that she had started doing things Amanda didn’t approve of. Things that could ruin her reputation and taint the Riverton name by association.
“How do you plan to make Huntley jealous if you’re hiding about in the hallway?”
Olivia turned toward the voice. Lazarus leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
“That is your plan, not mine. I don’t waste time on futile endeavors. At least not anymore,” she added softly.
He moved closer. “What ‘futile endeavors’ did you waste time on before?”
She gave a slight shake of her head. She didn’t want to remember. She only wanted to forget.
He lifted her chin with gentle fingers. “You can trust me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She felt herself falling under the spell of his dark eyes. When his gaze fell to her mouth, as though drawn there beyond his control, everything around her ceased to exist. He dipped his head, bringing his mouth within a hair’s breadth of her own. Heat pooled low in her stomach.
“Olivia!”
She jumped back with a guilty start.
Lord Michael Huntley stood a few feet away, a scowl marring his handsome features. Her face burned with mortification.
“Michael,” she said, in a voice little more than a high-pitched squeak.
He strode forward and took her by the hand. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” He led her a few steps away when he came to a sudden halt. He looked down at his arm where Lazarus grabbed it, then raised his gaze.
“The lady was with me.”
He shook off Lazarus’ hold. His expression that of a person who had smelled a foul odor. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Huntley said, with a curl of his lip.
Olivia jumped into the breach. “May I present Lord Michael Blakely, Marquess of Huntley. Michael, Mr. William Prescott.”
Neither man greeted the other. Instead, Huntley turned toward her. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Your reputation can ill afford another scandal.”
“I...We were looking for you.”
“Really. It looked as though you were about to be ruined.”
She gasped. A sharp pain pierced her heart. Did Michael, her Lord Michael, think so little of her?
Lazarus grabbed Huntley by the neck and slammed him into the nearby wall. “Apologize to her.”
“Go to hell.”
“Apologize.” He tightened his grip, his fingers digging into the other man’s neck.
Gasping for breath, Huntley pushed at Lazarus’ hand without success. He cut his gaze to Olivia. “S...sorry.”
Lazarus released him, and he stumbled back, his hand clutching his throat as he took great gulping breaths.
She touched him on the shoulder. “Michael, are you all right?”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if I offended you, but you must admit if I hadn’t come along, you’d have done something regrettable.”
“You may be right.” She glanced at Lazarus. He stood watching her with an unreadable expression. The Runner’s words came back to haunt her. Mr. Durant said he was quick to violence. She didn’t know why Lazarus had rushed to defend her when he himself was only using her to gain information. He hadn’t a care for her reputation.
He moved to her side. “Shall we return to the ballroom? I’m sure Lady Riverton is missing you.”
“I’m certain you are right,” she agreed, suddenly eager to be lost in the overcrowded room. She sent a hesitant smile in Michael’s direction and turned away.
The sound of flesh meeting flesh followed by a groan sent her spinning around. Michael sprawled in a half sitting position on the marble floor holding his jaw.
Lazarus flexed his hand and moved to her side. “Shall we?” he asked as if nothing had occurred.
“You hit him!”
“You accepted his apology. I didn’t.”
Huntley climbed to his feet and made a show of adjusting his clothing. He sent a malevolent glare in Lazarus’ direction before pushing past them. He turned back. “I sincerely hope you don’t do something you have cause to
“How do you plan to make Huntley jealous if you’re hiding about in the hallway?”
Olivia turned toward the voice. Lazarus leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
“That is your plan, not mine. I don’t waste time on futile endeavors. At least not anymore,” she added softly.
He moved closer. “What ‘futile endeavors’ did you waste time on before?”
She gave a slight shake of her head. She didn’t want to remember. She only wanted to forget.
He lifted her chin with gentle fingers. “You can trust me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She felt herself falling under the spell of his dark eyes. When his gaze fell to her mouth, as though drawn there beyond his control, everything around her ceased to exist. He dipped his head, bringing his mouth within a hair’s breadth of her own. Heat pooled low in her stomach.
“Olivia!”
She jumped back with a guilty start.
Lord Michael Huntley stood a few feet away, a scowl marring his handsome features. Her face burned with mortification.
“Michael,” she said, in a voice little more than a high-pitched squeak.
He strode forward and took her by the hand. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” He led her a few steps away when he came to a sudden halt. He looked down at his arm where Lazarus grabbed it, then raised his gaze.
“The lady was with me.”
He shook off Lazarus’ hold. His expression that of a person who had smelled a foul odor. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Huntley said, with a curl of his lip.
Olivia jumped into the breach. “May I present Lord Michael Blakely, Marquess of Huntley. Michael, Mr. William Prescott.”
Neither man greeted the other. Instead, Huntley turned toward her. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Your reputation can ill afford another scandal.”
“I...We were looking for you.”
“Really. It looked as though you were about to be ruined.”
She gasped. A sharp pain pierced her heart. Did Michael, her Lord Michael, think so little of her?
Lazarus grabbed Huntley by the neck and slammed him into the nearby wall. “Apologize to her.”
“Go to hell.”
“Apologize.” He tightened his grip, his fingers digging into the other man’s neck.
Gasping for breath, Huntley pushed at Lazarus’ hand without success. He cut his gaze to Olivia. “S...sorry.”
Lazarus released him, and he stumbled back, his hand clutching his throat as he took great gulping breaths.
She touched him on the shoulder. “Michael, are you all right?”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if I offended you, but you must admit if I hadn’t come along, you’d have done something regrettable.”
“You may be right.” She glanced at Lazarus. He stood watching her with an unreadable expression. The Runner’s words came back to haunt her. Mr. Durant said he was quick to violence. She didn’t know why Lazarus had rushed to defend her when he himself was only using her to gain information. He hadn’t a care for her reputation.
He moved to her side. “Shall we return to the ballroom? I’m sure Lady Riverton is missing you.”
“I’m certain you are right,” she agreed, suddenly eager to be lost in the overcrowded room. She sent a hesitant smile in Michael’s direction and turned away.
The sound of flesh meeting flesh followed by a groan sent her spinning around. Michael sprawled in a half sitting position on the marble floor holding his jaw.
Lazarus flexed his hand and moved to her side. “Shall we?” he asked as if nothing had occurred.
“You hit him!”
“You accepted his apology. I didn’t.”
Huntley climbed to his feet and made a show of adjusting his clothing. He sent a malevolent glare in Lazarus’ direction before pushing past them. He turned back. “I sincerely hope you don’t do something you have cause to
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