Читать книгу The Complete Regency Surrender Collection - Энни Берроуз, Louise Allen - Страница 107

Chapter Nineteen

As the carriage rolled to a stop outside Janvier’s town house, Olivia needed to make certain she was composed enough to hold a conversation with him without raising her voice—or throwing any objects within her reach.

Leaving Gabriel had been the hardest thing she had ever done, but she refused to be made a fool of by more of his lies. She might not have any control of his actions, but she could take some satisfaction knowing that she was the one to sever all contact. The anger she was feeling was directed at herself. He’d fooled her once, but this time she was to blame for stupidly trusting him. This time, the fault was all her own.

She had cried enough over the realisation that the man she loved would never love her in return. She was finally finished crying over what might have been. The course of her future was her own.

Placing her hand on her stomach, she took a deep breath. The air was heavy with the scent of rain. Looking out the window at the grey clouds rolling in, Olivia was grateful she reached Janvier’s house before the heavens opened up and ruined her slippers. The fury bubbling under her skin was certain to spring forth with the smallest inconvenience. Janvier had played no part in Gabriel’s betrayal. He didn’t deserve to bear even the smallest bit of the wrath she was keeping in check.

As she walked into his home, the diamond brooch that had been affixed to her cloak fell to the floor. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. The catch had come loose and she threw it in her reticule in annoyance.

The distant sound of thunder rumbled through the dimly lit entrance hall. His grey-haired butler was just about to take her card, when the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention. When she turned, Janvier rounded the corner dressed in fashionably tailored, black eveningwear.

She forced herself to smile at the sight of her friend. If being in his company would improve her mood, even the slightest bit, then coming to see him tonight was the right decision.

Although he appeared happy to see her, there was a brief flash of apprehension in his eyes. Showing up on a man’s doorstep alone would probably warrant that reaction.

‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ he said.

‘Good evening, Janvier. Forgive me for calling, but it was imperative I see you.’ Thankfully her voice did not expose her strained emotions.

‘Of course, I hope you are well?’ he asked with concern.

‘I am, thank you.’

He turned to his butler. ‘You may leave now. I will see to Her Grace.’

The man nodded before stepping around a few trunks and heading down the hall, the sound of his footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

‘May I take that for you?’ he asked, gesturing to her cloak.

She allowed him to slide it from her shoulders. ‘It’s starting to rain,’ she said, looking to break the awkwardness of the situation.

‘Never a pleasant thing, however it is all too common here in England. I would offer you tea, however I suspect you would prefer a glass of claret.’

She took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. ‘Thank you, I would like that.’ Accepting his arm, she accompanied him to a well-appointed drawing room, styled in the fashionable Grecian manner.

The clouds outside had obscured the waning sun, leaving only the light from the fireplace and a single candelabra to cast moving shadows in the room. Walking to a table near the window, Janvier lit five additional candles. In the darkened window glass, his reflection gave away an expression of serious concern. Was it possible he was unhappy with her calling on him? She wasn’t certain she could manage another rejection today.

However, when he turned to face her, his expression changed into one of welcoming interest. She shook off the foolish uneasiness and let her gaze wander from the gilt-framed landscape paintings to the marble statues resting on pedestals. If only it wasn’t in poor taste to ignore him and explore his artwork.

Then she spied a rather large royal-blue Sèvres porcelain urn painted in the Empire style atop a Sèvres bisque pedestal. It was a stunning piece of craftsmanship and she wished she had time to study the intricate bucolic scene painted on it.

‘That is lovely,’ she commented, stepping towards it.

Janvier approached her. ‘Thank you, it is a recent acquisition. Please, won’t you have a seat?’ he asked, gesturing to the sofa near the fire.

The gold-brocade cushions were well stuffed and she made certain to leave room next to her so that when he sat down their thighs wouldn’t touch. She was being foolish. He would not try to kiss her again. She had made her feelings for him quite clear. This man was her friend. Her emotions were frayed more than she had thought to make her uneasy around Janvier.

Olivia looked into his chocolate-brown eyes that were keenly focused on her and forced herself to smile. ‘I hope I have not arrived at an inconvenient time?’

‘You have not. However, I must confess your arrival is a surprise. Did I misunderstand? I thought we were to meet at the theatre instead of arriving together.’

‘That was our arrangement.’ She rubbed her brow. ‘Forgive me. It has been a trying day.’

He cocked his head to the side. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps your mood will improve tonight. I have been awaiting this evening for a long time.’

Olivia accepted the glass of claret from Janvier as he took a seat beside her. While he sipped his wine, he watched her over the rim of the crystal.

‘It is an excellent vintage,’ he commented, nodding towards the glass in her hand.

‘I would expect no less from you.’

‘Since you will not tell me what is troubling you, perhaps that wine will help return your smile.’

‘Forgive me, I did not come here to dampen your evening with my mood,’ she said apologetically.

‘Having you in my home could never put me in an ill mood.’ His grin only enhanced his handsome face.

She wished she could have unburdened herself. Being able to voice her disappointment in herself and her husband might help her straighten out the emotions that were an enormous jumble inside her head and heart. But she would not confide her secrets to someone simply because the timing was convenient.

‘The wine will help,’ he said, as he leaned back.

He was right. Wine would help. Only she knew she would need the entire bottle and perhaps another one as well. She brought the glass to her lips, then remembered she would need a clear head to be firm in her resolve to move out of her London residence when she returned home, so she lowered the glass to her thigh. ‘This room is lovely,’ she said, changing the subject.

‘So this is how it is to be. I am excellent at keeping secrets. Should you choose to confide in me, I will be willing to listen.’

‘I appreciate that, Janvier, I do. However, I think it best if we do not discuss it.’

‘If you have not come to confide in me, what does bring you to my door? Not that I am unhappy you are here, but you can understand why I am curious.’

‘I’m sorry to say I will not be able to attend the theatre this evening.’

An unreadable expression crossed his face before he took another slow sip of wine. ‘I will not lie and say I am not disappointed.’

‘I am disappointed as well and I was hoping to introduce you to the Prince Regent, but circumstances are preventing me from attending.’

He sat up straight, no longer appearing the epitome of relaxed elegance. ‘Has His Grace forbidden you from being seen with me?’

‘No, that isn’t it.’

‘Then help me to understand. He does not like you spending time with me. I have seen it colour his expression when we are together.’

She shifted uncomfortably at his prodding and looked down at her glass. ‘You’re wrong. His Grace is not a jealous man. Of that, I can assure you.’

‘You are mistaken. He is a man not accustomed to having what is his taken away.’

This discussion was pouring salt into her open wound. She needed to change the subject. She remembered seeing trunks in the entrance hall when she arrived. ‘Are you leaving London?’

‘I will be returning to Paris for a time to visit friends. Are you certain I cannot persuade you to change your mind about this evening?’

‘I am certain, however I have no wish to deprive you of such wonderful entertainment.’ Reaching into her reticule, Olivia pulled out two tokens for her box at the theatre. She held them out to Janvier. When he went to take them, she snatched her hand back.

‘I have one condition. You must tell me about the performance when next we see one another.’

‘Agreed.’

Clinking their glasses together, they raised them to their lips in unison. The warm spicy wine slid down her throat smoothly. There was an intensity rolling off her companion. Not for the first time since arriving here did Olivia question her decision to deliver the tokens herself.

‘As you are aware,’ she said, ‘my box is to the left of the royal box. The hallway can become crowded with people hoping to catch sight of the royal family. It’s best to arrive early, if possible, to avoid the crush.’

‘The idea of becoming lost in a crowd does not distress me.’

She took another sip, this time a longer one, and she felt her body begin to soften into the gold brocade cushion. ‘I hope you enjoy your evening. Although I realise it is late, please ask anyone you wish to accompany you. There is no reason you need to attend alone.’

‘That is very kind of you.’

‘Have you not heard? I am all that is kindness,’ she said, taking an even longer drink.

He grinned in amusement. ‘I see the wine is helping. Allow me to pour you some more.’

Glancing into her glass, Olivia raised her eyebrows. When had she finished all of her wine? It was exceptional and after the day she had, she was entitled to enjoy an excellent vintage. She handed him her glass and took in his well-made form as he sauntered over to the cellaret housing numerous bottles of wine.

Her time with Gabriel was over. She would never know a man’s touch again—unless, she took a lover.

Janvier had impressive shoulders, which were showcased nicely by the cut of his black tailcoat. His waist and hips were slim—much slimmer than Gabriel’s more muscular form. Janvier’s build was long and graceful. Gabriel’s form suggested strength and power.

What would it feel like to be held in the arms of a man Janvier’s size?

Just as she was trying to imagine such an encounter, he looked at her from across the room.

‘I would love to know what you are thinking.’

Olivia did not want to contemplate what her expression had obviously betrayed. ‘I was thinking of the wine.’

Stalking towards her with two glasses in his hands, his face became almost tiger like. ‘I am certain you were contemplating something delicious. I do not believe it to be the wine, though.’ Stopping in front of her, he stood there with a heated gaze looking down at her. ‘I know you feel this attraction between us.’

He was attractive, but Olivia hadn’t felt any desire for him. From the time he’d kissed her in his carriage, to staring into his brown eyes now, her body wasn’t flush with the need to press herself against him and feel him buried deep inside of her. Those were the feelings her foolish body had only for Gabriel. She peered closer at Janvier as if she could will herself into a state of arousal.

Why couldn’t he make her heart race and her body quiver in her most intimate places? If he had, she might have been able to transfer some of the feelings she had for Gabriel to Janvier. She was destined to die alone with only the love of Nicholas and, God willing, her grandchildren—but without a man’s love and comforting touch.

And it was all Gabriel’s fault!

The clock on the mantel began to chime and Janvier turned his head to look. In that brief instance, she studied him again.

Still nothing.

He turned back to her and again caught her examining his form. She really needed to leave before she embarrassed herself further.

‘You do feel this attraction. However, if we begin exploring our shared passion now, I will miss the performance.’

Well, that was insulting. He wanted her, but not enough to give up seeing the performance of a play.

Men were toads!

This day had gone from wonderful, to horrible, to absurd in a ridiculously short period of time. She needed to leave, return to her rooms and pack her things. Tomorrow she would be at Victoria’s house, where she could begin to arrange a new life for herself and Nicholas.

She picked up her reticule, looped the braided handle around her wrist and rose from the sofa. ‘I shall be off.’

‘Forgive me, I did not mean for you to leave immediately.’ He held out her refilled glass. ‘We should drink to friendship before you leave.’

She stared at the glass and imagined throwing the contents into his face. But after the day she had had, numbing herself with more wine sounded like a better notion. She accepted the glass and his watchful gaze never left her as he took a sip from his glass. Did he, too, wonder if she was planning on decorating his form with the ruby liquid?

Olivia raised her glass to her lips.

‘Don’t you dare drink that, Olivia,’ boomed a familiar voice from the doorway.

Her hand jerked, sloshing a small amount of the red wine over the side of the glass and down the front of the skirt of her gown. Uttering an unladylike word, she placed her glass on the table.

‘What in the world are you doing here?’ she demanded, glaring at Gabriel.