Olivia Twist(63)

“And why should I lend my assistance with his personal affairs?” Max shot Jack a glare as he uncrossed his legs and then crossed them in the opposite direction.

“Mayhap because you believe in true love?” Topher’s voice was as sappy as maple syrup. “Jack is simply heartsick over this girl. She’s all he thinks about, all he talks about. Isn’t that right, poor old chap?”

Jack nodded, unable to speak over the laughter stuck in his throat. Max squeezed the upholstered arms of his chair until finger bones threatened to poke through his skin. Clearly, as Topher had intended, their host believed the lady in question to be Olivia.

As delightful as torturing Grimwig was, Jack had to stop this runaway train before they all died in it. Tucking away his amusement, he wrinkled his brow and frowned in anguish. “’Tis true, Mr. Grimwig. I despair o’ ever earning Miss Lancaster’s affections. But if I cannot escort her to your ball . . .” Jack shook his head, then stared down at his clasped hands, clinching the role of the contrite Irish lad. “I fear she’ll succumb to the pursuit o’ another.”

When Jack raised his eyes, Max looked like a different person. Relaxed, his entire body melted back into the chair.

“How could you deny a man the pursuit of love, Max?” Topher shook his head, nearly tsking in disappointment.

“Well, I—”

“Mr. MacCarron!” A female voice rang from the doorway. Jack turned to find the very wide, and extremely bejeweled, Mrs. Grimwig waddling into the room. “I couldn’t help but overhear your sincere plea. You and Miss Lancaster make such a lovely couple.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Jack grinned at the woman, sensing victory within his grasp.

“For shame, Max! How could you wish to prevent such a perfect match?”

“Of course . . . of course, I wouldn’t,” Maxwell stammered, and turned to Jack with a contrite expression. “Mr. MacCarron, I will procure an invitation posthaste.”

“Thank you, sir. I will be ever in your debt.” Jack stood and extended his hand to Max, only squeezing a bit harder than necessary before releasing his bony fingers. His muted brown eyes narrowed before Jack turned away to address Mrs. Grimwig with a deep bow and a kiss on her plump hand. She giggled like a girl. “I must excuse myself momentarily, Miss Grimwig, but I shall return.”

He turned and strode out of the room, intent on doing a bit of reconnaissance. He’d stopped just outside the door to ask a maid the location of the nearest loo when he overheard words that chilled the blood in his veins.

“Won’t it be nice that Miss Brownlow’s cousin will be well settled when you announce your engagement at the ball? They are dreadfully competitive, you know . . .”

Engagement. Jack didn’t hear the rest as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Olivia and Max were engaged? To be married? She certainly had not bothered to tell him.

How long? Was she engaged when she’d almost left the theater with him? When he had poured his guts out to her about his past? When he’d kissed her until she couldn’t breathe?

The grandiose hallway distorted around him like a drunken carousel. He strode toward the door, every painting and priceless statue mocking him as he passed. This haven of wealth and privilege would soon be Olivia’s life.

How could he compete with that?

Jack pushed through the front doors and raced down the stairs, running from the image of Maxwell and Olivia in each other’s arms, standing before a vicar, swearing to love one another for eternity.

His steps slowed and he saw clearly for the first time in weeks. Had Olivia ever cared for him? Or had she manipulated him into sacrificing himself to help her precious orphans? Righteous flames roared, cauterizing his pain. He embraced the fire and stoked it with memories of her pushing him away, telling him she had to think of her future—her future with a loaded prat who could give her the life of her dreams.

The blade carving into his heart twisted. He’d laid his soul bare to her. Told her things he’d never shared with anyone. With the hopes of what? Making her love him? What a farce! He could well imagine the laugh she must have had as the street thief made a bloody idiot of himself in an attempt to impress her. His vision narrowed, and he clenched his hands into fists as they began to shake. He wanted to find her and make her hurt as much as he did. But blowing up at Olivia wouldn’t do any good. She’d still belong to someone else.

However, there was another situation he could do something about. He quickened his pace, his steps becoming more deliberate as he made his way to the carriage, threw open the door, and barked an order to the driver. Topher could find his own bloody way home.

Jack had an appointment to keep.



Olivia stepped into the foyer of the Coxs’ townhome behind Violet and her aunt Rebecca Cramstead. She loved Aunt Becky, but the woman watched her like a baker guarding a stall full of fresh buns. Getting away to find Jack, let alone a treasure or two for her boys, would be a challenge tonight.

As the footman took her wrap, she scanned the crowd for a dark head and broad shoulders. She knew Jack’d planned to be here, but as she entered the drawing room, his undefinable energy was absent. Olivia exhaled a slow breath and turned to find Violet pushing through the crush, her best friend’s brilliant hair making her hard to miss. Best friend? Guilt twisted in Olivia’s stomach. She hadn’t been much of a friend lately, wrapped up in her own drama.