Olivia!”

Olivia pushed back from the Duke, as he hurriedly did all he could to cover her bared breast.

“M-Mother?”

For once in her life, Olivia struggled for words as she looked into her mother’s face. This is not so terrible, she thought. Her mother would keep this to herself, for she would never want the scandal to —

The drapery was pushed back further and Lady Hester, accompanied by two of her friends, entered the room that felt tinier by the moment.

“Why Lady Olivia,” she purred out. “This is quite the scandal, is it not?”

It seemed a slight crowd had gathered outside the private box, and Olivia stood still in shock. “This is — that is…”

“Lady Olivia and I were dancing and she needed some time away from the crowd,” the Duke cut in, in an attempt to explain.

“So instead,” said Lady Sutcliffe, her shrewd eyes taking them both in, “You decided to take my daughter into a private box and ruin her?”

“Ruin? Oh Mother, don’t say such a thing!”

“What do you suppose this means for you?” asked Lady Sutcliffe, turning sharply toward her. “You are caught with your bosom half hanging out of your gown in a closeted room, your hair askew and a man’s hands on you. No matter what dowry we provide you, you will never find a husband after this — besides the Duke of course.”

She gave him a smug smile.

“Mother!” Olivia hissed. “Don’t do this. We will discuss it later — in private.”

“Yes,” she said, her eyebrows raised, “we will. My husband will be expecting you tomorrow, Your Grace. Now come Olivia, I believe it’s time we leave.”

Olivia, for once, did as she was told, following her mother out the door without a look backwards at the Duke, the room silent but for the sputters of laughter from Lady Hester and her friends.

“Do shut up, Hester,” she said, unable to keep her mouth closed in parting as she turned the corner and left the room, holding her head high.

The carriage ride home was absolutely silent, as Olivia sat looking out the window, not saying a word to her family. She reviewed the events of the evening over and over in her mind. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. When the Duke had kissed her, she had lost all thought and acted strictly on instinct and emotion. When she followed him up the stairs to the private box, she was well aware of what she was doing, of what could happen on their own. She remembered having the thought streak through her mind that this moment of adventure, of excitement, was worth whatever consequences would come her way.

Besides, she didn’t want a husband anyway, so what did it matter if she was ruined? She could withstand the gossip and titters of Lady Hester and the like. She settled back against the squabs and closed her eyes, preparing herself for the coming battle.

* * *

“I will not marry him.”

She stood in the drawing room, facing her parents, her mother sitting on the soft rose sofa with her hands folded in her lap, her father standing behind her, a united front. Helen sat in the corner of the sofa beside her mother, while Olivia faced them all, her hands on her hips and her feet planted firmly onto the lush carpet.

She had spent the night tossing and turning as she contemplated her current predicament. At one point she had risen and paced her room, staring out the window as if she would find her answers in the stars hanging above London.

She eventually determined that she would refuse to be pushed into a corner, trapped into marriage with a very handsome, yet very rakish duke. The man was well known for his womanizing ways, and Olivia would not be the idiot wife who sat at home turning a blind eye to her husband’s dalliances. She would rather be a spinster for the rest of her life.

She must now make her parents understand her point of view. She wasn’t quite at the point to support herself without them, so she had to ensure she could stay under their roof for the time being.

“Olivia, be reasonable,” her mother harped back at her. “By now all of Society will be well aware of your dalliance with the Duke. You will never respectably marry now — likely not ever.”

“That’s fine,” Olivia replied, her nose in the air. “I do not need to marry.”

Her mother snorted. “Do not be obstinate. Of course you want to marry — every woman does.”

“Not every woman, Mother,” Olivia responded, bending to look her mother directly in the eye. “I certainly do not.”

“Why not?” her mother asked with a laugh. “What else do you propose to do with your life?”

“I will work,” she said with a shrug.

“Work?” her mother actually let out a laugh this time. “Where do you suppose you will work?”

“That is none of your concern,” responded Olivia, turning her head to look out the window to collect her thoughts.

Her mother attempted a different tactic.

“This is the best opportunity you will ever be offered. The Duke of Breckenridge! Do you know how many women would be willing to trade places with you?”

“First of all,” began Olivia, as she paced back and forth down the carpet, the eyes of her family members following her as if she were an actress commanding the stage. “The Duke has not offered for me yet, so this may all be for naught. Secondly, you must know the Duke’s propensity for women. You would really have me married to a man who would likely spend much of his time with all other sorts of women?”

As she looked at her parents expectantly, her mother stared straight back at her, and unblinkingly shrugged while her father, at least, was unable to meet her eye.

“Father?” she said, looking at him for support.

“Olivia,” he began hesitatingly. “You know that I have supported you these past years as you have sought out a love match.”

Her mother sniffed loudly, as if to remind them all that she certainly had not been a proponent of this.

“Yes,” she replied. “And I do appreciate so much all you have done for me. Most fathers would not have been as understanding.”

He inclined his head towards her. “That being said, it is far past time that you do marry. As for working, I am proud of your intelligence, Olivia, especially as a woman, however that cannot provide support for you for the rest of your life. Certainly not in the style to which you are accustomed.”

Her face fell at her father’s words. If anyone had ever believed in her, it was he.

“But —”

He didn’t let her finish. “We must also consider Helen.”

“Helen?”

“Yes. You know that while it is expected that you marry first, Helen has still had the opportunity to find a suitable match regardless of your status. Now, however, should you be ruined and unmarried … Helen will not have much chance at all for a respectable marriage.”

Olivia stopped the flow of words that were close to spilling out of her mouth and turned to her sister. They had never been particularly close, as they were so very different and rather far apart in age, but Olivia did feel a great deal of affection toward her, and had always felt her quiet and timid sister was something of her responsibility. Should she keep her from marriage…?

“Helen,” she prodded. “What are your thoughts on this situation?”

Helen looked up at her with a sheen of unshed tears covering her eyes.

“Please Olivia,” she whispered. “Do not ruin us.”

Olivia’s breath caught in her throat at the impassioned plea. Don’t ruin us, her sister had said. In all of this, she had never stopped to consider that element.

“Very well,” she said, the words practically forced out of her lips. “I shall marry him.”

* * *

Alastair paced around his study, his thoughts swirling round his head. He was angry at himself, hardly believing he had allowed his body’s desires to overtake all rational thought at the ball. This was why he had kept himself away from Lady Olivia Jackson. She was the one woman amongst the young, unmarried ladies of the ton who intrigued him. He had thought one chaste kiss would be enough to get her out of his thoughts, but it had the opposite effect. Not only had the kiss turned to passion, but now that he had tasted her, he wanted more.

More is certainly what he could get if he followed the directions of the Countess, he thought with a wry grin. Alastair hated being told what to do. His father had attempted to order him around throughout his entire life, and Alastair despised being manipulated. Not only that, he had no wish at all to be married.

But as ready — or not — as he was, did he still have a choice? He may be known for his propensity for women, but that did not mean that he was ever out to ruin young ladies. But ruin he did. Lady Olivia would never find a suitable match after this. Too many had been witness to their tryst.

Alastair frowned as he realized it was more than likely that her mother had known exactly what she would find when she pushed aside the curtain with the crowd of people behind her. Lady Sutcliffe had wanted to see her daughter ruined. The thought made Alastair sick. Did he really want to be part of such a family?

A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie, and he marched over to open it, finding his mother on the other side, still dressed in black as part of her mourning ritual for his father.

“Mother,” he nodded his head at her.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek as she entered the room, and sat in one of his wingback chairs to look up at him. She looked very out of place in this masculine room that had been his father’s domain to rule for so many years. His mother was still a beautiful woman, despite the stark black costume and the gray that tinged her hair. She had managed to retain much of her joy for life, despite his father trying his best to stamp it out of her for years.

It was where, he supposed, he had found his own levity.

“How was the ball last evening?” she questioned him, a soft smile on her face.

“You heard?” he asked with a sigh, wandering over to the sideboard and pouring himself a glass of brandy, despite the fact it was well before noon. “Word travels quickly.”

“It does,” she said with a nod. “Particularly when the Countess of Sutcliffe is intent on ensuring it travels.”

He rolled his eyes and took a sip, letting the brandy burn down his throat.

“The woman was entirely too pleased about her daughter’s ruination,” he said to his mother.

“Yes, I could see Lady Sutcliffe not protesting her daughter’s entanglement with a duke,” his mother said, leaning back against the arm of the chair. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, Mother,” he said, rubbing his aching temple with the index and middle fingers of his right hand. “I have no desire to find myself wed anytime soon.”

“Tell me, Alastair, do you believe the girl had any intent of trapping you into marriage?”

“No,” he responded immediately. “She had no way of knowing what would transpire and she was truly angry with her mother.”

“It is no longer my place to tell you what to do,” she said slowly. “However I believe, in your heart, you know what the right decision is.”

“Yes,” he said, a sickening feeling deepening in the pit of his stomach. “I believe I do.”