  She’d best do it by the morrow, for she could no longer avoid telling him about Alexa. She wouldn’t be the least surprised if he speared her first.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The hallway at Everdon Court that led to the Marquis of Carey’s private study was as long and as daunting as the choir aisle at Westminster Abbey, and with every step, Alexa sniffed a little louder and tried a little harder to suppress her sobs.

  It felt as if Olivia was slowly leading her toward the gallows, one leaden step at a time. “Buck up, Alexa,” she muttered as they passed a pair of footmen, and pulled her younger sister closer into her side. “There is nothing to be done for it. You must face up to the truth.”

  “Yes, I know I must,” Alexa said weakly. “But I do not understand why you cannot tell him for me.”

  Olivia sighed; Alexa knew very well why. Olivia had waited as long as she might before Alexa’s thickening waistline would draw attention, but she could wait no longer. Olivia could guess what sort of suffering Edward would inflict on them, and on that rain-soaked afternoon, Olivia thought it entirely possible that she dreaded telling him even more than Alexa did.

  After what seemed an interminable walk, they reached the polished oak doors of the study. As Olivia lifted her hand to rap, Alexa sagged against her. “I am so weary,” she uttered. “I do not feel well.”

  “Stand up,” Olivia said, and jostled Alexa, forcing her to stand, then rapped on the door.

  One of the twin-paneled doors swung open immediately, and behind it, a footman bowed. “Is my husband within, Charles?” Olivia asked.

  Before Charles could respond, she heard her husband’s voice. “Come.”

  Olivia looked at Alexa and entered, half pulling, half leading her sister with her. But as she crossed the threshold, she discovered her husband was not alone; Mr. Tolly was present as well.

  Mr. Tolly smiled warmly as they entered, inclining his head in greeting. “Lady Carey. Miss Hastings. How do you do?”

  “Ah . . .” Olivia tried to think of an appropriate response, given that they did not fare well at all.

  “Yes? What is it?” her husband asked curtly without lifting his head from the papers on his desk.

  Olivia shifted her gaze to Edward. “Alexa . . . and I . . . have something we must tell you,” she said. “May we have a moment?”

  “Go on,” Edward said impatiently, “and be quick about it. As you can see, we are presently engaged.”

  Olivia’s gaze flew to Mr. Tolly, whose smile made his gray eyes seem to dance. He bowed as he started to make his leave.

  “Where are you off to, Tolly?” his lordship said. “You may stay.”


  “Edward . . . it is personal,” Olivia said quickly. For Alexa’s sake, she did not want Mr. Tolly to be present.

  “Mr. Tolly has heard more personal and private details about this family than even I. He will stay.” Edward lifted his head and looked at Olivia. “What is it?”

  Mr. Tolly slowly stepped back, his expression suddenly stoic.

  Olivia was thankful Edward had commanded him to remain, for Mr. Tolly was the one person who could reason with him. Where others were quickly dismissed, Edward valued Mr. Tolly’s opinion. And once, on a particularly awful day, when Edward had lifted his hand to strike Olivia for some perceived slight, Mr. Tolly had been there to catch his arm and prevent him from striking her.

  Shocked, Edward had bellowed, “You think to lay a hand on me? I will have your position!”

  Mr. Tolly had calmly returned Edward’s gaze, as if the effort of stopping him required no strength at all. “Then have it. If you believe that my position here is more important to me than my code of conduct, you are mistaken. I will not stand by and allow any man to strike a woman.”

  Olivia had expected his instant dismissal, even a brawl. But amazingly, Edward had gathered himself. And he’d never tried to lay a hand on Olivia again.

  No, he preferred to strike her with words.

  He’d not always been so cruel to her. Indifferent, perhaps, but not particularly cruel in the beginning. Yet as the years had slipped by and Olivia had not conceived a child, Edward’s regard for her had dwindled to nothing. The cruelty had begun four years ago, when Olivia had believed herself, at long last, to be pregnant. Edward had been so very happy. He’d pampered her, showered her with gifts . . . but after two months, her courses began to flow again, and Edward’s cruelty flowed right along with them.

  “Why do you keep me waiting, Olivia?” Edward asked curtly, bringing her back to the mission at hand. “I told you I had work to do.”

  Alexa shuddered; Olivia put her arm around her sister’s shoulders and began the little speech she’d privately rehearsed: Alexa had gone to Spain. Alexa had behaved poorly, for which she was terribly sorry. Alexa was with child. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Tolly flinch, and wondered if it was revulsion at what Alexa had done, or recognition that this would not go well for anyone.

  Olivia’s speech was followed by pure silence. There was not a breath, not a creak, as Edward turned his cold gaze to Alexa, who stood shaking before him.

  Edward’s gaze flicked to her abdomen, then to her face. “Is this true?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Alexa admitted, her voice scarcely more than a whisper.

  “Who has done this?” he asked, his voice so soft and dangerously low that a shiver shot down Olivia’s spine. When Alexa did not answer straightaway, Edward smiled a little and said, “You may trust me, Alexa.”

  No, Alexa, you cannot trust him! Never trust him!

  Alexa lowered her gaze to the floor and shook her head. “I will not say.”

  Olivia glanced at Mr. Tolly. He held her gaze a slender moment and she thought—or perhaps hoped—that she saw a flicker of reassurance in his eyes. He was always so calm, so hopeful! Olivia wanted to lean on him now, to put her head on his broad shoulder, to feel his arms around her, strong and protective, keeping her safe from Edward.

  “You will not say?” Edward asked, rising from his seat.

  “I will not,” Alexa repeated.

  Edward made a sound of surprise. “But my dear, you must surely realize that if you refuse to tell me who has put this by-blow in you, I can only surmise that he is unsuitable in every imaginable way. Or . . . that you are a whore.”

  Alexa choked back a sob.

  “Edward, please,” Olivia pleaded.

  Her husband shifted his hard gaze to her. “Please what?” he asked, the venom dripping from his cold smile.

  “Please leave her be,” Olivia implored him. “She knows her mistake, and the good Lord knows she will pay for it in many ways for the rest if her life. You need not punish her further.”

  “I see,” Edward said casually as he came around to the front of his desk. “You suddenly believe yourself in a position to tell me what I need not do. Shall I tell you what I find interesting?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the desk.

  “No,” Olivia said quickly.

  “I find it interesting that while you are as barren as a Scottish moor, your sister is a whore who apparently will conceive a by-blow with any man who lifts her skirts.”

  Olivia’s face flamed. The conflict between her and her husband was no secret, but it was humiliating nonetheless.

  “There is only one,” Alexa foolishly tried, but Edward quickly turned on her.

  “Only one, eh?” He chuckled as if that was somehow amusing, and gestured to Alexa’s belly. “The only difference between the two of you is that one of you is only half a woman. One of you led me to believe she could give me heirs and yet cannot. Or will not.”

  He shifted that hard gaze to Olivia, and Alexa burst into tears. Behind Edward, Mr. Tolly turned to look out the window, his hands on his hips. Olivia could see the tension in his jaw, as if he were fighting to keep from speaking.

  “The question we have before us is what to do with this one,” Edward mused, his gaze raking over Alexa. “With your mother buried, there is no one who will stand up for you, is there?” he asked her. “Certainly not your scofflaw uncle Barstow. You are entirely at my mercy as your benefactor and provider. And yet, I am the second cousin to the king. The Carey name means quite a lot in this country. Do you mean to defile my good name? A name from which you derive social benefit by mere association?”

  “No, my lord,” Alexa said softly.

  “Then why would you allow some man to defile you? Did you think of your sister, who bears my name? Did you think of anything but your own base desires?”

  She bowed her head and wisely did not answer.

  “What shall I do, Alexa?” he continued coolly. “I dare say your sister connived her way into this marriage and there is precious little I may do about that. But I can keep the blight of your judgment from bringing scandal to my family’s name, and therefore, the king’s name, is that not so? I still hold at least some degree of influence over this family, do I not? Is there not someone else to whom you may turn for assistance in this . . . unpleasant matter?”

  Alexa paled. “No,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I am at your mercy, my lord.” She regarded Edward uneasily as she dabbed at her tears with her handkerchief.

  Olivia’s scalp tingled with foreboding. “Perhaps if we take a moment—”

  Edward’s gaze turned even harder. “Thank you, madam, but I do not need your assistance in determining what is to be done with the whore. If there is no one to marry her, than I shall send her to St. Brendan’s convent in Ireland with a generous endowment. The sisters may determine what is to be done with the child.”

  “What?” Olivia felt the blood drain from her face.

  Mr. Tolly turned from the window, his brow furrowed with a deep frown.

  “What do you mean, what is to be done with it?” Alexa asked, stricken.

  Edward shrugged. “It is a bastard child. It will be better off raised by an Irish crofter than seeking acceptance in our society. If you think that I intend to put you up and allow you to raise some by-blow at Everdon Court for all to see, and at the end of my purse strings—”

  “You will not take my child from me!” Alexa exclaimed.

  “And you will not presume to tell me what I will or will not do,” Edward said tightly.

  The tone of his voice was bitterly cold, and Olivia knew from experience it would go from bad to worse. She stepped in front of Alexa to save her, to keep her from saying anything. “My lord, perhaps you might consider an alternative?”

  “By all means,” he said grandly, flourishing his hand at her. “Amuse me with your suitable alternative, for the Lord knows I am in need of it after this news.”

  “Olivia, I
cannot give my baby to anyone!” Alexa said tearfully behind her. “I won’t!”

  Olivia willed Alexa to be silent. “My lord, my father’s cousin lives in a small manor in Wales and has four young children. It is quite remote and there is very little society. Perhaps Alexa might go there, and when the child is born, my cousin will take her in.”

  She heard Alexa gulp down another sob.

  Edward’s brows lifted. “That is your idea? Send her to this agrarian cousin?”

  He was the cat now, toying with the mouse. Olivia never won these rounds, but she never stopped trying. “To remove her from your sight, husband,” she said. “My cousin is my father’s blood—I know she will not speak of this to anyone,” she added desperately, but Edward chuckled as if Olivia was speaking nonsense.

  He stood up from his perch on his desk and put his fingers under Olivia’s chin, forcing her to tilt her head back so that she was looking into his cold dark eyes. “Dearest Olivia,” he said, sighing a bit. “Do you honestly believe I would trust anyone in your family? Was it not your family who deceived me into believing that you were the best match for me?” He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers, sending a shudder of revulsion through her. “We both know that you were the worst choice for me.”

  She wanted to claw the smirk from his face. But she was aware of Mr. Tolly in the room, of Alexa whimpering behind her. “I am aware of how much you despise me, Edward,” she said softly. “But please do not punish Alexa for it. She’s done nothing to you.”

  “She will go to St. Brendan’s Convent on the morrow, and there she will remain. Or she may go to hell.”

  “No!” Alexa sobbed, and collapsed to the floor. Olivia whirled around and knelt beside her sister, trying to help her to her feet, but Alexa was inconsolable. “Stand up, stand up,” she urged her. “Do not let him defeat you,” she whispered.