Mandy Goff - The Blackmailed Bride

Before she could answer, Marcus’s butler opened the door to the room. The servant’s gaze swung around and landed on his mistress. “My lady, Lord Finley left before retrieving his hat and gloves.” The butler let the statement dangle in the air. “Would you like me to send them with a messenger?”

“Finley was here?” Marcus growled. Nick understood the anger. He wouldn’t let Finley anywhere near his sister, if he had one.

“Briefly,” she answered. The look she gave the butler was withering.

“When did Finley arrive in town?” Marcus asked the room in general.

Gibbons shrugged. “I work for you, my lord, not him.”

Nick didn’t know, and Olivia didn’t appear to be open to sharing.

His friend muttered something unintelligible. “Go pack your things,” he told her shortly. “I will take you back to Westin Park.”

Marcus’s sister looked so relieved, Nick thought she might faint, or worse, cry. Before she could turn to leave, however, Marcus grabbed her hand, stopping her flight.

“Did Finley say something to upset you?” he asked.

She shook her head and tugged herself free from his hold.

Nick stared after the beautiful woman as she departed. The gentleman in him knew that the proper thing to do would be to ignore her distress, and let her have the comfort of believing her discomposure had gone unnoted. But he couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that wanted to go after her, to hold and comfort her until she was no longer afraid.

What was wrong with him?

Marcus still had his attention focused after his sister. “I’m sorry for that,” he said. “She’s not usually so…frantic.”

Nick brushed aside the apology. “When will you leave?” he asked.

“I guess at first opportunity. Perhaps in the morning. It’s several days’ journey to Westin Park.” Marcus put away his cue. The game of billiards now forgotten in the wake of Olivia’s appearance. “Can you spare the time?” Marcus asked.

“I suppose so, why?”

“Come with us. We’ve known each other for years, yet you’ve never seen my home.”

Nick considered the offer. He had no wish to intrude upon the siblings’ time together, but he couldn’t deny there was something infinitely alluring about escaping the scrutiny of town for a few days. And while he could have easily visited his country estate, Nick wasn’t ready for that yet. Wasn’t ready for whatever memories awaited him there.

“I don’t guess anyone will miss me.” And Nick was surprised to find he was swayed by the thought of having more time to study the fascinating Olivia.

The idea appealed to him more than it should.

It wasn’t there.

The letter she’d believed would be in the rosewood box in the library at Westin Park was missing.

For a moment, Olivia could think of nothing. She stared at the dark velvet lining of the empty container as though the parchment would somehow mysteriously reappear. Olivia watched for several moments, waiting for one of the miracles Marcus so believed in to happen.

It didn’t.

The severity of her predicament overwhelmed her.

What was she going to do? Unfortunately, there were few choices…and none of them held much appeal.

Ignoring Lord Finley was definitely what she would prefer to do. Perhaps if she could keep her distance from him, making sure that he never had cause to be alone with her, he would give up his quest to make her his wife. But even as Olivia thought that, she knew the baron wouldn’t cave so easily. He would expose them. For herself, Olivia didn’t much care. She had no use for society or its good opinion. Marcus, however, would be laughed out of the House of Lords, unable to push through the legislation he’d been working on. And when her brother decided it was time to marry, no eligible woman would want to link her name with such a damaged and scandalized family.

So pretending she and Finley had never even talked wouldn’t work—much as she might have wished otherwise.

That left confessing this to her brother. But what would he say when he realized the secret she’d been harboring for years? Telling him the truth was the only option, wasn’t it? With Marcus’s help, she could devise a way to nullify Lord Finley’s threat and prevent their family disgrace from becoming common knowledge. Perhaps her brother could write him a bank draft. Or maybe they could figure a way to get the letter back, which would make Finley’s accusations—should he make any—seem like nothing more than spiteful fabrications.

But what would the revelation do to Marcus? Would he be reduced to the person she’d let herself become? Would the truth strip him of his faith in a God who would allow such things to occur the way it had to her? And what would he think of her part in the charade, and the fact that she’d hidden the truth from him for so long?

Marcus would be disappointed. Well, disappointed was probably not the right word. But she refused to consider a harsher emotion, one that would forever change the way Marcus looked at her.

She’d become a liar in order to protect him, never anticipating he’d discover the truth…either about her mother or about her.

She wasn’t sure which revelation would crush him more.

I could accept Finley’s proposal.

The thought repulsed her.

But was it worse than confessing to Marcus?

Could she bear to hurt her brother when she had another option?

No, she couldn’t.

Olivia thought she’d cried all the tears she had, but a few slipped down her cheeks anyway. Consigning herself to a loveless marriage—one built on deception and manipulation—was a heavy decision. But it was one she would make rather than becoming the instrument of disillusionment for her brother.

This was all because of that stupid letter. Had their mother only kept her last words—her selfish confessional—to herself, Olivia wouldn’t be in this predicament.

But no sooner had the hateful thought taken root than she chastised herself. She should have burned the letter immediately after reading it all those years ago. As long as those precious, final words remained undestroyed, Olivia had assumed the risk of someone finding it.

It was her fault. She’d been too weak, too overcome with grief and loneliness to destroy the last tangible link to her mother.

And now, it appeared she would pay for her weakness.

“How long have you been in here?” Marcus’s voice startled her so much she jerked, and the lid on the box slammed closed.

Turning, Olivia thrust her hands behind her back as though they were holding something worth hiding. How long had her brother been watching?

“Just a few moments,” she answered.

“Have you been crying?” Marcus asked in near horror as he came closer to examine her face.

“Perhaps.” She couldn’t stop the following sniffle.

“Would it be too much to ask why you are weeping in the library?” His voice was mild.

“I’ve missed my books.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had missed her books. She’d miss them even more soon—along with the library itself, and the house and the life she’d be giving up when she married Finley.

“You took most of your books to London with you,” Marcus returned.

“Just my favorites,” she argued.

“I think we carried at least fifty volumes with us.” He was beginning to look less suspicious and more amused.

“I have a lot of favorites.”

He shrugged. “I believe Sarah is unpacking your things in your room. Do you wish to lie down for a few minutes?” he asked, eyeing her skeptically. “We’re not dining for many hours yet.”

“No, I’ll find something to amuse myself until then.” Or, more likely, she would obsess about what she was going to do, until she realized there was nothing to be done.