by Cecilia Rene
“St. Clara.” Lord Heartford’s boyish features contorted slightly, revealing his disdain for the other gentleman.
Without another word, St. Clara left the small group. Livie tried to catch Julia’s eye but she was too enamored with the marquess to care about the scene unfolding in front of them.
Livie let out a tiresome sigh, shifting from foot to foot trying to alleviate the pain.
“Would you like to sit for a moment while I get you some refreshments?” the Duke of Karrington asked, concern crinkling at the corner of his eyes.
She felt she should be embarrassed that he noticed her discomfort, but really, she had been dancing the entire ball and needed a reprieve.
“Yes, I would enjoy that very much. I feel I need to rest before the next onslaught of gentlemen.” Her mother passed her the reticule she was keeping secure as she danced with multiple partners.
The Duke of Karrington escorted her through the crowded room. She resisted the urge to cling to him in fear, not liking being the center of attention.
Livie fisted her free hand in her gown, trying to hide the shaking that threatened to reveal just how affected she was by their stares and whispers. Each step toward the empty chairs in the corner of the room felt like she was walking to a guillotine.
Her throat tightened at the thought. The whispers surrounding Livie were as loud as screams in her mind.
“I’m sure it’s just a passing fancy.”
“It must be because of her dowry, what else could he see in her?”
“You have to admit she is pretty, but her size.”
The dull sound of voices and the irate stares of eligible ladies and their mothers followed them. They reached the chairs untouched by society, although their venomous whispers felt like lashes against her skin. Her only comfort was the strong presence of the gentleman beside her.
“Don’t run off with another gentleman while I’m gone.” He gave her a playful wink that caused some of the fear she was feeling to ease slightly.
Livie faked indignation, glaring at him, her eyes tightening into what Julia called her cat-like stare. “I’ll try, but you never know when another dashing duke will come to sweep me away. You must hurry.”
“I’m the only dashing duke that will sweep you away.” His crooked smirk inflamed her body despite the spectators.
She licked her dry lips watching him in confusion as her body felt as if she was on fire. Her gown felt hot, heat crawled up her spine to her scalp. She quickly took her fan out of her reticule to fan herself. Remington left her and she watched him move through the crowd, admiring his form.
Setting her reticule down on the chair beside her, she utilized the fan like a shield, fanning her face rapidly.
The duke returned with two glasses of champagne and sat down beside her.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I fear that all the dancing has worn me out immensely.” She took a proffered glass, then a sip of the chilled drink.
“I’m sad to hear it as Heartford and I had hoped to add our names to your and Lady Julia’s dance cards.” He leaned toward her, brushing her shoulder with his.
“For Lord Heartford, I may be convinced,” she teased him, pushing him back with her shoulder.
They sat in silence drinking their champagne.
“Do you ever get used to their stares?” Livie gave him a sideways glance before discreetly tilting her head toward their gawkers.
A low chuckle left his lips, and he shook his head, causing a strand of rich dark hair to fall on his forehead. The lone lock transformed his usual brooding features into a carefree one, that she had never seen on his handsome face. “I’ve become an expert at ignoring them. You will, too, one day.”
“There you two are. I was hoping that I could sign my name on your card, Lady Olivia?” Lord Heartford asked, giving her a bow.
“Yes, yes, of course, my lord.” She smiled brightly, his happy disposition and charm so different than that of her companion.
The duke addressed Julia from where he stood beside her. “Lady Julia, may I have the next set?”
“Yes, we can’t let Lady Olivia and Lord Heartford have all the fun, Your Grace.” Julia smiled widely, glancing from Livie to the duke.
Livie finished her drink before standing to be escorted to the dance floor by Lord Heartford. She had a permanent smile on her face as she danced the waltz with Lord Heartford. He was witty, kind, and talkative. She could see why he and her cousin suited each other so well. Where Julia was fierce and wild, he was patient and understanding.
Unlike her waltz with the duke, this one felt as if Livie was dancing with a close friend. She enjoyed how easy it was to be near him and know that he had no interest in her.
“Are you in town alone?” Livie followed his steps across the dance floor.
“No, my uncle and mother are in town with me. My mother, however, refused to come tonight because of a three-year disagreement with Lady Ratchford, and my uncle usually agrees with whatever Mother says.” He shook his head, causing his boyish white-blonde curls to glimmer in the candlelight.
“They have disagreed for three years. Whatever for?” Livie asked, bewildered at his mother’s behavior.
Lord Heartford laughed heartily. “I cannot recall the reason but once you meet my mother you will see that she can hold a grudge for a very long time.” He led them past a talkative Julia and a stoic-looking duke. “I suspect Lady Julia is demanding to know Karrington’s intentions with you.”
Livie looked over to find her cousin’s mouth moving rapidly. “Should I demand to know your intentions?” She raised an eyebrow at Lord Heartford, one side of her mouth quirked in a sly smile.
He cleared his throat before answering. “My intentions with Lady Julia are to make her every dream come true.”
“Good.” Livie smiled brightly as her heart filled with joy. He would suit her cousin well. Julia loved when someone doted on her, and it seemed that Lord Heartford was no different.
The guests were slowly exiting the Ratchford’s ball in the early hours of the morning when Livie realized she did not have her reticule.
“I left my reticule somewhere. I will meet you all at the carriage,” Livie said to Julia as her parents bid goodnight to their host and hostess.
The moonlight shined through the windows of the now-empty ballroom as Livie tried to locate her missing handbag. Panic filled her as she realized she may have lost her grandmother’s handkerchief for good. The keepsake was nestled inside the silk material.
It was one of the only heirlooms she received from her maternal grandmother, who wasn’t the most affectionate woman to anyone except Livie. Her mother always thought it was odd that her mother loathed her but adored her daughter. She gifted Livie a necklace and a handkerchief, informing her very sternly that a lady should always have a handkerchief at the ready.
Seeing the tiny, dark purple reticule, Livie began walking across the room to the small chair it sat upon, remembering she’d placed it there before her dance with Lord Heartford.
“Ahh, finally, I have you alone,” a cold voice said, causing her to turn around abruptly.
She came face to face with none other than Baron Bromswell. He stalked over to her, causing her to take several steps back. The look on his face was cold and harsh compared to the facade he usually had in place.
“Baron Bromswell, what a surprise. I only came in to retrieve my reticule. I’m sure my father is waiting.” She gave him a tight smile.
“I wanted to make my intentions clear to you before I spoke to your father. I intend to court you,” he informed her in a clipped tone. His gaze slowly traveled down her form in a snake-like fashion.
She clutched her bag tighter to her chest, the fabric providing her some small strength. “And do I have any say in the matter?”
“No, not unless you wish to be a spinster, depending on the kindness of your parents for the rest of your life. I’m sure at your size, one can’t afford to be picky.” He stepped closer to
her, invading her personal space, increasing the panic she felt since he stalked toward her. “Besides all these other suitors will soon flee once Karrington is done with this little game.”
“Game? What game?” Panic and worry crawled up her chest threatening to choke her. She feared that the duke did not want her, that all the whispers and gossips were correct.
Bromswell laughed heartlessly. “Did you really think he was interested in you? He has vowed to never marry. I don’t see you changing his mind.”
Livie tried to compose herself, not wanting to show any weakness to the vile man, but the fear was crawling underneath her mask and she wanted nothing more than to run. “I thank you for your honesty. I would rather take my chances on spinsterhood than marry a man who would trap a lady alone and demand marriage. As for the duke’s intentions, that is no concern of yours.” Having nothing else to say to him, she turned around and tried to walk away.
He grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun her around to face him. She gasped at the tightness of his grip. Panic and worry ran through her at his ungentlemanly behavior.
Baron Bromswell grabbed her by the chin yanking her forward to face him. Her eyes widened, frantically searching for anyone to save her. No one was around, just the two of them.
“I do not believe I’m giving you a choice. You will marry me, or I will ruin you. With any luck, someone will discover us shortly.”
“Get your damn hands off her!” The duke pulled Bromswell away roughly, causing Livie to stumble and nearly fall. She caught her balance and placed her head to her stomach, trying to center herself.
“She is no concern of yours,” the baron hissed at the other man.
Taking a step toward Bromswell, the duke let out a dark chuckle. “She is my intended, and as such, that makes her very much my concern. So, I suggest you find another lady to play with before I make your life miserable.”
The two men stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before the baron took a step back. His gaze shifted from the duke to Livie, a cat-like smile on his face. It made her shiver in fear, and she wanted to grab the duke and flee the room
“Oh, Karrington, you know I like misery.” The baron stalked away, leaving them alone in the ballroom.
Walking over to her, the duke’s gloved hand palmed her cheek. “Are you all right?” His tone was soft, unlike the baron’s rough demands. The duke was so overwhelmingly sincere that she was momentarily stunned by his kindness and care for her.
“I-I am well. Just startled by his behavior.” She stared up at him, their lips a whisper apart as he inched closer to her, his hand still on her arm.
“I promise he will not bother you again.” He inched forward and wrapped his free hand around her waist, pulling her against his hard body.
“You did not have to lie.” She searched his handsome face, wondering if what the baron said was correct.
Livie averted her gaze, not wanting to show him how devastated she was by the fact that he did not want her as she wanted him. The events earlier in the evening had given her hope that maybe there was a chance for them. Now, she knew that he was just being kind to her. Any gentleman would surely intercede if a lady was being attacked the way the baron had accosted her.
“I did not lie.” The duke’s voice was soft, his breath massaging her lips, causing a shiver to run through her.
Her breathing increased, and her eyes fluttered close in anticipation of his lips against hers.
“Livie! Uncle is waiting—” Julia’s loud voice caused them to break apart hastily.
“Coming!” Livie called out before walking to her cousin, who raised an eyebrow at her.
Ignoring Julia’s knowing glances, Livie remembered her manners and turned back toward the duke. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”
“Goodnight, Lady Olivia. I shall see you tomorrow.”
Livie watched as the duke walked past them and stopped in front of Lady Ratchford. Her lips tingled at the thought that he almost kissed her.
“What was that about!” Julia asked quietly, as they walked toward their host. “Did you kiss him?”
“No! Of course not,” Livie protested as she smiled tightly as they neared Lady Ratchford.
“It looked like he wanted to,” Julia whispered-yelled before they stopped in front of Lady Ratchford.
“Ladies, I thought everyone had left the ballroom.” Lady Ratchford looked shocked to find them still in her home. Her cool gaze surveyed Livie with no interest. Livie knew that the woman wasn’t very amiable, as she had spent time in Lady Ratchford’s company. She always appeared to be comparing other ladies to herself.
Livie felt uncomfortable and cleared her throat before she spoke. “We apologize, my lady. I left my reticule and went in search of it. Thank you for a lovely evening.” She dipped a curtsey before she pulled Julia along toward the door of the home.
“You kissed him, didn’t you? Tell me, Livie!” Julia insisted as they passed the Ratchford’s butler.
“Julia!” Livie hissed turning to her cousin as they walked out into the early morning air. “I-I did not kiss him. He was assisting me with Baron Bromswell.”
“What happened with Baron Bromswell?” Julia wondered as they walked toward the waiting carriage.
“Will you keep your voice down.” Livie scowled at her cousin. “He was rather rude, but the duke interrupted him, that is all. Nothing else happened.”
Julia’s eyes closed to tiny slits, and her lips thinned into a straight line. “Fine, but this isn’t over, dear cousin, and I am convinced more than ever that he wants you after what I saw in the ballroom.”
“Girls, what is taking so long?” her mother called from the carriage.
“Coming Mother.” Livie pulled Julia to the carriage, her mind on one thing and one thing only—nearly kissing the Duke of Karrington.
The gauntlet has been thrown and the Bachelor Duke has declared himself to Lady O. Surely, we should not take out our handkerchiefs yet.
Livie looked at the antique grandfather clock on the wall for the hundredth time. Only five minutes had passed since she last checked, but it felt like a lifetime to her. It was near four-thirty, and there was still no sign of the duke.
Although there were still nearly two hours remaining for the appropriate time for social calls. She desperately tried not to fret. Unlike the Duke of Summerset, Lord Chamberlain, and the Marquess of Heartford, the Duke of Karrington did not grace her with his presence at exactly three o’clock.
Beside her, Julia smiled openly at the marquess, who sat in an armchair, while the other gentlemen sat on opposite ends of the sofa. Her mother sat in a lovely upholstered chair in the center between the chaise lounge and the men.
“Lord Chamberlain, when will your sisters come out?” Lady Hempstead asked.
“My father wanted them both to come out this Season, but my mother insisted he wait another year.” Lord Chamberlain spoke swiftly, eyeing the room, his hands fisted.
“How old are your sisters?” Livie asked, trying not to be rude and look at the clock once more.
The duke was not coming. She knew it had been too good to be true, for him to want her. She took a deep breath wanting to make the most of the gentlemen who still found her interesting.
It seemed as if Baron Bromswell was correct. The duke had indeed tired of her.
“Fifteen and fourteen.” Lord Chamberlain shrugged his shoulders as if their ages did not matter.
“They are young, are they not?” Livie tried to conceal her horror, as she remembered what it was like to have a man interested in her at such a young age.
She couldn’t imagine being forced to marry so young. She was happy that her parents allowed both her and Julia to wait until they were a bit older.
“It seems rather harsh, but everyone must contribute to save the family. If I do not marry by the end of this Season, we may be destitute by next Season.” Lord Chamberlain relaxed back, his short legs stretched out in front of him.
“Yes, it is rather awful what we gentlemen must do to save our families.” The Duke of Summerset’s voice was clipped, his jaw tight.
“Yes, being a gentleman is rather difficult, I imagine.” Livie smiled widely, trying to keep her eyes from rolling.
The Duke of Summerset rose. “I must be going, more ladies to call upon. Lady Olivia, as usual, you are a vision. I do hope to dance with you at Lady Booth’s ball.”
“Of course, I will save a spot on my dance card,” Livie agreed kindly.
“I really should be going as well. Lady Olivia, a great honor for you to allow me to call.” Lord Chamberlain stood.
“Of course. Thank you both for coming.” Livie stood as the two gentlemen walked out of the parlor.
Livie sat down in her seat beside Julia, who quickly took her hand and squeezed it. She eyed her cousin, noticing how excited she was that Lord Heartford remained. Julia’s cheeks were a deep rosy red, her eyes dancing.
“Tell us, Lord Heartford, have you known the Duke of Karrington very long?” The countess turned her full attention to the marquess.
Livie eyed her skeptically, knowing very well that her mother was eager to know how strong their connection was.
“I’ve known him my entire life. Our fathers were very close, which also made our mothers friends. We’re practically brothers. It’s always been Karrington, Windchester, and myself.” His cheery voice was filled with fondness.
“How wonderful to have such friends. I am glad that Lady Olivia has always had Lady Julia. They were closer than cousins, even before her parents perished. Whenever we would visit, they would disappear, their heads together, and wouldn’t separate, even when it was time for us to leave. Once, Lord Hempstead and his brother had to pull the two apart!” She chuckled.
Julia moved her hand from Livie’s to take her by the arm. “I can’t dare part with her now. I do not know how we will manage being separated by marriage.”
“I’m sure that will not be a problem, as we will often visit Hemsworth Place—” The marquess stopped speaking abruptly, aware of his insinuation on both accounts.