Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  “Actually, Livvy, what I said was that he and I weren’t attracted to each other. You, however, are another matter entirely.”

  Livvy’s foolish heart raced at Phoebe’s words, which was ridiculous. Will was not attracted to her; he was a flirt and a cad and she would never again fall for such a man.

  “Lord Ryder is not attracted to me, Phoebe. He is a man used to female adoration and is constantly seeking it from the nearest available source.”

  There was silence in the small room after these words. Bella was slurping her tea and Livvy was too tense to reprimand her. Jenny and Phoebe were looking at Livvy.

  “What?”

  “You’re blushing,” Phoebe said.

  “I am not!”

  “No, you are, Livvy,” Bella said, pressing one hand to her sister’s hot cheek.

  “I will change our diet to gruel if you don’t stop tormenting me,” Livvy said, pushing the hand aside and fighting the urge to cover her face.

  “Jenny doesn’t know how to make gruel.” Bella looked smug.

  “I’m sure she can manage boiled cabbage,” Livvy said darkly.

  “Well, if Lord Ryder comes around here courting, I hope that Mr. Blake keeps his distance,” Jenny said, sensing that a change of subject was required.

  “Mr. Blake is a lovely man, Jenny!” Phoebe declared, dragging her eyes from Livvy’s flushed face.

  The housekeeper had regained her feet and was bustling about, gathering up the tea tray which the Langley sisters had not yet finished with.

  “Far too forward, he was, and far too charming. Told me my eyes sparkled like a new penny and my smile would light up the darkest of days.”

  “Surely those are lovely compliments, Jenny, and nothing for you to scowl over,” Bella said, noting the housekeeper’s fierce expression.

  “I don’t have time for such foolishness, and a man of his age should know better than to behave in such a manner.” With these words Jenny left the room, much to surprise of the three women she had left behind.

  “I hadn’t finished my toast,” Phoebe said, frowning at the now closed door

  “Nor I my tea,” Bella added.

  “I am sure neither of you will expire from lack of nourishment,” Livvy said, making for the door as well. “We shall leave after our evening meal, Phoebe. Please be ready.”

  Bella and Livvy looked at each other and then at the door.

  “Me thinks they protest too much, Phoebe,” Bella giggled.

  “Do you know, little sister, I believe you could be right.”

  ***

  Livvy lifted the collar of her father’s old black overcoat so the blast of cold air did not traverse her spine.

  “It’s freezing!” Phoebe hissed, rubbing her gloved hands together. “Hopefully, Jenny will have some tea ready for us when we get home.”

  They had been waiting silently for a carriage to appear on the road for at least an hour now, and the temperature had dropped, making it much colder than the night they had robbed Will.

  Tea!” Livvy rasped. “I’m a bloody highwayman, woman! Give me gut-rotting gin distilled in some bawdy house in a seedy part of London.”

  Phoebe look startled as her sister spoke.

  “What?” Livvy questioned.

  “Firstly, how do you know about gut-rotting gin and bawdy houses? And secondly, I forget sometimes you have a wicked sense of humor. It has been lost of late under the weight of responsibility you shoulder, and I’m sorry for it.”

  “I’ve overheard men talking about seedy things like gin and bawdy houses,” Livvy said, her words muffled behind the scarf.

  “And you never told me? Shame on you, sister.”

  Livvy snuffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve in a very unladylike gesture. “I’m also sorry that I seem to have lost my sense of humor, Phoebe, and promise to show more levity in the future.”

  “See that you do.” Phoebe gathered up her horse’s reins as the sound of carriage wheels carried to them on the stiff breeze.

  “Let’s do what we came here for,” Livvy said, taking a deep, bracing breath as she tried to settle her nerves.

  “Pistol at the ready.”

  Livvy did as Phoebe ordered and then, touching her heels to Boris’s flanks, she urged him out from under the cover of the trees at a gallop. Pulling alongside the slow-moving carriage, Livvy pointed her pistol at the driver.

  “Halt at once!”

  He hauled on the reins and the carriage shuddered to a stop.

  Phoebe then trained her pistol on the driver while Livvy pointed hers at the carriage door.

  “Those inside the carriage, step outside at once!” she said, using the coarse voice she had perfected after weeks of training with Phoebe.

  Livvy heard a squeal of terror and felt the heavy weight of guilt that she was causing someone torment. Then a deep voice issued a terse command and seconds later the door opened and a man and a woman stepped down.

  “I will have you shot for this. How dare you rob me?”

  As if she had thrown off her cloak, Livvy felt the burden of guilt lift as she looked at the couple before her. She may not like doing this, but she would make an exception for these two people.

  “I am Major Bruntly and am a man of great influence and power in this area!”

  “I don’t care if you’re the King of bleedin’ England, hand over all your money, which there should be plenty of if you’re as important as you say,” Livvy drawled. Beside her, Phoebe snorted in amusement.

  “I will not!”

  Pompous twit, Livvy thought. She had always loathed the man as had her mother and father.

  “I’ll give you a five-count, Podgy, and if you ain’t done as I asked, I’ll blow a hole in your carriage,” Livvy said.

  “Podgy!”

  Livvy coughed to dislodge the bubble of laughter as Major Bruntly raged at her. She was a very bad person for getting so much enjoyment out of this, even if the Major was the most disliked man in the village of Twoaks. If only it was daylight and she could see his furious features clearly.

  “A rotund middle suggests too much fine living.”

  “Rotund!”

  Livvy winced as he roared. Major Bruntly prided himself on his appearance and took great pains to keep himself in excellent shape. Mrs. Cally, who was once a servant for the Major, said he wore a corset to ensure his trim physique.

  “How dare you speak to my husband that way!”

  Lady Bruntly was not Livvy’s favorite person, either. Like her husband, she believed herself superior to everyone else and was often the deliverer of a caustic, spiteful comment. She had once told Bella that she was the lame ugly duckling of the Langley family and no one upset the littlest Langley and got away with it.

  “Don’t speak or I’ll take your jewels as well!”

  Livvy heard the snap of Lady Bruntly’s teeth as she shut her mouth quickly.

  “I’ll have you swinging from a rope by the end of the week!”

  “As amusing as this conversation is, Podgy, hand over your money now or I’ll shoot you,” Livvy stated calmly.

  “We are the two most important people in this area!” The Major roared.

  “I know a bit about this area meself,” Livvy said. “Making it my business to fleece only the wealthy, you understand. And, unless you’re a Duke or an Earl, I don’t reckon you’re all that important.”

  Both the major and his wife spluttered.

  “Now hand me the money or I’ll shoot you, and as the target is vast I won’t miss.” Her words had the desired effect and Major Bruntly pulled out a large pouch from inside his jacket pocket. Livvy heard the satisfying clink of coins as he clenched it in a fist.

  “Throw it.”

  Livvy caught it and tucked into her jacket pocket.

  “Now you, driver, get down from the seat,” she added, remembering what happened last time and having no wish for either she or Phoebe to be shot or stabbed in the back.

  “Oh, Bertie, what is h
e going to do with our driver?” Lady Bruntly cried.

  “Start walking and don’t stop,” Livvy directed the driver. “That way,” she added, looking in the direction the carriage had just come from.

  “You would not be so cruel as to leave us stranded!”

  “Get in your carriage,” Livvy ordered the couple and then watched as Major and Lady Bruntly climbed inside and closed the door behind them. Signaling to Phoebe, she then turned Boris and galloped back into the trees behind them.

  ***

  “I hate these affairs.”

  “I love them,” Phoebe said as they gingerly made their way down the icy path to the Twoaks Assembly rooms the following evening. “It’s not so bad, Livvy. After all, we have known most of these people for years and some since childhood. We get to dance and flirt and then there is the food and drink. Plus, let us not forget the fact that they will have all seen us arrive in style with Lord and Lady Erdington.”

  “Yes.” Olivia looked over her shoulder at the elderly couple behind them. “I’m not sure how you managed that, but excellent work. I’m pleased we did not have to go to the expense of hiring a carriage.”

  “I sent a note around to Lady Erdington this morning, telling her our carriage was off the road and would it be too much of an imposition for them to pick us up.”

  Clapping her hands over her ears, Livvy said. “Tell me no more. I have no wish to know that you lied to that lovely old lady.”

  “I did not lie; our carriage is off the road. I merely omitted the fact that it will never again be on the road due to four broken wheels and the mice currently nesting in the upholstery.

  Rolling her eyes, Livvy stepped over a patch of ice. It had snowed as Will had predicted, and as reluctant as she was to attend this evening’s Assembly in the village, she knew that doing so was important for Phoebe. Especially if some gentleman caught her eye—a wealthy gentleman, who might love Phoebe in spite of the fact she had no dowry.

  “Perhaps I’ll walk through the door and fall in love and then we won’t have to find the money for a season.”

  Guilt sliced through Livvy as her sister’s words mirrored her thoughts. Grabbing Phoebe’s hand, she squeezed it.

  “Phoebe, you must promise me not to rush this. If you do not find a husband this season then we will get the money for another one the following year. It would destroy me to see you unhappy.”

  “Relax, sister. I will find someone who I can tolerate and if he is very wealthy, I will not be displeased.”

  There was no time to say anything further as they were now walking through the entranceway of the old stone building. Handing over their cloaks, they then followed the other guests along the hallway toward the hum of voices and music.

  “I hope Lord Ryder is here. That will stir things up nicely,” Phoebe said as she straightened the seams of her long evening gloves.

  I don’t.

  Livvy had thought about him constantly. Helping Jenny knead dough, she had thought about the blissful expression on his face while eating the cinnamon bun. Brushing Isabella’s hair, she remembered the dark hair at his nape curling over the brim of his hat, and when she had lain awake, unable to sleep, she had imagined his thigh pressed to hers and the touch of his lips on her mouth.

  “The women will all preen and push out their breasts while making silly simpering noises; and the men will huff and try to impress him and some will remember the atrociously-behaved young man he was before.”

  “I’m not sure you should say the word ‘breasts’ in polite company, Phoebe,” Livvy said, checking behind them to see if anyone was near.

  “Heaving bosoms?”

  Livvy giggled. “Now who’s been reading Bella’s books?”

  “One thing is for sure. Lord Ryder will stir things up this evening, Livvy, that I can guarantee.”

  Livvy had come to the realization, while she lay wide awake in the early hours of the morning, that she needed to try to act as if they were acquaintances just as she had told him they were. Be polite and emotionless, surely then he would leave her alone.

  “You look lovely by the way.”

  “Thank you, Phoebe, so do you,” Livvy said, meaning every word.

  They had spent ages getting ready, with both Jenny and Isabella fussing around them. Phoebe’s dress was in pale blonde silk with darker satin stripes. A ruffle of matching lace stood around the bodice and above that seemed to be vast amounts of her chest. Her hair was pinned high with several long curls trailing down her spine. She looked like a goddess and would surely put several women in a very bad mood and several men in a very good one. Livvy was dressed in rose satin with matching, small darker silk roses decorating the hem. It was a lovely dress, although looking down at her chest, she too, seemed to be exposed.

  “Stop scowling Livvy. You will have a permanent frown

  line soon!”

  “I’m just wondering why we need to show so much… ah…”

  “Heaving bosom?” Phoebe suggested.

  “Quite.”

  “I’m rather proud of mine,” Phoebe said, looking down. “As you should be of yours.”

  “Phoebe!” Livvy said as they stepped through the door. “That is enough on that topic, thank you.”

  “Miss Phoebe, how wonderful of you to grace us with your presence.”

  Olivia watched as three men moved to intercept Phoebe as soon as they entered the room.

  “The room has just grown brighter with your arrival.”

  “My sister is also here, Mr. Robertson,” Phoebe chided, looking at Livvy, who forced a smile onto her face.

  “Forgive me, Miss Langley. I could see nothing past your sister’s beauty… of course that doesn’t mean that I don’t think—”

  “Think nothing of it, Mr. Robertson, it happens all the time,” Livvy said, feeling sorry for the young fool as he proceeded to force his foot deeper into his mouth. Livvy hoped her sister never settled for someone so young and silly.

  “I am going to dance, Livvy.”

  Nodding, Livvy then moved to find a comfortable place to watch the dancers. The hall was long and wide and allowed people to dance down the middle. Chairs and tables were set aside in several alcoves and servants bustled around providing refreshments. There was plenty of noise as everyone spoke loudly over the top of each other to be heard above the music.

  “Got a nice rub for young Miss Isabella’s leg, Miss Olivia.”

  “I shall call on you tomorrow, Mrs. Melnock,” Livvy said to the elderly lady hunched in a chair. She was the town healer and had been for many years. This would be the fifth potion she had concocted for Bella, but Livvy would get it if only to please the old woman.

  She nodded and smiled when required, as she knew most of the people present. The problem for Livvy was that she was no longer the carefree woman she had once been, the woman who had longed for just such an occasion to flirt and chat as her sister was. For her, these nights were a form of torture. The fear of someone questioning her over her family’s circumstances or asking when she would go to London for the season always loomed. Livvy had believed that someone would see right through the Langley façade if they just took the time to look close enough. However, no one had and for that she was grateful.

  Finding a chair behind a gathering of women and beside two others deep in conversation, Livvy knew it looked like she was part of one or other of the groups, which was her intention. Tapping her foot to the lively music, she watched Phoebe move around the floor. Of course, there were plenty of people she could talk to, yet she was more than happy with her own company this evening.

  “Miss Langley, I was telling Lady Bruntly about your foolish intention to ride in the Derby again this year!”

  Livvy swallowed her smile, as she remembered last night’s robbery, before standing to face the Major and his wife.

  “Major Bruntly, Lady Bruntly.” Livvy sank into a curtsy.

  “Well, girl, is it true that you are to break with tradition once more? A tra
dition, I hasten to add, that has been in place for over fifty years.”

  “I fear you have forgotten that Miss Bottsworth rode in the Derby, Major, for five years,” Livvy said.

  On the latter side of fifty, the major still had a full head of dark hair and a body that did not show any signs of turning to the fat she had accused him of last night. Phoebe called him Major Braggart as he spent his days telling people how wonderful he was.

  “That was many years ago and she was a brutish female with little to recommend herself,” he said, dismissing Miss Bottsworth’s feats with the flick of a wrist.

  “I am appreciative of the compliment you just paid me, Major, and am happy not to be termed ‘brutish.’ However, I will be once again riding in the Derby this year.

  “I offered you no compliment!”

  Livvy went for a look of surprise. “Oh dear, silly me, I had thought your words suggested you found me lacking in brutish qualities and that, in fact, I have plenty of commendable ones.”

  Color washed into his face as she continued to needle him.

  “A woman of commendable qualities would not be riding astride in a horse race!”

  Livvy withstood his glare and even managed to keep a smile on her face as the Major roared at her.

  “Disgraceful conduct for a lady,” Lady Bruntly said, sniffing into her French lace handkerchief.

  “Absolutely disgraceful,” Major Bruntly agreed. “Your father would be displeased with you, young lady, as would your grandfather, God rest their souls. At least they are not here to see the disgrace you have brought to the Langley name.”

  Looking around her, Livvy realized no one appeared to be coming to her aid; in fact, most had moved a safe distance away. Major Bruntly was a wealthy landowner and no one liked to cross him. Patience, Livvy, she counseled herself; he is a fool whose opinion you care nothing for.

  “Your father should have done a better job of educating you on a woman’s place in the world,” Major Bruntly added as he warmed to the task of censuring her. “Were you my daughter, I would have kept a firm hand on the reins and never given you your head.”