by Lydia Dare
“What did he ever do to you?” she asked. Her father and brothers were a constant in her life, and even if her father had sent her to this horrid place, to this horrid man who obviously didn’t want her, she would take up for him until the day she died. Particularly against someone like her grandfather. Someone much more concerned with propriety than actually caring for a loved one. Her mother was a perfect example.
“He passed himself off as an example of good breeding. And then he stole your mother away.” He balled up a piece of parchment and tossed it into the rubbish bin with much more force than was necessary. Would her head be next? Or would he continue to take his anger out on his personal possessions?
“You can’t steal someone who goes willingly,” Livi said softly. Much more softly than she felt like saying.
His eyes shot up to meet hers. His glare darkened. After a moment, he bent and retrieved his quill from the floor. Then he tossed it onto his desk with a heavy sigh.
“She loved him,” Livi continued. If there was one thing that wasn’t in question, it was the abiding love between her parents. She had been young when Maman had passed, but her brothers had been older. And they and their father told her stories of her mother that were steeped in affection.
Maman’s journals were full of pages that chronicled how her parents had met and how Maman felt about Papa. The pages spoke of the abiding love she’d felt when each of her sons was born. And the joy she had felt at finally having a daughter. It was a tragedy Grace Mayeux hadn’t lived longer, for Livi to have had her throughout all these years. But Livi still had her father. Until he’d sent her away.
“Are you happy at all that I’m here?” she asked, hating the hesitation she heard in her own voice.
His gaze rose, and for a mere moment, she thought she could see something there. Some spark of affection. Something that said he cared about her in some miniscule way. In this cold, cold house, on this cold, cold continent, she needed something warm. Something that could warm her from the inside.
“I am happy to see you well,” he said.
That was it? That was all she got? Happy to see you well? He’d have known she was well when she was on the other side of the Atlantic, if he’d taken the time to ask. He never had, not in twenty years, at least not to her knowledge.
“Thank you for your devotion,” she said with more force than necessary. “Were you this cold with my mother? If so, I understand why she never spoke to you again after she left.”
He sucked in a surprised breath but held it, apparently not willing to respond to her goading.
Livi jumped to her feet, as impatient as her father had ever accused her of being. “Why don’t you just send me home? That’s where I want to be.”
Her grandfather released his breath. “I didn’t ask for the responsibility of your care.”
Then send me home! Please!
“But I accept it as my duty. To your mother. You’re obviously too much for your father to handle properly.”
“Too much what?” For some reason, she was finding it difficult to draw in a deep breath.
“Too much of a challenge.” He shook his head absently. “Your mother was a paragon of virtue until she met your father. His influence on you cannot have been in your best interest. I probably should have sent for you years ago.”
So she could be reared by a cold governess, just as her mother had been? No, thank you. “He wouldn’t have let you have me.”
“Yet he has sent you to me now,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “I’ll do my best to secure a good match for you.”
“Good match? You mean a title and wealth?” A marriage with no feeling. No love. No passion. No trust. Just what her mother had run from.
“To begin with,” he agreed.
Lovely. Just lovely.
“And the Hadley brothers,” he began.
“What of them?” she said, realizing by the look on his face that her tone was a tad too sharp. But she was beyond caring.
“They’re not of our ilk.”
Thank goodness for that. “The eldest is a viscount, I understand.”
“A viscount without two shillings to rub together, until a recent turn of fortune. They’re involved in some business dealings that are less than respectable. While we will be traveling with Lady Radbourne, you will not become attached to either of those ruffians.” He pursed his lips as though he smelled something foul. “Lady Radbourne has a companion that you can learn a great deal from. Lady Sophia Cole is the only reason I’m allowing this trip to Bath. The lady will be a good influence on you.” He shook his finger at her. “But you will stay away from the Hadley men.”
“Is that an order?” she asked sweetly.
He smacked his hand onto the surface of his desk with enough force that Livi flinched. “Yes!” he barked. “It’s an order.”
“Let me go home,” she pleaded one last time.
“I finally have some say about your life. And it’s my duty to turn you into something your mother would be proud of.”
Not someone. Something. “My mother would be proud of me as I am.”
“Your days of climbing trees and trudging through swamps are over,” he spat out. “Your days as a lady of quality are beginning, as of today. Consider yourself in training to be a lady.”
“Like a dog that’s being trained to hunt?”
His gaze narrowed. “And heel and sit and do as she’s told.”
She would never, ever heel. Never. He was in for a rude awakening if he thought she would.
***
During the entire trip back to Hadley Hall, Gray had tried unsuccessfully to get his mother to change her mind about Bath. All he could hope for was that Archer would have better luck with the viscountess than he’d had thus far. As soon as the coach reached the estate, Gray left his mother in her private parlor and went in search of his brother, in hope that reinforcements would aid their situation.
He heard an exclamation of frustration escape from Archer’s study. Gray had grown accustomed to that particular sound ever since Lady Sophia had taken up residence in Hadley Hall. The lady must be in the study as well. Archer didn’t make that sound if she wasn’t within earshot.
Despite his own frustration with their mother and one very specific American chit, Gray couldn’t help but smile. There was something vastly amusing about the way Lady Sophia always left Archer tongue-tied and blustering like a dolt. Gray cleared his throat before knocking on the door of his brother’s study.
“Devil take it!” Archer growled from inside the room.
Gray almost chuckled, but doing so would only serve to annoy Archer, and in this unfortunate situation, they needed to be united. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Quite an interesting way of inviting one’s brother into one’s study.”
“I didn’t invite you.” Archer grimaced. “What do you want?”
Gray leaned against the doorjamb and nodded to Lady Sophia, sitting across from his brother. “I gather your hands have been full while I was away.”
She smiled as she rose from her seat. “My hands are always full with the two of you.”
“All you have to do is leave,” Archer grumbled from his large leather chair. “And we’ll all be happier.”
“Not until you’re a proper gentleman,” Lady Sophia remarked as she started for the door. “At this rate, I’ll be here until you die of old age.” She brushed past Gray, into the corridor. “Do continue your practice, my lord,” she tossed over her shoulder as she made her exit.
Looking at the outraged expression of his brother, Gray did finally laugh. “I take it things didn’t go well with Lady Sophia?”
“Do things ever go well with that woman?” Archer raked a hand through his dark hair. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she stays up late every night thinking up new ways to vex me.”
“And me,” Gray agreed, thinking about the tea-sipping from that afternoon. Utter rubbish.
Archer scoffed. “You get o
ff easy. She barely pays you any mind at all. Yet she takes special delight in tormenting me.”
Well, Archer had won Lady Sophia’s family’s fortune, leaving her late father penniless, despondent, and perhaps even suicidal. But voicing those words aloud would be a surefire way of getting himself a broken nose. And though Gray would heal from the injury within moments, he wasn’t in the mood to spar with Archer, not when they needed to band together. Besides, Archer wasn’t aware Gray knew the particulars behind his new fortune, and more pressing matters needed to be dealt with at the moment.
“You won’t believe the afternoon I’ve endured.”
“Did you have a harridan insist you work on your penmanship for hours upon hours?” Archer sat back in his large leather seat with a huff, folding his arms across his chest. “I’d sooner have my valet shave my manly parts than I would answer all the correspondence she put before me.”
Gray bit back the acrid taste that filled his mouth at the very thought of Archer’s valet getting anywhere near his manly parts, particularly with a sharp instrument, and then pushed himself from the doorjamb and stepped farther into the study, closing the door behind him. After all, it wouldn’t do for any household staff to overhear his next words. “Holmesfield’s granddaughter is in residence at the Court.”
Finally a ghost of a smile lit Archer’s lips. “Oh? Was Mother matchmaking?”
That thought hadn’t even occurred to Gray. “I don’t think so.” Though she had been awfully eager for him to accompany her that afternoon, hadn’t she?
“Ever since Wes married, Mother’s been hinting that she’d like to see each of us follow in his footsteps.”
“Without the abduction part, of course.”
“Well, that goes without saying.” Archer kicked his Hessians up on the edge of his desk. “She’d probably feel fortunate if we avoid the scandal part too.”
Gray raised his brow and nodded toward his brother’s feet. “If Lady Sophia saw you do that…”
“I do not answer to Sophia Cole.”
No, but he did answer to Dashiel Thorpe, the Marquess of Eynsford, their half brother and pack alpha. And Dash had hired Lady Sophia. Gray shrugged. “If you want to risk your own tail, it doesn’t matter to me.” He dropped into a seat across from his brother. “Holmesfield’s granddaughter knows I’m a Lycan. She knows there are three of us.”
Archer’s feet fell back to the floor with a thud, and his mouth dropped open. “How does she know that?”
“I told her.”
“You did what?” Archer roared.
“I told her there were three of us,” Gray amended. Then he touched the mark beneath his left ear. “She has the mark of the beast on her thigh, Arch.”
“On her thigh?” His brother’s golden eyes widened with either horror or surprise, Gray wasn’t certain which. “Am I to take it you are freshly betrothed to the lady then?”
Gray scoffed. “I didn’t see the mark, you arse. She told me where it was.”
“She told you? What sort of lady is this chit?”
“She’s not one.” Gray frowned. At his brother’s quizzical expression, he hastened to explain. “I wouldn’t exactly call her a lady, that is.”
“What would you call her?”
Temptation incarnate. “Our worst nightmare.” Gray sighed. “She told me she knew what I was, with Holmesfield just a few feet away. She has no sense of decorum, Arch. Can you imagine what would have happened if the earl had heard her? We’re just fortunate the old prick is half deaf.”
Archer’s brow furrowed as though he was trying to make sense of the situation. “How long will she be in residence?”
“Until she escapes, but that might be too late for us.”
“Escapes?”
“She’d like to catch the next frigate back to New Orleans, but she’s been sent here to learn to become a lady.”
“Sounds like she could use the training. Wait!” Archer’s eyes lit up. “Perhaps we could convince Holmesfield to employ Lady Sophia, and then we’d be rid of her. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
“Oh, Lady Sophia will get the chance to meet Miss Mayeux. We’re all going to Bath, you and me included.”
“Bath?”
“Mother has apparently promised Holmesfield that she’ll help smooth Miss Mayeux’s entrée into society. They think to start with Bath now, so she’ll have a taste of what’s to come in Town next season.”
Archer looked as grim as Gray felt. “Why would Mother do such a thing?”
Gray shook his head. “You should have heard her all the way home from Holmesfield Court, gushing about Miss Mayeux. Apparently Mother grew up with the chit’s mother. They were dear friends, and Father actually introduced Lady Grace to a French Lycan of his acquaintance. The rest is history. But now Mother is determined to help her old friend’s daughter. And you and I have been recruited into this nonsense.”
“It is nonsense. I won’t do it.” Archer shook his head.
Gray sighed with relief. “I was hoping you’d say that. If we band together…”
A knock came at the door, and Archer mouthed the word “Mother” to Gray. “Yes? Come in.”
A moment later, their mother stood in the threshold, glowing with more joy than Gray remembered seeing in a very long time. “Oh, perfect. You’re both here. Archer, did Grayson tell you the wonderful news?”
“He told me you expect us to head to Bath, but—”
“Oh, she looks just like Grace did, darker though. More French, like her father. But with her eyes and cheeks and lips, I would recognize her anywhere as Grace’s daughter. Such a pretty little thing, isn’t she, Grayson?”
“Pretty?” Archer’s brow rose. “I think you neglected to mention that part, Brother.”
“She could expose us all,” Gray hissed.
“Oh, yes, pretty,” their mother continued as though Gray hadn’t spoken. “Stunning, really. Wouldn’t you agree, Grayson?”
Liviana Mayeux was stunning. But that was neither here nor there. “Mother, both Archer and I are too busy at the moment to head to Bath. We’ve discussed it and—”
“We cannot wait to accompany you, despite our other duties,” Archer chimed in. “When do we leave?”
Four
Gray should have run all the way from Derbyshire to Somerset, if for no other reason than to avoid the caustic glares and constant bickering between his brother and Lady Sophia along the journey. His head throbbed as he stepped from the Radbourne carriage onto the cobblestones before the Earl of Holmesfield’s elegant Bath home. What he wouldn’t give to be almost anywhere else.
“So where is your pretty little French poodle?” Archer whispered in Gray’s ear as he clapped a hand to his back.
Gray glanced over his shoulder and scowled at his brother. “I wouldn’t call her mine, and I wouldn’t compare her to any breed of dog where she can hear you unless you’d like to get her on a subject we should all avoid. She may have Lycan blood in her veins, but she needn’t bandy that fact about.”
Archer grinned unrepentantly. “Indeed. Maybe she’ll show me the mark on her thigh.”
“You planning on marrying the chit?” Gray returned. “It would probably serve you right. I’d dearly love to see the knots she’d leave you in. Probably exactly what you deserve after the life you’ve led.”
“It would be so nice,” came Lady Sophia’s disembodied voice from inside the carriage, “if one of the gentlemen outside would offer a hand of assistance to Lady Radbourne and myself.”
Archer frowned. “She can’t be worse,” he nodded his head toward the coach, “than that one.”
Except that Lady Sophia had never heard the word “Lycan,” and if she did, she’d never utter it. Gray nodded toward the coach. “Shall you do the honors? Or shall I?”
“I’ll do it,” Archer grumbled, then turned around and helped their mother alight from the conveyance.
Once Lady Radbourne was safely on her feet, Archer shut the co
ach door with a slam and offered his arm to their mother. “Shall we?” he asked, ignoring the huff of indignation from inside the carriage.
“Archer!” their mother admonished. “You shut the door on Lady Sophia.”
“Did I?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Perhaps Gray can assist the lady. Come along, Mother. Lord Holmesfield awaits us with his supposedly stunning granddaughter.”
Gray itched to send his brother sprawling across the cobblestones, but that would hardly do in broad daylight in front of the earl’s home. So he opened the coach door and offered his hand to Lady Sophia instead. “Sorry, my lady,” he said. “Awful gust of wind.”
“Windbag, you mean,” the lady retorted as she stepped from the coach, smoothing her dark locks back in place. “Your brother is insufferable.”
Gray agreed with a nod. “Indeed. And I’ve been suffering him all my life.”
“You have my condolences.”
“And I appreciate them,” Gray returned, offering her his arm. “We should follow to make sure he doesn’t make any blunders upon greeting the earl.”
“I’ll be happy if he makes but one blunder, Mr. Hadley.”
As long as it was only a small one, Gray was in agreement. The two hurried along the short walk to the front door and joined Archer and Lady Radbourne on the stoop as an aged butler gestured them all over the threshold.
“His lordship and Miss Mayeux are in the parlor. This way.” The old man led them down the corridor and through the first open doorway. “Lord and Lady Radbourne, Lady Sophia and Mr. Hadley, my lord.”
“Yes, yes,” the earl grumbled from a high-back chair near a wide window. “I saw them arrive. Have their things brought in, Flemming. And some refreshments.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Gray’s eyes immediately landed on Liviana Mayeux on the opposite side of the room, pacing as though she were a wild animal trapped in a cage. If it was possible, she seemed even lovelier than she had when he’d first met her. Her dark locks were piled high on her head, and the scooped bodice of her gown drew his eyes to territory he fully wanted to explore.
“Archer,” their mother gushed as she stepped into the parlor, “allow me to introduce you to Miss Liviana Mayeux.”