Love Birds of Regent's Park Page 13

He can’t show that dimple. Not today! Not with me standing here next to… Her gaze slid to her left. To the reptile who slithered up next to her. He placed his hand around her shoulders. She squirmed and gave him the evil eye, but he simply smiled his alligator smile and turned his head. To Oliver. And glared.

  Lucy gasped. How rude! It was Conrad, after all. Too bad the cuckoo wasn’t nearby to do a repeat performance on Conrad’s… well, everything, again.

  But then, that might ruin Anna’s special day, and as much as Lucy would love to see Conrad get his comeuppance again, she had no wish to spoil anything for the bride.

  A peek from under her lashes at Oliver showed him to be smiling even wider than before. Not at all what she’d expected! Did he enjoy being the object of another man’s scorn?

  He seemed not to mind in the least. In fact, his countenance was quite jolly. But perhaps he was overcome with joy for his good friend Richard. Yes, that must be it, for no one would look upon being glared at by someone, anyone, as a positive thing.

  Anna and Richard stood side by side in front of the reception table. Lucy’s mind drifted as they accepted good wishes from friends and acquaintances. Try as she might, she couldn’t get her thoughts from Oliver. He was standing just a few feet from her, after all. How was she supposed to concentrate on anything but him?

  Richard leaned down and gently, tenderly, pressed his lips to Anna’s. Had their kiss during their wedding ceremony been their first? Or had they shared one prior to that morning?

  Lucy bit her lip. She and Oliver had come close, oh so very close to doing that very thing. He’d stepped closer. Leaned forward. His scent had mingled with the outdoors and sunlight where they stood. She’d been ready. So ready for his kiss. And just as their lips were no more than a whisper apart from pressing together…

  Anna had called to her to announce her betrothal.

  Lucy stole yet another glance at Oliver. How many did this one make in the short time since they’d arrived at the Sanctuary? Perhaps it was best not to think about what nearly happened. What she’d wanted to happen. Longed to happen.

  Because it could never be.

  Never.

  Melancholy enveloped her heart. She might as well accept the inevitable, because her father would not be moved. Lucy had given thought to Anna’s suggestion of running off with Oliver, but there was a large problem with that idea.

  He had not asked for her hand.

  Had not said he loved her.

  Had not even pledged his heart to her.

  As attracted as he seemed to be to her, she had no way of knowing absolutely that he did indeed love her and have intentions toward that end.

  What was she to do?

  A tap on her shoulder startled her out of her reverie. Conrad stood quite close. Entirely too close. He leaned toward her. What was he doing? Did he think to kiss her? Here? Now?

  She took at step back, away from those pale lips. Away from the thin, claw-like fingers. Away from everything having anything to do with the disgusting creature. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?

  Because you are betrothed. You’ll have to allow him to touch you at some point.

  A sigh escaped her lips. But not today. Not now. Not with Oliver present. Yes, because of her father, she was bound to Conrad, but she would die before she would allow him to kiss or fondle her in front of Oliver.

  No!

  He leaned in a second time. Was he mad? In public? She frowned and turned her head. And looked directly into Oliver’s eyes. What must he be thinking? How hurt he must be! He tilted his head, as if studying her, and then blinked. Then, with the barest tap on Richard’s shoulder, he leaned in to whisper something in the other man’s ear.

  What was that about? Something to do with his being a witness for the wedding?

  Anna hurried toward Lucy, all smiles, and hugged her close. “Oh, my dearest Lucy, thank you so much for attending my reception. It means the world to me.”

  “I couldn’t imagine not sharing your special day with you, Anna. You are my family, in every way that counts.”

  Anna dabbed her already moist eyes with a lacy white handkerchief that Lucy had given to her as a wedding gift. “Bless you, dear girl.” She pulled away and touched Lucy’s cheek, as she had often done for the past few years. Ever since Lucy’s mother had passed away. Lucy would miss living in the same house with Anna. It seemed they were both going to be living elsewhere. With their husbands.

  She glanced toward Conrad, who was now engaged in conversation with Richard. And looking none too pleased about it, either. What in the world would Richard have to discuss with Conrad? And where was Oliver?

  “Are you enjoying the day, Miss Ashbrook?” That voice. That wonderful, beautiful silky voice.

  She turned, and there he stood. Oliver. Wearing a suit much like the one she’d seen him in when he’d been in her father’s study. So had he not borrowed it after all? Did he own the expensive clothes?

  His eyebrows raised, he smiled. Wait. He had asked her a question, hadn’t he? He must think her daft.

  “Oh, um, yes. Certainly. A lovely day for a lovely event.” Could she have sounded more trite?

  “I agree.” He glanced to his right and then back toward her. “Would you… care for a walk?”

  She frowned. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

  “Oh? And why would that be?”

  “I’m…” Heat raced from her neck, over her cheeks, and to her ears. “Engaged.”

  “Yes. I did hear something like that.”

  A gasp erupted from her throat. “You… you did?”

  His jacket bunched at the shoulders when he shrugged. “Of course.”

  He didn’t seem upset. Why didn’t he seem upset? He’d nearly kissed her, not very far from this spot. It would seem that in that case, a man would take offense to a woman he nearly kissed being engaged to someone else so soon after the fact.

  But Oliver wasn’t. Instead, he smiled. Creating two dimples. Now how on earth was that fair? He’d asked her for a walk, and then showed not the usual one, but two dimples.

  No, she could not in good conscience take a walk with him.

  “All I’m asking for is a simple walk, Lucy. We’ve taken them together in the not so distant past.” He glanced around. “It’s a lovely day. Wouldn’t you…” his glance fell to her lips “…care for one?”

  She swallowed. No. This could never be. She would never be with Oliver. Never hold his hand again. Or speak to him again.

  And he would never kiss her.

  Today was likely the last time she would ever see him.

  Conrad turned and stared at her. And Oliver. Standing together.

  Tears blurred her vision. “I’m sorry, Oliver. So, so sorry.” She spun, and without another word to anyone, fled the Sanctuary.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lofton turned to follow Lucy.

  “I don’t think so.” Oliver grabbed Lofton’s arm and yanked him back.

  “What do you think you’re about, Barrow? Get your filthy laborer hands off of me.” He pulled away and brushed off his coat, but he didn’t move to follow Lucy again.

  “I’m doing what I should have done weeks ago.”

  “And that is?”

  “Keep you away from her.”

  “Oh? And just how do you think you’re going to accomplish that? You’re no match for me. I’m an earl.”

  “And I’m ever so pleased for you.”

  Lofton scowled.

  “I don’t give a rip whether you’re an earl, a pig… or a cuckoo.”

  Lofton glanced around, as if the fact that the bird was mentioned might summon it. “You’ll show me respect, Barrow. After all, you’re a worthless piece of—”

  Oliver stepped forward. His heart raced. Anger infused his entire body. “Watch your tongue.”

  “I can have you arrested.”

  “What for?”

  “For… for being insolent to an earl.”

  He shook
his head slowly. “You won’t.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because of what I know about you.”

  Lofton frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Does the name Proust ring any bells?”

  Lofton paled. And since he was pale anyway, he now appeared snow white. “P-Proust?”

  “That’s right.” Oliver crossed his arms.

  “I’m not sure I… I’m not familiar with that name, I’m afraid.” He avoided eye contact, instead looking somewhere in the vicinity of Oliver’s chin.

  “Oh, I beg to differ. From what I’ve gathered, you know quite a bit about the man.” Lucy’s father had been all too happy to confess all to Oliver and his father.

  “Rubbish.”

  “Is it?”

  Lofton shrugged. “Besides, what would someone such as the likes of you know about anything?”

  “More than you could ever imagine.”

  Lofton straightened his hat. “While this is all very well and good, I’m afraid I must go.” He smiled. “Lucy, my betrothed, will be waiting for me.”

  “She isn’t and you’re not.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The way she ran out of here, she wants nothing to do with you. It wouldn’t surprise me if she took off with the carriage and left you here to rot.”

  “She would never…” His gaze strayed toward the Sanctuary gate and he frowned.

  “And you’re not betrothed.”

  “That’s preposterous. Of course I am. Just ask her father if you don’t believe me.”

  “Already have.”

  Lofton widened his eyes. “You most certainly have not! You wouldn’t dare set foot in such a house, much less speak to someone like Mr. Ashbrook.”

  “That’s where you’re mistaken.”

  “I do not have time to waste standing here with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll—”

  Oliver grabbed his arm. “No. I won’t excuse you. We’re not finished discussing the matter.”

  “But… but…” Lofton stumbled as Oliver tugged him further into the Sanctuary.

  “With what I have to say next, we need complete privacy.” Oliver kept his hand on the other man’s arm as he propelled Lofton toward the work shed.

  When they neared the small, shabby enclosure, the earl balked. “You don’t mean to… lock me in there, do you?”

  “Don’t be absurd.” He turned his head and peered at Lofton. “I take it back. You already are absurd. But no, of course I’m not going to lock you in here. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it earlier…”

  A gasp came from the earl’s lips. Oliver yanked the other man inside and shut the door behind them. Lofton looked around the room and swallowed. Yes, there was dirt and plant clippings and feathers. It was the Bird Sanctuary, after all. But to someone like the earl who couldn’t stand even the tiniest speck of lint on his person, the shed probably seemed a nightmare.

  “Have a seat.” Oliver pushed him into a nearby wobbly wooden chair. Dust rose as soon as his backside made contact.

  Lofton sneezed and his eyes watered. “What is this place?”

  “It’s just a work shed.”

  “But it’s so… so…”

  “Dirty?”

  He coughed. “Yes. It’s horrible.”

  “Ignore the dust for a moment, will you? And I’ll try to conclude our business as quickly as I can.”

  The earl glared but remained silent.

  “So, we have a problem on our hands, you and I.”

  “You and I have nothing in common of which could be a problem.”

  “Yes we do. Lucy.”

  “She’s none of your concern, Barrow, since she’s my betrothed.”

  “She was your betrothed.”

  “What are you prattling on about?”

  Oliver walked to the door and leaned his shoulder against it. “You see, you found a way to get Lucy to marry you, even though she despises you."

  Lofton shrugged. “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that I love her and you don’t.”

  “That has nothing to do with me marrying her. Nothing at all.” He waved a hand in the air.

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.”

  “Are we about finished here? I have things to do, and they don’t involve breathing in this putrid, filthy air.”

  “Very well. Let me spell it out for you. I am going to marry Lucy and you’re not.”

  “But—”

  “You are going to stop blackmailing Lucy’s father.”

  “I—”

  “And you’re going to do it immediately.”

  Lofton stood. “You can’t speak to me in this fashion. Even if I were… blackmailing someone, and I’m not saying I am, there isn’t any way you could ever do anything about it.”

  Oliver stepped toward him. The earl took a step back, nearly toppling the old chair. Reaching into his pocket, Oliver brought out a handkerchief and opened it. “I have a very strong feeling that what I have here will change your mind.”

  Lofton stared, eyes wide. “Where did you obtain all of that money? There must be a fortune there.”

  “I didn’t obtain the money. It’s mine.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “No. It isn’t.”

  “You’re just a Sanctuary laborer.”

  “It’s true that I work here, but that’s not all that I am.”

  Lofton’s eyes never left the money in Oliver’s hand. He licked his lips. His eyes held a gleam that hadn’t been there before.

  Oliver cleared his throat, gaining the other man’s attention. “Have you heard the name Shipley?”

  “Of course, who hasn’t? One of the richest families in London. Although no one seems to really know the son. He doesn’t socialize with the ton. Why do you ask?” As if someone had lit a candle in the dim interior of the shed, Lofton appeared to understand.

  “Now you’re getting it.”

  “No. It’s impossible. You can’t be…”

  “Look at the money, Lofton. I didn’t steal it. It’s my family’s money. Shipley money. And it can be yours if—”

  The earl snapped his gaze from the money back to Oliver. “If…?”

  “Stop blackmailing Ashbrook for Lucy’s inheritance and his dealings with Proust.”

  “Is that it?”

  “No. One more thing. The most important thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Never see Lucy again.”

  “That’s all? You’re going to give me all of that money and all I have to do is not see Lucy and stop…” Although he didn’t admit to the blackmail, neither did he deny it.

  “That’s it. And you’ll do it today. Now. Do we have a deal?”

  Lofton blinked. “Yes. We have a deal.”

  “Good.”

  He reached out to grab the money, but Oliver snatched it back.

  “What are you—?”

  “I’ll hand you the money once we reach the gate. I want to make sure you leave, and leave for good this time. Walk with me there and you’ll get it.”

  “Very well.”

  Oliver opened the door and squinted against the bright sunlight. Without another word, the men walked side by side to the gate. Their steps plodded on the path until they reached the entrance of the Sanctuary.

  “Pardon me.”

  Oliver turned and nodded toward a pretty redhead. He eyed Lofton, who stared at her. Did he know her?

  The woman smiled and nodded before moving through the gate to her carriage.

  Oliver tilted his head in her direction. “Someone you know?”

  Lofton nodded slowly. “Amelia Talbot.”

  “You seem taken with her.”

  As if snapped out of a trance, Lofton turned his head back toward Oliver. “That’s neither here nor there.”

  Oliver shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “I plan to.” The earl held out his hand.

  Oliver placed
the wrapped money into his greedy paw and stepped back.

  “Enjoy Lucy. You two deserve each other.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lucy sat on the garden bench. Her cat purred as she stroked his back. A lone tear fell from her eye and traveled down her cheek to land silently on his fur. Today was for endings. Today was for saying good-bye. Good-bye to any happiness she’d ever dreamed would be hers. The future seemed bleak at best when she would become Lady Lucy Lofton.

  An odd sensation, something akin to numbness, settled in, surrounded her heart. Would she always feel this way? Cold? Alone?

  A rustle came from the other side of the path. Someone was coming. Conrad? Of course he’d know to look for her there. Her first thoughts when she’d run away from the Sanctuary had been to just keep going, to walk until she fell, exhausted. But what then?

  She cared not. Because as soon as she wed him, her life was over, anyway.

  Lucy wiped the wetness from her cheek and squared her shoulders. She might have to face Conrad, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

  “Lucy.”

  She stiffened. Her heart skipped a beat. Not Conrad’s voice.

  She glanced up. Her breath caught in her throat. “Oliver?”

  He walked toward her, never taking his gaze from her face. What was he doing there? What if Conrad came and saw them—

  Without another word, Oliver sat next to her on the bench and removed his hat and gloves. He glanced down at the cat and smiled.

  “Oliver I…”

  He placed his finger on her lips to quiet her. With his other hand, he reached around and ran his fingers down the back of her neck. Shivers ran through her.

  She clutched tightly to the cat. What was Oliver doing? Why was he there? Now?

  Oliver placed both hands on the sides of her face. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened them, his dark eyes peered into hers, as if he could see her, really see her, even into her very soul.

  He leaned forward and lightly, gently, pressed his lips to hers. Warm. So warm. His fingers ran in lazy circles on her cheeks. He pulled away and placed tiny, delicate kisses across her forehead, cheeks, and down her neck.

  Lucy’s heart slowed. A languid laziness, almost a drugged feeling, took hold of her. Suddenly it seemed she could float away. Drift along on a cloud while Oliver kissed every inch of her.