Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“Devlin!” Olivia gasped. “I mean, Your Grace,” she amended swiftly.
The familiarity had been instinctive, and she silently berated herself for the lapse. She hadn’t called him by his first name for years.
His dark brows drew together as he looked down at her. “What’s going on?”
“Get out of the way!” She tried to sidestep the horse’s head.
He moved the beast forward with a click of his tongue and a squeeze of his heels, easily blocking her escape. “Why? What’s happening? Where are you going?”
She growled in frustration. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Move! Or better still, give me your horse. Quick, please.” She hated having to beg, especially from him, but these were desperate times.
His brows rose in obvious scorn. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t ride Ares. He’d throw you the first chance he got.”
The front door banged on its hinges and Livvy winced as Hubert came limping down the steps, his face mottled with fury. Damnation. He was probably going to have her arrested for assault. She took a small step closer to Devlin, the lesser of two evils.
“Thief!” Hubert screeched, stabbing an accusing finger at her while he clutched his leg with his other hand.
Livvy glanced down; she was still holding the letter opener. The end glistened with an incriminating crimson sheen that matched the growing stain on Uncle Hubert’s breeches.
Devlin glanced at her fist, a glint of shock and amusement in his face. “Olivia Price, are you embarking on a life of crime?” His voice held a teasing note; he looked delighted at the prospect. He’d always been a devil, mocking her for her ‘boring’ propriety.
Hubert didn’t give her time to answer. “The little hellion stabbed me!”
Dev looked up, releasing Livvy from his mesmerizing stare, and his eyes narrowed as they settled on her uncle.
“Did she?” he said coolly. “And why would she do that?”
Her heart contracted in relief that he immediately assumed Hubert was the guilty party.
“He deserved it,” she muttered fiercely.
Dev’s expression hardened as he glanced at her again, taking in her disheveled hair and rumpled clothing. The torn neck of her dress. Her skin heated in an embarrassed flush.
All his playful amusement vanished. “Did he hurt you, Liv?”
His voice was suddenly deadly calm and Olivia realized she was looking not at the careless, playboy Duke familiar to the Ton, but at the ruthless soldier he’d been in the war. A man who’d seen and delivered death.
Uncle Hubert saw it too; he took a step back, but his eyes burned with accusation as he scowled at her. “She stabbed me in the leg with that letter opener!”
Dev’s lips thinned. “Then I can only assume you did something to deserve it.” He turned to her. “What did he do?”
Livvy swallowed. “He proposed. I declined, and . . . he refused to accept my decision.”
Dev raised one brow, whether in surprise or derision she couldn’t be sure, but he turned back to Hubert. “You heard the lady. She said no. You should leave.”
Hubert bristled. “I’ll do no such thing.
I’m her father’s executor. I’ll be staying in this house until it’s sold.
I’ve a meeting tomorrow with the auctioneers to inventory the contents.
” He glanced over at Olivia and tried to look placating.
“Come back into the house, girl, and stop being so foolish.”
Livvy shook her head.
Hubert forced a cajoling smile. “You can hardly walk back to London on foot, my dear. And the next stagecoach isn’t until tomorrow.” He addressed Devlin. “This is a private family matter, your Grace. You need not concern yourself.”
“Actually,” Dev countered smoothly, “I came to settle this.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “Sir Arthur owed me six hundred pounds from a loan I made him last year. I have the agreement here.”
Hubert’s lip curled. “I’ll add you to the lengthy list of his creditors who require compensation, Your Grace, but I doubt you’ll see a penny of it.” He sounded bitterly gleeful.
“I’d already assumed as much.” Dev said.
“Then why are you here? You want first pick of the contents of the house? Is there a painting you’ve had your eye on?” Hubert shrugged. “Most pieces with any value have already been sold.”
Livvy’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. The truth was bad enough, but to have it laid bare in front of Devlin was another level of humiliation.
“And you’ll have to wait until they’ve been properly valued,” Hubert added spitefully.
A cool smile tugged at the corner of Dev’s mouth. “Oh. I already know what I want. And how much it’s worth.”
Livvy glanced up to find him looking directly at her, his dark eyes glinting with a strange intensity.
“What is it?” Hubert demanded.
“Her.” Devlin held her gaze. “I want her.”
Olivia’s mouth fell open in shock. There was a moment of stunned silence.
“You want . . . Olivia?” Hubert’s tone was both suspicious and calculating.
“Yes.” Dev said simply.
“As repayment for the debt?” Hubert clarified.
“Yes.”
Olivia finally recovered her voice. “Excuse me, Your Grace.” She infused the title with as much scorn as she could manage. “But you can’t buy me. I’m not part of the estate!”
“I’m not buying you,” Dev said coolly. “I’m taking you in lieu of payment for an unpaid loan. There’s a difference.”
“There is not!” she fumed. She didn’t know whether to be outraged or insulted or both. What on earth was he thinking? “I’m not for sale.”
Dev ignored her and addressed Hubert. “I want her personal belongings, too. All of them. Her clothes, shoes, trinkets and effects.”
An ugly smile twisted Hubert’s face. “I wouldn’t have thought a mistress would need many clothes.”
Dev’s expression was enigmatic. “You think I want her as my mistress?”
“Why else would anyone want her?” Hubert scoffed.
“She’s a headstrong hellion with barely a penny to her name.
And you’re the most determined bachelor in England.
” He sent Olivia a disgusted look, as if Devlin’s scandalous suggestion was her idea.
“It’s not as if you’re going to marry her, is it? ” He let out a wheeze of amusement.
Humiliation burned Olivia’s cheeks at her uncle’s crassness. God, he was awful.
Hubert’s expression turned cynical. “You’re not the marrying kind, Your Grace.
Six years you’ve been back from the wars, and never once hinted at wanting a wife, despite the ladies throwing themselves at you.
We’ve all heard about those scandalous parties you hold over at Hollyfield; infamous for their drunkenness and debauchery. ”
“You’re just bitter you’ve never been invited,” Dev countered with a dark smile. “And what I choose to do with her is entirely my affair.”
“If you take her,” Hubert said, “then you’ll consider the debt repaid in full? You’ll make no more claims on the estate?”
Dev lifted the paper in his gloved fingers. “I’ll rip up this loan agreement and say no more about it.”
“Done,” Hubert said. “She’s all yours. Although I doubt she’s worth six pounds, let alone six hundred.”
“Excuse me,” Olivia interrupted furiously. “But my life isn’t yours to barter away, Hubert. You have no power over me whatsoever.” She turned to Devlin. “I have reached my majority. I will go where I wish, with whoever I please.”
Devlin held out his hand to her. “Do you want to stay here, with him?”
Olivia bit her lip, unable to lie. “I do not.”
“Then come with me.”
He made it sound so simple, but she’d never felt so conflicted.
Yes, she needed to escape from Hubert, but going with Devlin felt like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Everything Hubert hand said about him was true; he was a rake and a scoundrel, and she couldn’t begin to understand what game he was playing.
Why would he give up his claim of six hundred pounds for her?
He couldn’t truly want her as his mistress.
In all the years she’d known him, before and after the war, he’d never once lacked for female company.
He always had a beautiful woman on his arm, and the sight had made her heart sink with envy.
But she trusted him. Despite his wicked ways and scandalous exploits, he was a man of honor at his core. He wouldn’t physically hurt her or force himself upon her—which was more than could be said about Uncle Hubert.
It wasn’t really a choice at all. She’d go with him now and unravel his obscure reasoning later.
Hubert took advantage of her silent deliberation to send her another scathing look. “If you go, girl, then I wash my hands of you. You’ll get no more help from me.”
Livvy tossed the letter opener at his feet with contempt. “Good. I can do without your kind of help, Uncle.” She brushed her hands on her skirts and looked up into Devlin’s handsome face. “I’ll come with you.”
Satisfaction blazed in his eyes as he reached down and gripped her hand, his leather-gloved fingers wrapping strongly around her own. “Put your foot on top of mine and I’ll pull you up. Behind me.”
The huge stallion stood obediently still as Olivia swung her leg up and over the horse’s back. Her skirts and petticoats rode up around her knees, exposing her white stockings and black ankle boots, but she was long past caring about modesty.
“Put your arms around my waist,” Devlin ordered curtly. He turned the horse with a squeeze of his thighs and sent a final look at Hubert, who was leaning heavily against the doorframe. “I’ll send someone to collect her things this afternoon. Be sure to pack them all.”
Olivia clasped her hands together over his stomach and pressed herself into his back, terrified that she’d fall. She hadn’t ridden this way since she was a girl, galloping about the fields with Daisy.
A terrible sense of recklessness filled her. Devlin could be her savior or her ruin, but her heart pounded wildly against her ribs at the prospect of escape.
“Hold on!” He sent the horse trotting out of the gate and Livvy bit back a shriek as the wind whipped her hair around her face.
Dear God, what had she done?