The Blackmailed Bride. Mandy Goff

presence at her home, offering comfort and solace in the dark days that followed.

      But she was confused as to why he’d chosen to leave his estate and come to town. Most years, Lord Finley bypassed the amusements of the Season. His complete disregard for the entertainments and activities of town life was another similarity they shared.

      “My wish was to come see for myself how you are adjusting to life in London.” His gaze was appraising…and appreciative. “You don’t look worse for the experience.”

      “I’ve not moldered away from lack of the country, yet,” Olivia said with a sad smile, thinking perhaps “not moldering” was the best she could say. “But I certainly have not kept my wish to return a secret.”

      “Then why do you not go home?” Finley asked.

      “Care for some tea?” she asked, ignoring his question. And at his nodded assent, Olivia crossed over to the bellpull in order to summon a servant.

      Once the request had been dispatched, Olivia faced the baron; his stare was unnerving, and she remembered she’d yet to answer him. “Marcus wishes to remain in town. I certainly wouldn’t try to convince him to stay here without me.” After the ridiculously grand plans Marcus had devised for her, demanding to return to Westin Park would crush him.

      At her brother’s name, the baron grimaced. She thought she heard him say, “Ah, yes. Wouldn’t want to upset Marcus would we?” But the statement was muttered, and Olivia couldn’t be sure of exactly what he’d said.

      “Did Marcus say what inspired his sudden interest in town life?” he asked.

      Confessing Marcus wanted her to make friends seemed rather embarrassing, so she shrugged as though to say his reasoning was a complete mystery to her.

      “Did he know how vehemently you opposed leaving home?” Finley pressed.

      The line of questioning made her uncomfortable. Finley’s fascination seemed something more than friendly curiosity.

      “He knows my wishes, but he feels an obligation to introduce me to society,” she said in Marcus’s defense.

      Finley stalked around to a side table, picked up a trinket, looked at it and quickly set it down. The movements were jerky, and his breathing was harsh. His back stiffened and his arms angled against his body. Olivia wondered if perhaps he were going to have an attack of some kind.

      “Marcus didn’t tell you I came to see him before you left for town, then?” The words were clipped.

      “No,” she answered cautiously.

      His brows lowered, making angry, dark slashes, which obscured his eyes. “I thought as much.”

      “Was there something he should have told me?” she asked. It was unlike Marcus to keep anything from her, and now, she was curious.

      “Yes. You should have been consulted before our meeting was over,” he answered hotly.

      The subject of their meeting and her role in the matter were a mystery. The only thing that could possibly have necessitated her involvement would have been if Finley were propos—

      Oh, no, not that.

      Finley was a friend, but he would never be more. While she liked him quite well, there was no tension, no attraction…nothing deeper than admiration and respect. And while admiration and respect were essential in a marriage, Olivia wanted something completely unfashionable in hers—love. And she’d certainly never led the baron to think she harbored any romantic feelings for him.

      They’d been familiar, of course, but far from suggestive. The thought made her breathe a bit easier. Finley knew her views on marriage, just as he knew she did not feel that way about him. So something else must have been a subject of interest between the two men.

      A maid entered with tea, and Olivia was able to busy herself with the preparation of their cups. She didn’t ask for a reminder of how he liked his as this was a scene they had played many times in the past. Although perhaps not with this level of discomfort.

      “Would you care to tell me now what it is you were discussing with Marcus?” she asked as the baron took a seat.

      Finley paused, as though he were not certain of what should be said. “Yes. You have a right to know,” he returned. “I wished to consult with your brother on a matter very dear to my heart—”

      What? This was becoming the most peculiar conversation she’d had in some time.

      “But your brother wouldn’t give me the time to explain my case before denying my request,” Finley continued, clearly agitated. “Now, I ask you, what kind of gentleman does not grant a serious proposal his full consideration before offering an answer?”

      Olivia didn’t have a response.

      “After abruptly and unfairly turning me away, Marcus didn’t want you to see me and hear what he’d done. That’s your reason for leaving the country so quickly.” He nodded once, apparently already convinced of the truth of his explanation.

      “I still don’t understand.”

      “I petitioned Marcus to let me make you my bride.”

      Her stomach plummeted. She could think of nothing to say in response.

      It would have been much easier if Finley had accepted Marcus’s refusal…something she needed to discuss with her brother later. How dare he not tell her about Finley’s proposal? Had he done so, at least she would have been prepared.

      Because, by all appearances, Finley was unwilling to abide by Marcus’s ruling, and it seemed she must be the one to say the words.

      “You wished me to be your wife?” she asked unnecessarily.

      “I still wish it. Why else would I have followed you here?”

      His declaration would have sent most women collapsing into the nearest chair in a flutter. What woman didn’t wish to hear such tender words? Finley was titled, wealthy, handsome and charming. His blond hair was always perfectly arranged, his blue eyes were bright and his features were pleasing.

      “I am honored by your offer…truly I am…”

      Perhaps he sensed her impending refusal because he hastened to add, “I have feelings for you I’d not thought myself capable of. And I think, were you to give this matter your full consideration, you would see we are well suited for one an other.”

      She managed nothing more than an indrawn breath before he continued. “You would be taken care of and would have anything you wanted. I can assure you. You could live wherever you wished. I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do with your time.”

      “I have no doubt you will make a very attentive husband,” Olivia rushed on when she saw his self-assured smile. He thought he had swayed her so easily with a few pretty words. “But I’m afraid I must decline the offer. I am your friend, but I wouldn’t make you a good wife.”

      Finley’s mouth was a tight line.

      “I really am sorry,” she hastened to add.

      He cut off any further apologies with a slash of his hand. “You should give yourself time to adjust to the idea. It does you credit that you are not overly eager. I would like for my future wife to weigh her decisions carefully.”

      Did he have to make this any harder for her? Had she not had enough groveling with the Viscount Danfield? Why were men so determined to believe that when a woman turned down their proposal the no was negotiable?

      “I’m certain, in time, you will meet a woman whom embodies all of those qualities,” Olivia said.

      “You are that woman.” Finley’s voice burned with such intensity she instinctively shied away.

      “I count our friendship very dear,” her assurances continued.

      “And would it