Page 42 of A Lady Most Wayward
‘Olivia—’
But she wasn’t done. ‘When I was thirteen, he lied about one of our maids. The same one who Mother gave the kitten to, and sometimes, I wonder if that’s why he chose her. Cedric could hold a grudge for decades. Nursing it like a coal, feeding it bits of kindling to stay alive until he was ready to fan the flames into an inferno. He said she was stealing from his room. He demanded she be beaten for her crimes and would have done it himself if Father had allowed him to. Instead, he watched as she was whipped, his face like a child on the morn of Yuletide. Not just excited, but joyful. It doesn’t stop there, Philippa. I could tell you ten more stories just like that. Twenty. Thirty. How many do you need to hear before you believe me? He is not well. And he is dangerous.’ Olivia had been accused of madness, but it was her brother who was insane. He hid it behind a calm veneer, beautifully tailored suits, the right words spoken in a genteel tone. But underneath his polished exterior beat the heart of a monster who derived pleasure from inflicting pain on others and watching them suffer. ‘You must believe me.’
Philippa rubbed her index finger against her thumb in an endless circle. Tipping her chin in an abrupt nod, she appeared to make a decision. ‘I do believe you.’
The measure of relief washing through Olivia nearly felled her. She stumbled a step back, sitting hard on the bed. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. For if she allowed one to escape, she would drown in a sea of emotions she had held at bay for so long. ‘Thank you.’ Finally, she didn’t feel alone.
Philippa sat next to her, took her hand and held it in her own, her slender fingers intertwining with Olivia’s. She squeezed gently. ‘Take heart. We will come up with a plan. Together.’
Olivia allowed herself to rest her head on Philippa’s shoulder, hoping to absorb some of her strength. ‘Thank you.’
The sun shifted higher in the sky, gulls called, the waves crashed against the cliff, but they stayed still and silent. Philippa ran her thumb up and down Olivia’s finger as she breathed in salt air, jasmine, and frankincense.
Philippa moved first. Giving Olivia’s hand a final squeeze, she rose from the bed. ‘We must return to London. Hardgrave holds far more power than I ever guessed, and your stories shed light on a disturbing picture. If he is mad, he will be unpredictable. Most men are motivated by self-preservation, but with your brother, I’m not so sure.’
Roused from her window of peace, Olivia also stood. ‘No. He wants to win. He believes he deserves to win, and he also thinks he’s far too clever to ever get caught. Because he is. How are we going to do this, Philippa? What if the Queen is aware of his actions? The Prime Minister?’
Philippa shook her head. ‘The Queen would never condone such actions.’
‘Are you certain?’
Philippa’s silence spoke volumes. For whom was ever completely safe from corruption? Those with great power could so easily be seduced by the promise of more. Or the need to protect what they had already amassed. ‘No. I’m not. I am certain of Hannah, Millicent, Penny, and Ivy. I’m reasonably confident about their men. As confident as any woman can be about a man.’
Olivia shared a look with Philippa. In the midst of her panic and fear, it was glorious to have common ground with the duchess. Philippa was strong, powerful, clever, and dangerous. Olivia respected her as an enemy, but having her as an ally brought more comfort than she would ever have guessed. And something else. A warmth sparking in her belly and rolling through her body like a wave. The glimmer of hope that terrible wrongs might be righted.
Philippa spoke with calm determination. ‘We should leave immediately. Hardgrave will have taken her to his home in Mayfair. He knows you will come for her, and he wants you back on his ground. Where he can control you.’
Olivia nodded. It would be just like her brother to force her back to his home. A cruel reminder she had no choice. No power. No freedom.
Philippa’s eyes flashed. ‘But he is forgetting, London is the battlefield of the Queen’s Deadly Damsels. And we will meet him blow for blow.’
‘He’ll use Hyacinth as leverage. He won’t hesitate to hurt her, Philippa. She is just another kitten to torture, maid to punish, insect to crush. It makes no difference to him that she’s his niece.’ Fear re-emerged, dousing Olivia’s newfound courage.
‘We won’t let him. We must make haste. I shall send a message ahead of us to the Damsels.’ Taking Olivia’s shoulders in her hands, she shook her gently, forcing her to meet Philippa’s gaze. ‘We will fight, and we will win, Olivia. I promise.’
Olivia bit her lip, noting the flare in Philippa’s eyes. ‘What if you can’t keep your promise? What if it’s impossible?’
Philippa blinked. ‘You asked me to trust you; now I’m asking the same. Trust me. Something is only impossible because it hasn’t been accomplished yet. We can do this. The Deadly Damsels, their men, you and me. Together. We will save Hyacinth and take down the Crow. I swear it on my life.’
Her confidence was so potent, her passion so evident, Olivia couldn’t help but get caught in the current of Philippa’s sheer will. If anyone could save her daughter and defeat her brother, it was the duchess. ‘All right. Together then.’
Philippa leaned forward and pressed her lips against Olivia’s.
Needing to feel something other than fear, Olivia opened her mouth, welcoming Philippa’s questing tongue. Philippa nibbled on Olivia’s lower lip, her teeth scraping with the hint of something sharp and decadent. But worry for Hyacinth pulled Olivia from the moment. She leaned back, pressing her forehead against Philippa’s, sharing her breath. ‘Our timing is rather dreadful.’
Philippa grew serious. ‘Youare rather dreadful for my concentration. And also, rather right. There is much to be done. But, dear God, Olivia. You make me wish things were different. You tempt me beyond all reason.’
Olivia couldn’t decipher exactly what Philippa wished was different. Had she resolved any of her feelings? Likely not, but hope bloomed regardless. Heat flared, rushing from the apex of Olivia’s thighs – a pinpoint of aching need – up her chest, over her neck, and into her doubtlessly crimson cheeks. ‘The things you say.’
‘The things you make me ache to do.’ Philippa brushed her thumb over Olivia’s lower lip. ‘But as you said, this is hardly the time.’
Olivia covered Philippa’s hand with her own, stopping her from pulling back. ‘But if it ever is the right time, I will be more than ready.’
Philippa’s pupils blew wide, and Olivia took a measure of satisfaction from knowing she wasn’t the only one needy and raw. If only things were so simple. But trouble had found Olivia once more.
Dropping her hand, she stepped back, needing distance if she were going to focus on what mattered most. Getting her daughter back and defeating the Crow. ‘How are we going to get back to London in time?’
Philippa took a moment, and Olivia could almost see her collecting each thought in her mind and organising them into order. When she curled her lips in a wicked smile, Olivia remembered all the reasons she was once so intimidated by the duchess.
