by Ava Stone
The little girl snuggled against her, and Livvie held the child close. She closed her eyes, thinking about Poppy, Alex, and the child she carried. Livvie sent up a silent prayer that her little family would go unscathed the next day.
In the wee hours of the morning, fog slowly lifted from Hyde Park. The sun was on the very edge of the horizon, but the waning full moon could still be seen in the sky. Alex glanced across the clearing to where Major Moore was surrounded by two other regimented army officers. From the looks of them they were Averys. Haversham came up behind him and clapped Alex’s back. “Just waiting on the doctor and Clayworth.”
Alex grimaced, his eyes still on Philip Moore. “Tell me again, Marc. Why isn’t this to the death?”
“I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty, Kelfield. If you don’t like the way I manage things, you should pick someone else as your second next time. My management assures you will most likely get a next time.”
“Thank you for your confidence in my abilities,” he replied drolly.
Marc laughed. “I don’t doubt your abilities, you savage beast.” Then he sobered up a bit. “Assuming you were to run the whelp through, would you have been prepared to leave your wife and Poppy? Live in exile on the continent? It’s better my way.”
“I’ve already left Olivia. Whether I’m abroad or in England matters very little.”
Marc’s eyes grew round in surprise. “You’ve left your wife?”
Alex shrugged. Everyone else would know very soon anyway. “She prefers Moore, and I prefer not to be reminded of the fact.”
Marc glanced at the major with a frown. “I suppose I should have let you run him through then. Sorry, Kelfield, I didn’t know. That’s what I get for listening to females.”
“What does that mean?” Alex glowered at his friend.
Marc raked a hand through his dark hair. “Miss Avery was—”
Incredible! Alex rubbed his brow. “Did you seriously betray me for an opportunity to toss up the girl’s skirts?”
“They are very nice skirts,” Marc replied in defense of himself.
“Bastard.”
“And she was quite convincing.”
“I’ll just bet she was. Philip Moore is a family friend, Marc. She wouldn’t want to see him hurt any more than my wife would.” His irritation grew and he looked out across the park. “Where the devil are Watts and Clayworth?”
As if on cue, Staveley’s coach rambled out of the fog into view. It plodded forward, finally stopping a few feet from the awaiting men. The door opened and Doctor Watts climbed out of the equipage, followed closely by Staveley and Clayworth, who had somehow been roped into officiating the event.
Immediately, Staveley made a beeline for Alex and Haversham.
The marquess grinned at him. “You do leave your library on occasion, Staveley. Good to know.”
The viscount ignored the jab, focusing on Alex. “How are you?”
Aching. Miserable. Barely sober. “Fine,” he answered.
You smell like whiskey,” Staveley complained.
“Gentlemen,” Clayworth called out, “it is time.”
Alex shrugged out of his coat and removed his waistcoat and shirt. Then he retrieved his rapier from its scabbard and strode purposefully to his mark. Just a few feet away, Philip Moore did the same.
They circled each other, and Alex sized his opponent up. Moore was fit and furious, but his glare didn’t worry Alex in the least. He’d been fencing ever since he was big enough to hold a sword.
Moore’s dark eyes narrowed. “She’s too good for you.” He lunged forward. Alex’s rapier met the metal with a clank as he parried safely to his left.
“But she’s mine nonetheless,” Alex taunted him, circling around the major. Then with the flick of his wrist, he aimed his sword at Moore’s chest, missing his mark when the major leaned away from the blade.
They parried and jabbed at each other, back and forth, learning the other’s strengths and weaknesses while their witnesses waited with bated breath.
Moore’s rapier came quickly to Alex’s middle, but he was able to force the sword away with his own, almost knocking his opponent to the ground. But the major steadied himself and came back at Alex. Their swords clanked together and Moore forced Alex backwards. The major was forceful—more so than Alex had expected. The officer lunged again, with fire in his eyes, and plunged his rapier into Alex’s left shoulder. “Agh!” he cried out in surprised agony. Pain shot down his arm and across his chest, and he dropped his sword to the ground as he fell to his knees.
“Halt,” Clayworth called out.
Then he was quickly surrounded by Staveley, Haversham, and Doctor Watts.
“Lay him down,” he heard the doctor say through the pain-induced haze. The physician applied some ointment to Alex’s shoulder and pressed a cloth to the wound.
“How bad is it?” Staveley asked.
“He’s going to be in pain for a while, but he’ll survive if we can keep infection down.” Then the doctor leveled Alex with a glare. “Your Grace, this is precisely the sort of thing your wife doesn’t need.”
His wife. Alex closed his eyes, imaging her pretty smile, pretending she loved him. An icy chill washed over him. “I only require you opinion on my shoulder, doctor.”
The physician returned his attention to the wound, wrapping it tightly in cloth. Then he glanced up at Haversham. “Get him back to Kelfield House.”
“No! Don’t you dare take me there,” Alex barked, staggering back to his feet. “My shirt, if you will, Marc.”
As Haversham retrieved his discarded clothing, Staveley stepped forward. “Alex, you’ve lost a lot of blood. You should go home to your wife.”
“I need your opinion less than Watts’.”
“But there are things you don’t know,” Staveley persisted.
Alex shook his head. “Stay out of my affairs, Staveley. I married the girl because of my friendship for you. I don’t owe you anything else.”
“Stubborn bastard,” Staveley muttered.
Marc returned with his shirt and jacket.
“Thank you. Play my valet, will you. Help me slip this over my arm.”
New pain rushed through Alex when Haversham slid his arm through the fine lawn sleeve of his shirt, and he winced. Then he turned his attention to Philip Moore. “You are apparently the better man.”
“That was never in question,” Moore replied acidly.
“No, I suppose not.” Alex smiled half-heartedly. “I’m sorry these fine gentlemen have deprived you the opportunity to see me dead.” He took his jacket and draped it over his arm.
Then he started off towards the Park Lane entrance, leaving the assembled men staring at him in shock.
“Kelfield,” the doctor called after him. “That shoulder needs to be attended to.”
He raised his good arm, indicating he’d heard the man, but continued on his way, never slowing his gait.
Livvie sat in her bed, staring out the window, praying Alex would be unharmed. She wasn’t certain how she could possibly reduce the anxiety of her life, and yet knew she needed to find a way. Poppy moved in her sleep and Livvie smoothed the girl’s raven hair off her face. She had to find a way to make everything right for her family.
“Olivia?” Caroline called through the door, “Are you awake?”
“Yes, come in, please,” she answered, unable to hide the anxiousness from her voice.
The door pushed open and Caroline slipped inside. She smiled widely when her eyes fell on Poppy. “She doesn’t know about this mess, does she?”
Livvie shook her head. “Alex told her he was going away for a while. She was lonely last night and wanted to stay with me.”
“I see.” Caroline sat in the chair next to Livvie’s bed.
Her cousin seemed very enigmatic, and Livvie couldn’t read her expression, which was maddening. “Is it over?” she asked, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Poppy.
Caroline nodded. “By all ac
counts, Alex is fine, though he lost the duel.”
Livvie’s heart ached and she started to rise, but Caroline gently pushed her back against the pillows. “Doctor’s orders, darling. And as I said, Alex is fine, a minor shoulder injury is all.”
His shoulder? Merciful God! Please keep infection from him. “Is he here?”
Caroline pursed her lips and then shook her head. Of course he wasn’t here. He would have come to her if he was, which meant he was still angry with her.
“Staveley doesn’t know where he is. He stalked off once the match was decided.”
“He stalked off? But he was injured! Didn’t someone stop him?”
“No one stops Kelfield from doing what he wants.”
She knew that better than anyone. “But his shoulder, Caroline—”
“The man is thirty-four years old. He knows what needs to be done. And you are not supposed to be worrying. I’m only telling you what I know because I know that not knowing will make you even more anxious. Alex will be fine. And he will come home.”
But Alex didn’t come home.
A fortnight later, Livvie was still waiting for his return. She knew he wasn’t dying from infection, because he was in the gossip columns every morning, tearing at another piece of her heart.
She filled her breakfast plate from the sideboard and sat down to read her smuggled Mayfair Society Paper. When Caroline learned she was perusing the gossip columns, she had ordered Molly to ban them from her mistress. Luckily, Livvie was able to persuade one of the scullery maids to buy them for her and leave them in her seat at the breakfast table.
Livvie didn’t consider that going against the doctor’s wishes. Even though Alex’s exploits broke her heart morning after morning, she would be much more anxious not knowing what Alex was up to.
She sat down at the table and lifted a bit of baked egg to her mouth, as she opened the rag and scanned it for mention of her husband. Predictably, there it was…
A leopard cannot change his spots. Neither can the wicked Duke of W. reform his roguish ways. Despite His Grace’s recent effort to persuade society that he is a changed man, the truth always wins out. A ruse can only be perpetuated so long. If His Grace isn’t visiting houses of ill repute, he’s ogling pretty actresses, drinking himself into a stupor, or going through his fortune at hazard tables from one end of town to the other. And speaking of lost fortunes, the Earl of G. has reputedly…
Livvie stopped reading the society rag and dropped it to the table. She didn’t care what the Earl of G. had done. Only the lines about her husband held her interest. Some papers went as far as to name the bawdy houses he patronized, or the gaming hells he frequented. She didn’t need to know the names of the actresses, always assuming it was Sarah Kane who kept him occupied at night.
The idea haunted her and tore at her soul. She’d begun to realize that Alex was never coming home and tried to make peace with that, but found it was impossible to do. No matter how badly he despised her, she couldn’t stop loving him any easier than the aforementioned leopard could change his spots.
She lifted a piece of toast to her lips. When the breakfast room doors flew open and Poppy rushed inside, Livvie choked on her toast from surprise. She quickly swallowed some tea and shook her head at her step-daughter. “Poppy Everett, how many times have I told you not to go running into rooms?”
“Sorry, Olivia.” Poppy looked at once bashful, staring at her feet. “But Lady Staveley has come with Lady Carteret. They’re waiting in the gold parlor.”
“Oh?” Livvie frowned. “Well, they should just come in here.”
Poppy shook her head. “Lady Staveley says you need your breakfast. But I thought you’d want to know.”
Livvie smiled at the child. Whenever she looked into Poppy’s pretty, silver eyes, she thought of Alex—just as unrepentant as his daughter. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll be along shortly.”
She forced herself to eat her eggs, some ham and blueberries, wondering the whole while about what would have forced Caroline and Bethany to her doorstep so early in the morning. As soon as she was certain she’d eaten enough to make Doctor Watts happy, Livvie pushed her plate aside and quickly made her way to the gold parlor.
“Darling,” Caroline gushed at her entrance, “I am glad that you’re looking well. Doctor Watts will be so pleased.”
“Thank you, Caro.” Livvie took a seat in on her chaise opposite her two guests in large wingback chairs. “Bethany, it’s nice to see you.”
“You are a dear,” the countess replied with a smile. “I don’t know that I would be so graceful, in your position.”
Livvie sighed. “You mean married to a leopard who can’t change his spots?”
Caroline narrowed her eyes. “Where did you get a copy of today’s column?”
“If my husband can do whatever he wants, I should certainly be allowed the same latitude.”
“Caroline,” Bethany added with a frown, “of course she’s reads the columns. If it was James I’d do exactly the same thing, and so would you if it were Staveley.”
All three women burst into giggles at the thought of mild mannered Staveley being accused of even one of Kelfield’s sins. Although it was completely inappropriate, the laughter did help to raise Livvie’s spirits, if only momentarily.
“Actually, Livvie,” Caroline said, the merriment gone from her voice, “Beth and I put our heads together, and we think we’ve come up with a solution to your problems.”
Livvie blinked at Caroline and Bethany. They had a solution to her problems? She couldn’t even fathom what they meant by that. “You do?” she asked in bewilderment.
“Indeed,” Bethany gushed. “You must take Poppy and go Everett Place.”
Livvie felt certain she hadn’t heard her correctly. Which problem did they think this was a solution to? “I fail to see how removing myself from Town will bring my husband home. Unless you think he won’t return here with me in residence. And if that is the case, then that does not solve my problem in the least.”
“Darling, just listen,” Caroline began softly. “I like to give credit where credit is due, and Beth has come up with a wonderful plan. You see—”
“Well, you know how dictatorial Alex is,” Bethany cut in. “I mean you must know, you’re married to the man. And you must trust me, it would drive him stark-raving mad if you were to pick up and leave—without his permission—especially if you were to go to Everett Place. I’m not sure why he has such an aversion to his ancestral home, but it works to your advantage that he does.”
Before Livvie could find words to respond, Caroline added, “Besides, country air would be most beneficial for you at the moment.”
That was what this was really about. Caroline just wanted to get her out of London and away from all the gossip. Livvie shook her head, annoyed that they had fabricated this plan to manipulate her into the country. Well, it wasn’t going to work. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Now, Livvie, see reason,” Caroline said in her sweetest voice, the one that wasn’t supposed to seem patronizing even though it was.
“You can save your breath, Caroline. I’m not leaving.”
Bethany pouted. “Are you certain? I was convinced it would grab his attention and sober him up.”
There was something in Bethany’s voice that caught Livvie’s attention. “Have you seen him?”
Beth shook her head. “No, but James has. Once. Barely recognized him.”
If she only knew where he was staying, she’d go to him herself, somehow convince him to come home. It was one of the things she scoured the society rags looking for, though it was all a complete waste of time. “Do you know where I can find him? Does James know?”
“I wish we did. James said he’d never seen him so foxed, and that is saying something.”
Caroline scowled at the countess. “She is supposed to remain calm, Beth. You’re not helping.”
“Sorry,” Bethany replied with a frown, and then she moved on
to what she must have thought were safer topics. “Poppy is such a darling girl. You should bring her to Carteret House, so she can play with my Fiona. They’re of an age.”
“Thank you.”
“But do tell her to be wary of my sons. Morgan has entered his pirate stage, and Liam has just started fencing lessons.”
”Beth!” Caroline barked.
“Oh. Sorry.” The countess blushed. “I don’t seem to be able to say anything right today.”
“No, you’re fine,” Livvie said, but she was drowned out by Caroline.
“Actually, Beth, why don’t you take the coach and go shopping on your own. I’d like to stay with Olivia for a while. You and I can talk later.”
Bethany seemed happy to leave, and Livvie was soon left in only Caroline’s care. Her cousin sat forward in her seat, studying her.
“I’m not a side-show event at a carnival, Caro.”
“Of course not.” Caroline sighed. “You think I’m trying to coerce you into the country.”
“I’m not going.”
“Yes, you’ve said that. But, darling, Beth is right. It might be the one thing that wakes him up. I couldn’t say this in front of her, but I do know why Alex hates Everett Place.”
“Because of his parents.” Livvie knew the answer, but didn’t believe that his aversion to his childhood home would bring him around. There wasn’t a more stubborn man than Alexander Everett.
“Good, he’s told you. I didn’t want to break his confidence, but I would have done so, for your sake.”
“Caroline, what happened there was forever ago. I’m certain the place still haunts him, though his nightmares have diminished some since he told me about his mother’s death. But I honestly don’t see how my leaving London would do anything other than put even more distance between us.”
“Death?” Caroline asked in shock. “When did this happen?”
Livvie was thoroughly confused. Weren’t they talking about why Alex avoided Everett Place? “When he was a child.”
Caroline took a deep breath, relief evident on her face. “Darling, your mother-in-law is not dead—she was simply banished. She and the duke had a falling out of some sort—I’m not sure what about—and he banished her to The Place. That’s all. Unless something has happened in recent years, she’s alive and well, and still living at the estate in Hampshire.”