Prologue
Summer 1728
Hiseyesremindedherof the ocean.
Olivia, the daughter of Viscount Landen, had seen the ocean just once when she was very little. But it was enough for her to fall in love with its rich blue depth. She loved the color, which changed its shade with different angles of the sun, loved the powerful emotion it evoked in her like the waves about to crash ashore, and most of all, she loved the calming effect the ocean had on her mind.
Olivia loved the ocean. She could stare at it all day long and perhaps longer. Similarly, she could never tire of looking into the depth of Jarvis’ rich blue eyes.
“See?” Jarvis said, still not taking his gaze off hers. “You are getting better at this. It’s been over a minute. I’ve been counting.”
“It’s easy with you,” she said with a sigh and looked away.
Jarvis grinned and sat back on the grass. “Just pretend they are me.”
Olivia nervously picked at her fingertips. Just thinking about them—the rest of the world—had her heart thumping in panic. Why did she have to join the rest of the world? She would rather hide out here in the shade of her favorite Scots pine tree with her favorite boy.
She knew she couldn’t, though. He would leave for school soon, and she would be stuck with her governesses and tutors, all telling her what to do and how not to fail at pretending to be someone else. Because with them—the rest of the word—she couldn’t be herself. She needed to choose her words, watch her step, remember their names and titles, and never ever speak out of turn.
Olivia didn’t know what any of that meant. She had a hard time keeping up with her studies. They seemed boring, and she’d rather be exploring the world outside, chasing after animals, or even just reading a book. She craved to experience the adventures she read about in books. Only nobody took a clumsy girl on an adventure.
Except for him.
“Jarvis!” The racket of laughter followed the cry and then the boys swarmed, stomping their feet inside Olivia’s peaceful hiding place. “Come! We’ve found two frogs and are going to make them race!”
The boys beckoned Jarvis, and he followed them without hesitation. Olivia lowered her head, pretending to study something on the grass.
“Olive, are you coming?” Jarvis turned around and called after her.
Olive. She hated olives. And there was nothing endearing about the nickname except that it came from him.
Olivia shook her head.
She might crave adventures, but she was not ready for them. Olivia had a long path ahead. She felt awkward in a crowd, not following the conversation most of the time, not grasping the rules quickly.
Jarvis, on the other hand, was the soul of every company, and he relished being the center of attention. Which meant, of course, that Olivia was often left behind, skulking on the outskirts of his friends’ circle. She had to get used to being alone again. Because soon, he’d be gone to school, and she would have no one she felt comfortable around.
He always came back for her, though, and it was the most important thing for Olivia. Knowing she would never be truly alone.
Winter 1734
Jarvis stood in the hall of Viscount Landen’s townhouse. He had come from the Continent only a few days ago, and the first note he got was from his dearest friend, Olive.
As an unmarried girl, she was not allowed to communicate with a bachelor through letters, even one she’d grown up with. But she always managed to slip a note into her father’s envelope, thus entertaining Jarvis with her letters while he was away.
In her usual hurried scrawl, Olive wrote that he had arrived just in time for her come-out ball, and she wished for him to escort her.
As if she even had to ask. Didn’t she know this was the sole reason he’d cut his tour on the Continent short and rushed home to escort his little Olive into her new adventure?
Jarvis tugged on his cravat and flipped his pocket watch. It had been three years since he’d seen her last. When he’d left, she was a young, gangly girl on the verge of her fourteenth birthday. He was a proud seventeen-year-old youth on the verge of adulthood. He knew he’d changed a lot in those three years. He wondered if she had, too.
Jarvis remembered Olivia as a little girl who’d trailed after him ever since she learned how to walk. He hadn’t had many people to socialize with in his childhood except for his cousin Greyson and a few servants’ children. That was the reason Jarvis had allowed himself the company of a young, pink-cheeked little girl, who followed him around like a shadow.
They did everything together. He taught her to swim, to shoot slingers, and later arrows. He was the one first to seat her on a full-sized horse when she thought she’d overgrew her pony, but her parents disagreed. He was the one she ran to when she argued with her parents, complained to when something was not going as she thought it should.
She was a tiny but exuberant part of his life. He had his schoolmates, his friends, and responsibilities imposed on him by his family. Later, he had his lovers and conquests. But she was his constant. Someone who had always been there when he came back. Someone who had never judged him, no matter what he did. Even if she didn’t know all that he did.
He heard the steps above the staircase, lifted his head, and caught his breath.
Olive stood there in her ballgown of pure white, with golden overskirts and white bows tying them to the sides of her skirts. Her modest yet enticing decolletage revealed her milky white skin and a slight bosom. His eyes lingered there before he traced her delicate neck, her plush pink lips, and heated cheeks. His gaze collided with hers, and he was lost.
She wasn’t a gangly fourteen-year-old anymore. Oh, no. She was an enticing young woman, extremely beautiful, graceful, and absolutely kissable.
Kissable? Olive? That tiny urchin who had followed him around all his life? This girl, who’d known him almost his entire life, who knew him better than anyone?
She tugged on her bodice and fidgeted with her skirts, successfully pulling Jarvis out of his thoughts.
“Please, tell me I shall get used to the constant pinching and itching of all those layers of clothing,” she said irritably.
She traveled the rest of the way down the stairs and stopped right in front of him, maybe a foot away. He still hadn’t regulated his breathing. Her fidgeting, her ungraceful manner of speech, everything that could have repelled another beau for him just added to her appeal.
Jarvis cleared his throat. “My lady,” he said with a bow.
“My lord,” she parroted and curtsied. Then she threw her arms over his neck and hugged him tightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she said with her characteristic giggle.
Now, here was the girl he knew and loved.
Only she wasn’t a girl. The soft breasts against his chest, the round and unmistakable mound of her buttocks tilting upward with her movements, made that quite clear. As did his reaction to her.
His insides heated, and his cock twitched at her closeness, at her scent. She disengaged herself from him all too soon, still eyeing him curiously.
“You’ve become taller,” she said, biting on her lower lip. “And broader.”
“You too,” he said and then grimaced. Her lips twitched, and her nose crinkled at the corners as it always did when she tried to hold her laughter. “Taller, I mean. Not broader—” She laughed out loud at that. “Let me start anew. You’re beautiful.”
A soft smile appeared on her beautiful lips. “Thank you, my lord.”
Jarvis couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. She was dangerous to him now. Now that he’d seen her as a woman, he wouldn’t be able to continue their friendship without wanting more.
“Oh, you must tell me!” she continued, oblivious to his thoughts. “How was your life on the Continent? I got a glimpse from your letters, but it must have been so much more exciting in real life. Oh, I read the most enchanting book about Greece. You have to tell me if what they say is true!”
“Chattering on, as usual, little one?” Viscount Landen asked from atop the stairs.
Olivia turned and grinned at her father.
Viscount and viscountess Landen glided slowly but gracefully down the stairs.
“Jarvis!” the older man exclaimed. “Good to see you, my boy. All grown up.” He grinned at him before his eyes settled proudly on his daughter. “You will be the gem of the ball,” he said fondly.
Olivia blushed prettily, but her eyes ran around the room, as they did when she was uncomfortable. She dropped her fan without noticing and moved closer to the stairs to greet her parents.
Yes, it was definitely his Olive. Still dropping things without noticing, still distracted, still chatty. But unbelievably beautiful and all grown up. Jarvis picked up her fan and came to stand next to her.
“Good evening, my lord, my lady.” He sketched a bow and slipped the fan back into Olive’s hand.
She sent him a grateful smile, blushing furiously. She probably kicked herself inwardly for being so clumsy. Jarvis gave her a reassuring smile. Do not worry. I am here.
“I am so glad you will be joining us tonight, Jarvis,” the viscountess said as they reached the ground floor. “Livvie’s first ball wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Jarvis smiled. He offered his arm, and Olive took it. “On to your new adventure,” he whispered, and they left the house.
Jarvis sipped at his wine, surrounded by his peers. The ball was in full swing, people dancing and chattering away. Jarvis was a popular guest, newly returned from the Continent.
“Is that your neighbor, the lady you accompanied?” Blake, Viscount Moore, asked after Jarvis was done regaling him with tales of his travels.
“Yes, her name is Miss Olivia Landen.”
“Well, she blossomed into a lovely flower, didn’t she?” Blake said, throwing a lurid glance toward Olivia.
“Do not even look at her that way. She is off-limits,” Jarvis growled.
“Are you claiming her, then?” Blake raised a brow.
“You just returned from the Continent! Surely, you are not going to marry her right away?” Alan Boyle, Jarvis’s schoolmate, chimed in, looking affronted.
“Of course not,” Jarvis scoffed.
Not only was he too young and inexperienced, but he also had a mountain of responsibilities on his shoulders. He couldn’t manage getting a new wife as well. Perhaps someone experienced in running the estates, someone who wouldn’t have to be guided through life. But not his Olive.
“Then you better tell her that. She seems to think you two are betrothed.” Boyle tipped his head toward her.
Jarvis turned and caught Olive’s gaze. She stood in the corner of the ballroom, and instead of enjoying her ball, she was watching Jarvis.
He’d known she’d be uncomfortable in a new setting, but she looked lost.
She’d obviously thought he would guide her through the entire ball, perhaps even her entire life.
She probably thought that he’d marry her.
And he’d be happy to claim her as his. The urge was almost unbearable.
He could shield her from the ugly, unjust world and care for her for the rest of her life. No come-out ball would be necessary. No need to parade herself in front of the cruel society, showing herself off like a mare at an auction.
It wouldn’t take much on his part, either. He knew she was amenable to him; her parents adored him. All he needed was to dance with her once, give her one kiss, and ask but one question, and she would be his. He was certain.
Except he couldn’t.
Aside from his viscountcy, he had inherited a weighty responsibility from his father, which filled his life with dangerous pursuits. And anyone in his vicinity became at risk.
The death of his parents and the constant attempts on his life were evidence enough. He couldn’t place Olivia in danger, so he needed to keep his emotions in check.
He had to keep Olivia at a distance.
Jarvis immediately regretted coming home early. If he stayed with her throughout the ball and held her hand, Olivia would never learn to stand on her own two feet. Perhaps she would rely on him and never make a favorable match. And she needed to stand on her own because Jarvis would not—could not—claim her.
Suddenly, Jarvis knew what he had to do. He turned back to his friends.
“No, gentlemen, she is not mine,” he said. “Feel free to court her but do so honorably. She is like a sister to me, so please, treat her as such. I shall not tolerate disrespectful behavior toward her.”
“We are young. We are not looking for honorable women!” Blake shouted.
“Then we are in the wrong place, gentlemen. Should we perhaps make our exits and find a place where less honorable ladies reside?” Alan asked.
Jarvis threw one more glance toward Olivia. She stood fiddling with her fan, uncertain and nervous. She was waiting for him to come to her rescue, as always.
I am sorry, little Olive, but you will have to learn to rescue yourself.
Jarvis turned to his friends. “Yes, let’s,” he said, and a few minutes later exited the ball accompanied by the roar of his friends’ laughter.