Ephemeral emotion flickered across her face.
“Not replying isn’t an option. You cannot run from this.”
A laugh, sudden and mirthless, emerged from her parted lips. “No? But I am so good at it.”
“Olivia—”
“No. The answer must beno.”
Chapter 27
A light rush of joy coupled with deep, dark despair swept across and sank into Olivia.
Jake had asked her to marry him. She’d said no.
His brow wrinkled in disbelief. “No?”
His inability to takenofor an answer was almost comical. Almost.
His brow released, and his entire bearing took on a pugilistic set that didn’t appear remotely defeated. “What if there’s a babe?” he threw out like a rebuke.
A possibility she’d considered. But there were ways of concealing pregnancies, country estates and such. Besides, thetonwould expect nothing less, or more, of her. Her resolve strengthened. “You mustn’t marry me.”
“Stop using that word.Must,” he growled, thwarted, frustrated. “It’s wearing thin.”
“Jake, stop and take a listen.” The strain of violin strings and the monotonous hum of the party drifted over the dense labyrinth. “Can you hear them? Discussing me? Dissecting me? Even in the Duke’s own house.”
“That hardly matters to—”
“It matters to you. Don’t you remember?” She inhaled deeply, sharp, midnight air frosting her lungs, steeling her for the conversation that must be had. “It matters for Mina’s chances with that lot.” She pressed on, insistent. “You see their refined, glossy smiles. What you don’t see are the sharp, vicious teeth hiding behind those civilized smiles. But I do. I’ve felt the fine points of those teeth sink into me. Mina is innocent. She deserves better than that.”
“I’m her father. I know what’s best for her.”
“It’s not me.”
He opened his mouth to speak and closed it. He shot to his feet and began pacing the length of the enclosed space, calling to mind a caged tiger who hadn’t yet made peace with the narrow confines of his cage. Welcome to your life in theton, Right Honourable Jakob Radclyffe, Fifth Viscount St. Alban.
The reality of their situation had begun to sink in for him. Good. Great. Brilliant. Like a tenacious barrister pressing her point home, she continued, “Mina needs a stepmother of impeccable reputation. She needs a protective shield. We’ve accepted this in our hearts.”
He stopped mid-stride and swiveled toward her. Silent accusation pinned her in place. She’d read him all wrong. He hadn’t accepted her version of their reality. Not in the least.
“Our hearts? Do not speak to me of our hearts, Olivia.”
He stalked toward her, an unpleasant glint in his eye. A frisson of worry tingled down her spine, not for the safety of her person, but for something more important: the safety of her intentions.
“Mina isn’t your reason for refusing me . . .us.”
Olivia sprang up, her heart threatening to pound through her chest. She stepped behind the stone bench, placing it between her and him. As if it could protect her from the havoc he was wreaking inside her. “If you must know,” she began from what she thought was a safe enough distance, “I’m not certain we are well suited to one another. That the, um—”
“Passion?” he supplied.
“Yes, that the passion we share could be enough to sustain us over time.”
“The heat between us burns hot and bright enough to sustain us through not one lifetime, but a dozen.” His words emerged clipped, Dutch in intonation. He was definitely upset.
He rounded the bench. Now nothing was between them. Nothing in the physical world, anyway. But it wasn’t a physical barrier that stood between them. It was the one invisible to the naked eye that was most impenetrable. Solid enough to prevent one heart from accepting another.
“Try again,” he said, words that penetrated clear through to her core. “Your refusal isn’t about the fickleness of passion. It’s about your marriage.”
