Redcliffe stood by the window, gazing out, his stance emphasizing his long, lean body. As he turned toward her, her pulse throbbed. She cleared her throat. “You wished to see me?”
His gaze warmed. “Sit down, Olivia.”
She took the chair opposite the desk and waited, trying not to reveal her curiosity.
He strolled over to her. “Samuels and I rode into the village last night.”
She stared at him. “You and the cook?” Had he lost his mind? She assessed his color for a sign of fever. “Your wound hasn’t become infected?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Ye of little faith.” He hitched a hip on the corner of the desk and smiled down at her.
“I thought Sam looked pleased with himself this morning,” she said with a perplexed frown. “Are you going to tell me? Why the village? And why in the dead of night?”
Redcliffe laughed. He turned to pick up a piece of paper from the desk and handed it to her.
She stilled. Could it be? It was. Stunned, she turned the banknote over in her trembling fingers. “Where did you find this?”
“In a box hidden beneath Pike’s floor.”
Her eyes widened. “You broke into his house?”
“Samuels assisted me.”
Several emotions flooded through her. Relief, justification for her father, and the end of something which had long held her captive. She might cry if she wasn’t so angry, “I can’t begin to thank you, Redcliffe. You know how important this is to me.” She stared down at the slip of paper in her hands, which meant so much. “I always knew Papa told the truth. He appealed to Sir Frederick Buckley for help, but by the time the magistrate responded, your uncle had died, and Pike denied he knew about it.”
He leaned forward and placed a finger beneath her chin, raising her face and searching her eyes. “I expected you to be happy, Olivia.”
“I am.” She put a hand to her ribcage to still the pounding of her heart. “But I’m angry. And sad.”
Sympathy softened his gaze. “Of course, you must be.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to rid herself of the painful knot of anger in her stomach. “I want to see Pike pay.”
“He will. I’ve sent for the magistrate.”
“I’m sure he’ll obey your summons more swiftly than he did my father’s.”
“The thousand pounds is rightfully yours.” He held out his hand for it. “I must show this to the magistrate.” His somber green eyes appealed to her. “Am I to lose you now?”
As she handed it back, her breath caught in her throat. “I shall remain here as long as you need me.”
“And after that?”
“I hope to buy the haberdashery. And I have a cottage in mind.”
“The haberdashery?” His thoughtful gaze held hers until she had to look away. “I doubt you’ll be content with that, Olivia. You are a passionate woman. You’ll want a man in your life. One who can satisfy all your desires. I want to be that man.”
Olivia trembled. Would he ask her to become his mistress? She feared if he continued, the words spoken could never be taken back. She wanted to put her hands over her ears, to not hear their relationship sullied in that manner. She could never agree. If she turned away from her sense of what was right, she would destroy her life. She shoved back the chair. “I must go.”
He slid off the desk and put a hand on her arm, his voice low and urgent. “No. Olivia, hear me out.”
She pulled away. “There is nothing more to say.”
How she longed to give herself to him, to be with him. She would never want another man. Her chest hurt as she hurried to the door and turned to him, her hand on the door latch. “I’ll send the magistrate to you when he arrives.”
Redcliffe watched her, determination in his eyes. “We must talk about us, Olivia. But I agree, this isn’t the right time.”
She slowly shook her head and left him. It would never be the right time.
