“Sleep,” Victor whispered, his breath stirring her hair. “Tomorrow will challenge your limits, little one. And my girl needs her rest.”
Olivia shut her eyes, guilt and yearning battling within her. Tomorrow would test her, indeed. In ways Victor hadn’t anticipated.
She would confront Reynolds, eliminate his threat permanently, and safeguard her newfound position. If he truly had connections to French intelligence, she might even be able to convince him that his activities had been discovered, that continued pursuit of her would only hasten his own downfall.
The secret could protect both herself and her husband, she reasoned. It would be best that she handled matters and then they could continue as they had.
Tomorrow she would stand firm against those who threatened her new life, using the very strength her unexpected Daddy had helped her discover within herself.
Chapter Six
Victor
Victor stared at the correspondence before him, struggling to focus. The morning light streamed through the study windows, illuminating ledgers and letters that demanded his attention, yet his mind kept returning to Olivia. He recalled earlier that morning when he made good on his promise.
The vulnerability in her eyes as she realized she would spend the entire day with the physical reminder of his ownership, sent heat coursing through his veins. He wasn’t certain he’d make it until later that day to fulfill the rest of his promise.
With an irritated grunt, he forced his attention back to the papers on his desk. But then a knock interrupted his concentration again.
“Enter,” he called.
Simmons appeared. “Lord Atherton has arrived, Your Grace. He apologizes for calling without prior notice but says the matter is urgent.”
Victor frowned. His friend rarely made unannounced social calls. “Show him in immediately.”
James entered moments later, his military bearing always evident. The scar on his left cheek pulled slightly as he offered a grim smile.
“Victor,” he greeted, referring to him casually as he had for years. “Forgive the intrusion, but a concerning matter has come to my attention.”
Victor gestured to a chair. “Brandy? You look like you need it.”
James nodded and settled into the offered seat. “My sources observed a street urchin delivering a note to your residence yesterday. The boy mentioned it was for ‘the new duchess’ and to be delivered to her hands alone.”
Cold dread settled in Victor’s gut as he pressed a glass into his friend’s hand. “You’re having my household watched?”
“Not your household. Edward Reynolds.” James met his gaze unflinchingly. “He returned to London three days ago.”
The name struck him like a physical blow. Reynolds. The artist who had painted Olivia, seen her naked, and bedded her. Some of those thoughts he’d prefer never to recall, as Olivia was completely his.
“Why would Reynolds interest you?” Victor kept his tone neutral despite the angst building within him.
James leaned forward. “Because he’s dangerous, Victor. During the war, while we bled in Spain, Reynolds sold information to the French. Intelligence about aristocratic families, their weaknesses, their vulnerabilities.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have proof?”
“I intercepted one of his couriers myself in ‘13. The Home Office has maintained surveillance since then.” James’ face hardened. “His artistic talents provide perfect cover. He obtains access to noble homes and their private lives through their vulnerable female relatives.”
Victor slammed his glass onto his desk. “You believe he had targeted Olivia deliberately.”
“I know he did.” James downed his brandy. “I was the one who discovered your wife’s painting at The Crimson Queen. When I traced it back to Reynolds, the pattern became clear. He seduces, compromises, then exploits.”
Victor stared at his friend, pieces falling into place. “You brought the painting to her father.”
“I did. Reynolds has a network throughout London. He uses street children, servants in noble houses, even other artists. I thought the matter regarding the duchess concluded when she married you.” James’ expression grew troubled. “But there’s more. The same boy who delivered Reynolds’ note returned that evening. My man observed your wife’s personal maid handing him some sort of correspondence.”
Rage exploded within Victor, white-hot and all-consuming. The possibility of Olivia corresponding secretly with Reynolds. The very man who had seen her in a way that was only for Victor sent a wave of visceral jealousy through him. His hand tightened around his brandy glass until he feared it might shatter.
Images flooded his mind. Olivia’s lips curving in secret pleasure as she penned her reply to her former lover. The very hands, which had clutched at Victor’s shoulders, obeying her Daddy, just hours ago. His mind began to run away from him at what she might have said.
