wax, then that will be her choice. Hers.
Not mine. Not Society’s. And certainly not yours.”
The look of shock upon his face disappeared. He calmly
grabbed the offending mitten in mid-swing and tossed it aside. “Olivia, you are
behaving entirely inappropriately. You are a lady, not a fishwife on the
docks.”
A fishwife? Olivia felt her face flush. Good Lord, she’d
just hit him with an icy mitten!
“I will not tolerate a shrew for a wife.” His voice was
quiet and precise, cool and controlled.
“I beg your pardon,” she whispered. Then his words
penetrated her mind. “Wife?”
“Of course,” he replied. “Did you think I came to your bed
with the intention of making you my mistress?”
Olivia spun away from Jack, away from his dispassionate
voice, his calm eyes and proud bearing. Wife . The words screamed in her
head. Wife. Wife. Wife .
She looked out over the hills of Idyllwild. This place was
her refuge, the home of her heart. It was a world away from London, from the
prying eyes and wagging tongues of the ton . She had thought she could do
anything here, dare anything.
“I am a fool,” she whispered to herself.
What she would not have given to hear that word upon his
lips all those years ago, a lifetime ago. Now, though, it may as well have been
the meanest of curses. She could not, would not be any man’s wife. Not even
Jack’s. Especially not Jack’s.
“I apologize.” Jack stepped up behind her, laid his hand
carefully upon her shoulder. Olivia shivered, shrugged and his hand dropped
away. “I did not intend to broach the subject in quite this way. You’re angry.
I don’t know why precisely. But that is neither here nor there. The fact is I
intend to marry you, Lady Palmerton. I would not have bedded you had I not.”
“What of my intentions?” she asked.
“Your intentions?” he echoed. “I assumed your intentions
were the same. Why else invite me to your bed?”
“I see,” she replied. And she did. “I am a lady and
therefore to bed me is to wed me.”
“Mama, I’m cold.”
Olivia turned and found Charlie walking toward her, his
lower lip trembling, his limp more pronounced than usual. “Fanny pushed me in
the snow and my bottom’s all wet.”
“Hush,” she soothed, lifting him into her arms, tucking his
head into the crook of her neck and his cold bottom onto her hip. “We’ll get
you warmed up.”
She avoided Jack’s eyes, turning back the way they had come
as she called over her shoulder, “Frances Marie! Come along, it’s time for
tea.”
Olivia felt Jack’s eyes on her throughout tea and as she
carried Charlie upstairs for a nap while Fanny trotted along beside her.
“I’m not the least bit sleepy,” the girl declared with a
decisive shake of her dark curls. “I’m six, much too old for naps.”
“I’m twenty-eight,” her mother replied. “And I intend to
have a nap.”
“Still,” Fanny persisted as she bounced hard upon the
seventh step that squeaked. “I’d much rather stay below and help Molly with
dinner.”
“Go then,” Olivia relented. “But mind you help rather than
hinder.”
“Hurray! I’m free. I’m free!” Fanny sang as she hopped back
down the stairs. “Justine! Let’s play draughts!”
Chapter Six
Olivia sat next to Charlie’s bed as he drifted to sleep, her
hand rhythmically smoothing his pale curls from his forehead. The motion, the
normal, everydayness of it, soothed her jingling nerves, calmed her ragged
heart rate.
I intend to marry you, Lady Palmerton.
The words, the way in which he’d said them, the
dispassionate certainty, hurt. It pierced her heart in a way she had not
expected and could not identify. Yesterday morning he’d ridden in to her life,
unleashed her passion and now he calmly told her he intended to marry her. When
had he decided she would be his wife?
I intend to marry you, Lady Palmerton. I would not have
bedded you had I not.
He had already decided to marry her when he made love
Not mine. Not Society’s. And certainly not yours.”
The look of shock upon his face disappeared. He calmly
grabbed the offending mitten in mid-swing and tossed it aside. “Olivia, you are
behaving entirely inappropriately. You are a lady, not a fishwife on the
docks.”
A fishwife? Olivia felt her face flush. Good Lord, she’d
just hit him with an icy mitten!
“I will not tolerate a shrew for a wife.” His voice was
quiet and precise, cool and controlled.
“I beg your pardon,” she whispered. Then his words
penetrated her mind. “Wife?”
“Of course,” he replied. “Did you think I came to your bed
with the intention of making you my mistress?”
Olivia spun away from Jack, away from his dispassionate
voice, his calm eyes and proud bearing. Wife . The words screamed in her
head. Wife. Wife. Wife .
She looked out over the hills of Idyllwild. This place was
her refuge, the home of her heart. It was a world away from London, from the
prying eyes and wagging tongues of the ton . She had thought she could do
anything here, dare anything.
“I am a fool,” she whispered to herself.
What she would not have given to hear that word upon his
lips all those years ago, a lifetime ago. Now, though, it may as well have been
the meanest of curses. She could not, would not be any man’s wife. Not even
Jack’s. Especially not Jack’s.
“I apologize.” Jack stepped up behind her, laid his hand
carefully upon her shoulder. Olivia shivered, shrugged and his hand dropped
away. “I did not intend to broach the subject in quite this way. You’re angry.
I don’t know why precisely. But that is neither here nor there. The fact is I
intend to marry you, Lady Palmerton. I would not have bedded you had I not.”
“What of my intentions?” she asked.
“Your intentions?” he echoed. “I assumed your intentions
were the same. Why else invite me to your bed?”
“I see,” she replied. And she did. “I am a lady and
therefore to bed me is to wed me.”
“Mama, I’m cold.”
Olivia turned and found Charlie walking toward her, his
lower lip trembling, his limp more pronounced than usual. “Fanny pushed me in
the snow and my bottom’s all wet.”
“Hush,” she soothed, lifting him into her arms, tucking his
head into the crook of her neck and his cold bottom onto her hip. “We’ll get
you warmed up.”
She avoided Jack’s eyes, turning back the way they had come
as she called over her shoulder, “Frances Marie! Come along, it’s time for
tea.”
Olivia felt Jack’s eyes on her throughout tea and as she
carried Charlie upstairs for a nap while Fanny trotted along beside her.
“I’m not the least bit sleepy,” the girl declared with a
decisive shake of her dark curls. “I’m six, much too old for naps.”
“I’m twenty-eight,” her mother replied. “And I intend to
have a nap.”
“Still,” Fanny persisted as she bounced hard upon the
seventh step that squeaked. “I’d much rather stay below and help Molly with
dinner.”
“Go then,” Olivia relented. “But mind you help rather than
hinder.”
“Hurray! I’m free. I’m free!” Fanny sang as she hopped back
down the stairs. “Justine! Let’s play draughts!”
Chapter Six
Olivia sat next to Charlie’s bed as he drifted to sleep, her
hand rhythmically smoothing his pale curls from his forehead. The motion, the
normal, everydayness of it, soothed her jingling nerves, calmed her ragged
heart rate.
I intend to marry you, Lady Palmerton.
The words, the way in which he’d said them, the
dispassionate certainty, hurt. It pierced her heart in a way she had not
expected and could not identify. Yesterday morning he’d ridden in to her life,
unleashed her passion and now he calmly told her he intended to marry her. When
had he decided she would be his wife?
I intend to marry you, Lady Palmerton. I would not have
bedded you had I not.
He had already decided to marry her when he made love
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