He turned her face and kissed her, lingering. “Let’s go down,” he said. “It’s starting to rain.”
Surprised, Olivia looked up. She’d forgotten where they were, so intent had she been on the conversation. With a shaky nod, she allowed Nic to precede her. As she watched him descend, she wondered if she could do it. The climb up had seemed easy in comparison.
But Nic wouldn’t allow her to think too long.
“Come on,” he said, waiting. “I’ll guide your steps.”
Olivia took a deep breath and began to clamber down the wall. Nic caught her heel, moving her foot to the gap in the stones, and slowly they climbed lower, Nic showing her the way.
He remembered when his father died and his mother went into mourning. She refused to speak to him, blaming him for what had happened. One evening, after drinking all day, he’d climbed this wall and fallen, breaking his leg.
He’d never climbed the wall again, until now. Olivia had done that.
And at that moment everything seemed to fall into place. The land, his place in the world, and the woman he loved at his side. He looked at her, her glowing face and brilliant eyes, the warm flush in her cheeks. Olivia was his love and his life.
All these years he’d lived in a kind of limbo, never allowing his heart to be engaged, remaining untouched no matter how sensual the excesses he sought out with the women he met. But then Olivia came into his life, and even though he fought it, arguing with himself that she was better off without him, he wanted her.
Perhaps he’d loved her all along.
When she reached the ground at last she seemed surprised to find herself clasped in Lady Lacey’s arms, being scolded all the while.
Nic, laughing, led them toward the castle, a woman on each arm. He was making up some tale about having dared Olivia to climb the wall and saying that he’d never thought she would take him up on it.
“My firebrand wife,” he murmured, looking at her lovingly.
Lady Lacey began to scold again. “When you fell and broke your leg I thought you might not survive it,” she admitted, trembling. “I thought I would lose my husband and my son. We’ve been at loggerheads for so long, Nic. I don’t want that again. Ever.”
Nic patted her hand. “I agree. From now on we’ll be a proper family.”
The rain grew heavier, and they quickened their steps, hurrying up the terrace to where Abbot and Estelle were waiting to dry them and sit them down before the fire and serve them hot tea.
They felt like a proper family, Nic thought, with a smile. A new beginning for the Laceys. And he was looking forward to it.
Chapter 35
Theodore heard the news as he was sitting down to his supper. A poached egg, cooked to perfection. He’d taken only one mouthful when Mrs. Henderson arrived in a flurry. The servant tried to block the way into the dining room, but she ducked around him, arriving breathless at Theodore’s side.
“Mr. Garsed!”
Theodore dropped his fork against his plate and snatched the napkin from out of his waistcoat, where he’d tucked it. “Mrs. Henderson, please…”
“Lord and Lady Lacey are back from London already. It is very strange. First Lady Lacey arrived in the coach, and then Lord Lacey galloped up on his horse. I did hear”—and she looked behind her as if expecting to see Nic standing there—“from my friend the cook that Lord Lacey was roaring and ranting all around the castle looking for her, and then he hauled her in from the garden. Cook had to make hot tea and crumpets, and then there was a great deal of fuss about hot water being carried upstairs for a bath for Lady Lacey, and fears that she might have caught a chill.”
Theodore had stopped protesting, sitting staring at her, with the napkin still crumpled in his hand.
“I haven’t told Mrs. Monteith yet, but dear Mr. Garsed, I fear for her daughter. She should never have married that man.”
Theodore stared at her with wide eyes in his pale face. Since Olivia had gone away he’d begun to feel almost his old self again. While she wasn’t there he could relax and slip back into his old life again, and now she was back and under threat from Lacey.
And Alphonse! Theodore glanced about him wildly, as if expecting his brother to appear in a puff of smoke. He had to get Mrs. Henderson out of the house before Alphonse heard her news.
When he grimaced and pressed his hand to his paunch, it wasn’t entirely pretense. “Mrs. Henderson, I beg you will stop. You are giving me indigestion.”
But Mrs. Henderson had no intention of stopping. “Of course, my dear Laura would never have put herself in such a position, where she was forced to marry a man like that.”
Theodore stood up. “Mrs. Henderson, I am most unwell. Forgive me, but you will have to leave.”
The woman blinked at him. “Oh. Well, if you insist…”