Read Online The Love Match (Entangled Scandalous) by Lily Maxton - Free Book Online
Authors: Lily Maxton
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stepped back. Touching would just muddle her thoughts. She felt too safe in his arms. And that was all a lie.
“Olivia.” And the way he said it—almost as a rush of air instead of a real sound, with an undercurrent of helpless anger—it made her wonder if he loved her in return. But wondering about it wouldn’t do anyone any good unless he accepted and acknowledged it.
“No,” she said tiredly, heartbrokenly. “No. Please, just leave me in peace.”
He stared at her a moment longer, his eyes flickering over her face, before he silently granted her request. She stood in the center of the room until the bedchamber door shut behind him, and then, in one of her more dramatic moments, she flung herself on the bed, wrung the pillow between her hands, and cried until there were no more tears left.
…
William left Eastwold Abbey before they did. Olivia watched him step into his carriage on an overcast, humid day that threatened rain. She stood silently as the clopping of horse hooves drifted to her. She willed him to look back, willed him to show some sign that he felt something.
Anything.
He didn’t.
The carriage turned past the trees and disappeared from view.
She sagged, feeling like the weight of the world had come to rest on her shoulders. She was surprised when Lord Ashworth drew her aside for a private word before her family departed. He was the only one still speaking to her—everyone else had turned away, gossiping and staring and keeping several feet of distance.
She tried to pretend she didn’t hear their words, didn’t feel their stares, but heat rose in her chest and throat.
“You cannot imagine how horrible I feel about all that has happened,” Lord Ashworth told her.
She looked up at him. Under his mess of sullen hair, his eyes were kind. “Nothing about this was your fault.”
“No, but I noticed William had taken an interest in you, and I didn’t discourage him. I thought…” His words trailed off.
“What?”
“I thought you might be the one. The love match.”
“ Ah .” She forced a smile that tasted bitter. “I wasn’t.”
He met her gaze. “Even if he cares for you, he might not admit it to himself,” Ashworth said, surprising her. “I feel as though I’m prying into business that’s not my own, but you should know—William’s mother abandoned him when he was only twelve. I think it left a scar that never quite faded, made worse by the fact that his father was so devastated. He’d been devoted to his wife, more in love than any man I’d seen. Neither of them were quite the same after she left.”
Olivia had known William wasn’t on good terms with his mother, though she hadn’t known the specifics. He’d spoken fondly enough of his father, but when she asked about his mother, he would simply say they didn’t see each other and change the subject.
She hadn’t pried at the time because she’d thought he would gradually open up to her. But he was gone, and if Lord Ashworth wanted to volunteer the information, she wouldn’t turn it down.
“Where is she now? Is she still alive?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “She lives in Spain with her lover. The same one she left them for. I’m not certain if that makes it better or worse for William. Worse, I imagine. If she flitted from lover to lover, he could simply say she was fickle. But she had love to give, it seems. She was simply unable or unwilling to give it to the man she married, or their son. William would never say this himself, but I think if that happened to me as a child, I would wonder what fault resided within me that caused her to leave.”
Olivia shook her head. It might explain his fear, but it changed nothing. He was a grown man. And yet he would let his mother’s specter destroy his own chance at happiness. She had withdrawn her love, so he wouldn’t accept any other. If he were in front of her right now, she would grab his coat and shake some sense into him.
But he was gone. She’d only be
“Olivia.” And the way he said it—almost as a rush of air instead of a real sound, with an undercurrent of helpless anger—it made her wonder if he loved her in return. But wondering about it wouldn’t do anyone any good unless he accepted and acknowledged it.
“No,” she said tiredly, heartbrokenly. “No. Please, just leave me in peace.”
He stared at her a moment longer, his eyes flickering over her face, before he silently granted her request. She stood in the center of the room until the bedchamber door shut behind him, and then, in one of her more dramatic moments, she flung herself on the bed, wrung the pillow between her hands, and cried until there were no more tears left.
…
William left Eastwold Abbey before they did. Olivia watched him step into his carriage on an overcast, humid day that threatened rain. She stood silently as the clopping of horse hooves drifted to her. She willed him to look back, willed him to show some sign that he felt something.
Anything.
He didn’t.
The carriage turned past the trees and disappeared from view.
She sagged, feeling like the weight of the world had come to rest on her shoulders. She was surprised when Lord Ashworth drew her aside for a private word before her family departed. He was the only one still speaking to her—everyone else had turned away, gossiping and staring and keeping several feet of distance.
She tried to pretend she didn’t hear their words, didn’t feel their stares, but heat rose in her chest and throat.
“You cannot imagine how horrible I feel about all that has happened,” Lord Ashworth told her.
She looked up at him. Under his mess of sullen hair, his eyes were kind. “Nothing about this was your fault.”
“No, but I noticed William had taken an interest in you, and I didn’t discourage him. I thought…” His words trailed off.
“What?”
“I thought you might be the one. The love match.”
“ Ah .” She forced a smile that tasted bitter. “I wasn’t.”
He met her gaze. “Even if he cares for you, he might not admit it to himself,” Ashworth said, surprising her. “I feel as though I’m prying into business that’s not my own, but you should know—William’s mother abandoned him when he was only twelve. I think it left a scar that never quite faded, made worse by the fact that his father was so devastated. He’d been devoted to his wife, more in love than any man I’d seen. Neither of them were quite the same after she left.”
Olivia had known William wasn’t on good terms with his mother, though she hadn’t known the specifics. He’d spoken fondly enough of his father, but when she asked about his mother, he would simply say they didn’t see each other and change the subject.
She hadn’t pried at the time because she’d thought he would gradually open up to her. But he was gone, and if Lord Ashworth wanted to volunteer the information, she wouldn’t turn it down.
“Where is she now? Is she still alive?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “She lives in Spain with her lover. The same one she left them for. I’m not certain if that makes it better or worse for William. Worse, I imagine. If she flitted from lover to lover, he could simply say she was fickle. But she had love to give, it seems. She was simply unable or unwilling to give it to the man she married, or their son. William would never say this himself, but I think if that happened to me as a child, I would wonder what fault resided within me that caused her to leave.”
Olivia shook her head. It might explain his fear, but it changed nothing. He was a grown man. And yet he would let his mother’s specter destroy his own chance at happiness. She had withdrawn her love, so he wouldn’t accept any other. If he were in front of her right now, she would grab his coat and shake some sense into him.
But he was gone. She’d only be
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