Betrayed by Your Kiss Read online

  When Olivia didn’t respond, Rolland stopped and turned to face her. “I’m only concerned, Olivia,” he said. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently held her. “I do care for you, you know.”

  “I know, Rolland.”

  “Promise me you’ll give me an answer as soon as Captain Durham arrives and your father’s will has been read. I don’t want to wait much longer, Olivia. I can’t.”

  “I promise. As soon as the will is read.”

  “Good.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead before turning.

  Olivia watched him walk away from her and felt a pang of guilt. Why was she putting him off?

  She walked across the room and stared out the window. Damien’s dark features stared back at her, his deep-mahogany hair and clear blue eyes. His strong, chiseled cheekbones and rugged strength. A renegade tear seeped from her eyes. Dear God, but she missed him. She tried again to push him from her mind. She couldn’t.

  Oh, it wasn’t fair how he still haunted her. How he kept her from loving anyone else. But nothing had been fair since the night Strathern had burst into her engagement ball. With his damning lies, he’d shattered her dreams and destroyed her future.

  Olivia hugged her arms around her middle. Maybe Rolland was right. Maybe it was time she put her memories behind her and made a new life for herself—one with a husband to care for and children to love. Maybe it was time she locked her love for Damien away in that part of her heart that had died when he did. Maybe in time she could remember again what it was like to love.

  Or maybe it was already too late.

  Chapter 5

  Olivia stepped out of the carriage in front of Cyrus Haywood’s office and walked up the three steps that led to his private rooms. She was relieved that this day was here. It had been nearly a year since her father’s death, and the conditions of his will would finally be settled.

  Not that she didn’t know what those conditions were. Her father never kept it a secret that he considered her his heir and intended for her to have everything that was not entailed. But it would be a relief for the details to be finalized. Perhaps it would stop her uncle, the new Earl of Pellingsworth, from insinuating that her father intended for him to assume responsibility for her father’s other assets, especially Pellingsworth Shipping.

  Olivia entered the lawyer’s outer office, and smiled at Cyrus Haywood, her father’s longtime solicitor.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Olivia.”

  “Good afternoon, Mister Haywood. Has Captain Durham arrived?”

  “Yes. He’s waiting for you inside.”

  Olivia walked past Haywood and through his outer office to the solicitor’s private study. Going through her father’s will wouldn’t be quite so painful with Phineas with her.

  “Captain,” she said, rushing to take his outstretched hands. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I wish I could have been here months ago. Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone at a time like this.”

  Olivia smiled. She could smile now. Time had a way of easing the hurt. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, my lady. I slept aboard ship. I’m used to a bed that rocks beneath me.”

  Olivia smiled. “I still wish you would have accepted my invitation to stay at Pellingsworth House. Father would have been disappointed to know you’d arrived in London and not taken me up on my offer to provide you a room.”

  “I know, my lady. But I had much business to see to. I’m newly arrived in London. Your father would have understood all that needed to be done.”

  “Knowing Father, he probably would have spent the night with you. There was nothing he loved more than sleeping aboard a ship. Especially the Angel’s Wings.”

  “Right you are there.”

  Captain Durham patted her hand then led her to one of the two leather-cushioned chairs facing the desk.

  Cyrus Haywood’s office was spacious, with rows of leather-bound books lining the walls. Behind his desk, a large pane glass window looked out on the London scenery. To the left, three narrow book cases were separated by two doors. The one directly to her left was closed, the door behind her partially open. Olivia assumed the doors led to private consultation rooms.

  To the right, an oversized oak table took up one side of the room. Eight captain’s chairs surrounded the table, and Olivia surmised that this was where Haywood met with larger groups of clients. Olivia sat in the chair before his desk and folded her hands in her lap.

  Haywood took his place behind his desk and waited while a young assistant brought in tea and poured them each a cup. When the assistant was finished, Haywood started a conversation she knew was intended to set her at ease. For several long minutes the three of them drank their tea, keeping to the subject of the bustling tea trade. After a sufficient amount of time, Haywood reached for a small stack of papers and turned his attention to her. “Are you ready to begin, Lady Olivia?”

  Olivia looked to Captain Durham and smiled when he reached over to pat her hands. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. She thought it a little odd when he whispered, “Everything will be for the best, Lady Olivia,” but she didn’t have time to ask what he meant. Cyrus Haywood began listing her father’s properties, investments, and estates.

  “At the time of your father’s death,” Cyrus said, “he held free and clear the following properties that were not entailed: the townhouse where you reside, called Pellingsworth House; Bridgemont estates in Essex outside Witham; Homerton estate in Kent; and Fairview Manor in Hampshire.”

  Cyrus Haywood took a deep breath while flipping to a new page. “Then there is your father’s ownership of Pellingsworth Shipping and his one-half ownership in the clipper ship, Angel’s Wings, with Captain Durham. These holdings are separate from your father’s monetary worth, valued as of last quarter at more than one hundred thousand pounds.”

  Cyrus Haywood laid down his pen and removed the spectacles from the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any questions, my lady?”

  Olivia shook her head. What questions could she possibly have? Cyrus Haywood hadn’t told her anything new. For nearly four years she’d done the books and managed the unentailed Pellingsworth estates, as well as Damien’s estates, alongside her father. At first, he’d suggested that she help him in order to give her something to occupy her time as well as her mind after Damien’s death. She went along with his plan because overseeing Damien’s estates was a way she could feel connected to Damien. A way she could take care of something that had been his. And someone had had to manage Damien’s properties until his death was revealed and the new Earl of Iversley could take over. That responsibility had fallen to her father, then to her.

  She’d gone with her father to visit the estates, and gradually gone with him to oversee Damien’s shipping cargoes, too. Eventually, the responsibility of managing everything had fallen on her shoulders as if her father had been preparing her for this day.

  No, there wasn’t one detail of her father’s will that would come as a surprise, including the amount she was worth.

  “You forget, Mr. Haywood. I have taken care of everything that was my father’s for more than three years now. I would only question you if you informed me I was not worth such an amount.”

  Both Captain Durham and Cyrus Haywood smiled.

  “Your father left everything I just listed to you, Lady Olivia.”

  Olivia’s breath caught and she closed her eyes to fight the teary sense of relief that nearly overpowered her. It was over. Finally. She now had the freedom to marry Rolland—if she decided that’s what she wanted. She could still care for Damien’s estates and keep that little part of him as a private sanctuary. But perhaps Rolland was right. Perhaps her future lay with him and the children they would have together.

  Olivia felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her. Th
is part of her life was at a close, and it was time to begin anew.

  “But there is one condition to your father’s will.”

  Olivia’s gaze shifted to Haywood’s face. His words took her off guard. He seemed paler than before. Almost hesitant. “A condition? My father put a condition in his will?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Olivia turned to Captain Durham but his expression revealed nothing. She turned back and faced her father’s solicitor. “Go on, Mister Haywood. What condition did my father place in his will?”

  Haywood cleared his throat nervously. Olivia suddenly realized he’d done that quite often since she’d arrived. Her breathing quickened and she held herself perfectly still while Haywood picked up the papers.

  “Upon the reading of this will, Pellingsworth House in London will go to my daughter Olivia, without contest, until the day of her death. She will also receive a quarterly income of two thousand pounds for as long as she lives. The estates mentioned before as well as the remainder of the . . . the . . .”

  Haywood cleared his throat again. His discomfort was obvious.

  “Continue, Mister Haywood,” she said, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

  “Yes. Yes. Well . . .” He cleared his throat again then read on. “The remainder of the above mentioned assets and properties, including Pellingsworth Shipping, will as of one year and one month of my death be divided into two equal shares. My daughter’s share will only remain in her name upon the completion of one condition. She must, within one year and one month of my death, marry.”

  Olivia couldn’t stop the gasp of air that cut off Haywood’s words and nearly choked her. Of course she intended to marry. But her father thought to force her by putting it in his will? And then to only receive half of everything when she did? For God’s sake, why? And who would control the other half?

  She stared first at Cyrus Haywood, then turned to Captain Durham. She wanted to demand if he knew what her father intended, but the closed look on his face told her the answer. She spun her gaze back to Cyrus Haywood. He swallowed hard then said, “There is more.”

  Olivia tightened her hands into rigid fists. She was furious with her father for putting such a ridiculous condition in his will. She stared at Cyrus Haywood in numb amazement as she tried to absorb what her father had done. But nothing in the world prepared her for his next sentence.

  Haywood finished in a hurry. “My daughter, Olivia, must, within one year and one month from my death . . . marry Damien Bedford, Earl of Iversley.”

  Olivia gasped while Haywood added even more. “If my daughter chooses not to marry Lord Iversley within the specified deadline, everything except Pellingsworth House and the aforementioned quarterly income will go in its entirety to Lord Iversley.”

  Olivia felt herself sway in the chair and clutched the thick leather arms to keep from reeling to the side. Surely she hadn’t heard Haywood correctly. “What did you say?”

  “If you don’t marry Lord Iversley within the next six weeks, my lady, all the estates as well as your interest in Pellingsworth Shipping and your father’s portion of the clipper ship, the Angel’s Wings, will go to Lord Iversley. When the two of you marry, however, you will both receive equal shares of everything.”

  Olivia thought she might be ill. “Lord Iversley is dead,” she choked out. “He’s been dead nearly four years. Father knew that. Tell him, Captain Durham. Tell him Damien’s dead.”

  She looked at the captain, expecting him to agree with her. But he remained silent.

  She bolted to her feet. “Tell him! You wrote to us four years ago with news that Damien died in a fire aboard the Princess Anne. You told us he was dead. How could Father leave everything to someone who is dead?”

  The room shifted around her, and Captain Durham rose to stand beside her. He placed his arm around her shoulder and steadied her. “Olivia. I know what you think—”

  “No! Father didn’t write this condition in his will. He wouldn’t have. You must have!” She turned an accusing glare to Cyrus Haywood. “You must have written that condition into Father’s will.”

  “I assure you I did not,” Cyrus whispered, his tone indicating she’d insulted him.

  Olivia spun around to Captain Durham. “Then you? Why? What possible purpose could you have?”

  Captain Durham shook his head. “Your father wrote the condition in his will, Olivia.”

  She swiped her hand through the air in an act of anger. “No! He wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have left everything he owned to a dead man. And he wouldn’t have lied to me all these years. He wouldn’t have let me believe Damien was dead if he wasn’t.”

  “But he did, Olivia.”

  The strange, yet oh-so-familiar voice shattered through her control. His voice. Damien’s voice.

  She staggered but stayed on her feet with Captain Durham’s help. A scream welled from somewhere deep inside her and her hands flew to her mouth to keep it from escaping.

  Damien was alive.

  Olivia took a tentative step toward him, then another. Until she was so close she could feel the heat radiate from his body. Until she could smell the clean wash of the soap he’d always used with a mixture of sea air that clung to his clothes. She lifted her chin and locked her gaze with his.

  “You’re alive.”

  “Yes. I’m alive.”

  “And you let me believe you were dead.”

  The man she’d loved more than life itself glared at her with an unreadable coldness.

  Olivia pulled back her hand and slapped him.

  Chapter 6

  Olivia stared at him, absorbing every detail of the man standing in front of her. Time seemed to stop as her mind whirled in confusion. The emotional part of her, the part that knew how essential it was to protect her heart, said this couldn’t be true. Damien couldn’t be alive. The more rational part of her mind, the part that was forced to face reality, knew it was. For four agonizing years, the man she’d loved had let her believe she’d sent him to his death.

  “Why? Why did you let me think you’d died?”

  His features didn’t change. The dark expression on his face remained closed. Missing was the warmth she’d once seen in his eyes. Absent was the laughter she’d heard in his voice. Gone was the closeness she’d felt even when he wasn’t near her. Olivia kept her gaze focused on him, searching for some hint of the man to whom she’d given her heart so long ago.

  That man was gone. In his place was a stranger. A man with skin bronzed from years of being out of doors. A man who was as hardened on the inside as he was on the out.

  A long, jagged line ran across the left side of his face and down his neck. He let her focus on it, as if waiting for her to recoil from the sight of him. She didn’t. And it angered her that he thought she would.

  As if he’d given into her perusal long enough, he turned his face away. He looked across the room at Captain Durham and Haywood.

  “Please excuse us,” he said. His voice contained an icy chill that she’d never heard before.

  He pushed open the door to the room where he’d been hiding during the reading of the will. Without a glance in her direction, he stood in the doorway and waited for her to enter.

  Olivia walked past him on legs that felt weak and made her way across the room to stand in front of a window. She needed light. She needed to look out onto things that were familiar. Onto busy London streets bustling with people rushing about, doing their everyday business. She needed to watch the carriages go by on their way to planned events. She needed to see a world of normalcy instead of trying to survive in a world gone mad.

  She clutched her arms around her middle and held herself perfectly still, terrified that if she let go of her rigid stiffness, she might fall apart. She nearly shattered when the door clicked behind her.

  For a long time, she c
ouldn’t bring herself to face him. The silence in the room threatened to suffocate her. Olivia thought he might not want to start this conversation any more than she did. It was as if he knew, just as she did, that even the slightest move, the faintest noise would have the same catastrophic results as the first shot of a battle. And so she waited until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Why did you let me believe you were dead?” she asked again when she realized he wouldn’t be the first one to speak.

  “I was dead. The whole world thought so.”

  Olivia spun around and glared at him. But his face was turned from her.

  “You look remarkably well for someone who’s been dead nearly four years. Did you once, in all that time, think to let me know you had survived?”

  “No.”

  His answer stole her breath, then ignited her fury.

  With his face averted, he stood as lifeless as a statue, as emotionless as a boulder of granite. She clenched her fists and faced him squarely. “Then why did you come back now?”

  With a slight lift of his chin, he showed the first reaction. The corners of his lips lifted to form a cynical grin. A grin tinged with malice. “Why do you think? To get everything I should have had upon our marriage.”

  “My father’s possessions mean so much to you? My father’s land and his ships were enough to bring you back from the dead, but I wasn’t?”

  “You showed me the extent of your . . . concern, when you betrayed me.”

  Olivia sucked in a breath. “I agreed to send you with Captain Durham because Strathern wanted you dead.”

  “You sent me away because you didn’t think I could face Strathern on my own. You didn’t think I could defend myself. You sent me away because you didn’t trust me enough to believe that I loved you more than your father’s ships!”

  “Trust had nothing to do with it. Strathern would have killed you. He’d already put—”