Her father continued to put off their departure. He begged her to remain only ten minutes more. Then after ten minutes, only another ten. No one else asked her to dance. Olivia found herself standing by the wall while other ladies were claimed for reels and waltzes and country dances. She didn’t notice at first. Her thoughts were too full of Jasper. A dozen times she’d wanted to raise her hand to her lips to touch them. Had he really kissed her? Had she really been in his arms just moments before?

“Would you like champagne?” her father asked.

Olivia blinked and seemed to remember where she was. “I’d like to go home,” she said.

“One more glass of champagne and we will go.” He smiled at her, his eyes kindly and imploring. “I’ll return right away.”

She frowned as he walked away. How much longer must they stay? She wanted to speak to her father alone and ask why he’d lied to her. She needed answers and explanations.

But that wasn’t the only reason she was desperate to leave. She imagined Jasper waiting for her in her bed chamber. The thought was scandalous—and exciting.

She’d been so certain when she arrived that men were interested in asking her to dance, but none had approached her. The reason became clear as soon as her father left her alone to fetch her champagne. They hadn’t wanted to make her a respectable request.

The first man sidled up to her in such a way that she didn’t realize he was beside her until she felt his breath on the back of her neck.

“Miss Carlisle,” he said in a deep voice.

She was so startled she almost jumped. Only through sheer force of will did she remain calm. She turned, and seeing he was all but on top of her, stuck her folded fan between them, forcing him back slightly. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“I’ve been wanting to meet you all night.”

She recognized him as one of the men who’d been whispering with Withernsea. Had the duke sent him to harass her? “Then you should have asked my father for an introduction.”

He gave her an oily smile. “We don’t need formalities like that, do we, Miss Carlisle? May I call you Olivia? You may call me George.”

“No, thank you. If you’ll excuse me, sir.”

“But I had hoped to take you for a breath of air. I hear Lord Forsythe has an impressive library.”

“No, thank you,” she said again, moving closer to another wallflower and her mama. The women turned their backs on Olivia, noses in the air. But at least George had given up. Except that he was almost immediately replaced by another so-called gentleman. Olivia had to put him off as well. How long did it take for her father to find a footman with champagne? Should she go to look for him? She dared not leave her position.

The longer her father was away the more panicked she became. Her heart began to pound hard and sweat beaded on her temple. The last time she’d been left alone at a ball, Withernsea had taken advantage of her. She tried to close her eyes, tried not to remember. She didn’t want to think of his lips on hers, his hands ripping her clothing, forcing her legs open.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, closing her eyes to try and calm herself.

But when she opened them Withernsea himself stood before her.

He bowed, his smile tight and knowing. When he rose, his eyes traveled over her boldly, making her wish she had a shawl to cover herself. “Miss Carlisle,” he said, his eyes finally meeting hers. “May I have this dance?”

She tried to speak, but her voice had deserted her. She couldn’t breathe, and the blood rushed in her ears so loudly she couldn’t hear the orchestra. Finally, she shook her head.

“Come now, Miss Carlisle. Do not be difficult.” He held out his hand, demanding she comply. Olivia almost took it. She didn’t quite know how to refuse. But she couldn’t stand the thought of touching him, of dancing with him, of making polite conversation with him.

“No, thank you,” she finally managed to squeeze out of her tight throat.

“You don’t mean it. Dance with me or you’ll make a scene.”

“No.”

He frowned at her. “You are making a scene. Do you want everyone talking about you more than they already are?”

She didn’t move.

“You are my betrothed. You will dance with me.” He grabbed her arm and began to pull her. She jerked back violently, almost losing her balance.

Withernsea towered over her, glowering. “Dance with me this minute, or you will be sorry.”

“No,” she said firmly. Then “No” even more loudly. “I will not dance with you.”

“Lower your voice.”

Heads were beginning to turn their way and a few ladies murmured from behind fans.

“I won’t. I will not dance with you. Not after what you did.”

The orchestra played, but those around them seemed completely uninterested in those dancing the waltz on the dance floor. Olivia could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

“I’ve done nothing. I merely asked my betrothed to dance.”

“Oh, you know what you did.”

A few gasps and murmurs reached her ears, but she didn’t look away from his face. She stared at him hard, her glare accusing. Where was her father? How could he leave her this long? He’d promised to stand with her.

“And I think you know what you did,” Withernsea said. “I could ruin you and your father for breaking our betrothal agreement.”

She flinched back at the threat. She had no doubt he could do so, but she’d rather be ruined than spend even a moment in his company. She almost said, Then do your worst, but the image of her mother lying at home in bed, thin, weak, and ill flashed into her mind. And then she thought of her son. What would Withernsea do if he knew about Richard? How could she protect her little boy? What did the duke want from her? A dance? An apology for breaking the betrothal contract? Would an apology make him go away? But the words stuck in her throat, making her nauseous when she thought about speaking them.

The silence between them continued, the tension rising, until finally it was broken when her father appeared at her elbow. “Your champagne, my dear. Duke, how good to see you,” he said.

Olivia didn’t know how her father could greet the other man so cordially when he knew what Withernsea had done to her. She took the champagne, clutching it tightly in trembling fingers. She wasn’t shaking from fear so much as rage. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to cry. Everyone would see it as weakness, when it wasn’t weakness at all, just pent up fury.

“I wish I could say the same, Carlisle. I asked your daughter to dance, and she refused me.”

Her father turned his indignant gaze on her, and that was the moment she realized she was standing alone. Her father hadn’t just been lying about Jasper. He’d been lying about everything. He wasn’t on her side. She couldn’t believe something so vile about her papa, but with the two men standing side by side and glaring down at her accusingly, she knew coming to London had been a monumental mistake.

Her father had been manipulating her since the moment she arrived home. He pretended to be her ally and all the while he’d been on Withernsea’s side.

“Olivia, you have my permission to dance with His Grace,” her father said, as though that had been the reason for her refusal.

“I’m not feeling well, Father. I fear I would be a poor partner. Would you escort me home?” she said loudly enough for those around them to hear.

Her father looked from Withernsea to Olivia.

“Perhaps if you had a sip of champagne you might recover.”

“No.” She glared at him. “I am returning home. With or without you.”

Her father gave Withernsea a scared look then nodded. “O-Of course.”

She looped her arm through his and turned away, but Withernsea stopped them.

“This is not over, Olivia. You belong to me. We are betrothed, and you will honor that contract or face the consequences.”

Olivia turned slowly, gripping her father’s arm for what little support he could give. “Good night, Your Grace.”

Once in the carriage, Olivia let out a slow breath. She had made it through the ball, and that was a victory in itself. Jasper would be waiting for her back at the town house. She needed him to hold her after the encounter with Withernsea and her realization about her father. She felt vulnerable and scared. Withernsea had been part of her nightmares for the past five years. Seeing him here, in the flesh, was like facing her demons and realizing there was no waking up.

“That didn’t go very well,” her father said. “You could have danced one dance with him.”

The rage she’d been keeping contained boiled over. “You all but abandoned me.”

“I did not. I went to fetch you a refreshment, and when you wanted to leave, I agreed.”

But they both knew that was a lie. He had put her off over and over again.

“One dance would not have hurt and might have even helped matters,” her father said.

“How can you even ask that of me? He raped me, Papa. I cannot dance with him. I do not ever want to see him again.” She spoke slowly, trying to explain, once again, to her father. Perhaps he simply didn’t understand what must be done. “We can’t acquiesce to the duke’s wishes any longer. He must be made to realize that I will not marry him. We should cancel the betrothal contract and pay the penalty. I don’t comprehend why he didn’t marry in my absence.”

“I don’t either. I’m afraid...” He trailed off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid he may have developed a somewhat unhealthy obsession with you.”

Olivia felt the bile rise in her throat. “Then perhaps it’s better to deal with it in a straightforward manner. No placating him.”

Her father shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Livvy. He could hurt us financially.”

Her heart seemed to plummet into her belly. “The contract can’t be worth that much.”

“Your mother has been ill for some time, Livvy,” her father sighed. “I haven’t managed the finances as well as I might have. If it were just the cost of a lawsuit and the damages for breaking the contract, it would shake us but not topple us.”

“But?”

“But Withernsea is a powerful man. He can persuade creditors to call in debts, woo my steward away from the estate, make certain my investments don’t come to fruition. He will ruin us. He can do it.”

“I am already ruined! Lord Forsythe and his family didn’t want me at their ball. With the exception of Lord Phineas, I didn’t receive a single decent proposal while I was there. I’m seen as a fallen women and men think they can say and do what they want to me. I won’t be treated that way. I haven’t done anything wrong, and while I don’t expect Society to believe that, I did think you would support me.”

“I do support you!”

“How? By forcing me to attend an event where I am treated like a common light skirt and forced to speak with the man who raped me?”

“Keep your voice down!”

Olivia gawked at him. They were in a moving carriage. The wheels clattered so loudly on the streets she could hardly hear herself speak. “Why should I? Maybe it’s time everyone knows what Withernsea did.”

“And do you think if you accuse him anyone will believe you?”

“Why shouldn’t they?”

“They’ll say you are lying for attention or monetary gain. He’ll call you a liar, and then it will be your word against his.”

“And why should anyone believe the word of a woman?” She spat the last word as though it were an expletive.

“I believe you, Olivia. But accusing him publicly won’t help us. He’ll only work that much harder at ruining us.”

She lifted her hands in surrender. “So if he will ruin us if I keep quiet and ruin us if I speak up, what other choice do I have?”

Her father didn’t answer, and the silence went on for a long time. She stared at him, uncomprehending, but her father refused to meet her eyes. She went through the options over again, unable to think of another. Unless...

“You can’t be suggesting I honor the contract?” she said on a gasp.

Her father flinched, but the look in his eyes was guilty.

“No! How could you even consider marrying me to him?”

“Livvy, listen to me.”

“No! I’ll never do it. Never!”

“Livvy, you are the mother of his child.”

“Richard is not his child. Richard is mine. Withernsea’s only role in begetting Richard was a few brief moments of violence. He doesn’t know about Richard, and he never will.”

“Be reasonable, Livvy. The boy needs a father. What better father than a wealthy, powerful man? And anyone will look at the child and know his parentage. He looks just like the duke.”

“You’re mad,” she said, her voice shaking. “What have I ever done to make you hate me so?” Oh, she had been a fool, a great fool. She should have run as far and fast from London as she could. She should have never trusted her father.

“Don’t you see? We have no other choice. Withernsea will ruin us, and it would kill your mother. I’m an old man, Livvy. It will kill me. Where am I to go, how am I supposed to afford to care for your mother if Withernsea sees to it that our credit is not accepted, our investments go bad, and we’re evicted from our house?”

She stared at him, tears distorting her vision and making him look like a shapeless, spineless mass.

“It will be a temporary solution. Your mother won’t live much longer, and I need six, maybe nine, months to secure our assets so that Withernsea can’t touch them. Then you can divorce him, run away, whatever you like.”

“And you think once he has me, he will ever let me go?” she said with a calm she didn’t feel.

“I’ll help you escape. We’ll devise a plan.”

She sneered at him. “Like you’re helping me now, Father? Tell me the truth, was this your plan all along? When you hired Jasper to find me, was it to bring me back so Withernsea could marry me?”

“Of course not!”

But she saw the lie. His eyes flicked away from her for a brief instant, and she knew she had found him out. “Withernsea wasn’t able to find me through his own means, so he had you hire Jasper. Jasper wouldn’t have ever agreed to work for him, but he’d work for you, especially when you told him you wanted me back because Mama was dying.”

“Your mother is dying.”

“Convenient for you then. And now it makes sense why you told me Jasper hadn’t called on me—yes, I know you lied about that. You’ve been keeping us apart because you want me for Withernsea.”

“Because I saw there was more than there should be between you and that ruffian!” Her father exploded. “Lord Jasper clearly took advantage of you when all I paid him to do was bring you home. The man has no honor.”

“He has more honor than you ever will. Did you know, Papa? When you signed the betrothal contract, did you know the kind of man Withernsea was?”

“No.” He looked at her, and his expression was imploring. “I didn’t know. I’d heard rumors, but I swear, they were only rumors.” He sighed. “I made a mistake, but we’re in too deep now. I’ve lain awake countless nights, trying to find a way out. You marrying the duke is the only way.”

“No.”

He slammed a hand against the carriage frame in a display of anger she’d never seen from him before. “Why not? Is it because of that deformed mercenary? Do you imagine yourself in love with him? He’s using you, Livvy.”

She clasped her hands tightly, so tightly her fingers hurt. “He is neither deformed nor a mercenary. He was wounded in the war. He fought under Lieutenant Colonel Draven. And he’s an honorable man. But yes, I do love him. And I don’t know if he loves me back, but even if he never wants to see me again, my answer to you does not change. I will not marry Withernsea.”

The carriage slowed as they arrived at the town house. Olivia reached for the door before the footman could hop down and come around to open it. She jumped out of the conveyance and ran for the house.

“We will speak about this more tomorrow!” her father called after her.

Then I’ll be gone tomorrow, she vowed, and ran past Dimsdale and up to her room.

***

THE DOOR FLEW OPEN and Jasper rose from the chair near the fire. He’d been dozing, the comfort of the chair and the warmth from the fire making him drowsy. But he’d barely gained his feet when she launched herself into his arms. He almost toppled backward from the force of her embrace.

“Jasper,” she said and buried her head in his chest. “Thank God you’re here.”

“I told you I would be,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the nurse sleeping in the next room. Breaking into the house had been incredibly simple. Waiting for Olivia had been much harder.

“Yes, you did,” she said and hugged him tighter. Her put his arms around her, holding her close and hoping that would still her trembling. After a few minutes, he lifted her and carried her to the bed, cradling her in his lap as he sat on the coverlet.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Withernsea didn’t touch you, did he?” He tried to keep his voice level, but if the duke had laid a finger on her, he would leave now, find the man, and kill him.

“No, that’s not it. I just need you to hold me. I need to feel safe.”

“You’re safe with me, love,” he whispered into her hair. It smelled of lemon soap and flowers. She had flowers pinned in her coiffure, sprigs of lavender, and he plucked them out and dropped them on the floor. Then he found the pins and removed them as well. Her hair tumbled down her back in a soft wave. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes. My head was aching. That’s better.”

“Why don’t we remove your cloak? It’s too warm in here for such a heavy garment.”

She nodded and he reached for the ties, loosening them and letting the cloak drop from her shoulders and onto the bed.

“Why stop now?” she murmured, her eyes meeting his. The invitation was clear, and though he’d been hoping for it, he hesitated.

“We’re in your father’s house. The nurse is just in the next room with Richard.”

“Then we should be very quiet.” Her hand slid to the bodice of her dress and she pulled out one of the pins, then another, then another. Finally, the bodice was loose, and she slipped it down then moved off his lap to let the garment slide to her feet. Standing before him in her petticoat and chemise, her hair down about her shoulders, she looked very young and very beautiful. She reached for the strings of her petticoat, but he took her hands in his.

“What happened after I left? Did Withernsea try to speak with you?”

“He did speak with me.” Her gaze was fixed on the floor. “He wanted me to dance with him.”

“Damn and hell. I told Phineas to watch over you.”

The look she gave him was akin to gratitude mixed with amusement. “There was little he could have done. He can hardly intervene just because a man asks me to dance.”

“And did you dance with him?” Jasper felt his jaw tighten. He knew she would have had little choice but to do so, but he didn’t like to think of Withernsea’s hands on her.

“No. I refused him and I made an excuse so I could come home.” She reached out to touch his mask. “I wanted to see you. I needed you to hold me. And kiss me.”

Jasper didn’t even think. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her between his legs. “So you want to use me to forget having to see him and speak to him?”

“Is that wrong?”

“Not if I don’t object to being used.” He bent his head and took her mouth, kissing her lightly at first and not resisting when she deepened the kiss. She needed him. Surprisingly, he needed her too. He’d been anxious and tense since leaving her after they arrived in London. As soon as she was in his arms, all of that melted away. He felt her hands reach for his mask, untying it and removing it. He let her but stiffened when she ran a hand over his scarred cheek.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. But you needn’t touch me there.”

“I want to touch you everywhere.”

He stilled, allowing her to caress his scar then place a soft kiss on it. He had the sense that she cherished him, every part of him, even the damaged, scarred parts he didn’t want anyone to see.

She stepped back and untied her petticoats. That left her in stays and her chemise. The stays had been tied tightly, pushing her breasts up, and his mouth went slightly dry looking at the rounded flesh on display.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, reaching out to run the back of his hand over the soft half-moons of her breasts.

She closed her eyes and swayed. “I can’t think much when you do that.”

He stopped, grabbed her about the waist, and hauled her close to him. He half feared he’d scared her, but her eyes glittered with arousal. “What do you want, Olivia?”

“You.”

“Be more specific. What do you want to happen tonight?”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she didn’t look away from him. “I want you to take me. I want to be yours. Completely.”

“You’ve thought this over?”

“I’ve thought of little else. I love you, Jasper.” Her hand came up to touch his scar again, and he felt a flash of heat. He didn’t know if was her touch or her admission. “I want to be with you, and I want you to make me forget everything else for a little while.”

“I can make you forget without bedding you. I’ve done it before.”

“I know you can,” she said, smiling at him. “But I want more this time. I’m not scared anymore. I want to know what the act should be like. I don’t want my only experience to have been with Withernsea.”

How could he refuse her that? Even if he’d wanted to? “If that’s what you desire, you shall have it,” he said and spun her around to loosen the ties on her stays. She stood still and obedient as he wiggled the garment over her hips. Placing his hand on the bare skin near her shoulder, he murmured, “You can change your mind. Say the word, and I will stop.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

He bent and grasped the hem of her chemise. He pulled it up slowly, revealing pale skin made golden in the light of the fire. She lifted her arms, and he tugged it over her head then let it drop on the floor. His gaze drifted lovingly over her. At her cottage he’d told himself an arse was an arse. But he’d been very, very wrong. He’d never seen an arse quite as round and lovely as hers. She started to turn around, but he put his hand lightly on her waist. “Not yet.”

She stilled, glancing over her shoulder at him and smiling. His hand slid down over her hip then cupped her bottom and squeezed.

“What about your clothes?” she asked, voice low and husky.

“My clothes?” He’d never been asked to undress before. The idea that she wanted to see him, that she found his body as arousing as he found hers, made his desire flash hot. He might have ripped his clothes off if it wouldn’t have meant having to make his way back through the streets of London naked.

He released her and untied his cravat, letting the snowy material tumble down his white linen shirt. Next came his coat. That took a little longer, tightly fitted as it was. By the time he tossed it aside, she’d climbed onto the bed to watch him. Her eyes were large and dark, her mouth curved in a half-smile. He unbuttoned his shirt then pulled it from his waistband and yanked it over his head. Bare-chested, he regarded her. “Do you want me to continue?”

She nodded.

He removed his shoes and stockings then reached for the buttons of his breeches. He was already hard. How couldn’t he be with her lovely body on display? But the way she watched him made his cock throb.

He loosened the breeches then tugged them down over his hips. Her eyes widened slightly, and she let out a shaky breath.

“Should I put them back on?”

“No.” She sat. “I suppose I’m not used to seeing a man. You’re larger than I expected.”

“Since I’m being compared to a five-year-old, I won’t let your observations go to my head.”

She smiled. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t see...when it happened before I didn’t see him. Will this hurt?”

“No.” He took her hands and lay down on the bed beside her, stretching out until their bodies touched. “You’ll feel only pleasure, and if I do anything you don’t like, tell me and I’ll stop.”

“You’ll stop if I ask?”

“Always,” Jasper said, his fingers caressing her cheek. “And we needn’t do any more tonight.” He began to pull away. She was obviously distraught after the events of the night. He didn’t want her to wake up in the morning and regret anything that happened between them because she hadn’t been thinking clearly.

But before he could rise, she pulled him back and kissed him. It was not the shy, tentative kiss he’d expected, but the bold kiss of a woman who knew what she wanted and had made up her mind to have it. He broke the kiss, his hands cradling her face. “I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you to remember this night as a mistake.”

She shook her head. “Impossible. I could never regret even a single moment with you.”

This time he was the one who kissed her, claiming first her mouth then pulling her against him and sliding over her. When the kiss broke, she looked up at him. “This feels nice. Your skin against my skin.”

“I’d like to think I can do better than nice.” He kissed her again, then allowed his mouth to travel to her breasts where he licked and nibbled until she was panting with need. He parted her thighs with one knee and felt the heat of her. He explored her body, taking his time, watching her reactions, waiting until she was all but squirming. “Still feel nice?” he asked.

“Better than nice,” she said on a gasp as he touched his tongue to her. “Oh, please. Please.”

Rising onto his elbows, he positioned himself between her legs. His cock pulsed, eager to be sheathed in her warmth. “Do you want me inside you?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes clearing slightly. “I want...something.”

He entered her slowly, making sure she could feel him, making sure she had time to stop him. Her hips arched, and he had to grit his teeth to stop from thrusting inside her. “More?” he asked.

“Is that...?”

“Yes.” His gaze met hers. “More, my love, or do you want me to stop?” He kissed her lips, trying to slow the pounding of his heart.

“You can still stop?”

He laughed. “I may not want to, but I can. Your choice.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “More.”

He slid deeper, and she moaned. “You’re right. It doesn’t hurt.” She looked thoughtful. “It feels rather strange actually. But in a good way.”

“More?” he asked between gritted teeth.

“That’s not all?”

“Not quite.”

“More. All. Everything,” she whispered.

He thrust inside her then, wrapping himself to the hilt. For a moment he thought he saw explosions as his pleasure heightened. She arched her hips again, and fireworks seemed to burst in his vision. He had to bring her to climax quickly now. He couldn’t wait much longer. He moved inside her, thrusting slowly, his eyes locked on hers as he slid in and out. Her breathing increased until she gave short, fast gasps at his every thrust and roll. “Still nice?” he asked.

She moaned, and her fingers dug into his back. He slid his hand between their bodies and found her small nub, slick with moisture. He circled it with his thumb, in rhythm to his movements. When he felt her tighten around him, he stilled, then thrust deeply, sliding against that center of her pleasure.

She came apart, her lips pressed together to keep from making too much noise. And as she reached climax, he allowed himself to soar. He let go, burying himself deep and stifling a feral growl as he pulled out and came on the bedclothes. He tried to keep his weight off her, but his arms shook. His entire body shook from the ferocity of his climax. It had been a long time, but he didn’t think that alone could account for the way he was reacting.

Every part of him felt alive, sated, replete.

And when she pulled him close to kiss him lazily, he kissed her back and realized he didn’t want her to ever let go.