The Blackmailed Bride. Mandy Goff

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      The litany of unanswerable questions kept her mind busy and her stomach churning. She could think of nothing that would make her task easier.

      But after her maid Sarah helped her into her riding habit, Olivia had to scold herself. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life moping around. For the moment, she was still free and would enjoy herself. And for right now, that meant spending the afternoon with her brother.

      “You look lovely,” Marcus greeted a short time later as she joined him and Lord Huntsford outside.

      After thanking Marcus, Olivia forced herself to give Lord Huntsford a cursory glance. In deference to his presence, she inclined her head and murmured a greeting.

      If Marcus noticed her rudeness, he didn’t comment on it. Olivia felt a pang of guilt and shame, but her coldness was for her own defense. Something about the marquess was irresistible. Certainly, he was handsome. But her attraction to him wasn’t purely physical. He exuded a strength and mystery that she found alluring. That appeal put her in an unenviable position.

      She wasn’t free to develop any interest in him.

      So she would keep her distance.

      “Care for a race?” she asked her brother with a smile after they’d ridden along the length of the west perimeter of the property. The happy expression didn’t feel quite right on her face, but neither of the men noticed the subtle difference.

      Marcus shuddered dramatically. “I don’t think so. I have enough pride to want no one to witness me losing to a woman.” Then he grinned at her.

      Olivia could almost pretend as though she’d altered time and returned to her life as it was a few days before. She felt carefree and uninhibited.

      Which, surely, was the reason she turned to the marquess next.

      “What about you, my lord?” she asked.

      Lord Huntsford turned the full force of his smile on her, and Olivia had to remind herself to breathe. “Now I feel I must, if only to prove I could do better than Marcus,” he said. “Anyone could do better than Marcus, my lord,” she exaggerated, simply because Marcus prided himself on his horsemanship—with just cause—and she knew it would aggravate him.

      Marcus’s friend laughed. “Do you wish a lead? It would only be gentlemanly of me.”

      Marcus laughed this time.

      Olivia smiled and shook her head no. “To the stone wall to the east.” She pointed out a straight path with her hand. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, my lord. I’ll see you when you get there.”

      Marcus called their start, and Olivia took off. Hooves pounded the ground, sending clumps of earth flying. She laughed and felt the sound trailing out behind her. It almost seemed as if she were leaving all her troubles behind. For this one, brief moment, she allowed herself to be happy.

      Lady Olivia won the race. And if she suspected that Nick might have pulled on his reins just a bit at the end, for the sheer pleasure of seeing her victorious smile, then she had no way to prove it. He was basking in that smile when the lady realized that Marcus had been waylaid along the path, leaving the two of them to return to the house together without his moderating presence.

      The realization seemed to make her uncomfortable. The young woman shifted in her sidesaddle several times and fidgeted with the reins.

      “You have a beautiful home,” Nick commented after a long stretch of silence.

      “Thank you. I’ve always thought it was uncommonly lovely here.” Her sigh seemed wistful, and the forlorn noise drew his eye to her.

      Mercy. She was uncommonly lovely herself. Their breakneck ride had completely mussed her hair. Tendrils framed her face, both wild and flattering against cheeks slightly pink with exertion.

      “Are you staring at me, Lord Huntsford?”

      Nick looked quickly away, a reflex more suited to a child who’d been caught peering at presents hidden in a closet than a powerful noble. But her question was quiet, genuinely curious. Flirtation didn’t appear to be her aim.

      What kind of woman is she?

      “I apologize,” he said. “I was merely thinking of how different you are.”

      “That doesn’t sound very complimentary.”

      “It is a compliment of the highest order. The ladies of my acquaintance wouldn’t be content to ride through the country when the amusements of town are within a day’s travel distance,” he assured her.

      Olivia pursed her full lips. “London holds no allure for me.”

      “We are kindred souls in that regard.”

      “Then why do you stay in town?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “You answer to no one. You may come and go as you wish. I should think, were I you, I wouldn’t step a toe inside the limits of London.”

      He smiled at her and wished it were so simple. “Since my father’s death, I must take all the responsibilities of the marquessdom—unfortunately, that includes business in town. The mantle is heavy and not one I wear joyfully.”

      Her expression instantly sobered. “I’m sorry about your father. How long has it been?”

      “A year,” he answered. “I would have returned to England immediately after his death, but by the time news reached me, I was mired in business I couldn’t leave unfinished.” Why did he feel compelled to offer an explanation, vague though it might have been?

      She didn’t ask what kind of business.

      He wouldn’t have told her if she had.

      “I didn’t wear mourning for him.” The confession was out before he could think of any reason why he would tell her this.

      “I’m sure he would have understood your decision,” Lady Olivia said.

      “I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Actually, the deceased marquess would have seethed with anger to know his son didn’t wear all black for him.

      Nick had been so consumed with his own rage toward his father, he couldn’t fathom showing him that level of respect. “Our relationship was…strained.”

      The woman at his side still said nothing.

      In the silence, Nick warred with regret at a broken relationship with his father. But his father had insisted Nick yield to his wishes. Nick couldn’t do that.

      So he’d left.

      Which had created an even larger gulf, not just physically, between them. The only heir to the marquessdom running away to foreign lands, doing things nobody wanted to imagine…his father had been furious Nick would risk his life, and most important, risk the title leaving the immediate family if something were to happen to Nick.

      Nick determined not to look at Lady Olivia, but when he felt a slight pressure on his hand, he looked down to find she was touching him to get his attention.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ