Exactly like the one downstairs.
She was still in the ambassador’s residence. It was possible that she’d been brought to another building with the exact same window pattern, but that was unlikely, wasn’t it? And the ambassador’s residence was huge. Practically a palace. It was not in central London but rather out past Kensington, where there was quite a bit more room for such grand buildings.
She moved back toward the window, hooking her head around the edge of the curtains again, this time succeeding on the first try. She placed her ear against the glass, listening for…anything. Music? People? Shouldn’t there be some indication that there was a massive party going on in the same building?
Maybe she wasn’t in the ambassador’s residence. No, no, it was a huge building. She could easily be far enough away not to hear anything.
But she could hear footsteps. Her heart slammed in her chest, and she half shuffled, half jumped her way to the bed, managing to flop herself down just as she heard the two locks clicking undone.
As the door opened she began to struggle. It was the only thing she could think of that might explain why she was out of breath.
“I told you not to do that,” her captor scolded. He was carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups. Olivia could smell the tea steeping from across the room. The scent was heavenly.
“I am very civilized, yes?” he asked, lifting the tray slightly before setting it down on a table. “I have worn such a gag before.” He motioned to the one wrapped around her head. “It does make the mouth very dry.”
Olivia just stared at him. She wasn’t sure how she was meant to respond. Literally, how. Surely he knew she could not speak.
“I will remove that so you may have some tea,” he said to her, “but you must remain quiet. If you make a noise, anything louder than a whispered thank you, I will have to make you again unconscious.”
Her eyes widened.
He shrugged. “It is easy enough to do. I did it once, and quite well I must say. You do not even have a headache, I am guessing.”
Olivia blinked. She didn’t have a headache. What had he done to her?
“You will be quiet?”
She nodded. She needed him to remove the gag. Maybe if she could speak with him, she could convince him that this was all a mistake.
“Do not try anything heroic,” he warned her, although his eyes were somewhat amused, as if he could not imagine her startling him in any way.
She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes earnest. They were her only means of communication until he removed the gag.
He leaned forward, reaching out his arms, then he stopped, drawing back. “I think the tea is done,” he said. “We wouldn’t want it to over…how do you say it?”
He was Russian. With that one phrase—How do you say it?—Olivia was finally able to recognize his accent and determine his nationality. He sounded exactly like Prince Alexei.
“Silly me,” the man said, pouring out two cups of tea. “You cannot say anything.” Finally, he moved to her side and removed the gag.
Olivia coughed, and it took her several moments before her mouth was moistened enough to speak, but when she did, she looked directly at her captor and said, “Oversteep.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The tea. You didn’t want it to oversteep.”
“Oversteep.” He repeated the word, appearing to test it out on his tongue and in his mind. He made an expression of approval, then handed her a cup.
She grimaced and gave a little shrug. How did he think she would hold it? Her hands were still tied behind her back.
He smiled, but it wasn’t a cruel smile. It wasn’t even condescending. It was almost…rueful.
Which gave Olivia hope. Not much, but some.
“I’m afraid I don’t trust you enough to untie your hands,” he said.
“I promise I won’t—”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lady Olivia.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “Oh, I do not think you realize you make false promises, but you will see something you think is an opportunity, and you will be unable to pass it by, and then you will do something foolish, and I will have to hurt you.”
It was an effective way to end the discussion.
“I thought you would come to see my opinion,” he said. “Here, do you trust me enough to allow me to hold your cup?”
She shook her head slowly.
He laughed. “A smart woman. The very best kind. I do not have patience for stupidity.”
“Someone I very much respect told me never to trust a man who tells me to trust him,” Olivia said quietly.
Her captor chuckled some more. “That person—is it a man?”
Olivia nodded.
“He is a good friend.”
“I know.”
“Here.” He brought the cup to her lips. “You have no choice but to trust me in this occasion.”
She took a sip. She didn’t really have a choice, and her throat was dry.
He set the cup down and picked up his own. “They were poured from the same pot,” he said, taking a sip. When he was finished he added, “Not that you should trust me.”
She raised her eyes to meet his and said, “I have no connection to Prince Alexei.”
One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Do you think I am foolish, Lady Olivia?”
She shook her head. “He was courting me, it is true. But he is not any longer.”
Her captor leaned forward a few inches. “You disappeared for nearly an hour this evening, Lady Olivia.”
Her lips parted. She could feel herself blush and prayed that he could not see it in the darkness.
“So did Prince Alexei.”
“He was not with me,” she said quickly.
The gray-haired man took a leisurely sip of his tea. “I do not know how to say this without insulting you,” he murmured, “but you smell like…how do you say it?”
Olivia had a feeling he knew exactly how to say it. And as mortifying as it was, she had no choice but to say, “I was with a man. A different man. Not Prince Alexei.”
This caught his interest. “Really?”
She nodded once, curtly, so as to show him that she did not intend to elaborate.
“Does the prince know?”
“It’s not any of his business.”
He took another sip of tea. “Would he disagree with you about that?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Would Prince Alexei think that it was his business? Would he be angry?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said, trying to be honest. “He has not called upon me for over a week.”
“A week is not such a very long time.”
“He is acquainted with the other gentleman, and I believe he is aware of my feelings for him.”
Her captor sat back, assessing this new information.
“May I have some more tea?” Olivia asked. Because it was good. And she was thirsty.
“Of course,” he murmured, holding forth her cup again.
“Do you believe me?” Olivia asked, once she was done with her drink.
He spoke slowly. “I do not know.”
She waited for him to ask her Harry’s identity, but he did not, which she found curious.