Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Lord Camden’s butler stood next to the front door, with Warren’s coat draped over his arm, hat and gloves at the ready.
The butler’s steady gaze followed Warren as he continued to pace the width of the foyer.
He wasn’t ready to leave. Over the past three days, Lady Charlotte had seen to it that he was not to be left alone with Olivia for any reason.
His days were numbered, and while he was winning Olivia’s favor, she still had not agreed to marry him.
“Lord Guernsey!” Lady Charlotte marched down the hall and stopped directly in his path. “What are you still doing here?”
The countess was one of the few who understood his humor. Meeting her gaze directly, he answered, “Deciding whether or not to kidnap Olivia.”
“I see.” The corners of Lady Charlotte’s mouth twitched as she continued to stare back at him.
“How am I to win over Olivia when you are always about?”
“From my observations, you are making progress, albeit slow.” The countess made a motion behind her back, and the butler left them alone. “Might I make some suggestions?”
After spending nearly a week in close proximity with the woman, Warren surmised Lady Charlotte wasn’t posing a question. No, it was a direct order for him to remain silent while she lectured him. With a nod, he said, “Of course.”
“What qualities do you believe Olivia is seeking in a husband?”
Her question took him aback for a moment. “Qualities?”
“Do you think she seeks to spend the rest of her life with a man who is merely going through the motions or perhaps one who takes action?”
“Takes action?”
“You don’t sound certain.” Lady Charlotte’s brow arched. “If you are not sure of her preferences, how do you expect Olivia to be able to agree to marriage?”
“I know Olivia well enough we have a lifetime to…”
The countess’s brows snapped together, and she raised her hand for him to stop.
“You know her, but does she really know you?” She lowered her hand and crossed her arms over her chest. With a determined set of her jaw, Lady Charlotte continued, “Lord Guernsey, over the past few days, you have proven to us all that you are a gentleman with a kind heart and good intentions. You have exhibited the characteristics of a Lord who is honorable and trustworthy, but with such a short window of opportunity, you must reveal your true self, or else Olivia might as well be marrying any Lord who has a seat in the House.”
Hell and damnation. Lady Charlotte made an excellent point.
He’d been so focused on allaying Olivia’s fears, conducting private dance lessons, arranging for her to have tea with Anne and his mama, and taking her for strolls about Hyde Park.
He had acted the gentleman, treated her with courtesy, and made love to her, but had none of those activities revealed his true feelings for her?
Warren glanced down at the woman standing in front of him.
He couldn’t read Lady Charlotte as well as he could Olivia, and it took him a moment before he realized she was waiting for him to say something.
No, she was waiting for him to ask her for help.
With only three days remaining, he had no choice.
He inhaled slowly before giving in. “What do you suggest I do?”
“That is not for me to figure out, but I suggest you act soon or you will lose Olivia forever.”
He’d guessed wrong. Lady Charlotte had no intention of providing guidance. Not one to act without a plan, Warren bowed and said, “I’ll take my leave now.”
“You’re not planning on stealing her out the window later this eve, are you?”
Back ramrod straight, he answered, “Of course not.”
He searched Lady Charlotte’s features for a sign she was teasing him, yet she was suspiciously serious.
The butler reappeared and shoved Warren’s garments at him.
Clutching his coat to his chest, he watched as the butler escorted his mistress, who had one hand pressed to the small of her back, away.
The baby she was carrying had grown noticeably in the past week.
An image of Olivia with flush cheeks and a rounded belly, flashed before his mind's eye. The intent of Lady Charlotte’s parting question hit him square on the head as he donned his hat.
If he wanted to be alone with Olivia, he’d have to sneak into her chambers at night.
Set with a plan, Warren walked out the front door with a bounce in his step.
He was certain that no one other than him could make Olivia happy.
All the bravado that had spurred Warren for a midnight adventure evaporated at the sight of Anne clutching a handkerchief and running up the stairs to her rooms.
Warren walked into the drawing room where his mama stood by the window and asked, “What has upset Anne?”
“Men are such fools.” Mama turned to look at him and shook her head. “Including you.”
Damnation, why do women talk in circles, or rather in riddles?
He spied the stubborn tilt of her chin and opted to pour himself a drink. Walking over to the sideboard, he asked, “Who should I pay a visit to?”
“Anne doesn’t need your interference.” He and his mama crossed paths as she made her way to the settee.
“I’m offering to help.”
“Help. Ha! You need to focus on winning over Olivia and let Anne be.”
Decanter in one hand, glass in the other, he paused to ask, “Is it that obvious that I’ve failed to charm Olivia?”
“Charm! Is that what you think you were supposed to achieve this past week? And here I thought my son was clever.”
“Mama!”
“You dolt. The goal is for Olivia to fall in love with you, not merely hold admiration for you.” Raising a hand in the air, she ordered, “Pour me a glass.”
He glanced at her hand and then back to the empty glass in his. With a shrug, Warren filled the tumbler with a finger and then filled another. Drinks in hand, he walked over to the settee and sat next to her. “Here.”
His mama took the tumbler and downed the amber liquid in one gulp. “Now you will have to excuse me. I’m off to console Anne.” She placed the empty glass on the side table and left him alone.
Apparently, women resorted to drinking brandy for courage.
Mayhap he didn’t even know his own mama as well as he thought.
Warren set his half-empty tumbler next to his mama’s empty one and stretched out to lie upon the settee.
With the back of his head cradled in his hands, he began to ponder who could have upset Anne.
It had to be the gentleman whom she had returned to assist, the man Anne still kept secret from him, but not his mother.
What a miserable friend he’d been. Focused purely on his own matters, he hadn’t even bothered to inquire as to how Anne was faring. Should he listen to her and leave Anne be, or should he intervene?
Anne was more than a friend. She was like a sister. He should protect her. He sat up and reached for his drink. When his glass was missing, he glanced around the room.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” Anne was standing by the hearth and raised his tumbler in his direction.
“You shouldn’t let this go to waste.” She downed the drink but unlike his mama, she sputtered.
Clearly it was her first time consuming brandy.
“It’s no wonder others refer to it as liquid courage.
Anyone who can drink that would have to be brave. ”
He chuckled. Anne always had a way of making him laugh.
Warren got to his feet and walked over to join Anne. “Tell me his name.”
Anne avoided his gaze and stared into the fire.
“I’ve respected your wishes to date, but he’s hurt you, and I’ll not stand for it. Tell me his name.”
Anne remained tightlipped. “I can’t tell you his name.”
He recalled the fateful night at the Velvet Hell when he suspected Anne had visited. “Was it the Honorable Earl of Marshall? Can’t be, he was banished to the country by his twin brother the Duke of Strandon. Who has upset you so?”
Anne shrugged. “Was it the earl or the duke? Who knows who he really is…”
The woman was making no sense. Was the brandy already affecting her sharp mind? “What the devil is wrong with you?”
“I truly had hoped that after discovering the identity of your angel, you’d cease with all the questions and return to merely speaking when spoken to.”
Warren glared down at Anne, who was trying to redirect their conversation. He wasn’t about to allow it this time. “Out with the truth, or so help me God, I’ll…”
She shrugged out of his hold and looked up at him with eyes filled with anger. “You’ll what? There is nothing you can do that will make me feel worse than I already do.”
At the sight of two small tears running down her cheek, he reached into his coat pocket and handed it to her. “Here.”
Anne snatched the material from his hand and dabbed at her face. “Promise me you won’t go and pay a visit to Marshall. I mean, his brother the duke.”
That was a promise he couldn’t make. His mama was her chaperone. Anne was under his roof; she was under his guardianship until her father returned from the Continent. If anything were to happen to her, he would be held responsible. “Unfortunately, I can’t grant you your wish this time, Anne.”
A sob escaped her, and he pulled Anne in close for a hug. He patted her back as she continued to cry. The Duke of Strandon was going to pay for whatever misdeed he or his brother had committed; he would make sure of it.
Over the top of Anne’s head, he looked toward the window, and his eyes narrowed.
The curtains were askew. He stepped away from Anne and crossed the room in quick, long strides.
A light draft brushed against his heated cheeks.
Why in the devil was the window open? He drew back the curtain that had caught his attention and stuck his head out into the cool night air.
Scanning the front garden, he could find no sign of anyone about, but the hair on the back of his neck told him otherwise.
His fingers tightened about the sill as he leaned out further to see around the corner, but the pipe drain blocked his view.
“Is there someone out there?” Anne asked as she squeezed next to him and poked her head out also.
“Surely you're not hoping to see the man who upset you, are you?”
The infuriating woman didn’t answer. She merely retreated and then poured herself another drink.
“Anne,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.
She knocked back the amber liquid like a sailor this time, no coughing or sputtering, and her expression remained natural as if she hadn’t been a crying mess moments ago.
He turned to close the window, and through the glass pane, in the twilight, he caught the flutter of material as he slid the latch into place.
Who was out there? Could it have been Olivia, or was it wishful thinking on his part that she’d come to him?
Warren strode toward Anne, who was now swaying slightly from side to side, and snatched the glass from her hand.
“That is enough for one night.” The tumbler hit the sideboard, with a tad more force than he meant, causing Anne to jump, which was out of character for her.
To appease his unease, he’d have to check the back garden and stables to rule out the possibility of a thief or the scoundrel who had upset Anne being about.
He wrapped an arm about Anne’s waist to steady her. “Come along. Best you retire for the night.”
As Warren escorted Anne up to her chambers, he began to form a list of Marshall and his brother's regular haunts. He’d head off to White’s, and if the bastards weren't at their club, then he’d venture to the Velvet Hell once more.
A shiver rolled down his spine. The thought of being caught in one of Lady Osbourne’s webs had him praying he’d find one of the twin brothers before resorting to visiting the gaming hell famous for relieving several poor Lords of all their coin and more.
“Love is the worst. Don’t fall in love. It’s too…” Anne mumbled as he sat her upon the edge of the bed. As Anne’s head hit the pillow, she finished her sentence with, “Too much.”
“Hate to tell you, my friend, but it is too late to warn me against falling in love, for my heart already belongs to Olivia.”
With a grin, Anne confessed, “I love Olivia too.”
Warren tugged on the bell pull, summoning Anne’s maid.
Out in the hall, he took out his pocket watch as he let the door click close behind him.
Ten past eight. He had plenty of time. He’d deal with Anne’s tormentor and then pay a visit to Olivia and not leave until she agreed to marry him.
Begrudgingly, he had to agree with Lady Charlotte; a man of action was one worthy of love.