Olivia Twist(34)
If the sheltered toff ever discovered the truth, it would make his perfectly pomaded hair stand on end. Hell, Jack would erase his past if he could. Being born on the wrong side of the blanket was bad enough, but when one’s own mother attempted to sell her seven-year-old son to feed a raging opium addiction, one tended to avoid those memories at all costs.
Seated at the far end of one of the longest dining tables he’d ever seen, Jack glanced down the row of guests, but could not find Olivia. In fact, he’d been unable to catch her eye since arriving. His hand clenched in frustration. Speaking with her was the sole reason for his attendance at this god-forsaken crush.
He’d waited for her at Golden Square in the drizzling rain for three nights in a row. His notes were ignored, his attempts to call on her during the day met with the blasted butler refusing to even open the door to him. In the wee hours of the third night, he’d arrived at the Brownlow house intent on getting to her any way he could. But all the entrances were locked tight, and the trellis by her bedroom window had been removed from the building. He’d considered breaking in through a first-floor window, but with the butler on high alert, it was too risky.
Olivia’s deception still sat in his gut like a rancid meat pie, but for some reason he couldn’t bear the thought of that bludger Monks getting his claws into her. How much longer until the bloke realized Olivia was his sister? And what would he do once he figured it out?
“Jack, old man, I believe that mutton is already dead. No need to bludgeon it with your utensils.”
Jack shot Topher a glare, but endeavored to calm his raging emotions. He knew from experience that losing control only made him vulnerable. He needed to approach this like a complex heist—pick it apart, analyze every piece of available information, and then lay out a plan.
By the time dinner ended, Jack had reached a place of cold determination. And when it was announced that a game of blindman’s bluff would follow in the parlor, he knew exactly what he needed to do.
Jack rose from the table and waited by his seat as people filed out of the room, sluggish after the heavy meal. Topher followed Olivia’s cousin, Francesca, as she passed by, worming his way between the girl and her escort. Toph had game, Jack had to give him that. One would almost think they were truly related.
A footman stood at the door, prompting each guest to draw a folded paper out of a hat. The unlucky one who drew the piece marked with a black dot would act as Seeker during the first round of tonight’s entertainment. The parade paused while a giggling trio of young ladies made a spectacle of choosing their papers. Jack didn’t care who found the black dot, as long as it wasn’t Olivia or himself. He searched the crowd for his mark and found her almost directly across the table.
She turned and met his intense stare, jerking back as if seeing a ghost. Jack enjoyed an instant of satisfaction until that familiar honeyed gaze narrowed, and her pert nose lifted in an expression of blatant disdain. So, that’s how she wants to play it, Jack thought as he returned her look with a glacial one of his own.
A squeal sounded from the doorway, and a girl with platinum hair waved a piece of black-dotted parchment in the air. With the Seeker chosen, and the need to select a paper unnecessary, the rest of the participants paraded out of the dining room quickly. In the parlor, Jack positioned himself in the shadows of a dark corner.
Olivia stood next to her escort and chatted with another couple. Jack watched the elegant movement of her hands, her animated expression, and the way the little group seemed enraptured by her every word. Where was Grimwig tonight? Had he given up his suit? If so, he was more of a nitwit than Jack thought. No way would I give up so easily. Hypothetically, of course.
“The best hiding spots are through the south door,” a voice purred near his ear.
Jack turned to find Francesca Lancaster so close he could see the kohl lining her eyes and the stain of rouge on the apples of her cheeks. So much for going unnoticed. Feigning ignorance to her invitation, Jack said, “Thanks for the tip.” Then turned to watch the hostess as she blindfolded the Seeker with a black silk cloth.
Francesca’s fingers squeezed his forearm. “The most fascinating spots, that is.” Her lashes beat like hummingbird wings as she gazed up into his face.
Jack suppressed a sigh of impatience and gave her his best roguish grin, hoping she would take it as a confirmation and move away. To her credit, she grasped the hint and headed toward the south entrance with a quick nod.
As footmen extinguished the lamps and candles, Jack’s gaze slid back to Olivia. But she was gone. His breath caught as he scanned the room. The hostess began to spin the Seeker, and chaos erupted.
“Five!” Everyone joined in the countdown as they scurried to hide.
Surely, Olivia’s light-colored dress would be easy to spot even in the partial darkness. “Four!”
Jack began to work his way around the perimeter of the room.
“Three!”
Where could she have gone? There! The swirl of light fabric behind a sofa. Jack rushed over, but found an older woman crouched with her back to him.
“Two!”
Jack turned in a circle, his pulse accelerating as he searched the nooks and crannies along a wall of bookcases. Could she have left the room?
“One!”
Spying a servant’s entrance in a far corner, he headed in that direction, wondering if she could’ve slipped into the hallway. Then just to the right of the door, he spotted a twitch of cream silk behind a potted tree.