by Wendy Vella
“Good day, Mrs. Casey!” Phoebe called to the elderly lady who was sitting on her porch, as she had every day for as long as Livvy could remember.
Being born and raised close to a village was both a gift and a curse as far as Livvy was concerned. She loved being part of the community and sharing the highs and lows of those she knew. However, it had been hard, since their father’s death, to hide their situation from people who knew them so well. Livvy hated lying, yet she had become skilled at it and that saddened her.
“I think we could make that with a bit more ribbon. Red, I think,” Phoebe said, dragging Livvy to look in a shop window. Pressing her face to the glass, she studied the bonnet on display. “You have that bonnet with the hideous gray ribbon that makes you look insipid, Livvy. It will do perfectly for what I have in mind.”
Livvy thought of the coins they had stolen and the few she had in her reticule. “I think we can manage a piece of ribbon,” she said, ushering her sisters through the door. “However, I protest to looking insipid in that bonnet. In fact, I will go so far as saying I look fetching.
Phoebe snorted. “Fetching? You look bilious, and that is on a good day.”
As they were now inside the shop, Livvy could not answer so she hissed instead.
“It seems something is hissing inside your shop, Mr. Todd,” Phoebe said loudly to the proprietor as he came forward to greet them.
“Hissing, Miss Langley?” he said, looking alarmed and quickly glancing around his shop for anything that could make such a noise. “I cannot think what it would be.”
“Good morning, Mr. Todd. Don’t worry, I believe the noise was outside,” Livvy reassured the proprietor while sending her sister a dark look.
“I’m sure you’re right, Miss Olivia.” He gave the door a final look. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“Red ribbon,” Phoebe said promptly.
The shop was a riot of color. Braids, buttons and ribbons covered every inch. There were trimmings in every shade and size.
“I will show you all we have,” Mr. Todd said, beginning to lay ribbons before them on the counter.
“I think this is too thin.” Bella pushed one aside.
“Too red,” Phoebe said, pushing another aside.
“How can something be too red?” Livvy looked at the offending piece of silk.
“Blood red, military red, and rose red—there are many shades, Livvy, and that is not the one we want,” Phoebe said, discarding another.
“I had not realized that selecting ribbon was an art form, sister.”
Phoebe merely flashed a blinding smile at her that encompassed Mr. Todd, who instantly flushed and stuttered that all the red ribbon in the shop was on sale today. Of course it was, Livvy thought as her sister continued to flirt with the man.
“I do believe you could murder someone and never face the consequences with that smile, Phoebe,” Livvy stated as they left the shop minutes later with more red ribbon than they needed, and a length of blue because Mr. Todd had insisted the blue was beginning to fray and he could no longer sell it.
“Let us hope we never have to test that theory, Livvy. And now I’m hungry and because I saved you money on the ribbon, I think you should buy me a cinnamon bun.”
“I concede the blue ribbon will look nice on your dress for the Assembly,” Livvy stated, following her sisters down the street once more. “And I imagine all that manipulating would make a person hungry.”
“It was not manipulation. It was coercion, sister, there is a subtle difference,” Phoebe said, laughing. “I have been running through our dresses for the Christmas season, sisters, and I believe with a bit of trim here and seam letting there we will once again set everyone back on their heels.”
“You are a miracle worker, Phoebe!” Bella cried.
And she was, Livvy thought. Their dresses were designed by Phoebe and Jenny, who had found all their mother’s old gowns and spent hours transforming them into the current styles.
“That she is,” Livvy said quietly, as she followed her sisters down the street. She felt a small measure of calm steal over her as she watched them laughing and chatting together. For today, she would push their worries aside and enjoy spending time with Phoebe and Bella. The precious coins she used to pay for ribbons and buns were a small price to pay for a few snatched moment of happiness.
“If a man smelled like that,” Livvy loudly sniffed the cinnamon-scented air as they drew near the bakers. “Then I would have no trouble finding love.”
“I would gladly wear cinnamon cologne, Miss Langley, if the result was you declaring your undying love to me.”
And suddenly, with those drawled words, Livvy’s small measure of calm fled. Of all the men in Twoaks, why did Lord Ryder have to be the one to hear her say that?
Chapter Five
Will had accompanied Freddy into the village after his man of affairs declared his intentions this morning of purchasing some gloves and a warmer hat. They had taken the carriage because Freddy couldn’t sit a horse and he was not going to walk anywhere in this ‘bleedin’ weather’. Directing him to the appropriate shop, Will had then visited Luke and his family. Mrs. Fletcher had at first scowled at him for several seconds before unbending enough at her son’s urging to greet him politely and thank him for returning her boy to her safely.
“I see where you get your pleasant demeanor from, Luke,” Will said as they left the Fletcher house to stroll down the street so he could reacquaint himself with the village.
Luke snorted. “Ma’s always been hard on everyone, it’s just her way. She cuffed my ears when I first walked through the door, as if I were still a boy, and then hugged me for a good five minutes all the while sniffling into my collar.”
“I can understand your mother’s motives. There have been plenty of times I’ve wanted to cuff you but—” The words died in Will’s throat as Olivia and her sisters walked out of a shop ahead of him. Today she was dressed in an elegant, long, dark blue coat that fell to her ankles and there was not a patch in sight. Maybe things were not going badly for the Langleys after all.
“It’s Bella!”
Will looked at his friend and saw the stunned expression on his face as he spoke. “Is there a problem, Luke?”
“My mother told me of her accident and I had thought—”
“Yes?” Will prodded his friend.
“I’d thought she would not be quite so beautiful now,” Luke said softly, his eyes still fixed on the youngest Langely.
“You thought she would be ugly because she has a damaged leg?” Will pressed.
Luke visibly shook his head, as if to clear it. He turned, and his blue eyes held anger. “Bella could never be ugly, but I thought she would look pale and sickly, yet she looks”—he stopped again before adding—“wonderful.”
There was a note in Luke’s voice that Will had never heard before, almost as though he was awed by seeing Bella again.
“I didn’t know you and Bella were friends. She would have only been eleven, like Thea, when we left surely?”
Luke’s eyes were fastened on the youngest Langley, as if he could memorize every detail of her.
“She used to follow me around as a child and I looked out for her because she had no brothers and was always hurting herself or falling into some kind of trouble. And then she grew up—”
“Eleven is hardly grown up, surely?” Will protested.
“She was becoming a lady.” Will had seen the closed expression his friend now wore many times before, and it usually heralded an argument between them.
“So you turned your back on her because she was a peer’s daughter, and therefore above you, even though you were friends?” Will questioned.
Luke Fletcher had grown into a man since leaving England. He stood tall with broad shoulders forged from years of hard work. He had thick brown curls and pale blue eyes that drew women to his side with ease. His loyalty was unquestionable and he was possibly the most honorable perso
n Will had ever known. They were friends that had shared much, but as far as Luke was concerned, there still lay one thing between them that could never make them equals, and that one thing was the source of all their arguments.
“Leave it, Will. She was eleven and turning into a young lady. It was just better that way.”
“Better for whom?”
The blue eyes glared at him. “I said leave it, Will.”
“And do you still believe you’re beneath her, even though your wealth now outstrips most of the noblemen in England?” Will said with a calm he was far from feeling.
“Don’t you ever stop?” Luke snarled.
But Will would not stop; he would speak his mind on this matter until it got into Luke’s thick head.
“Just because you are not of noble birth does not mean you cannot have Bella as a friend, nor must you live life as a servant, Luke. There are plenty of wealthy untitled men in this country making their mark.
“Being a servant was what I was raised to do,” Luke said stubbornly.
“You can call me Will, yet you still drive my bloody carriage. You lived as my equal for years, yet now we are back in England you cannot make the acquaintance of a young lady who was once your friend? You, Luke Fletcher, are one of the best men I know, but you’re a bloody coward.” Will fought to hold his anger at bay. The main street of Twoaks was not the place to lose it.
“I have no wish to live a different life,” Luke said, his anger now boiling below the surface, as Will’s was.
“And I say that’s horseshit!”
“Of course that’s your right, my lord.” Luke’s tone was lofty as he used Will’s title to taunt him.
“And what of your money? Will you not use it for your family or yourself?”
“My family don’t want it, and it’s of no use to me so you use it,” Luke snapped.
“And what of Bella? Will you run and hide before she sees you?” This time it was Will doing the taunting.
Luke glared at him, but Will stood his ground.
“Excuse me, I shall retrieve the carriage and collect Freddy.”
“I have one of our men driving it, Luke, so there is no need,” Will said as he turned away.
“I am one of your men now and also your driver, and I’m fairly sure that you’ll end up in a ditch if I’m not holding the ribbons.”
The words were delivered slowly through Luke’s clenched front teeth.
“Stubborn fool,” Will said, watching his friend stalk away from him. Sucking a large, cold breath of air into his lungs, he pushed Luke from his head. He would deal with him later. For now, he was going to follow the Langley sisters.
“I know where you wander, Miss Langley,” he whispered as they turned towards the baker. In minutes, he was lengthening his stride to intercept them.
“Good morning, Olivia, Phoebe and Isabella,” Will said, sweeping off his hat and bowing deeply to the three pretty ladies before him.
“My lord, how wonderful to see you again.”
Why did he think Olivia’s greeting lacked enthusiasm?
“Again, Livvy? Surely you have not seen Lord Ryder since his return?”
Will watched Phoebe shoot a frantic glance at her elder sister and wasn’t sure why.
“I saw Lord Ryder at the cemetery a few days ago, Phoebe. I forgot to tell you.”
“Oh, well, that explains it then.” Phoebe gave him a wide smile.
If Phoebe Langley ever tired of being a lady, she could easily take up a career as a courtesan. Even at fifteen she had exuded naughtiness, from the tip of her head to the soles of her satin slippers. Now she was a sultry woman, all curves, pouty lips and creamy complexion, and the look in her brown eyes suggested she knew exactly what a man was thinking when they looked at her. There was no doubting that she had grown into an exceptionally beautiful woman, yet he would not be joining her admirers; it was the eldest Langley sister who drew his eye.
“It is a pleasure to meet with you again,” Phoebe purred, lowering her long lashes.
Will guessed that flirting to Phoebe Langley was like breathing to every other woman.
“Hello, Isabella. It seems not just Thea has blossomed in my absence,” Will said, moving to take the youngest Langley’s gloved hand and kissing the back. Luke was right, she was beautiful, and like his sister she, too, was now a young lady deserving attention. Isabella had soft green eyes, two dimples in her cheeks and she was a close rival to her sisters for beauty; however, if one really looked, they could see the pain etched deep inside. He noted that she was leaning heavily on a sturdy walking stick and felt a tug of sympathy that so much had changed in her life since he had left.
“Thea must be very happy you are home, my lord,” she said.
“Yes I believe she is, Isabella, as am I.”
“May I ask how Luke is?”
The look of yearning in Isabella’s eyes when she mentioned Luke was the same as his had been when he’d spoken of her.
“He is well and I’m sure you will see him soon,” Will said, determined to make it so.
“We are just about to purchase some of Mr. Evan’s cinnamon buns,” Phoebe said, interrupting them.
“Are you?” Will sighed. “I dreamed of those buns for years.”
“They are still Livvy’s favorites,” Phoebe said, which made Will once again look at Olivia. The cool air had put a flush in her cheeks and she looked as every young lady should today: happy and trouble free. Well, she had looked that way before his arrival. Now a line had formed between her eyes as she scowled at him.
“We shall detain you no longer, my lord, as I’m sure you have much to do.” Her voice was cold enough to dissuade most people. However, he was not most people.
“Actually,” Will said, walking beside Olivia as she continued on to the bakery, “I am waiting for someone, and I can think of nothing I’d like more than eating a cinnamon bun with old friends to pass the time.”
Taking her elbow, he maneuvered her around a horse that was stomping his hooves in agitation.
“We will not be stopping to eat them, my lord, as we are charged with tending the church flowers in Mrs. Popplehinge’s absence.” Olivia quickly moved away from his touch to clutch the door handle of the bakery.
“Surely, you do not expect me to stand idly by when pretty ladies are in need of nourishment?” Will placed both his hands on Olivia’s waist. Lifting her off her feet, he set her down beside her sisters who stood silently watching him. “Wait here with your sisters and I shall return shortly with the buns,” he added, winking to Phoebe and Isabella, who dutifully giggled. In seconds, he had disappeared inside the shop.
“You have to admit, that was neatly done,” Phoebe said, her eyes on the now closed bakery door. “Perhaps between us we could simply lift Livvy out of the way when she becomes trying.”
“The idea has merits,” Bella laughed.
“H—how dare he handle me like that!”
Phoebe peered under the brim of Livvy’s bonnet. “You sound like one of the heroines in Bella’s books.”
“I—I have no wish for him to buy us food,” Livvy stammered.
“Three of Mr. Evan’s buns are hardly that, Livvy. You are overreacting to Lord Ryder’s kind gesture, and that is not like you, especially as you have already declared you no longer have any feelings for him. Now hush, because here he comes.”
“They had a new flavor called the plum bun, so I got a few of those as well.” Will joined the Langley sisters once again with a large package balanced in one hand. Phoebe and Bella took one each. Olivia, however, stood with her hands at her sides.
“Take a bun, Olivia.” He could tell that she wanted to say no, so he lifted them closer so that she could smell them. “Take one.”
“Thank you.” Will swallowed his smile as she reluctantly gave in.
“Would I be imposing on you lovely ladies if I accompanied you to the church? It has been many years since I entered its hallowed walls and my black soul is well des
erving of a good cleansing.”
“I don’t think you will enjoy—”
“Of course!” Phoebe and Bella cried over the top of their sister, who had been about to refuse him. Both then struck out in the direction of the church, leaving her with no choice but to walk beside him.
Taking a large bite, Will moaned. Swallowing, he then took another. He had been right. They were the best buns in the world. His mouth was alive with the taste of cinnamon and currants. Beside him, Olivia was daintily nibbling on a piece she had pulled off her bun. She briefly closed her eyes as she swallowed, a small smile played around her lips. The tip of her pink tongue appeared to lick a bit of sugar from the corner of her mouth and Will felt lust bolt through his body as he imagined that tongue licking him. Studying her bun, she then tore of another piece and repeated the entire process. Will had been propositioned in several different languages in some very imaginative ways; however, watching Olivia Langley eat a cinnamon bun was the most arousing thing he had ever witnessed.
“I must thank you for the buns, Lord Ryder.”
Pulling his eyes from her mouth, he looked at the back of Isabella’s head and felt his ardor cool. One did not lust after a woman when her two younger sisters walked before them.
“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
“What wasn’t so hard?” she questioned, looking up at him. Hell, she had a sprinkling of sugar on her bottom lip. Memories of that lip beneath his nearly dropped him to his knees.
“Thanking me,” he said gruffly.
“I am not so rag-mannered that I would not thank you, my lord, even though I had no wish for you to purchase us buns.”
Will tipped his hat as a carriage carrying an elderly couple passed by and then looked down at Olivia once again. Thank God the sugar had gone.
“You had no wish for me to purchase you buns, or had no wish for anyone to purchase you buns?” he queried.
She tore off another piece and popped it into her mouth, making a small humming noise of appreciation.
“Tea is the best accompaniment to have with cinnamon buns, my lord,” she said, ignoring his question. She was good at that.