He watched with grim satisfaction as his father shot up in the bed, startled by the sound of the door banging against the wall. The marquess glanced around with wild eyes.
'Hang it all, Sebastian! What is the meaning of this?'
'How fitting. The last morning we met was much like this, only it was I in the bed and you the wrathful figure in the doorway.' The memory still made the bile rise in his throat. He smiled with wicked intent as his father paled. 'Ah… so you see my purpose.' He leapt onto the bed and pinned his father down, his hand forming a vice around the marquess's neck.
He would not leave his wife at the mercy of this monster.
'You are fortunate that I have no desire to be a marquess, or I would kill you now and be done with you.'
His father's eyes bulged from the face that so resembled his own. What an odd bit of fate that was. Edmund had looked like their mother, sharing her reddish hair and moss green eyes.
'Sebas-For God's-' Dunsmore struggled like a man gone mad, his hands scratching at Sebastian's wrists, drawing blood, his legs kicking convulsively beneath the counterpane.
'Listen.' Sebastian dropped his face to within inches of his father's. 'You will stay away from my wife. Do not approach her for any reason. If I discover that either you or Carr went within seeing distance of Olivia, I'll kill you.' His fingers tightened further, until his entire hand ached with the force he exerted. Then he released his father and moved off the bed.
The marquess rolled to the edge of the mattress and cast up his accounts on the Aubusson rug. 'I-I'll… cut… you off…' he choked out, his stomach heaving.
Sebastian laughed derisively. 'If only that were possible. But everything is entailed except for your money, and I have no need of it. Spend it, burn it. I don't care.'
His father spat on the floor.
Sebastian headed toward the door. 'Remember, Father. Stay away from my wife.'
After making the appropriate arrangements for Olivia with his solicitor, Sebastian stood on the deck of the
He must free himself of his past-release his men, make arrangements for his ship, and sever his ties with the Robidoux brothers. He wasn't certain how he would survive the upcoming weeks without his wife, but it was too dangerous to bring her with him.
As England faded from view, Sebastian knew he would return as soon as he was able.
He'd left his heart behind, and he could not live without her.
Olivia barely made it through her morning toilet, consumed as she was by a dull, aching emptiness. She'd been so certain she could convince Sebastian to stay, or to at least take her with him, but part of her was not surprised that he had fled. It was a long-standing habit with him to run from his troubles. In his youth, he'd used drink and women to escape. Later, he'd used the sea and, for a time, her body. But apparently she hadn't been sufficient.
She'd stay in bed if she could, wallowing in the linens scented of his skin and their lovemaking, but her father was here and she had to attend to him. Olivia couldn't conceive how she would manage to survive the day, but the effort had to be made.
In the dining room, she filled her plate from the covered platters on the sideboard. Then she preceded the footman to the parlor, where her father sat reading his paper.
'Good morning, Livy,' he greeted jovially.
'Good morning, Father.' She pressed kisses to each of his rosy cheeks, then moved to the small table and chairs in the corner. When the footman set her plate and juice on the table, she dismissed him with a smile.
'You look positively lovesick,' her father commented. 'Are you that pleased with your husband?'
'I… yes.' She had been, before he broke her heart, but she would never tell her father that. There was no way he could have foreseen what would occur when he endeavored to marry her into a title. And truly, wasn't this mess her own fault? She had known how Sebastian was when she'd determined to keep him. Only her own foolishness had allowed her to hope for more.
'I have to say, I had my doubts when I first saw him,' Jack admitted. 'I know his type, wild and unruly. Not the sort of spouse a father would choose for his only daughter. But after speaking with him this morning-'
Her pulse leapt. 'You spoke with him this morning?'
'Yes. We ate breakfast together. He doesn't appear to be the scapegrace I first thought, though he has the looks for it. His handling of the situation last evening impressed me. He appears to be very protective of you, possessive even. I like that. He's also astonishingly well versed in seamanship, seems not the least put-out with my work in trade, and… well, anyway, I found I liked him much better than that cousin of his, the one I thought was Lord Merrick.'
Olivia stifled a groan at the reminder. As if she hadn't enough problems of her own to attend to, she was now inextricably bound to the rest of the Blake family, and what she'd seen of the brood so far left a marked distaste in her mouth. 'Did Merrick mention his plans to you?'
Her father folded his paper and looked at her curiously. 'He said he left you a note. Didn't you read it?'
She was out the door in a moment, shouting for the butler. He came running out, panting with the effort to make haste. But he knew nothing of a note, so she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs. She found a chambermaid making the freshly changed bed.
'Morning, milady,' the young servant greeted with a quick curtsy.
'Did you find a note for me?'
The girl nodded and moved to the end table, returning with a slip of folded parchment.
Olivia murmured her thanks and retired to her room to read the missive in private. It was simple and heartbreaking.
She sank to the floor and cried.
Chapter Six
Stifling a yawn, Olivia perused the ballroom with a jaundiced eye. The event was a crush, therefore the room was hot and, despite the profusion of flowers, smelly as well. She had no desire to be here, but Dunsmore had insisted she attend.
One would think that the last four months would have wrought some change in their feelings for one another, considering how closely they worked together to ensure her social success. But such was not the case. She detested the horrid man as much today as the day she had first met him. Unfortunately, left to her own devices, she'd had no recourse but to seek out the marquess's assistance. She required his support to establish herself as Lady Merrick. Without him, the social acceptance that was due her would have been denied her.
Personally, Olivia cared nothing for the Beau Monde's regard, and if she'd had any choice, she would have remained at home and licked her wounds in peace. Her child, on the other hand, deserved a proper start in life, and it was for that reason alone she feigned interest in Polite Society.
Her hard work was rewarded with unequivocal success. Even Dunsmore was impressed, and she'd sensed an almost imperceptible softening in his attitude toward her. He would be thrilled to learn that she was
