The Ghost, page 13
Because he wasn’t!
“You shot her before she could shoot me.” Olivia felt galvanized into action, rising to her feet to run to her brother’s side. She placed a soothing hand upon his trembling forearm. “You saved my life, Edmund.”
His gaze remained fixated on where their mother lay. She was unmoving, her face white, eyes closed, her chest no longer rising and falling. “And I have killed my mother.”
“In defense of your sister.” Flint stepped forward to take the gun from Edmund’s unresisting fingers. “No one here believes any differently,” he assured.
“Dear God, Liv,” Edmund choked as the removal of the gun from his hand seemed to jolt him out of his stupor. “What sort of monster had our mother become that she could have done such a thing to the Duke of Plymouth? Or now tried to shoot you so that she could inherit your fortune?”
As far as Olivia was concerned, their mother had always been a monster. But never to the degree that she had become once the baroness saw the possibility of having a comte as a son-in-law might be taken from her by Olivia’s feelings for Spencer Granger. A man, a duke, who was known for his disinterest in marriage.
Except Olivia now knew that Spencer’s feelings for her in the past had been genuine. He had told her so when he vowed he would have come back to her if he had been able. That he would also have asked her to marry him upon his return.
“Your mother is responsible for the things done to me…?” Spencer now prompted softly.
Olivia glanced at him, knowing by the grimness of his expression that he had picked up on Edmund’s reference to those actions. “She has—had—many relatives in France and other parts of the Continent. She also owns a house in Yorkshire. A ruin. The caretakers of that house are Jacob and Mary Blenkin.”
He turned to look at the obviously deceased baroness. “But why?”
“She believed you were all that stood in the way of my marrying the very wealthy Comte de Fontbleau.”
His wince was pained. “She was obviously right.”
“No, she was not,” Olivia stated firmly.
“But you married him in my absence.”
Olivia drew in a sharp breath at the accusation. “There is a reason that I did so.”
“He was already betrothed to you and very wealthy—”
“That is not the reason.”
“But—”
“I believe you should take the comtesse home, Plymouth,” Flint cut in firmly. “I shall summon the other Ruthless Dukes to help me deal with this situation. Do not fear, Comtesse,” he assured Olivia softly. “Your brother will not see the inside of a prison, let alone the gallows. I will ensure all will be explained in such a way no one will be to blame for what happened here except the baroness herself.” He turned to Plymouth. “Take the comtesse home, Spencer.” He squeezed his friend’s arm. “And this time, do as Melborne advised and listen to what she is saying to you. Do not just hear, but actually listen,” he emphasized again.
Spencer had no idea what Flint was trying to tell him. Probably because he was still in a daze from learning the woman he had thought of as being nothing more than a shrew and a harridan was, in fact, the person responsible for everything that had happened to him during and since the battle at Waterloo.
All because she had not wanted, through what she had considered to be only a flirtation on his part, for Olivia to bring to an end her betrothal to de Fontbleau.
“You must now be very brave, Madame Comtesse, and tell Plymouth the truth.” Flint lifted Olivia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “All of it,” he added pointedly. “He deserves that, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she acknowledged huskily.
Flint nodded. “Take her home, Spencer,” he repeated decisively.
Olivia turned to where her father still knelt on the floor beside the baroness. “Papa…?”
Her father rose shakily to his feet after giving one last lingering glance at his dead wife.
His eyes, when he raised his head to look at her, were full of pain. “Please go with the duke. But know that I do not hold you or Edmund in the least responsible for what has happened here today. Edmund was only defending you. No doubt I am guiltier than either of you for not checking your mother’s behavior before this. For not seeing that her actions had become mentally unstable.” He turned to Spencer. “I do not know all you have suffered at my wife’s hands, but I am truly sorry for it.” He turned to Flint. “We shall claim that my wife accidentally shot herself with my son’s gun. None here shall gainsay that claim.” He frowned fiercely at his twin daughters and his son.
“No, Papa,” they all answered together.
Olivia ran to her father and gave him a fierce hug. “I am so sorry, Papa.”
He released a slow and measured breath. “Perhaps your mother is at peace now. She certainly lost no opportunity to make her unhappiness with me and our marriage known these past twenty years,” he added bitterly before rallying. “Go with Plymouth now,” he instructed firmly. “The fewer people here to be questioned by the authorities, the better. But all will be well with the Duke of Flint’s help.”
Olivia gave her father one last hug before walking to Spencer’s side. She had not given a single glance toward her dead mother. “I am ready to leave now, if you are.” She looked nervous as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “There is something at my home I wish to show you.”
Spencer’s brows rose. He had no idea what Olivia might wish to show him, but he had no intention of being apart from her again any time in the near future. When he and Flint had been driven here so swiftly, he had thought Olivia to already be dead, shot by a member of her own family. Indeed, she might have been if not for her brother, Edmund. That Olivia was now standing beside Spencer, the living, breathing woman whom he loved beyond reason, was nothing short of a miracle.
He nodded. “I am ready.”
Olivia sat nervously across the carriage from Spencer on the drive to her house.
She had no idea how he was going to react to seeing Mariah, but she had no doubt that a single glance would be enough to reveal she was Spencer’s daughter, not Gerard’s.
It was the reason she had decided to do it this way. No words could explain the miracle that Mariah was to her. How their daughter was the living proof of their love. Spencer deserved to see that for himself. He deserved so much more than that, but Olivia first needed him to meet his daughter.
Hopefully, many other things would fall into place once he had.
“You do not seem saddened by your mother’s death.”
She glanced across at Spencer before lowering her lashes. “She was cold and cruel to me all my life, blamed me for having to marry my father once she discovered she was carrying his child.”
Spencer gave a disgusted snort. “A child is not to blame for the actions of the adult.”
“I am relieved you think so.” Some of the heaviness eased from her chest. “Spencer—” She broke off when he moved from the other side of the carriage to kneel in front of her. “What are you doing?” she gasped.
He took both her gloved hands in his. “I swear I am going to listen to everything you have to say to me. I promise to look at whatever it is you need to show me. But before I do either of those things, I need you to know that I fell deeply in love with you the May before last, and that I have never stopped loving you. Not for a moment.” He lowered his head to kiss the backs of both her hands with warm lips.
Olivia gave a choked sob as she turned her hands so that her fingers could tightly grip his. “I fell in love with you then, too, and I have never stopped loving you. Not even for a moment.” She made that same vow, her eyes hot with unshed tears.
His gaze was puzzled. “I do not understand.”
“You will,” she promised as the carriage came to a halt in front of her house. The groom quickly hopped down to open the door. “Come with me.” She kept hold of Spencer’s hand and pulled him with her as she stepped down from the carriage before almost running down the pathway to the front door of her home.
She didn’t linger in the hallway to discard their outer clothing, but ran straight past her butler and up the wide staircase to the floor above.
Spencer had no idea where they were going. But he hoped they were going to Olivia’s bedchamber so they could be alone together and once again vow and express their love for each other.
If that was the case… “Olivia.” He pulled her to a halt halfway down the hallway. He dropped to one knee again. “Will you marry me?”
Her tears began to flow freely. “In an instant,” she assured fiercely.
The heavy weight that had been pressing down on Spencer’s chest ever since he learned Olivia had been married and widowed in his absence now lifted and allowed him to breathe easily for the first time since his return to London. “Olivia—” He broke off as she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.
“I love you,” she choked. “I love you. I love you!”
“God knows how much I love you!” Spencer vowed before he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his.
He knew they still had much to talk about, but knowing they loved each other, that Olivia had agreed to marry him, was more than enough for now.
He was surprised, therefore, when seconds later, Olivia ended the kiss to place her hands on his cheeks and ask. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life,” he vowed.
Fresh tears began to fall down her cheeks. “Then please believe that I did what I thought was best. For—for everyone.” She swallowed. “It was not selfish. Never that. I wanted—I needed—” Her words were interrupted by a sound from inside the room they were standing outside of.
It sounded suspiciously like—
“She can hear my voice,” Olivia murmured indulgently as she reached out to turn the handle and push open the door. “Listen and look, Spencer,” she reminded emotionally as she waited for him to precede her into the room.
To Spencer’s surprise, he stepped into what was obviously a nursery. There was a cot to one side of the room, with a rocking chair beside it. A collection of toys were stacked neatly on shelves across the room. A young nursemaid knelt on the rug beside the guarded fire. Crawling across the rug toward them was a baby—
“Mama!” The baby gave a beaming smile, proudly showing off the teeth at the front of her mouth as she crawled even faster toward Olivia. “Mama!” She plopped back on her bottom to hold up her arms with an obvious demand to be picked up.
Which Olivia promptly did before she turned to look at him with wary eyes. “Look and listen, Spencer,” she reminded huskily.
Spencer only needed to do the first of those things to recognize the familiar dark curls and the same sky-blue eyes as he saw whenever he glanced at himself in a mirror.
Every question he had left to ask Olivia was answered as those blue eyes so like his own gazed back at him trustingly.
“Her name is Mariah,” Olivia supplied.
Her. The baby was a girl.
A daughter.
His daughter.
Spencer knew this without a single doubt.
Something shifted inside him as he stared at the baby. A making of room for the overwhelming rush of love that suddenly filled his heart alongside the deep and enduring love he felt for Olivia.
“Would you like to hold her?” Olivia asked gently.
Would he…? “Please.” He held out his arms, having never so much as held a baby before, but needing to hold this one. His daughter. Mariah.
She felt such a light weight in his arms, and yet, at the same time was a solid presence of the love he and Olivia had vowed to each other the previous year.
“You may go, Mary,” Olivia dismissed as she settled their daughter in Spencer’s arms. The baby seemed transfixed by him. “By the time I learned I was with child, I had already been told you had been killed at Waterloo,” Olivia told him softly after the nursemaid had left the room. “I had to tell Gerard the truth, of course, but he insisted on marrying me anyway.”
“I owe him a debt of gratitude which can never be repaid,” Spencer acknowledged gruffly.
He had spent so long hating the very thought of the Frenchman being married to Olivia that he had been unable to look beyond that.
To listen, as Melborne and Flint had both advised him to do. To question rather than accuse. Olivia herself had told him that he should be thanking de Fontbleau rather than maligning him.
“We lived as brother and sister,” Olivia now told him.
Flint had told him to consider the reason the comte had not passed his disease on to Olivia. Spencer realized now it had been because they had not had a physical relationship.
“But I cannot allow you to ever believe I did not love Gerard,” Olivia added firmly. “Despite already being ill, he was a kind and caring man. He took care of me and my unborn baby. Gave us his name. He loved Mariah from the moment she was born,” she added emotionally.
Who could not love the little imp who was now playing with the shiny diamond pin in Spencer’s neckcloth? Or the brave and steadfast woman who was her mother?
Spencer loved them both beyond reason.
The life of the woman who had wronged him had been taken today. But Spencer had also been given a life, that of his daughter, which nullified all those months he had been kept a prisoner and far away from his beloved Olivia.
He reached out to gently cup his hand about one of Olivia’s cheeks. “I am so sorry for what you must have suffered once you realized you were carrying my child. The heartache you must have endured, believing I was dead, and then feeling so very lost and alone before de Fontbleau insisted on marrying you and giving you both his name.”
A flush brightened Olivia’s cheeks. “Mariah’s full name is Mariah Lisette de Fontbleau.”
“And it shall remain so, in honor of the man who loved you both when I could not. But I believe Mariah Lisette de Fontbleau Granger sounds even more impressive, no?”
Olivia gave a tearful chuckle. “I believe that sounds perfect.”
He quirked one dark brow. “As does Olivia de Fontbleau Granger?”
“Even more perfect,” Olivia accepted softly as she cuddled against his side.
None of the past mattered to Spencer. It was forgotten completely, here in this moment, with his daughter and future wife in his arms.
EPILOGUE
The following summer
The gardens at Plymouth Park, Gloucestershire
“How do you think your father is now?” Spencer prompted as he sat beside Olivia on a blanket spread beneath an ancient oak tree.
Olivia glanced across the lawn to where her father was currently down on his hands and knees giving a gleefully giggling Mariah a ride on his back as she shouted, “Faster, Grandpa. Faster!”
Olivia turned back to Spencer. “I believe he is getting better.”
It had been a difficult time for her father, once he learned the full extent of his wife’s perfidy. But with help from Olivia and Spencer, along with Edmund and the twins, he was starting to socialize again. The unreserved love he felt for his granddaughter was certainly helping him to heal.
Edmund was across the lawn playing croquet with several of the Ruthless Dukes and their wives. The dukes had taken her brother under their wing after helping to smooth over the death of the baroness. Edmund was flourishing under their attention.
He and Lord Robert Granger, that gentleman also playing croquet, had become good friends, and they often went about town together. He had not, thank goodness, taken up any of Cousin Robert’s fashion choices!
The two young ladies to whom they were betrothed looked on indulgently.
Olivia could easily imagine how, in the years to come, there would be more children born who would play in the gardens at Plymouth Park. Indeed, two of the duchesses were expecting a child before Christmas.
The twins were also present, with the two wealthy young gentlemen they had become betrothed to during this past Season.
There seemed to be something to be said for having a duke and duchess as brother-in-law and sister-in-law!
Olivia and Spencer had married the previous December, neither wanting to wait any longer than that to finally marry and live together as husband and wife.
“Papa! Papa, I am falling!” Mariah called out.
Spencer rose quickly and rushed across to where his daughter was indeed starting to slip sideways on her grandfather’s back. He easily swept Mariah up in his arms and began to tickle her in order to make her forget the near catastrophe.
Olivia smiled contentedly as she sat and watched them. The two people she loved most in the world.
It had been a very happy eight months since their wedding.
With a glance down at the slight bulge of her pregnancy visible against her gown, Olivia knew that they would continue to be happy and together for many more years to come.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carole Mortimer is a USA Today Bestselling Author and recipient of the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award 2015, RT Career Achievement Award 2017, RT Pioneer for Romance Award 2014. She was also recognized by Queen Elizabeth II in 2012 for her ‘outstanding service to literature’. Carole has written over 280 contemporary, Regency and paranormal romance novels.
