Free My Only Love by Katherine Sutcliffe

it. You thought by getting into this fix that you would trap the scoundrel
into marrying you, therefore saving you from frittering your life away in the
company of your father and sister. Ah! I must be close. Your eyes flashed. Your
cheeks are growing warm with color."
    "This
vein of conversation is entirely objectionable—"
    "No,
mademoiselle, your reputation is objectionable. Your coming here in the middle
of the night is objectionable. Your manner of dressing is objectionable. Your
deportment is objectionable. Your attempts to seduce me into marrying you are
objectionable. Shall I continue?
    "Your
father told me you made your mother a vow to take care of your father and
sister. When it became obvious that your opportunity to marry and escape Devonswick
was passing you by, you had a love affair, thinking a pregnancy would offer you
a life beyond your sister's shadow and your father's domination."
    "Have
you finished?" she demanded.
    "I'm
not sure. Let me think on it a few minutes. In the meanwhile, take your chair
again and pour yourself another drink."
    "I
would rather die of thirst and freeze of cold than to sit in that chair in
front of that fire and share a whisky with you again." She stepped around
him; this time, he didn't stop her. Grabbing up her cloak, she moved toward the
door while pulling the garment about her shoulders.
    Where
was Bertrice? Pausing, she looked one way, then the other, discovering nothing
but shadows looming in the distance. "Damn," she said quietly.
"Where has she got to?"
    "Looking
for her cat, no doubt," Warwick said behind her. "Won't you come back
in here where it's warm, Miss Devonshire? I'll even toss another chair on the
fire."
    "Bertrice!"
she called.
    "You
know this house has a way of devouring people."
    "Bertrice!"
    "Up
here!" the voice cried from above. The housemaid appeared at the top of
the stairs, cap slid down over her brow. "The daft woman is up here,"
she explained in a voice vibrating with aggravation.
    Olivia
hurried up the stairs, trying her best to ignore the fact that Miles was behind
her, taking two steps to her every one, and his housemaid was before her,
babbling furiously.
    To
Olivia's dismay, she was led to a large bedchamber and quickly discovered
Bertrice had retired. In Miles's bedroom. In his bed. She lay peacefully with
her silver-haired head on his pillow and the bedcovers pulled up to her chin.
    "I
suppose she didn't find her cat," Miles said from the doorway.
    Standing
at the foot of the massive tester, Olivia gazed down at her old nanny,
wondering if she should explain to her host that Dickens the cat had expired
six years ago.
    Mortification
consumed her. The sudden realization that she was standing in Warwick's bedroom
didn't help. Nor did the cat-that-ate-the-canary smile on his face.
    T
do beg your pardon," she said stiffly. "It seems Bertrice has made
herself at home."
    "So
it seems."
    "If
you'll lend me a hand, I'll get her up." "Don't bother."
    "But
you don't understand; Bertrice is quite fond of sleeping. Once she's out,
she'll sleep right through the night."
    "Generally,
that's how it's done."
    Frustration
mounting, Olivia shot him a hot look. He only shrugged. "Seems you'll have
to stay a while longer after all."
    "And
allow you to abuse my sensibilities again? I think not. Bertrfce? Bertrice!
Wake up." "If I promise to be nice—"
    "I
doubt seriously if the word exists in your vocabulary, Mr. Warwick."
    "Very
well then. If I simply promise not to bring up the subject of your
lovers—"
    She
shook the woman vehemently; Bertrice only mumbled in her sleep.
    Miles
moved up behind Olivia and gently yet firmly took hold of her arm. "Let
her sleep," he repeated.
    "Take
your hand from my person this—"
    "I'll
send her home in the morning. Good God, you're a fiery little thing when you
get your back up."
    "Then
you should try harder not to get my back up." She yanked her arm away and
started for the door, forgetting all about Bertrice or the fact that he