Deception by Amanda Quick Page A

you got into a fight with Charles Bristow? Because he said I was odd?”
    Hugh’s suddenly abashed glance slid to Jared. “I did not mean to tell you. Mr. Chillhurst said I was right not to discuss it with you when it happened.”
    “Quite right,” Jared said. “A gentleman who engages in a duel to defend a lady’s honor does not discuss the fight with her either before or after the occasion.”
    “Good grief.” Olympia was outraged. “I will not tolerate anyone getting into a fight on my behalf. Is that quite clear?”
    Hugh sighed. “It does not matter. I lost. But Mr. Chillhurst says he will teach me some tricks that will help me do a better job of it next time.”
    Olympia glared at Jared. “Did he, indeed?”
    “Do not concern yourself, Miss Wingfield,” Jared said.
    “You keep saying that, but I am beginning to wonder if I had not better pay much closer attention to the lessons you are teaching to my nephews.”
    Jared arched a brow. “Perhaps it would be best if we discussed this alone, Miss Wingfield. Good night, Hugh.”
    “Good night, sir.”
    Olympia stepped stiffly out into the hall. Jared followed and quietly closed the door of the bedchamber.
    “Really, Mr. Chillhurst,” Olympia said in a lowvoice, “I cannot allow you to encourage my nephews to get into brawls.”
    “I have no intention of doing any such thing. You must trust me, Miss Wingfield. It is my unshakable conviction that an intelligent man seeks nonviolent remedies for resolving confrontations whenever possible.”
    She peered at him. “Are you certain of that?”
    “Quite certain. But the world is sometimes a less than peaceful place and a man must be able to defend himself.”
    “Hmm.”
    “And a woman’s honor,” Jared concluded gently.
    “That is an old-fashioned notion of which I do not approve,” Olympia said grimly. “Aunt Sophy and Aunt Ida taught me that a woman must take care of her own honor.”
    “Nevertheless, I hope you will continue to place your faith in my instructional methods.” Jared caught hold of her hand and drew her to a halt. “And in me.”
    She studied his face in the light of the mirrored sconce. Her anger faded. “I do trust you, Mr. Chillhurst.”
    Jared’s mouth curved slightly. “Excellent. Then I shall bid you good night, Miss Wingfield.” He bent his head and kissed her, very hard, full on her mouth.
    Before Olympia could even begin to respond to the kiss, it was over. Jared let her go. He went down the stairs without another word and let himself out the front door.
    Olympia moved down the stairs slowly. She tried to identify the array of emotions that swirled about inside her but it was a wasted effort. There was too much that was new and strange and wondrous. It was dazzling and disquieting and, perhaps, a little dangerous.
    She felt as though she had walked into the heart of a legend that had been written just for her.
    With a dreamy, thoughtful smile, she slid the front door’s big iron bolt home. Then she went into the library and picked up the Lightbourne diary. She stood in the center of the room for a few minutes savoring the memory of Jared’s embrace. It was entirely appropriate that he had kissed her for the first time here in this very special place.
    Olympia remembered her first glimpse of the library. It had been on that dark, rainy day when she had been left with Aunt Sophy and Aunt Ida. She had been cold and terrified and desperately determined not to reveal her fears as she was deposited on the doorstep of yet another anonymous relative.
    The two years of being shuffled from one branch of the family to the other had left their marks. At the age of ten, Olympia had been too thin, too quiet, overly anxious, and prone to nightmares.
    Some of the nightmares had taken human guise. There had been Uncle Dunstan, for example, who had watched her with a strange, glittering look in his eyes. One day he had followed her into a room and closed the door. He had started talking