Betrayed by Your Kiss Page 15

  “You didn’t?” The captain’s mouth opened in a gaping yawn. “Oh, then it must be to tell me what cakes and little sandwiches your mother served with tea.”

  “Hardly,” Damien answered. “It’s to tell you her reaction when she saw me.”

  “What? She wasn’t glad to see you?”

  “Of course she was glad to see me. She was surprised that I was home.”

  “Then what’s your problem, lad?”

  “My problem is that she was surprised that I’d returned, but she wasn’t surprised that I was alive. And, she did a damn good job of scolding me for staying away so long.” Damien paused. “She treated me as if she hadn’t heard that I was dead.”

  The captain got to his feet and crossed the cabin. When he reached a cupboard on the other side of the small room, he opened a door and pulled out a bottle. He poured a little of the amber liquid in a glass and took a swallow. “She’s your mother, lad. Maybe she’d heard that you were dead, but just refused to believe it.”

  Damien watched the captain’s features change. After four years of being with Captain Durham every day, he knew when he was hiding something. “Then tonight I made an appearance at the Fortinier ball.”

  Captain Durham took another swallow from his glass. “I bet that caused quite a stir.”

  “Oh, yes.” Damien rose to face his friend. “But mostly because I interrupted Lord Rotham announcing his engagement to my fiancée.”

  The glass in Durham’s hand stopped midway to his mouth. “Lady Olivia intended to marry Rotham?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No.”

  “What struck me as odd was that no one at the ball was surprised that I was alive.” Damien waved his hand through the air. “Oh, they were surprised that I’d returned. I’d even call their reaction shock. But they weren’t surprised that I was still alive.”

  The captain lowered his gaze. “Perhaps they forgot.”

  “Then my cousin must have forgotten, too. Because when I met him a little while ago to tell him to get the hell out of London before I sicced his creditors on him, he said, ‘I don’t believe it. You’ve returned,’ not, ‘I don’t believe it. You’re alive.’” Damien took a step closer to Captain Durham. “Why would he say that? You thought I died in the fire and sent word to Lord Pellingsworth to tell Olivia that I was dead. And when you found me alive, I asked you not to tell anyone that you’d found me.”

  “That’s exactly what I did, lad. I informed Lord Pellingsworth that you were dead. At the time, we all thought you were. And when I found out you’d survived, I didn’t send word. Just like you demanded.”

  “Then why was Olivia the only one who thought I was dead?”

  The captain turned away from him and walked back to the cabinet. When he’d refilled his glass, he took a swallow large enough that it drained half the liquor in his glass.

  “Why!” Damien asked again, only this time the word came out not as a question but as a demand.

  Captain Durham slowly turned. “Because she thought you were dead but kept your death a secret.”

  Damien staggered backward a step. “Why? Why would she let everyone believe I was still alive?”

  “To protect your mother and your sisters, I assume. To protect your property.”

  “Protect them, how?”

  Captain Durham walked toward him and poked his glass to Damien’s chest. “For a smart lad, you sure are ignorant at times.”

  “Then explain things to me.”

  The captain sat in the chair behind his desk. “She never said, but I assumed she intended to keep your death a secret until your sisters were both married, and she’d put enough money back for your mother to live comfortably for the rest of her life.”

  Damien felt as if the Princess Anne were trying to ride out a hurricane. The floor shifted beneath his feet and he had to reach out for the nearest piece of anchored-down furniture to steady himself.

  “What if I never returned?” he said when he found his voice.

  “Then Lady Olivia would have gone to her grave still thinking you were dead. And she probably would have told your mother and sisters, and they and the rest of London would have thought you were dead, too.”

  Damien shook his head to try to clear it. “Why? Why did she let everyone believe I was alive and would come back someday?”

  “You saw your cousin. You know what he would have done to your estates and your wealth if he had inherited your title. He wouldn’t have given a tinker’s damn about your mother or your sisters. They would have been at the mercy of that no-good excuse for a man. And they would have been penniless. They would have lived in poverty and want. Along with your estates and your tenants, and everything else he could get his hands on.”

  “Oh, hell,” Damien said.

  “I expect she would have told your mother the truth after your younger sister was safely married. I’m sure she’d want your mother to come to terms with your death—even if she couldn’t herself.”

  Damien looked at Durham. “What do you mean by that?”

  Captain Durham shook his head. “That’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own.” The captain rose to his feet. “Now, get the hell out of here so I can get some sleep.”

  Captain Durham walked past him and climbed into bed. He pulled the covers up over his shoulders and turned his back on Damien. “And douse the lamps before you leave,” he growled.

  Damien doused the lamps before leaving the captain. He wasn’t sure if the captain would get any sleep tonight, but Damien knew he wouldn’t.

  Chapter 16

  Damien stepped out of the carriage the minute it stopped and walked through the door Chivers held open for him.

  “I’m afraid Lady Olivia isn’t receiving yet,” he said, as he put Damien’s hat and gloves on the foyer table. “She’s still in her rooms.”

  Damien stopped with his hand on the banister. “Did her maid say how she slept?”

  “I believe Tilly said the lady had a restless night.”

  “I see,” Damien answered.

  “She seemed a little upset when she came home last night. Cook sent up a glass of wine to help her sleep.”

  Damien clenched his fingers around the railing and slowly climbed the stairs. “Thank you, Chivers. I’ll see myself up. Would you send up a tray with coffee?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Damien climbed the rest of the stairs, then walked down the long hallway. Only when he was sure Chivers could no longer see him did he give into the pain and limp toward his room.

  Olivia’s room was the third door to his right, and as if his feet had a will of their own, they didn’t slow until he reached her bedroom door.

  He should have let Chivers announce him, but he knew if he had, she’d refuse to see him. He knocked twice, then turned the knob and opened the door.

  Damien stepped inside the room and closed the door behind. He found her on the far side of the room, sitting on the cushion inside the recessed window.

  At first he didn’t think she intended to speak.

  “Did you need something?” Her acerbic tone made the sharpness of her words so caustic he thought they might burn his flesh.

  “I came to make sure you were all right.”

  “How considerate.”

  Damien ignored the sarcasm in her voice and walked across the room. His first step hurt like hell and his left leg buckled slightly beneath him. He gritted his teeth in pain and kept walking. He stopped when he reached her.

  She sat on a cushioned window seat with her legs tucked close to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. The early morning sunlight filtered through the windowpanes, the bright rays casting a glow to her hair, giving it a golden shimmer. Her complexion was pale; the healthy color she usually wore was gone.

  He held his breath a
nd looked into her eyes. At least they didn’t glimmer with unshed tears like he feared they would. He understood her better now. Understood why she’d made the decisions she had. To know she’d been crying would have been more unbearable because the blame would all be his.

  She turned her face away from him and looked out the window. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said, lowering her cheek to rest against her knees.

  “Is that why you’re hiding here in your rooms instead of waiting to receive me downstairs?”

  “I wasn’t going to receive you.”

  “I anticipated as much.”

  “I wish you’d leave. You shouldn’t be here. It’s not proper.”

  “We’re betrothed.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  Damien smiled. “Oh, but we are.”

  Damien heard her heavy sigh before she said, “Do you think because you stopped me from becoming engaged to Rotham that now I’ll be desperate enough to marry you?”

  “Were you really going to let Rotham announce your betrothal? For God’s sake, why? You would have lost everything.”

  He saw her shoulders lift in a silent sigh. “Perhaps the ships weren’t worth having, since marrying you would have been part of the bargain.”

  “You consider marrying me that much of a tragedy?”

  “I consider marrying you a farce. A farce in which I wasn’t prepared to play a part.”

  Damien felt like he’d been slapped. Even his cheek stung from the impact of her words. The sunlight streaming through the window gave more than enough light for Damien to see the stoic expression on her face. For him to see the hollow look of resignation. She turned her face from him and lowered her cheek to rest on her knees as she again stared out the window. An eon seemed to pass before she spoke.

  “Do you think,” she said turning to face him, “that some day it might be possible for you to forgive me, Damien? Or is that too much to hope for?”

  Damien felt as if she’d plunged a knife through his chest. Her face was void of expression, her voice steady and calm, while her words, on the surface so innocent, dripped with sarcasm. He felt as if he were truly facing his most formidable enemy, more dangerous—more life-threatening even than Strathern.

  He knew her attack for what it was. Recognized the insincerity in her soft words so demurely spoken. She knew he could never forgive her. And if she didn’t, she’d find out once they married. Her question wasn’t sincere. It was a challenge. She was challenging him to forget what she’d done. Challenging him to forgive her. But that would never happen. He hadn’t been the one to strike the first blow. Or the second. She had. When she’d sent him away. When she intended to announce her betrothal to Rotham. Well, he accepted her challenge and vowed to give her the battle of her life.

  “You sound as if you think I carry a grudge, Olivia. As if my intent to marry you is to enact some sort of punishment. It’s not. Far from it. Marrying you is merely the only option left to either of us—a business arrangement. I have an obligation to fulfill. Both to your father and to myself. To . . . care for you, as well as your father’s ships and estates.”

  “You aren’t obligated to marry me. Father didn’t make that a stipulation of his will. He only stipulated that I marry you in order to keep Pellingsworth Shipping.”

  “I don’t see the difference. Your father didn’t want you to lose Pellingsworth Shipping any more than I do.”

  “Of course not. And by marrying me you will have accomplished two lofty goals: your conscience will be clear because of the debt you feel you owe my father for raising you as his son; and I will constantly be near you so you can remind me of my unforgivable betrayal.”

  Damien closed his eyes. “Believe what you want, Olivia. What matters is that your father intended for us to marry. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have put that stipulation in his will. He would have left Pellingsworth Shipping to you with no strings attached. He knew how much you wanted it. He was evidently quite sure you’d forgive me for letting you believe I was dead.”

  “Well, he was wrong.”

  “Perhaps partially. But in time . . .”

  Damien stopped. He was too tired to think of the future, and his leg ached too much to contemplate the life he and Olivia would face together. There were other, more important things to worry about, such as the identity of the person responsible for all the accidents at Pellingsworth Shipping. Until they knew who was trying to cause damage to Pellingsworth Shipping, no one was safe. Especially Olivia.

  Damien sat up in his chair and turned toward Olivia. “The Commodore arrived in port today. Captain Durham wants to make a thorough check of the cargo before we release it, in case our friend’s been at work again.”

  Olivia swung her legs over the side of the bench and leaned forward. A glimmer of excitement shone on her face. “I’ll go with you and—”

  “You’re not going to the docks, Olivia. I can check the cargo. I’ll make sure everything’s all right and send word to you.”

  “You can’t stop me from going.”

  “I can and I will. Have you already forgotten you nearly died by being so reckless?”

  Olivia had the good sense to hold her tongue and look at least a little contrite. Damien rose to his feet and stood over her. “I’ll issue an invitation to Captain Durham to call on you as soon as he has time. He’ll only be in port another week before he has to leave again for France. I assume you’ll want him here for our wedding. I’ll get the special license so we can marry without reading the banns, and we’ll say our vows before he leaves.”

  Damien saw her shoulders lift. The gown she wore accented the brown of her eyes. He clenched his fingers around the arms of the chair to keep from reaching for her. To keep from touching her.

  He pulled his gaze away from her and pushed himself to his feet. His movements were stiff and slow, and he tried to ignore the pain as he stepped away from her. He didn’t like the way his body reacted to her. The urge he felt to take her in his arms, to hold her, touch her, kiss her. The desire he felt for her was a weakness. A weakness that gave her too much power over him. That left him too vulnerable.

  Damien clenched his teeth hard. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Wasn’t the shattered heart that stuttered inside him reminder enough?

  He walked to the door and opened it, then turned around to look at her. He saw the angry glare in her gaze and ignored it.

  “We need to appear in public so people get used to seeing us together. What function did you plan to attend tonight?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Which one, Olivia?”

  “The Maddenly ball.”

  “Fine. I’ll come for you at five. We’ll take a ride through the park where we’ll be noticed. Then, I’ll return around nine so we can make an appearance at the Maddenly ball.”

  “Damien, I won’t—”

  He didn’t let her finish her sentence, but stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  He needed a drink to dull more than just the pain in his legs.

  Chapter 17

  The door opened and Olivia looked up from her desk in the makeshift workspace where anything that could be salvaged from the fire at the Pellingsworth Shipping office had been taken. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was Captain Durham.

  She’d come to the wharf shortly after Damien had left the house and had been sorting through piles of papers and half-charred ledgers for more than two hours. She felt as if she’d made very little progress. It was going to take months before she could make sense of some of the scraps of invoices and partially burned bills of lading. Thank goodness she’d taken the most important ledgers home with her the night before the fire, and they’d been spared.

  “Here’s the complete cargo inventory from the Commodore,” Captain Durham said, closing the door behind him. “The men are doublech
ecking everything as they unload it, and I put extra guards on duty until the cargo is delivered tomorrow.”

  “That was probably wise,” Olivia said, then laid down her pen and reached for the stack of papers he handed her. It was twice as thick as the stack she’d just entered into the ledger. She’d be lucky if she finished in time to rush home and be ready when Damien came to pick her up.

  “Did you see any sign of Lord Iversley?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “No. He was here earlier but left shortly before you came.” There was a slight pause before he added, “That couldn’t have been planned now, could it?”

  Olivia lowered her gaze again to the papers in front of her, refusing to let Captain Durham know she’d overheard Damien issue orders to Johns that he wanted to be picked up at precisely ten o’clock because he had an appointment with his solicitor that would probably take until midafternoon.

  The captain didn’t move, but stood in front of the desk until Olivia looked up at him.

  “This isn’t what your father intended, you know. He was certain when the two of you saw each other, you’d both forget everything that had happened before and realize how much you loved each other.”

  Olivia wanted to laugh. “Well, Father was wrong.”

  “Give him time, my lady. The last four years weren’t easy for him.”

  Olivia shoved back her chair and bolted to her feet. “And they were for me? He let me believe he was dead! He let me believe I was responsible for his death!”

  “No! What happened wasn’t your fault. No one thinks that.”

  She swallowed hard. “He does!”

  “He doesn’t blame you for the fire. He doesn’t blame you for what happened to him.”

  “But he can’t forgive me for sending him away.” Olivia stared into Captain Durham’s eyes, then smiled at the confirmation she saw on his face. But she felt no happiness, only complete despair. “You warned me not to put him aboard. You said he wouldn’t thank me for it, but I couldn’t think past the fear. All I could think of was the ten thousand pounds Strathern had put on his head.”