To Catch an Heiress
Page 80

“My former guardian,” she corrected.
“A minor technicality,” he said with a little wave of his hand.
“Get to the point, Oliver,” she ground out.
“Very well.” He walked slowly toward her until they were nose to nose. “You owe me,” he said in a low voice.
She didn't flinch. “I owe you nothing.”
They stood that way, staring each other down, until he broke away and walked to the window. “Quite a nice piece of property you have here.”
Caroline suppressed the urge to scream in frustration. “Oliver,” she warned, “my patience is wearing thin. If you have something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, get out.”
He whirled around. “I ought to kill you,” he hissed.
“You could,” she said, trying not to show any reaction to his threat, “but you'd go to the gallows, and I don't think you want that.”
“You've ruined everything. Everything!”
“If you mean your little plot to make me the next Prewitt,” she spat out, “then yes, I have. Shame on you, Oliver.”
“I gave you food. I gave you shelter. And you repaid me with the worst sort of betrayal.”
“You ordered your son to rape me!”
He advanced, jabbing his stubby finger in her direction. “That wouldn't have been necessary if you'd cooperated. You always knew you were meant to marry Percy.”
“I knew no such thing. And Percy didn't want the marriage any more than I did.”
“Percy does what I tell him to.”
“I know,” she said in a disgusted voice.
“Do you have any idea the plans I had for your fortune? I owe money, Caroline. Lots of money.”
She blinked in surprise. She had no idea Oliver was in debt. “That's not my problem or my fault. And you certainly lived well enough off my money while I was your ward.”
He let out a bark of angry laughter. “Your money was tied up tighter than a chastity belt. I received a small quarterly allowance to cover your living expenses, but it was nothing more than a pittance.”
She stared at him in shock. Oliver had always lived so well. He insisted upon the finest of everything. “Then where did all your money come from?” she asked. “The new candelabra, the fancy carriage…how did you pay for them?”
“That was from—” His lips pressed together in a firm and angry line. “That's none of your business.”
Her eyes widened. Oliver had almost admitted to smuggling—she was sure of it. Blake would be very interested.
“The real power was to come when you married Percy,” he continued. “Then I would have had control over everything.”
She shook her head, stalling for time while she thought of something to say that might prompt him to incriminate himself. “I would never have done it,” she finally blurted out, knowing she had to say something to keep him from growing suspicious. “I would never have married him.”
“You would have done what I told you to!” he roared. “If I had gotten to you before that idiot you call your husband, I would have held my boot to the back of your head until you obeyed.”
Caroline saw red. It was one thing to threaten her, but no one called her husband an idiot. “If you do not leave this instant, I will have you forcibly removed.” She no longer cared if he incriminated himself or not—she just wanted him out of her house.
“‘I'll have you forcibly removed,’” he mimicked. His lips spread into a menacing grin. “Surely you can do better than that, Caroline. Or should I say Mrs. Ravenscroft? My, my, how we've come up in the world. The newspaper mentioned that your new husband is the son of Viscount Darnsby.”
“There was an announcement in the newspaper?” she whispered in shock. She'd been wondering how Oliver had known where to find her.
“Don't try to act surprised, you little slut. I know you put that announcement there so I would see it. It's not as if you have any friends you'd want to notify.”
“But who—” She caught her breath. Penelope. Of course. In her world, marriages were immediately announced in the newspaper. She'd probably forgotten all about the need for secrecy.
She pursed her lips and suppressed a sigh, not wanting to show any signs of weakness. Oliver shouldn't have learned of her connection to Blake until after his arrest, but there was nothing to be done about it now. “I asked you once to leave,” she said, trying to be patient. “Don't make me repeat myself.”
“I'm not going anywhere until I'm good and ready. You owe me, girl.”
“I owe you nothing except a slap in the face. Now, leave.”
He closed the remaining distance between them and grabbed her arm in a painful grasp. “I want what's mine.”
She gaped at him while she tried to free herself from his grip. “What are you talking about?”
“You're going to sign half your fortune to me. As payment for my tender care in raising you to womanhood.”
She laughed in his face.
“You little whore,” he hissed. And then before she had any time to react, he picked up his free hand and smacked her across the face.
She jerked backward, and would have probably fallen to the ground if he weren't holding her arm so tightly. She said nothing; she didn't trust herself to speak. And her cheek stung. Oliver had been wearing a ring, and she feared she was now bleeding.
“Did you trick him into marriage?” he taunted. “Did you sleep with him?”
Fury gave her the strength to wrench her arm away, and she stumbled against a chair. “Get out of my house.”