by Jen Yates
‘You went to Levi Longfellow last night?’ Goldie’s eyes were wide with horror. ‘Your Papa—’
Liberty fixed Goldie with a steady glare.
‘Papa is getting what he wants—me safely married to Lord Earnslaw, all scandal averted. Is it so wrong that I chose to take some little thing for myself? That I chose to bestow my virginity at least, where I wished? Papa need never know—’
‘Lord Earnslaw will know you don't come to him as a maiden.’
‘That I cannot make myself care about. Now let me sleep two more hours. Please? Order my bath for eleven.’
‘Aye, my Lady,’ she said, ‘but I'll have to work in here cleaning your things. We can't risk anyone else seeing the state they’re in and coming to obvious conclusions.’
‘Thanks Goldie. I’ll increase your wages once I'm Lady Earnslaw. Your loyalty is greatly appreciated. Please wake me at eleven.’
Pulling the quilts over her head, she closed herself back into the dream where Levi’s arms encircled her, his legs entwined with hers and their chests rose and fell with synchronized breaths and heartbeats.
***
Luncheon with the family had been an ordeal. Charity and Hugh were home from their schools for the wedding and both were inclined to pout because she'd not spent the morning with them.
Well, Charity pouted.
Hugh did his usual stoic-faced thing, trying to look as if he cared about nothing. He worked very hard at suppressing the passionate temperament that went with his dark auburn hair, but she'd seen the flash of longing in his hazel green eyes. She always made time to be alone with Hugh when they were home together, just so he could unload all the misery he felt at being away at school. The only thing that made it bearable for him was the presence of his closest friend, young Grayson Adderley from Highbrooke.
Verity was beyond ecstatic at having all her siblings at home.
‘I wish it was fine so we could go down to the river and climb in the lightning tree, like we used to. Could we play hide and seek in the attics?’
Charity smirked at her little sister.
‘Libby's going to be an old married lady. Hide and seek in the attics might not be considered proper.’
Verity pouted, and for once Liberty found herself smiling in agreement with Charity.
‘Why don't we all go up to the school room so we can catch up on Charity and Hugh’s news. No one will disturb us up there.’
‘And our news too, Libby. We've got news. You're getting married tomorrow and Charity hasn’t seen your dress yet.’
Liberty sucked in a deep breath to settle the churn of denial roiling up from her belly.
‘And your old pony, Lucille, had a foal—’
‘Could we go down to the stables and visit her?’ Verity bounced immediately. ‘She's got black and white socks just like Lucille and I've called her Lucky.’
‘Let's do that,’ Hugh spoke up. ‘I’d like to see Ebon. He's probably forgotten what I look like. Pity we couldn't go for a ride.’
‘The ground is too treacherous for riding at present,’ Papa rumbled from the end of the table. ‘You'd best content yourselves with a visit to the stables.’
‘Wrap up warm,’ Mama added, then turned to the butler, hovering as always near the sideboard. ‘Sherman, please send for the children's cloaks and boots.’
‘Right away, my Lady.’
Verity started to giggle, her light green eyes dancing between her two big sisters.
‘What?’ Charity couldn't resist asking, and though Liberty wanted to know what had set her baby sister off, she doubted she would find it particularly elevating.
‘Mama called you children.’
‘Well, we are Mama’s children,’ Liberty said patiently, sending Charity a warning glance. It really wasn't worth starting a sibling war over and her middle sister always struggled not to rise to Verity’s sometimes inane, sometimes wickedly inciting, utterances.
‘You’ll always be my children,’ Mama said in her mild and gentle way. ‘Even when you're old and grey, Verity Alice. My beloved children.’
‘And Papa's?’ the artless child demanded of the stern, dark-browed man at the head of the table. ‘Are we your beloved children too?’
Liberty’s gaze met her father's down the table. As they often did, his eyes blazed a deep vibrant blue and he let his glance settle briefly on each of his offspring around the table, stopping at Verity.
‘You are, Verity Alice.’
It was all the child needed to perfect her day—her father's love and approval. In this moment, Liberty knew she had it too, for he thought her obedient to his wishes.
And so she was—to a degree.
It was the degree to which she hadn't been obedient, that allowed her to function, to give the appearance of acceptance, to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.
And she hoped it hid her wicked wish that her husband would die—as soon as they wed.
‘Let's go visit the stables then,’ she said, erupting out of her chair, ‘if we may be excused?’
She needed to be doing something, anything, to suppress the thought she was likely going to hell for harboring such evil intent towards another person—a man whose company she had quite enjoyed—until she’d understood the import of his attentions.
At a nod from their father, they all rose and trooped out into the hall where Goldie and a maid soon appeared with cloaks and boots. Suitably clad against the cold, they ventured out, Verity’s warm little hand slipping into Liberty’s as they hurried down the cleared cinder path to the stables.
Leaving Verity and Charity snuggled in the straw with Lucille's foal, Liberty leant on the stall door with Hugh while he fed apple treats to Ebon, his pitch black gelding.
‘Why are you marrying that old man, Libby?’ he blurted, his teenage voice cracking with his disbelief. ‘He's older than Papa.’
Liberty gazed unseeingly at the horse noisily crunching on the treat and concentrated on keeping her breathing even. His pained question had ripped a chink in the armor plating her heart and she could not allow that to happen.
At fourteen Hugh had the maturity of an old man himself. In some ways he was very like their father, serious and a deep thinker.
‘Papa is making you marry him, isn't he?’ he demanded when she was unable to formulate an answer.
‘Don't, Hugh. It's alright. I've—reconciled to it.’
‘Reconciled? Libby, this is your life. You’re reconciled to it? I’ll speak to Papa. It's not right—’
‘No, Hugh. You’ll only call Papa's anger onto yourself. I understand what he's done—why he's done it. It is for all of us, all of you. Because, if I had my way, I’d run off with Levi—and the scandal of that would affect all of you. The fact Lord Earnslaw is so old is to my advantage—the sooner he’ll make me a widow.’
She swallowed. That was at least the third time she’d said that out loud.
‘Dammit, Libby.’
‘Hush. Tell me about school. Is Haycock still bullying you?’
‘Nah—Gray and I have sorted Haycock,’ he said with relish, and Liberty breathed easier as he launched into a description of the mill in which he and Grayson Adderley had taught their nemesis a salutary lesson.
Hugh was only fourteen. Much too young to be trying to fight her battles for her.
A commotion at the other end of the stables indicated the arrival of two carriages and their horses. Knowing that meant her betrothed and his family had likely arrived, Liberty briefly considered the polite thing to do would be to return to the house.
But nothing she told herself could make her feel anything like polite.
‘Let's go hide in the stall with the girls and Lucky.’
Hugh wriggled his brows at her with as mischievous a look as her brother ever got and they quietly slipped into Lucille’s box and dropped into the straw with Charity and Verity.
‘This is the best,’ Verity cried. ‘All of us here together—’
‘Hush,’ Liberty whispered, running her fingers through her sister’s fine silver blonde curls. ‘We're hiding.’
‘Who from?’
‘Lord Earnslaw has arrived,’ Hugh growled.
‘Oh—I like Lord Earnslaw,’ Verity said, a little petulantly. ‘He always brings us special bonbons his cook makes. None of Papa’s other friends ever bring us anything.’
Charity’s dark blue eyes, so like their father’s, surveyed Liberty with concern. She’d only come home yesterday and there’d been little time for confidences.
‘Do you not want to see Lord Earnslaw, Lib? You’re marrying him tomorrow. Is there something going on, something I'm not being told? Have you been—compromised?’
Her voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes anxiously searched her sister's face.
‘What’s compromised mean?’ Verity asked, running her finger down the white slash on Lucky’s nose.
Charity rolled her eyes.
‘It means promised. As in Liberty’s promised to Lord Earnslaw,’ Charity hastily assured the child, but her gaze never left her older sister’s face.
Liberty’s look of horror was enough of an answer for Charity, hopefully giving her the false belief her sister was as uncompromised as she should be.
‘I always thought you and Levi—’
Liberty squeezed her eyes shut against the pain. She hadn't realized her younger siblings had seen so much, understood so much—and if they didn't stop with the questioning and indignation on her behalf she was going to lose the composure she’d fought so hard to gather together.
‘I can't even think about Levi—until I'm Lord Earnslaw’s widow. Then I'll be free to—make my own choices.’
***
They stayed quietly chatting in the straw with Lucille and her foal until a footman dispatched from the house found them and summoned them to the drawing room immediately.
So Liberty presented herself to her betrothed, with wisps of straw clinging to her skirts and smelling of the stables.
Lord Earnslaw scarcely seemed to notice, much less care.
He took her hand in his, bent low and pressed his lips to the back of it. Liberty fought to keep her features neutral, acutely aware this was their first meeting as a betrothed couple and all her family and several of his were gathered about, taking it all in.
‘Liberty, my dear, I’m deeply cognizant of the honor you do me. May I introduce you to my family?’
Heat crawled into her cheeks as Liberty took in the elegance of the pair before her.
‘My eldest son, Gareth, Viscount Princeton and his wife, Lady Astoria.’
Liberty remembered her manners and managed to bob a stiff little curtsy. Neither appeared remotely impressed with the hoyden before them and Liberty was quite sure she caught Lady Astoria wrinkling her nose and rolling her eyes at her husband, who had a decidedly mocking smirk on his face.
Viscount Princeton could have been a handsome man if it wasn't for the self-satisfied arrogance he wore like a shield of armor over any hint of humanity or congeniality he might have had.
He was elbowed aside by a taller, indecently handsome man, who Liberty would have recognized as Justin’s son if she'd had to pick him out in a crowded room. Thus must his father have looked as a younger man, and for a confused moment she acknowledged a truth everyone else probably accepted already, that even at almost seventy years of age Lord Earnslaw was still a handsome man.
Where George, for so Justin introduced him, had dark hair, Justin’s was iron grey though not quite as luxuriant. And the grey eyes flashing down at her were a much livelier version of Justin’s kind, wise ones.
George appeared as oblivious as his father to the state of her dress or the distinctive aromas of the stable that arose from it. Taking possession of her hand as she reluctantly offered it, he bowed low with a rakish elegance and brushed his lips over the backs of her fingers. Liberty snatched her hand back as he came upright, grinning at her with devilish intent.
This one was trouble—and oddly enough, she felt quite comfortable with that. Trouble she could handle.
‘Lady Liberty. Charmed to meet you. I can quite see why an old man might be smitten. And that you clearly don't mind messing about in stables, is quite—enchanting.’
Liberty stiffened, raised her chin and stared the man coldly in the eye.
‘Thank you, Lord George. I have indeed come from the stables, visiting the foal of which my little sister is particularly enamored. Now, if you will all excuse me, I should go and change.’
Her gaze met her mother's across the room, and Liberty was gratified by her slight nod of approval. Apparently, she’d passed the first test.
However, she would make sure not to be caught at such a disadvantage again. It was a salutary lesson and in her inimitable way, Mama had said nothing, letting Liberty discover for herself that rebelling by presenting herself in such disarray disadvantaged no one so much as herself.
She would not put herself in that position again.
‘Would you meet me in the conservatory when you come back down, Liberty? I would like to have some private time with you.’
Oh God, now she realized how foolish it was not to have allowed herself to think about what would be expected of her, what Lord Earnslaw would expect of her. Of course he would expect to spend time with her, to talk with her—
‘Very well. I shall be down shortly.’
‘I will await you—in the conservatory.’
***
He was in the butterfly house with Papa when Liberty stepped into the conservatory, kept warm by large iron wood stoves at either end.
But while both men were engrossed with the ephemeral creatures they loved, Justin noticed her arrival immediately and came out to meet her. Henry followed and with one deeply meaningful glance in his daughter’s direction, excused himself.
Liberty scarcely knew what to expect, and Justin just standing and gazing at her as if she was some kind of beautiful miracle, was definitely not it. He looked so happy—and she felt so—angry, betrayed, deprived. She couldn't be what he was expecting and she’d had no idea how uncomfortable, how beastly that would make her feel.
She was supposed to be the one wronged here.
‘May I hold you, Liberty? We are to be wed tomorrow and I've not even held you in my arms, much less kissed you.’
Liberty struggled not to grimace, lowered her eyes and bit her lip. Hard. She didn't dare open her mouth to say anything for the only word resounding in her head was ‘no’.
He probably wouldn't be expecting that.
His hands settled on her shoulders, thumbs resting gently in the curve of her neck. She held still. Gently, he drew her in against his chest and his arms encircled her body, fingers splaying warm against her back.
His body was surprisingly firm against hers.
Warm, gentle—and comforting. She’d never imagined she'd feel any of those things about him. His lips settled against her forehead in a kiss that felt like—gratitude or a benediction.
Dear God. She was a bitch. All she wanted was to dash his hands from her body, and run out of the conservatory, out of the house, and not stop until she was safely hidden in the loft above the Stannesford Stables—with Levi.
It was Levi's voice that kept her in place, Levi telling her, reminding her, marriage to this man was their only hope of ever being together.
Did she have the strength? How long would they have to wait?
Her hands had come up to rest against his chest and she fought against herself to keep them there, flattened and accepting rather than thrusting him away.
He did not hurry her, did not demand, only coaxed and murmured soft words of endearment.
She would endure. She could, she told herself. At least she didn't actively dislike the man.
One gentle probing kiss finally landed on her mouth and then she ducked her head and hid her face against his chest—and heard his heart beating. Felt the gentle thud of it against her cheek.
Reminding herself yet again that this was for Levi and their future together, she eased back out of his arms a little.
‘T—tell me of Earnslaw. Is that—where we will live?’
‘Yes.’ Taking her hand he led her to a stone bench placed near one of the big iron stoves. ‘Old Maxie has just been in to stoke the fires so we shouldn't be disturbed for an hour or so. The Earnslaw estate is in Wiltshire and lies just beyond Chippingham on the Bath Road, a day's drive from here. Not so far.’
‘Will I be able to come home sometimes?’
‘Of course. I had thought we would have Christmas and the rest of the winter at Earnslaw and then—should you like to spend the Season in London? Every young lady should experience the Season at least once and I would not wish to deprive you of that. I still like to take my seat in the House. I had also thought I might entertain a little, now I have such a beautiful hostess to honor my home.’
His hand was warm over hers, her skin tingling where his thumb rubbed gently back and forth across a vein. It was mesmerizing, surreal. Oddly—gentling. She had to admit he was a comfortable man to be around. She’d found it so the day he’d taken her driving.
‘I’ve never considered the possibility of a Season since neither Mama nor Papa ever go up to London.’
And she'd not wanted a Season because Levi wouldn't be able to share it with her. But perhaps she could admit she’d wondered how it would be to attend a ball, go to the theatre or the opera, or ride in Hyde Park. It all sounded so very sophisticated.
‘You’ve never been to London? Should you like to do so?’
‘I—yes—perhaps.’
‘Liberty,’ he said, turning to face her. His brows were slightly bushy and came together in a frown across his forehead. His mouth was a firm, straight line as if he was displeased. ‘Dammit,’ he growled, ‘I think I’ve gone about this all wrong.’ Keeping hold of her hand, he slowly sank to one knee before her. ‘Astonishing as it may seem, I’ve never been in love before and had no idea how being so can destroy a man's ability to think.’