Page 72 of A Relentless Rake

“I believed you were as scrupulous and forthright as you portray to society. A virtuous schoolmistress with a spotless reputation.”

She winced at that description of herself, but he wasn’t wrong. That was exactly what the matrons and gossips said about her. It was the same persona she courted in order to give enough respectability to the school that parents felt secure in sending their daughters to her.

“I felt deceived.”

Her eyes snapped to him. “Because I chose to keep private what was none of your business?” She choked out, “That is, until I thought I could trust you enough to…Iwas the one who was deceived.”

“Olivia—”

“No.” Something deep inside her snapped, and the pain was blinding. He had no idea of the hell she’d suffered through during the past seven years, the pain she’d put her family through—or the fresh agony he was causing her now. What sliver of pride remained in her refused to let him see how much he’d wounded her, but her voice was hoarse with emotion. “You have no right to judge me, about that or anything I’ve done.” Blinking hard, she stepped forward to leave. “Excuse me. I need to rescue Signorina Poggioli.”

His fingers lightly gripped her elbow, stopping her. “Please, let me explain.”

She wanted to scream! Yet somehow she was able to keep her voice low as she admitted, “You were right about my brother.”

She would give Alec this gift of information, then put him out of her life forever.

“He did work for the men who bombed the Admiralty Club, but he had no idea what they wanted the plans for. He thought the club was going to be torn down, and he had been hired to check the stresses, that’s all. We’ve often worked with builders on projects to do just that.” It wasn’t the explanation he wanted, but it was the only concession she’d give. “Henry is a good man who was simply caught up in a plot beyond his knowledge and control.”

With that, she was done with this conversation. Done withhim.

“There’s nothing more I can share with you. Find your answers from Lady Rowland now. But you should know that Henry denied that he and she are lovers, and I believe him.”

“What makes you so certain?” he asked.

“Because I know what it’s like when lovers look at each other.” She glanced sideways at him then, boldly meeting those hazel eyes that stared at her so intensely and proved her point. “And they didn’t look at each other that way.”

She turned her tear-blurred gaze back to the two girls and the opera singer. The woman was now doing her best to slide away from them, only to end up with Daphne and Mary chasing her slowly around the room as they advanced with each retreat she made.

“He’s not a revolutionary,” she insisted. “He’s innocent.”

His voice came softly, “Has he really fooled you that much, Olivia?”

The quiet question cut through her, yet she forced her expression to remain inscrutable. “Apparently, I’ve been fooled by many men.”

She walked away. This time, he let her go.

Instead of rescuing the signorina, Olivia headed in the other direction, toward the door leading to the hallway and the retiring room. There, she could find some peace for a few minutes and collect herself, then somehow find the strength to continue with the evening as if nothing was wrong.

A laugh echoed from her left, solid and masculine. She stopped to look.

Lord Hawking was engaged in a conversation with Sir George Pittens, the two men leaning toward each other over their cups of weak coffee and apparently up to their necks in political intrigue. She’d never spent much time talking with the marquess, but she knew Hawking was powerful in the House of Lords, his family almost as rich as the Sinclairs and his title nearly as old. Exactly the kind of person the Everett School needed for a patron. Someone who could give enough money to keep them solvent and, unlike St James, with a solid reputation that would increase the school’s respectability. She had no idea of the nature of the storm that was coming because of Henry, but she knew she needed allies.

Throwing all propriety aside, she walked up to the two men and flashed the most adoring smile she could muster.

Lord Hawking abruptly stopped the conversation and straightened his spine at her approach. “Miss Everett, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Lord Hawking.” She gave a deep curtsy that would have done Prinny proud, then a second. “Sir George.” She turned back to the marquess. “I wanted to thank you for Saturday evening.”

Hawking frowned. “Saturday evening?”

“For letting my brother Henry have your box at Vauxhall.”

“Oh, that. Yes, of course.” He rocked back on his heels and smiled. “My way of saying congratulations on his lecture at the Royal Society. Besides, I was glad the box could be of use. I hardly ever go there anymore, but I can’t bring myself to let it go.” Something behind his smile hardened for just an instant, then was gone, and he confessed, “My late brother Jonas enjoyed the gardens a great deal, so giving up the box feels like giving up a bit of his memory.”

“I understand.” His younger brother and heir had died only a few years ago in the most recent war with the Americans, and sorrow for him tightened her chest. “It was the same for me when Papa died…wanting to carry on just the same. I continued to set out his pipe every evening for a year after he passed because I couldn’t bring myself to face that he was gone.”

His expression softened. “Your father would be very proud of all that you and your brother have accomplished with his school.”