Page 35 of The Butterfly
He flinched, gasping as if coming up for air after drowning. Despite the jolt of his body caused by shock, Olivia remained asleep, her head heavy against his shoulder.
“M-master,” he croaked, already attempting to untangle himself from the man’s stepdaughter.
“She’s always slept like the dead,” Lord Rowland Callahan muttered, casting an apathetic glance in Olivia’s direction. “Do not wake her. Get dressed, then come down to meet me. We will talk.”
Rowland turned to go back down the way he’d come, his bearing as imposing as ever, even as he climbed down the rough, wooden ladder. His gaze remained fixed upon Niall until he’d disappeared from sight. Only then did Niall feel as if he could move, his heart hammering so fast, he was surprised it did not beat right out of his chest. He gingerly laid Olivia aside, a tight knot of fear growing in the pit of his gut as he watched her turn onto her side with a sigh, her back to him.
What would happen to her now that they’d been found out? The earl was a cold bastard, but as far as Niall knew, he’d never abused Olivia in any way. That did not mean he was incapable of cruelty toward her. And what of him? Would he be sent away, just as his da had been?
He fumbled about in the meager light for his trousers, braces, and shirt, not bothering with a coat or anything else. He knew Lord Callahan well enough to understand he would not wish to be kept waiting. After shoving his feet into his boots, he made his way down the ladder as fast as he could while avoiding making too much noise. The only thing that could make matters worse would be for Olivia to awaken and realize they’d been caught.
Once on the ground, he found himself alone in the stable. His nose led him to the open doors, the scent of tobacco wafting toward him through the night. He found the earl just outside, a wooden pipe clenched between his teeth.
Adam had been made in his image, though one might argue that Rowland’s perpetual scowl and the bitterness hanging over his head like a storm cloud both aged him and robbed him of some of his classical handsomeness. He looked as if his skin had been pulled too tight over the bones of his face, his eyebrows too sharply curved, his mouth pinched, his cheekbones too prominent. At times, Niall pitied the man who had lost nearly all of his family, including two wives. And yet, he could not fathom how the earl might not find comfort in the children he’d been left with. Could the man not see that Olivia and Adam had lost just as much?
“Master, I—”
“I ought to have known it was you,” Rowland said around the pipe clenched in his teeth. “It became clear to me that Olivia was behaving inappropriately withsomeoneon my staff, but I did not know who. After all the years she spent running about with you and my son, I see now that I should have known all along. How long has it been going on?”
Niall felt as if he might leap out of his own skin, falling apart as his flesh rent away from his bones. His tongue laid heavy and thick in his mouth, his palms sweating and his insides churning. What was he to say? No matter what he told the earl, both he and Olivia would be doomed.
“It is of no consequence,” Rowland continued, without waiting for Niall to answer. “All that matters now is whether you’ve ruined her. I have always liked you, Niall, more than your drunkard of a father, anyway. As much as a man can like his head groom. Tell me you have not ruined my stepdaughter, and we might come to some sort of understanding here.”
The hurricane churning through his body eased just a bit, though he remained wary. He still wasn’t convinced that anything he said might not result in his ultimate destruction.
“N-no, Master,” he managed through his fear-tightened throat. “I knew better than to … I would never …”
Rowland nodded, his jaw working as he shifted the pipe about in his mouth. After taking another long pull on it, he took the pipe in hand and exhaled, a long stream of smoke billowing upward as if from a chimney.
“When I married Lady Edith, I did not much mind that she came with a daughter. I had my heir, and my wife would manage her own child … or so I thought. But then, the countess died.”
Niall looked away from the earl, gazing out at Dunvar House. He recalled Lady Edith’s death, mostly because of how it had devastated Adam and Olivia. He did not think they had recovered, even all these years later.
“I was left with the burden of raising her, which is quite a singular task for a widower of theton.Raise her, provide for her, educate her, marry her off. It has been my goal from the beginning—making a good match for Olivia. It has not been easy. You know how willful she can be. I have spent years trying to train these defiant tendencies out of her. The school I sent her to is one of the strictest for young ladies in England, and still, I discover her sneaking off for trysts with a stable boy.”
Niall gritted his teeth and fought not to remind the earl that he had not been a boy in quite some time. It would not do to anger the man any more than he already had.
“In a little more than a fortnight, Olivia will leave for her first Season,” Rowland continued. “It will be made clear to her that she is not to return without having accepted an offer of marriage.”
He was surprised his teeth did not grind down to dust from how hard he clenched his jaw, the urge to strike this man overwhelming. It was one thing to send Olivia to London as if she were some sort of commodity to be sold upon the Marriage Mart. It was quite another for him to impose such a burden upon her.
The earl met his gaze, a hard gleam darkening his hazel eyes. “That cannot happen if you do not put a stop to this.”
Niall frowned, now baffled as well as annoyed. “Me, Master?”
“Yes, you. I am not daft. As much as it would please me to let you go, send you away, and make certain she knows I did it because of your little … affair … we both know it would never work. It would only cause her to love you more, and I will not send her off to London sulking and pining after you. I will not suffer her moods and anger toward me, shouldering the blame for tearing the two of you apart. Instead,youare going to do the tearing.”
The realization of what the earl was commanding him to do left a bitter taste in Niall’s mouth.
“I willnae hurt her.”
“You can hurt her and give her a chance to go on to make a good match,” Rowland ground out, turning to face him with a sneer. “Or, I can cut you loose and ensure you never find work in any fine home in Scotland or England ever again. Then, I will ship Olivia off to the most far-flung convent I can find, where she will take vows and remain out of your reach for good.”
For the first time during their conversation, the cold tentacles of dread overwhelmed the flames of anger simmering inside his body. They gripped his heart with icy fingers, spreading their chill to the far reaches of his soul. He could see this was no mere threat. The earl meant to make good on his word.
“Make certain she understands that things are over between the two of you,” Rowland added. “Make it convincing. If Olivia leaves for her Season without fuss or incident … then, you may keep your post providing I never catch you acting in an unseemly way again. Do we understand one another?”
Niall wanted to tell the man to sod off, that he loved Olivia and would run away with her to get married. He wanted to plant the man a facer, take him to the ground and pummel him for all the hurt and neglect he’d subjected Olivia and Adam to over the years.
