The Fortune Hunter Page 18

  Olivia looked up in surprise. “How do you do? Pray come forward, Mr. Culpepper. Is anything amiss?”

  “Thank you, my lady,” he said stiffly, but did not budge from his stance. “I am afraid there is.”

  Her first thought was that Culpepper had glimpsed Edith. Olivia set down her quill and looked carefully at him, trying to keep her trepidation from showing. The youthful countess was growing restless, and was careless lately about hiding herself when visitors arrived. Culpepper was the Fairfax family solicitor. He owed Ralph, as the head of her family, stronger allegiance than he owed any of the women. He would not hesitate to betray Edith’s whereabouts to her abusive husband.

  On closer examination, however, Culpepper’s expression seemed to indicate resentment rather than outrage. Olivia’s brows climbed. She tried a mild jest. “I hope you were not robbed on your way here?”

  “No, madam, I was not.” He settled his spectacles more firmly on his nose. “But I fear I have some unpleasant news to impart. It is most vexatious! I do wish that the task had not fallen to me—but there! It is my duty, and I must not shirk it.”

  Her brows climbed higher. “My word. Pray sit down, and tell me your news without delay.”

  He complied with the first part of her request, but seemed unable to comply with the second. His mouth tightened until his lips nearly disappeared, and he failed to meet her eyes. “Really, my lady, I scarcely know where to begin. This is most distasteful to me, most distasteful. I am at a complete loss.”

  She waited in growing alarm while he looked at the ceiling as if seeking inspiration. His cheeks slowly turned a dull pink. Finally he looked back at her, drawing himself upright in his chair. “There is no delicate way to break such news,” he announced. “I must simply say it. Please believe that I would not carry such a message to you were I not convinced of its truth.”

  Dread filled Olivia’s heart. “Very well,” she said faintly. The last time Culpepper had spoken so to her, he had handed her Luke’s letter. She sensed a terrible blow coming. Her hands tightened on the arms of her chair as she prayed that whatever Culpepper was about to say, it would have nothing to do with—

  “The news is about Lord Rival.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, bitterness flooding her. Her prayers had not been answered. Then she forced herself to open her eyes and meet Culpepper’s agitated gaze steadily. “What have you learned?” she asked, with a fair assumption of calm.

  Culpepper took a deep breath, then plunged ahead. “My dear Lady Olivia, we have been deceived,” he said impressively. “We have been grossly deceived. You are nurturing a viper in your bosom.”

  “Go on,” she said faintly.

  He leaned forward, his voice sinking to a horrified whisper. “My lady, the man is a rake!”

  “Yes,” she said numbly. “And?” She braced herself for whatever revelation would follow.

  But Culpepper blinked at her in confusion. “And? Lady Olivia, what are you saying? Did you not hear me? I tell you Lord Rival is a rake! A libertine, madam, a bona fide rake, a man whose conquests litter London! He has a most unsavory reputation—and, I may add, a deserved one, for I naturally investigated the matter before sullying your ears with such a tale. I hope you do not think I would credit mere gossip. No, no, my lady, it is true—quite true, quite verifiable.”

  She stared at him in bewilderment. “What is true? I do not understand.”

  “Tut, tut! Come now, my lady,” said Culpepper testily. “You must know what a rake is. A rake is a seducer, a defiler of women.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I am telling you, madam—with regret!—that Lord Rival is not a proper person for you to know.”

  Olivia felt almost faint with relief. “Is that all?” she exclaimed.

  Culpepper looked stunned. “All! All? My dear Lady Olivia, you have invited this rascal into the school! You have shown him our books! You have—you have befriended him! You must cut him loose immediately. You risk becoming a laughingstock. Or worse!”

  Olivia collapsed back against her chair. “Heavens, what a scare you gave me! But this is not news at all.”

  “Not? Not—not news?” He appeared flabbergasted. “Do you mean to tell me you knew of this man’s reputation?”

  She smiled. “Certainly I did. What of it?”

  Culpepper looked as if he were about to go off in an apoplexy. “Dear ma’am, you do not know what you are saying! A lady in your position cannot be too careful. A maiden lady, an innocent—why, the tiniest whisper of scandal, the slightest linking of your name with Rival’s, could utterly destroy your high standing in the community.”

  Her smile vanished in annoyance. “My good name should depend upon my own behavior, not the behavior of my friends.”

  Culpepper gave a prim little snort. “Rightly or wrongly, we are all judged by the company we keep.”

  She could not argue with his statement, but it did not improve her temper. She straightened in her chair, frowning. “What do you suggest, pray? Am I to suddenly banish Lord Rival from my presence? Dismiss him from his newly assumed duties at the school? I cannot carry on like an overwrought shrew over something I have known all along! That, indeed, would make me a laughingstock—and deservedly so.”

  “Well, well, there is no need for you to do anything whatsoever,” said Culpepper soothingly. “I daresay this all comes as quite a shock to you. To be sure, it came as a shock to me! I can easily imagine that a feminine mind might be quite overset by the prospect. Your delicate nature gives you a want of firmness, a lack of resolve. Do not disturb yourself, my lady! You may leave it all to me.”

  “Leave what to you?”

  “I shall handle the matter on your behalf. Indeed, it would not be at all proper for you to see the rogue alone, even to tell him that he must not approach you again. I will speak to him; it is my place to speak to him. I merely wished to inform you before I took the liberty of dismissing him.”

  Olivia held up one hand. “Stop. You do not have the authority to dismiss Lord Rival.”

  “In such a case as this, my lady, I will gladly assume the authority.”

  “Usurp it, do you mean? No.” Her tone was polite, but implacable. “I expressly forbid it.”

  Culpepper swelled like an angry toad. “What! Can it be possible? Do you not understand the severity of the situation? You—even you!—cannot make light of such a thing. If you care for nothing else, my lady, you care for the school.”

  Olivia spread her hands in a gesture of reasonableness. “But Lord Rival is valuable to the school. He has proved it a dozen times already. He is a man of intelligence and prudence—”

  “Prudence! Of all traits you might ascribe to such a reprobate—”

  “Prudence,” she said firmly. “I am speaking of financial matters, Culpepper. His private life is not our concern.”

  “It will quickly become our concern, if Rival’s association with the school becomes known! Pray recall that the Fairfax School is a school for female orphans.”

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why, what has that to do with anything?”

  Culpepper appeared too distraught to heed the warning signs that he was provoking her. His voice grew shrill with anger. “I am telling you, Lady Olivia, that Rival has neither a heart nor a conscience. And it is known! It is well known. You would dislike it more than anyone else, I daresay, should Lord Rival’s reputation for debauchery injure your protegées’ chances of securing respectable employment.”

  Olivia’s nostrils flared with disgust. “What nonsense you are talking! What vulgar nonsense. Mr. Culpepper, I am ashamed of you.”

  “I am only doing my duty.” Culpepper’s thin cheeks were reddening again. “It pains me to discuss such matters with a lady of quality. Really, madam, I don’t know how to impress upon you the solemnity of this occasion. I tell you most earnestly, most earnestly, that you must have nothing further to do with Lord Rival.”

  “On what cause? Fear of gossip? You are
asking me to abandon a friend, Mr. Culpepper. You had better give me a sounder reason than that.” Her voice dripped with scorn.

  “Good heavens, madam, do not tell me that you hold Rival in affection!”

  “Very well, I will not.” Olivia was clinging to her temper by the slenderest of threads. “But I will tell you that there is no reason why I should not. You disappoint me, Mr. Culpepper. Lord Rival has shown himself to be completely trustworthy where the school is concerned, and I am grateful to him for his ideas and assistance. Why should I not hold him in esteem?”

  Culpepper blanched. “I cannot believe my ears. That you should actually defend the man—and knowing full well what he is—why, it is beyond my comprehension! Tut! This is the last thing I expected.”

  His distress was so heartfelt that Olivia felt a twinge of guilt. It was, in fact, strange that she found herself automatically springing to Lord Rival’s defense. She bit her lip. “I beg your pardon. I know that your concern for my welfare is genuine. And I—I do not mean to side with Lord Rival against you. You have been, for many years, my trusted advisor. I have known Lord Rival for only a few weeks. But you must allow me to be the ultimate judge of what is right, both for the school and for myself. I am not a child.”

  “You are a female,” snapped Culpepper. “Such judgments are not within your sphere.”

  Olivia was forced to quell a strong, and quite unlady-like, impulse to box Culpepper’s ears. As she struggled to master her fury, another tap sounded on her morning room door. It opened to reveal Lord Rival standing on the threshold. He paused there for a moment, one eyebrow flying in his typical expression of mocking humor as his gaze flicked from Culpepper’s stiff posture to Olivia’s flashing eyes. Had these cues not told him enough, the frozen silence that heralded his arrival plainly telegraphed that he was interrupting a quarrel.

  Olivia could not deny that she was glad to see him. It might have been merely that George’s entrance ended an unpleasant scene, but she suspected that she would have been glad to see him regardless. The mere sight of him fairly made her toes curl with pleasure. She wished, not for the first time, that she might come upon him unawares—so that she might have the pleasure of feasting her eyes on him unseen. Just to look at the man was a treat. Today he was impeccably groomed, as usual, in a well-chosen morning coat of nut brown worn with buff breeches and polished Hessians. His dark hair gleamed as lushly as the boots. His linen was spotless. And inside this handsome package was George, who would make her foolish heart beat faster no matter what he wore or how he looked. She longed to stare her fill, but courtesy demanded that she forgo that delight.

  “Good morning,” he said politely. Laughter lurked in his voice. “I hope I am not before my time?”

  “No, my lord, you are quite punctual. As usual,” said Olivia crisply. “Pray come in. Mr. Culpepper was on the point of leaving.”

  Culpepper shot his employer an angry glance. “As to that, my lady, I do not feel that our business is entirely concluded.”

  “Nevertheless, it is,” said Olivia. Her tone brooked no argument. “You may leave what you have brought for me here on my desk. Good day.”

  His cheeks puffed angrily, but he rose and reluctantly dug through his satchel. He almost flung the thick parcel onto her desktop, then sketched a curt bow. “Good day, Lady Olivia. I hope you will not live to regret this day’s work. As you know, I must remove from London for the next sennight to assist your brother with his quarterly accounting. I shall not be available to bail you out of any difficulties that may arise.”

  “Never mind, dear chap,” said George, lounging gracefully near the doorway. “Lady Olivia may rely on me.”

  This reassurance seemed to rob Culpepper of the power of speech. Olivia choked back a laugh and said, her voice quivering, “Thank you, Lord Rival. You have relieved Mr. Culpepper’s mind, I am sure.”

  “Hardly that, my lady, hardly that,” muttered Culpepper darkly. “I cannot think his lordship’s protection equal to my own.” He glared at George, then executed a painfully stiff bow. “Good day, sir!” he barked, and hurried out.

  George appeared mildly surprised. “What was that about?” he asked, strolling forward to deposit his hat and walking stick upon a low table. Olivia seized her chance and covertly watched him, relishing the graceful way he moved and the latent power of his muscular form. He turned then and caught her staring, so she hastily looked away.

  “Nothing,” she said vaguely. “Nothing of importance.”

  “You’re a poor liar, my dear.” His wicked grin flashed. “I like that in a woman.” He walked to the fire and stretched his hands toward the blaze. “I assume the estimable Culpepper was warning you against me.”

  Since he had just pointed out what a poor liar she was, Olivia did not attempt to deny it. “How did you guess?” she asked, chagrined.

  “It was only a matter of time.” He shot her a keen, but rueful, glance. “Whatever his faults, Culpepper cares for you almost as a daughter. I have wondered at his forbearance. Why has he kept silent until now?”

  She laughed mirthlessly, toying with the edge of the blotter on her desk. “Because gossip travels slowly to men like Culpepper. Apparently he knew nothing of your reputation until very lately.”

  “Ah. That explains it.” He moved to one of the chairs facing her desk and dropped into it, watching her. “Now that he has, er, perceived my true colors, I suppose he has advised you to cut my acquaintance.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you?” His dark eyes pinned hers, his expression inscrutable.

  She met his gaze steadily. “No.”

  A slow smile spread across George’s features. “I should have known,” he said softly. “What a reckless creature you are! I pity Culpepper. Or, for that matter, any man who tries to break you to bridle.”

  “A singularly vulgar expression,” she remarked, wrinkling her nose. “And it seems much more illustrative of what you are trying to do to me than what poor Culpepper attempted.”

  He threw back his head and uttered a crack of laughter. “Well said! Although I must protest—I would never try to break you. To bridle, or anything else.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

  He leaned forward on his elbows, his voice low and teasing. “You shouldn’t have drawn my attention to it, Ivy.”

  “To what?”

  “The riding analogy. You have started the most wicked train of thought. Shall I describe it for you?”

  “Certainly not!” said Olivia, blushing. The wretch never failed to throw her off-balance! “May we move on to more practical matters?”

  He grinned and leaned back in the chair. “If we must.”

  She silently handed him the two hundred pounds she had set aside for him. His face was very still as he stared at the money. Then he raised his eyes to hers again. “Thank you,” he said unemotionally, and pocketed it.

  She had not anticipated the awkwardness of the transaction. George had said outright that he would dislike feeling subordinate to her, but she had not realized until this moment that she would dislike it, too.

  “You’ve nothing to thank me for,” she stammered. “You earned it.”

  He gave an ironic little bow. “If you say so, my lady. Is this why you summoned me here today?”

  “No,” she said quickly, glad to change the subject. “Not entirely. I was hoping you would assist me by handing out the payroll at the school. It’s something Culpepper used to do, but . . .”

  “But you have dismissed the worthy Culpepper and supplanted him with me.” His teeth flashed in one of his swift, wry grins. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to regret that.”

  She frowned. “I do not regret it. You are every bit as competent as Culpepper, and you do not patronize me—which he never fails to do!”

  “On the other hand,” said George smoothly, “you trust him. And you dare not trust me.”

  She felt herself blushing. “I am abou
t to entrust you with the school’s entire payroll, sir—nearly a thousand pounds! If you think that is a small matter—”

  “I never think money is a small matter. I suppose earning your trust in that area is, at the very least, progress.”

  “Progress? No.” She looked down at her hands, unable to meet his eyes. It had to be said, but she could not say it convincingly if she had to look at him. “The word progress implies some sort of—forward motion. There will be none. We have had this conversation before, my lord. Kindly disabuse your mind of the idea that you and I have a future together. We do not.”

  But he leaned forward with disconcerting swiftness and caught her wrist, compelling her to look at him. “I will make you trust me, Olivia,” he said softly. “I want your trust in all things.”

  “What you want has nothing to do with it.” She forced herself to speak steadily. “You are seeking something you cannot have.”

  “How can I prove myself to you?”

  “You cannot.”

  He let go of her wrist and sat back, staring broodingly at her. She could not read his expression.

  She tried to smile. “We are at an impasse, George, as I have tried repeatedly to make plain to you. But there is no need for anything to change, I hope. I want us to be friends, you and I.”

  He did not answer for a moment, but studied her, his eyes hooded and his expression inscrutable. Then his smile flickered like lightning, gone almost before it appeared. “Certainly,” he said politely. “You and I can be very good friends, Olivia. For you do trust me—to a point. And we like each other.” The smile flashed again. “We like each other a great deal. Or am I mistaken in that?”

  “No,” she said, relieved to have matters back on a more familiar footing. “I enjoy your company, George. I—I look forward to seeing you.”

  “I feel the same.” He seemed perfectly relaxed now, but she had the oddest suspicion that he was secretly laughing. He rose, gesturing to the stacks of bills folded in paper on her desk. “If you will be kind enough to secure these in some way—”