The Blackmailed Bride

Had the situation been less serious, she might have laughed aloud at her brother’s appalled expression. “Are you jesting?” he managed after several moments of his mouth hanging wide. His voice was strangled, as though invisible hands were wrapped around his neck.

“No.”

“I forbid it,” he sputtered.

Olivia leapt to her feet, her tiredness seemed a thing of the past. If they were going to quarrel, she’d rather not do it sitting down. He followed to his feet soon after.

“I’m afraid that would make me very unhappy.” She strove to keep her voice level.

He was flummoxed. “You’ve never shown the slightest bit of romantic interest in him. Why now?”

“I’ve known him for a long time,” she began, searching for something complimentary to say that wouldn’t make her choke. “He was very, ah, attentive after mother’s death.” Too attentive, obviously, she added to herself.

“Gibbons was attentive as well, do you wish to marry him?” Marcus asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped.

“I could say the same to you.”

She slammed her hand down on a nearby table in frustration. “I’d hoped you would be reasonable about this. I can see my faith in you was misplaced.”

She could tell the words stung, but her brother didn’t let the hurt dissuade him. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not changing my mind about this.”

Of course he wouldn’t. It would be far too much to hope that this aspect of the deed would be done swiftly and without quarrel. Why did Marcus have to make this more difficult? Was it not enough that what she had to do made her skin crawl? Could she not at least have had no interference from the one person whose good opinion she desired above all others?

“I am an adult,” she informed him quietly.

A muscle in his jaw ticked furiously.

“And I’d rather this not become an argument,” she continued before Marcus could lose his temper. His clenched hands, narrowed eyes and set jaw were all omens of an impending explosion.

“And I’d rather not issue any ultimatums. So I will simply advise you to stay away from him, or…” He didn’t finish the threat. His voice had risen to a near yell.

Hers wasn’t very quiet, either. “Or what, Marcus? Will you disown me? Cast me out on the streets to fend for myself?” She knew she should lower her voice, help calm the situation. At this volume, it wouldn’t be long before their guest, and probably Gibbons, would be coming in to see what was amiss. But she couldn’t bring herself to back down.

Marcus scoffed. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”

“Well, you’re being obstinate,” she snapped.

His answering sigh was heavy and heartfelt. “I’ve no wish to fight with you. Do you not trust me enough to at least obey me on this? You know I would only say no if I had a good reason to do so.”

Olivia said nothing. She couldn’t give him the words he wanted to hear, but she refused to make the moment worse by saying something to needlessly hurt him.

When she didn’t answer, Marcus eyed her. “You will stay away from him,” he said, resolved.

“What if I love him?” she asked in a whisper.

The horror on his face stung. “Do you?”

She vacillated between honesty and the lie that would perhaps, in some small way, make her brother more reasonable.

She opted for honesty. “No, I don’t.”

His relief was palpable.

“That doesn’t change anything, though.” As soon as she spoke the words, Marcus’s face fell back into its stern mask.

“You know my feelings on the matter,” he said, striding to the door of the study. “I trust you’ll make the right decision. Good night.”

As the door swung shut behind him, she said, “Don’t trust me too much,” knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear her.

“You would be my second if I required it, would you not?” Marcus asked Nick the next morning after Olivia had left the dining room. The trio had plans to return to London later in the day, and while Olivia had been subdued at breakfast, he didn’t credit her absence with anything other than a desire to relax before they left.

But his friend’s odd question had him wondering.

“Whom are we planning on dueling?” Nick asked.

“Julian Finley. Perhaps you remember him.” Marcus raised an eyebrow. He knew well that Nick had not forgotten the rogue.

Nick grumbled in response. “When would you like me to have your pistols ready?” He was only partially joking.

In spite of the obvious stress, Marcus couldn’t suppress a grin. “Don’t you wish to know why I would challenge him?”

“Since it’s Finley, I can only imagine what new dastardly business he is up to. But also, since it’s him, I don’t have any doubt your claim is valid.”

“He wants to marry Olivia,” Marcus answered, as though Nick had indeed asked the question. Nick laughed.

“I’m serious,” Marcus said.

Nick had to force himself to stop chuckling. “What did he say when you told him no?”

Marcus shrugged. “What you would expect from him. He ranted and finally stormed out of the house.”

“At least Gibbons didn’t have to throw him out.” Nick allowed himself a moment of silent amusement, envisioning the scene.

Marcus flashed an immediate smile in response, but he quickly sobered.

Why was Marcus so despondent? “You know you made the right decision,” Nick assured him. “There’d be no inducement that would convince me to let Finley pay suit to any woman under my protection.”

“I know that.” Marcus scrubbed his hand over his face.

“What’s the problem then?” Nick asked. “Finley has asked, and you have refused. There should be no more to say on the subject.”

Marcus laughed, but it held no amusement. “You make the mistake of thinking Finley would abide by my decision. He has not. Instead, he has approached Olivia directly with his suit.”

Something seized in Nick’s gut. Anger, certainly, was there. Including the ne’er-do-wells he’d met while in France, Nick couldn’t think of many in his acquaintance he had a lower opinion of than Finley. But another emotion tumbled with his rage, fighting for precedence. One that was harder to name. Or perhaps he merely didn’t want to identify it.

“Well, has he desisted at her refusal?” Nick asked.