She looked at him and he noticed how she pushed her hands through her hair. He’d noticed the same thing that first day in the forest glade.
“Ah, my engagement to Sir Jonathon Ellington. My attention was focused on Jocelyn, who, though unharmed by the fire, had the emotional scars of losing her parents. The funeral was on a bitterly cold day in the middle of January. We could see our breath before us in the frost chilled air. Our tears were for their loss of future and our knowledge that we would miss them so desperately.
“I thought it strange that Sir Jonathan did not come to stand with me at the graveside. Our wedding was mere weeks away, and I missed his support. He was there, but at the back of the group of mourners with his parents.
He came to see me that evening. I don’t know and still don’t know how much was due to my injuries. He told me, however,” and she paused to draw breath, “he explained that my Uncle Harold, who was now earl after the death of my brother, beingthe only male heir to the estate, had told him that I was penniless.”
Olivia looked at Marcus, and he thought she seemed more confident now they had moved away from the deaths in the fire.
“It’s all somewhat complicated, but it seems I did not have the fortune which my father had put into trust for me.
“So, it’s all a little mundane. My fiancé said he loved me, but needed to marry for money, to shore up his family finances. His mother had suggested he tell me this on the day of the funerals, so I could have all the sadness on the same day—get it out of the way—were the words he used.”
Marcus wanted to say something supportive, but was lost for words and could only nod as he listened.
“That is perhaps the only part of my story that I feel could have been different, or handled more sensitively.”
Marcus reached forward and took her hand in his. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share this story,” he told her. “It means more than you could know that you told me.”
He wanted to keep holding her hand, but knew it wasn’t seemly and instead he raised it to his lips, kissed the top of her hand and let it go.
To avoid any embarrassment, he focused on pouring, and handing her, a second cup of tea.
“I can only say again that what you did that night was heroic. Many would not have attempted to try to save others in the face of a raging fire. It’s a wonder that you weren’t killed yourself.
“Why on earth does Lady Cressida think there is anything scandalous, or even worthy of gossip in this tragic story? If anything, you are a heroine in society.”
“Thank you for those kind words, and I agree, it makes no sense,” replied Olivia.
Marcus lost himself in a strong rage towards the man who had left this beautiful, brave, amazing woman, in her hour of need. Was it the scarring or the money? He struggled to comprehend how any man would have broken off an engagement because of a scar. The only ugliness here was in the actions of a despicable fiancé, who had in effect abandoned her.
He held out his hand to help Olivia to her feet. She looked so vulnerable, but he knew now that this woman was as brave as the soldiers he had seen on battlefields on the continent.
He took a step forward and without a word he drew Olivia into his embrace, holding her close, and wishing he could take someof the hurt away. He would do all he could to protect and comfort her in the days ahead. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he inhaled the fragrance ofrosa damascenain her hair.
When she finally stepped back, he looked at her with gentle eyes.
“I don’t know quite how we got here, or where we are going to, my dear Lady Olivia Sherwyn? I do know that there is a connection between us, and we should explore that and find out more.”
She looked at him, a half-smile on her lips, saying nothing.
“I know that you have haunted my thoughts since that first day in the forest, and now I don’t want to let you out of my sight. It’s a curious feeling,” Marcus confided.
She took his hand in hers and held it for a second, and he felt his nerves firing and sparks moving throughout his body.
“Now, Cendrillon, let me escort you back to the ball and claim another dance. Let’s give those tabbies of thetonsomething to talk about.”
Olivia laughed and his heart lifted at the sound. “I believe I do have my very own Prince Charming this evening,” she said.
***
As they left the library, and crossed the hall, going back toward the music and dancing, neither noticed the figure in the shadows.
She stepped even further back into the shelter of a tall pillar, as they passed close by her. White hot, seething rage filled her. She had been humiliated first by Lord Marcus Hatfield, and then Viscountess Marianne Leighton in the ballroom, and at some time in the future both would pay a price for that.
Despite her grandmother’s ancient magic, the romance between these two seemed to have strengthened. Lord Hatfield leaned close to Lady Olivia, and he brushed a lock of hair across her face, then rearranged her hair, pulling it forward, so any trace of the scars in her hairline were hidden.
This should not be happening. He should have been in her arms now, out on the terrace, gazing at the stars and the moon.
