by Lydia Dare
“Livi,” the chit corrected.
Her grandfather harrumphed. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t rise,” the feeble Lord Holmesfield said.
Lady Radbourne nodded. “Sophia and I understand completely, my lord.” Then the viscountess returned her attention to Miss Mayeux and smiled. “Livi, this is my oldest son, Archer, Viscount Radbourne, and my companion, Lady Sophia Cole, and you know Grayson already.”
Livi Mayeux’s blue eyes flashed to meet Gray’s gaze, and the breath rushed from his lungs. If she looked at any other man that way, the mark on her thigh would be discovered in a heartbeat. Not that anyone other than himself or his brothers would know what it was.
“Miss Mayeux.” Archer bowed in greeting. “My brother sang your praises, but I must say you are even more beautiful than he led me to believe.”
“There’s no reason to flatter her,” Lord Holmesfield barked. “And there’s no reason to flirt or pay court to her, either. The two of you scoundrels are here to serve as escorts only.”
“Like trained dogs?” Archer asked, which was rewarded with a husky laugh from Livi Mayeux.
“Dogs indeed,” the earl grumbled. “Now sit, so we can discuss our plan of attack.”
“Attack?” Lady Sophia asked as she dropped Gray’s arm and started for the closest settee. “You make it sound like a battle, my lord.”
Holmesfield gestured toward his granddaughter with his head. “‘Battle’ would be a euphemism, Lady Sophia. I do hope you and Lady Radbourne can do something with her. I am at a total loss.”
“I assure you,” Lady Sophia replied, “I have handled worse cases.”
Meaning Gray and Archer, but Gray wasn’t so certain Lady Sophia’s estimation was correct. Not if the rebellious flash in Miss Mayeux’s cornflower eyes was any indication. “We are happy to help,” he heard himself say, and couldn’t imagine what imp had forced the words from his mouth.
“You can help,” the earl said as he glanced in Gray’s direction, “by escorting the ladies to the Longboroughs’ musicale tomorrow evening.”
Musicale? Gray would rather listen to the mating of cats. At least the cats managed to stay on tune, at least in comparison to Lady Longborough’s daughters.
“You may be excused until then,” Holmesfield said. “But stay out of trouble. Liviana doesn’t need any unnecessary scandal attached to her name.”
Miss Mayeux could well provide the scandal herself.
“Come on,” Archer said, smacking Gray on the shoulder. “We’ve been given a reprieve so let’s not waste it.”
***
Livi watched the two Lycans escape her grandfather’s parlor and her spirits sank. She’d do just about anything to leave with the two men. Wherever they were headed had to be more fun than enduring the earl’s icy treatment and having to pretend to possess social graces for Lady Radbourne and Lady Sophia’s benefit.
“Liviana,” her grandfather barked, “take a seat. Pacing is for fellows who face the gallows.”
“How fitting,” she muttered. Though she did leave her corner of the room and sat in a chair near the earl’s. She forced a smile to her face when she met Lady Sophia’s gaze. The lady seemed too haughty by half. Livi didn’t have a prayer of enjoying even a moment’s worth of fun with Lady Sophia, so she turned her attention to Lady Radbourne. “So nice to see you again, my lady.”
“And you.” The older woman smiled warmly, the first bit of warmth Livi had felt since arriving in Bath the previous day.
“So I understand,” Lady Sophia said to the earl, “you are in need of my services.”
The old man glanced over at Livi and scowled before returning his glance to Lady Sophia. “Lady Radbourne says you can work wonders. I sincerely hope that is the case.”
Lady Sophia smiled. “What are you most concerned about, my lord?”
“It would be hard to pinpoint one thing. She is too brash. She is too sharp tongued. She is too common. She is too French. She is—”
“I am in the room.” Livi heaved an indignant sigh.
Lady Sophia turned her attention on Livi and seemed to assess her as one might a gown that was two seasons too old while deciding whether or not to keep it. “You are slouching, dear,” the lady said softly. “Sit straighter and square your shoulders. I should think a bit of aloofness would go a long way where you’re concerned.”
“Lord Holmesfield,” Lady Radbourne said, stepping forward, “have you partaken of the waters at the Pump Room yet?”
“Not yet,” he replied.
“Well, why don’t we do so together and allow Sophia and Liviana to get to know one another.”
“A wonderful idea.” The earl slid to the edge of his seat and struggled to his feet with the help of his cane.
“Would you like some assistance, my lord?” Lady Radbourne asked.
“I can do it myself,” he grumbled sourly. Then he leaned heavily on his walking stick and started for the door. He glanced back over his shoulder at Lady Sophia. “Do not let her out of your sight.”
“I’m certain we’ll get along well, my lord.”
He harrumphed. “We’ll see about that.”
Lady Radbourne smiled at Livi. “You are in wonderful hands, my dear.” Then she followed the earl from the parlor, leaving Livi with the very formal English lady.
“So you are to work wonders with me, are you?” Livi asked.
The lady shrugged. “That remains to be seen. I get the feeling you don’t want to improve, which would make my task an impossible one.”
Improve. Livi scowled. “I’m perfectly fine the way I am.”
“And yet your father sent you to England to become a lady, did he not?”
“He’s a traitor,” Livi grumbled.
“Ladies do not mutter under their breath, Miss Mayeux. It’s considered ill-mannered. If you have something to say, you should make certain your companions can hear you clearly. And if it is something you shouldn’t be saying, well, then you shouldn’t say it aloud at all.”
Livi cleared her throat. “I said,” she was careful to enunciate, “my father is a traitor, and I don’t care who knows it.”
Lady Sophia frowned, but even with a frown she seemed the picture of propriety. “I am certain he has your best interests at heart. Most fathers do.”
The way she spoke made Livi think the lady had left something unsaid. “Does yours?”
“I beg your pardon.”
Livi shrugged. “You seem poised and confident. What would make a lady such as you take a position as a lady’s companion?”
A bit of color stained Lady Sophia’s cheeks. “I don’t believe we were discussing my father.”
“Non? Well, you mentioned mine. I didn’t realize yours wasn’t a topic for discussion.”
Lady Sophia sat a little straighter and leveled Livi with a haughty stare. “Very well, Miss Mayeux. My father has passed away, as has my mother. But if he were still living, I am certain he would have my best interests at heart. Papa’s title, as well as his holdings, have passed on to my cousin, but I do not wish to reside under his roof. Therefore I needed to find a way to take care of myself, and providing companionship to Lady Radbourne is as much a pleasure as it is a position. Now if you are done delving into my past, we truly should return our attention to you and your situation.”
Now the lady was more a mystery than she had been before divulging all that information. “Certainly you could have married.” After all wasn’t that what was expected of proper English ladies? The merging of families and empires?
“English gentlemen prefer wives with dowries, Miss Mayeux, which Lady Radbourne assures me you are in possession of. So why don’t we focus our efforts on you?”
“Because I do not have any desire to marry an English gentleman.”
“What do you want, then?” Lady Sophia asked.
And it was the first time since she’d arrived in England that anyone had asked her that question. “I want to go home,” Livi replied quietly. “
I want to secure passage to New Orleans. I want to sail the Atlantic. I want to step off the ship and have the warmth of Louisiana wash over me and seep into my bones. I want to watch Etienne wrestle alligators and catch crawfish with Armand in the swamps. I want…” my old life back. But Livi couldn’t say those words aloud.
“But you’re here now.” Lady Sophia replied, not unkindly. “As you find yourself in this situation, I will do my best to help you navigate your way through these waters.”
Livi shook her head. She didn’t want help navigating these waters. She just wanted her father to love her enough to let her come home.
“I wish for things too, Miss Mayeux. But I have to know which dreams are possible and which are not.”
Livi sighed. It wasn’t a matter of possible or impossible dreams; it was a matter of right and wrong. She should never have been shipped off to England. She should never have been sent to her grandfather. “Where do you suppose Mr. Hadley and Lord Radbourne have gone?”
Lady Sophia closed her eyes as though the thought of the men gave her a headache. “The Lord only knows.” Then she sat forward in her chair and speared Livi with a look of determination. “Those men are hardly your concern. We need to spend the time we do have preparing you for the Longboroughs’ musicale tomorrow. Do you sing?”
Livi nearly swallowed her tongue. “Sing?” she croaked. “Will they ask me to sing?”
Lady Sophia shook her head. “One must always be prepared. Can you sing?”
Not in front of people. She sang in the bayous at home with her brothers, but she would never sing in front of a group of rigid Englishmen. “Can you?” she countered.
“I’m not on the market, Miss Mayeux. You are.”
But Lady Sophia should be on the market. She would make some stuffy gentleman a much better wife than Livi ever would.
Five
Livi settled deeper into the feather ticking of the most uncomfortable bed she’d ever had the misfortune of sleeping in. They simply did not make beds on this side of the Atlantic the way they did in America. They were harder and lumpier, and they smelled as old as the villages did. She balled her pillow up under the side of her face and tried to will herself to sleep. But sleep was elusive. All she could think about was her conversation with Lady Sophia and the blasted musicale that she would be forced to attend the following night. One night to acclimate herself to Bath, and then her grandfather planned to thrust her into this world he lived in without any thought of her wishes on the matter.
Livi rolled to her side, adjusting her pillow with a fierce growl. That was something her grandfather would highly object to, as well. Evidently, ladies were not supposed to grunt or growl, even when they were annoyed. She supposed she would have to stop making Lycan noises if she wanted to fit in with society. But it was really difficult to drop a lifetime of learning. She’d grown up with Lycans, for goodness sake. It was impossible not to pick up some of their mannerisms, even if she didn’t grow a tail and howl at the moon when it was at its fullest.
There was so much she didn’t know. So much she couldn’t possibly hope to understand. She sighed heavily and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Perhaps some warm milk would help. They did have warm milk in Bath, didn’t they? She was certain she could find some. Livi slid her feet into her slippers and turned toward the door. She had no idea where the kitchens were, but certainly someone would be about who could direct her.
The servants in England never seemed to sleep. They prowled the corridors, waiting for a command. The complete opposite of what Marie did at home. They’d probably try to force her to allow them to get the milk for her. But she could get her own milk. Back home, she and her father met often in the dead of night to have a glass of warm milk and to steal the treats Cook left out just for them. Longing for home pierced her heart, but she stiffened her shoulders and left the room, sliding quietly into the dark corridor as she closed her door behind her.
Lady Sophia would hear her if she wasn’t quiet, so she tiptoed past her door and didn’t dare breathe until she was at the top of the stairs, far from the lady’s realm. Lady Sophia would probably turn her nose up as though she smelled something foul just before she gave Livi a lesson about comportment. Livi searched the quiet of the night for sounds, but no one was about, aside from the aged servant who slept by the front door. So some of them did sleep, after all. At their posts, of course. The Hadley men must not have returned for the night yet, if the poor butler was still up this late. Blast those brothers and their late-night carousing.
Why did it bother her that they were out in the wee hours of the morning? Probably because they were allowed the freedom she would never see again, not if her grandfather had his way about things.
She stepped softly past the servant until she was out of his line of sight and smiled when he mumbled to himself. She stopped hesitantly, trying to make out his words. But they were unintelligible. She turned and headed toward where she assumed the kitchens must be.
***
Gray cursed as he dropped his coins on the cobblestone walk. It was much too dark to find them, and the lights from the hack he’d hired simply created more shadow. He dug into his pocket for more coins and tossed the fare to the driver. The man snagged the coins in the air and looked at them appreciatively when he realized the sum was more than he’d expected. “Do you need some help getting to the door, sir?” he asked.
Did he look like he’d had that much enjoyment this evening? Gray shook his head, the action causing his world to unbalance, and he reached out for the corner of the coach to steady himself. “I believe I can make it,” he grunted.
“Are you certain?” the driver asked, a grin lurking about the corners of his mouth. Damn his hide. He was enjoying this.
“Quite,” Gray grumbled. Typically, he and Archer would lean on one another until they reached the safety of their quarters. But Archer was otherwise occupied, damn his eyes.
Gray tugged at the lapels of his jacket and smoothed his hair. “Do I look respectable?” he asked absently, as though he was talking to one of his brothers.
When the driver chuckled, he knew he’d made a mistake. “You look beautiful, sir. Shall I right your bonnet before you go into the house?”
Bonnet? The sun wasn’t even out. Oh, dear God, he must have had more to drink than he’d thought. The earl would kill him if he found him in such shape on his doorstep. Gray scrubbed at his face. The driver chuckled again. Then he climbed back up into his seat and put his pair in motion.
Gray swayed in the wind produced by the departure. A stiff wind would most likely blow him over. He steeled himself and took a hesitant step forward. He could do this. He could get inside, fall into bed, and wake up on the morrow with no one the wiser. Couldn’t he? Well, he’d done so before. Of course, he’d never spent one night under Holmesfield’s roof before.
The doorway looked like it was fathoms away. But he trudged forward once he willed his feet to move. When he reached the door, he settled his palms against it, and then his forehead, leaning heavily into it for support. If it wasn’t so late, the door would be formally attended. It was his own damn fault that he had to make noise at all. He was an idiot. But that was neither here nor there, not at this point.
He gently rapped upon the door. Within moments, he heard the light clip of footsteps and the door was flung open. Unfortunately, it did so while Gray was still using it for support. Within seconds, he found himself stumbling forward with all the finesse of a charging bull. And the butler, rather than waiting to be bowled over, stepped to the side to avoid being flattened instead of reaching out to stop Gray’s fall. Back home, they had burly servants who could handle a crisis. Evidently, the Earl of Holmesfield employed skinny servants who couldn’t handle a gentleman in his prime. Particularly not one of Lycan nature—tall and broad.
The butler did scurry forward as soon as Gray hit the floor. Gray landed on his elbow and rolled to cradle it. “Are you all right, sir?” the man whispered harshly.
Gray raised his head from the floor and glanced up at the butler, then lowered it back to land with a thud on the rug. It really was difficult to judge how hard a rug would be when one was foxed. “Do I look all right?” he grunted in response.
“Indeed, you look as though you have thoroughly enjoyed your evening, sir,” the man said. “Can I help you to your feet?” He held out a hand.
Gray raised his head again and groaned. “You and who else?” he muttered. The butler could not possibly help raise him.
“I’m stronger than I look, sir,” the butler said as his chest puffed up.
If that was the case, Gray wouldn’t be lying on the floor. He rolled to his side and climbed up on his hands and knees, then toddled to his feet. The room spun around him, and Gray reached for the butler. Wiry little thing, he was.
Suddenly, the scent of summer hit his nose, assaulting him almost as harshly as the floor had a moment ago. “Was Miss Mayeux recently here?” he asked.
“The earl’s granddaughter? Not that I’m aware of, sir.” He avoided Gray’s gaze.
“Ah, sleeping at your post, huh?” That made perfect sense. “If you’ll keep my little secret, I’ll keep yours.”
The man smiled broadly. “Bargain accepted,” he said.
Gray gestured down the hallway. “What’s down that corridor?” he asked.
“His lordship’s study.”
Gray couldn’t see Liviana Mayeux cavorting about her grandfather’s study at this time of night. “What else?” He made an impatient move with his hand.
“The yellow parlor.” The butler shrugged. “The kitchens.”
Gray nodded. “You may go,” he said. He had most definitely caught her scent. And despite his state of inebriation, he had a desire to find out why on earth Miss Mayeux would be wandering the corridors at such a late hour.
The butler looked somewhat relieved at being dismissed. “Shall I wait for Lord Radbourne?” he asked.
Gray highly doubted that Archer would find his way home that night. When he’d left Archer, he’d been heavily engaged in a game of cards. He was winning. Gray, on the other hand, was not. Once the liquor had begun to flow, he’d lost hand after hand. Archer, however, was quite the opposite sort. So, his older brother had taken a break long enough to put Gray in a hack before returning to the tables—at least Gray assumed he’d returned to the tables. There were a few pretty bundles to be had, as well. Either way, it didn’t matter. Gray was here and Archer was not.