Free Jordan, Nicole - Notorious 1 by The seduction Page B

concerned for you.”
    A tear spilled down her pale cheek. “Some of my friends called at first, but I
    turned them all away. I didn’t wish them to see me like this.”
    “That is understandable,” Vanessa said gently. “And were I in your place, I daresay I would have felt the same way. It would be easier simply to give up, to believe my life over, to lie on my couch and never have to face the world. It would be easier
    but it would not be fair.”
    “Fair?”
    “To your brother. I cannot believe you have any notion how much he blames himself for letting this tragedy befall you.”
    “He wasn’t to blame,” Olivia admitted in a low voice.
    “You will never convince him of that, not as long as he can do nothing to help ease your misery. He is hurting for you, Olivia. Is that what you want?”
    There was an obvious hesitation. “No
    ” she said reluctantly. “I don’t want Damien to hurt for me.”
    “Then you might begin by agreeing to see the physician he has engaged for you. Even if you show little progress, you will at least have tried for his sake.”
    When Olivia turned her face away, Vanessa felt her heart sink.
    “There,” she murmured, “I believe I’ve said enough. I shan’t badger you any longer, but will leave you to rest.” She paused. “Would you like me to turn out the light before I go?”
    “No
    ” Olivia said in a small voice. “Leave it on, please. I should like to read my sonnets.”
    Vanessa felt the constricted feeling in her chest ease a little. She had made a tiny measure of progress, at least. And she had given the girl something to think about besides her sorrow and shame. Yet it would be a long, difficult task to bring Olivia Sinclair to any semblance of her former health or spirit.
    She changed for dinner several hours later with the assistance of a maid whom the housekeeper sent. With inordinate care, Vanessa chose a high-waisted gown of powder blue silk, more for its demureness than for its admittedly flattering lines. Unfamiliar with her new role of rake’s mistress, she preferred to err on the side of modesty.
    It was with renewed trepidation that she sought out the drawing room on the lower floor. Daylight was fading with the setting sun, and the moment was swiftly approaching when she would be required to fulfill the amorous duties she had agreed to.
    She found her nemesis standing at one of the open French doors, staring out at the courtyard gardens. The soft golds and crimson of approaching twilight bathed the scene and entwined with the scent of roses to create a magical aura, yet Damien Sinclair did not seem to have passion on his mind. He stood still as a statue, his lean-muscled frame looking sleek and powerful in a tailored blue dinner jacket.
    Drawn to him in spite of herself, Vanessa crossed the elegant room silently and came to stand beside him. He didn’t immediately acknowledge her presence, and yet she was certain of his awareness. Her own senses had taken on a fresh alertness, heightened by misgivings about what the evening would bring.
    When at last he spoke in a low voice, the question he chose surprised her a little. “Do you like roses, Vanessa?”
    “Very much. Your gardens are spectacular.” When he made no reply, she ventured her own comment. “I understand they are your own creation.”
    “Not creation. Resurrection. In my younger days I rescued them from oblivion and my noble sire’s willful destruction.”
    Hearing the edge of cynicism in his tone, Vanessa glanced up at Damien’s profile. The snowy white linen of his cravat seemed to accentuate the chiseled beauty of his face. Her pulse quickened, as it always did at his overwhelming nearness. And yet his mind was obviously not on her.
    “So what is your assessment of my sister?” he asked with a casualness that seemed feigned.
    She hesitated, not wanting to raise his hopes excessively. “I think you were correct. She is a deeply troubled young lady. Not only because of her physical infirmity, which is daunting enough in itself, but