Led Astray by a Rake (The Husband Hunters Club 1)
“Aren’t you worried the housekeeper will tell you that isn’t the way things are done?” he teased, moving toward her, and clasping her fingers firmly, possessively, in his.
“Do you know, I think I am getting braver where the housekeeper is concerned, because I don’t care. Whose house is it, anyway?”
He bent to kiss her lips, keeping her a moment longer, before he opened the door onto the world outside.
“I do, you know,” he said in a low, quiet voice.
Olivia gave him a puzzled look. “You do what?”
“I do want a child.”
Tears filled her eyes but she said nothing, wiping them away with her fingers. Nic wondered at himself, that he could make this woman cry and smile, that his actions were capable of controlling her emotions. It should have felt like a burden, something to avoid, but it wasn’t.
He’d avoided engaging himself emotionally with women because he didn’t want to make any connections with them other than the physical, but it was different with Olivia. With her, he couldn’t live without the emotional ties.
Nic was surprised at how much he’d changed, and it was she who had changed him.
Chapter 27
The following day Olivia went to a meeting of the Husband Hunters Club. Being in London, it was too good an opportunity for her to miss seeing her friends, and they gathered at Marissa’s house. The last time they’d seen each other was at the wedding, and there had been little time to talk. Now there was so much to talk about that the time flew. Each of them had scandalous tales to tell, as they’d set about hunting down the husbands of their choice. There were some surprises, too. Not everyone was enamored with the same man that she’d carefully written down in the book the night of Miss Debenham’s Finishing School ball, although some, like Olivia, had not swerved from their choice.
“Is it exciting
to be married to Wicked Nic?” Tina asked her.
“I imagine there is rarely a dull moment,” Marissa added dryly.
“Lady Lacey,” sighed Eugenie. “How romantic.”
“I hope you are going to use some of the Lacey wealth for the benefit of the poor,” Averil added.
Olivia beamed at them all. “Yes, to all,” she said.
When she arrived home her head was still in a whirl, and she felt far more like her old self, as if she’d wrested some of Nic’s power over her back into her own hands.
Estelle was waiting.
“My lady,” she said, her round face looking unusually disapproving. “There’s a person to see you. A Madam Esmeralda. I told her you weren’t interested in her wares any longer, but she’s insisted on waiting and speaking to you for herself.”
“Madam Esmeralda?”
Olivia’s heart sank. She’d hoped that was over with. Nic had excused himself to her before the opera last night, saying he wasn’t used to worrying about what other people thought of his actions. It was part of his Lacey arrogance, she thought, with an inner smile. He’d shown it again over the strawberries-and-cream supper.
Olivia had believed he was seeing her as no different from the other women he’d known over the years, when in fact he was simply used to doing exactly as he wished. He was a lord, an aristocrat born and bred; that was why he acted as he did. Nic didn’t consider it necessary to consider other people’s feelings, but once he understood why she was upset he’d been keen to make amends.
“Will I have her thrown out onto the street?” Estelle interrupted her thoughts, a glint in her eyes at the thought of such excitement.
“Goodness me, no,” Olivia said. “I will see her, Estelle.”
“But, my lady…”
“Thank you, Estelle.”
Madam Esmeralda leaped to her feet at the sound of the door opening, and Olivia could see she was pale, the shadows under her eyes darker than ever. “Lady Lacey, how do you do?” she said, and curtsied.
“Madam Esmeralda.” Olivia could see that she had brought several bolts of cloth with her, as well as something wrapped up in protective coverings and laid out on the sofa under the window.
“I have something to show you, my lady,” she said quickly, before Olivia could draw breath. “If you will permit me.” And she was already hurrying over to the sofa and reverently peeling back the outer coverings on the object.