Olivia and the Masked Duke Read online

  Livy did not mind. The few times she had interacted with the Duchess of Hadleigh, she had run out of things to say. In the glamorous lady’s company, she felt gauche and as dull as ditchwater.

  Seeing Hadleigh’s lanky form round the lush green wall, Livy composed herself.

  “I thought I would find you here.” He strode over in his easy, long-limbed stride. He sat beside her on the wooden bench with the familiarity of an old friend. Studying her with dark sapphire eyes, he said, “Did you not know that I came to call?”

  She considered lying, but she was no good at social niceties. That was part of her problem.

  “I knew,” she said.

  “But you didn’t come to see me?” A furrow appeared between his dark brows. “Have I done something to annoy you, little one?”

  He was the only adult she knew who would ask such a question. It was one of the reasons she liked him. He cared what she thought and treated her as his equal.

  “Of course not.” She expelled a breath. “I just wasn’t in the mood for company.”

  “Come to think of it, neither am I.” He smiled faintly. “Do you mind if we are alone together for a while?”

  She shook her head. Quiet settled, each of them lost in their own brooding thoughts. Of late, Livy had discovered that silence had many forms. The awkward kind when one had nothing to add to conversations about frippery and eligible matches. The cruel kind when one’s classmates stopped talking when one approached, their backs forming a wall.

  The present silence was comforting, like a trusty and timeworn blanket. It made Livy feel safe. Safe enough to let the truth out.

  “They hate me,” she blurted.

  Hadleigh angled his head at her. “Who does?”

  “Everyone. All the girls at Southbridge’s,” she said morosely.

  “Why?”

  This was another reason Livy liked Hadleigh. Whenever she had brought up this topic with her parents, they tried to fix the problem for her. Papa had even threatened to have a “discussion” with the headmistress and parents of the other girls, which Livy knew would make matters worse.

  Hadleigh, on the other hand, actually listened to her.

  “Because I’m not like the other girls,” she admitted. “I don’t care about gowns and gossip, and I detest needlepoint. They think I’m peculiar. And it didn’t help that last week one of the girls tried to squish a spider with her slipper, and I stopped her.”

  Hadleigh nodded in understanding; he knew about Livy’s fascination with spiders. Ever since Papa had told her the story about how a spider’s perseverance had inspired Robert the Bruce, the great Scottish king, to win a battle, she had become an ardent admirer of the arachnid. How many creatures showed such tenacity and fortitude? Could weave something as lovely, fragile, and lethal as a spider’s web?

  “Since spiders seldom harm humans and rid us of household pests, there is no good reason to kill them,” he said gravely.

  “Precisely.” She jerked her chin in emphatic agreement. “But my interest in spiders isn’t the only problem. The girls are calling me a troublemaker.”

  Hadleigh quirked a brow. “Are you?”

  “No—I mean, not on purpose. But if someone does something unjust to someone else, one cannot stand by and do nothing, can one?”

  “Depends on who ‘one’ is. If we are talking about you, then, no, probably not.”

  “The most popular girl at the school, Sally, Lord Sackville’s daughter, broke an expensive vase,” Livy said furiously. “I saw her, and so did a roomful of our peers. But Sally blamed it on Tilda, one of the maids. Tilda got sacked. And all the girls are saying how clever Sally is and how Tilda deserved it because they never liked her manner. As if that is sufficient justification to cause that poor woman to lose her position and livelihood!”

  “You told the headmistress the truth, I gather?”

  “Of course I did!” Livy clenched her skirts in frustration. “But it did not make an iota of difference. She said that there was no evidence that Sally broke the vase, and if one wishes to get on in society, it is best not to gossip about one’s peers. I was not gossiping; I was providing eyewitness testimony!”

  Hadleigh’s lips gave a faint twitch. “If the headmistress didn’t do anything, how did the other girls figure out that you talked to her?”

  “Because I went to Sally and demanded that she write out a confession,” Livy said grimly.

  He coughed in his fist. “How did that, er, go over?”

  “She laughed in my face. Then she told all the girls I am a tattletale. And that is why,” she finished darkly, “they all hate me.”

  “I see.” He paused. “It seems to me you have to decide how to move forward.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not apologizing to Sally.”

  “I would not expect you to. But you do have to decide: what matters more, being popular or being true to yourself?”

  “Being true to myself. Without question.”

  “Then let that guide what you do next.” His eyes were the warm indigo blue of a summer night. “Listen to your heart, Livy. It will not guide you wrong.”

  She canted her head, considering the advice. “Do you listen to your heart, Hadleigh?”

  Storm clouds darkened his gaze. “My heart is not good and pure like yours. I do not trust it to make good decisions.”

  “Your heart is good.” Shocked that he would think otherwise, she said staunchly, “You are one of the most honorable men I know.”

  “I am flattered that you think so. Now about these chits at Southbridge’s—”

  “I know so.” She wasn’t about to let him divert the topic. “You risked your life to save mine.”

  “I did as anyone would have done.” His tone was dismissive. “It was nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing to me,” she protested. “I like being alive, thank you very much.”

  He gave her one of his rare smiles that involved his lips and his eyes. Reaching over, he tugged gently on one of her ringlets. When her brother Christopher pulled her hair, Livy found it annoying, but she didn’t mind when Hadleigh did it. He brooded too much, and it was nice when he acted more carefree.

  “I am glad you are alive too, little one,” he said softly.

  Glad that he was back in good spirits, she said, “What were you going to say about the girls at school?”

  “Find a friend amongst them,” he said. “I would wager not everyone agrees with what Sally did. Unlike you, they are probably just too scared to stand up to a bully.”

  “I will try.” She sighed. “I cannot wait until next year when Glory and Fiona join me at the school. Then I will have true friends by my side.”

  “The three of you together?” Amusement lit Hadleigh’s eyes. “Sally Sackville—nay, the world—had better watch out.”

  Present Day

  “Drat.” Beneath his floppy chestnut curls, Will’s little face was disgruntled as he looked at the board. “Livy wins again.”

  Livy gave her youngest brother an affectionate look. At eight years old, he was as competitive as she was. It was lucky that Christopher, their middle brother, possessed an easy-going temperament, or their games would devolve into bloodshed.

  At present, she and Chris were sitting with Will on his bed. Will had delicate lungs, a fact that frustrated the poor dear to no end. In particular, the London air brought upon a shortness of breath that prevented him from romping around as he liked. To cheer him up, Livy and Chris had brought in a game of anagrams.

  The game was also a good distraction from Livy’s own despair. Since Hadleigh’s rejection three nights ago, she had shed countless tears in private, crying herself to sleep. Even though Fi and Glory had visited, giving her encouragement, she’d been despondent. Could there be anything more devastating than the man you loved telling you that he only thought of you as a younger sister?

  “You could let Will win for once,” Chris said under his breath.

  Livy
was glad to have her mawkish thoughts interrupted. At sixteen, Chris was tall and lanky, with their papa’s handsomeness and dark coloring. He was the charming peacemaker of the siblings.

  “How would that help our brother become a better player?” Livy pointed out. “I am teaching him what it takes to win.”

  “I don’t want Livy to go easy on me,” Will said adamantly. “I am going to beat her all on my own. It is like that story Papa tells about the spider and Robert the Bruce: if at first you don’t succeed, try and try again.”

  “All right, little king,” Chris said good-naturedly. “You can go first this round.”

  As they took turns drawing letters from the pile and using them to form words, Livy found it difficult to keep her mind on the game. The tale of Robert the Bruce and the spider, one of her childhood favorites, whirled in her head.

  As the story went, after losing six wars to the invading English, the Scottish King had taken refuge from the enemy in a cave, where he saw a spider try to weave a web from wall to wall. Six times the spider tried to throw the thread to the opposite wall; six times she failed. Yet on the seventh try, she succeeded.

  According to folklore, this inspired Robert the Bruce to persevere, which led to his trouncing of the English army in his seventh battle. Scotland’s independence was recognized…all because the brave warrior—and the spider—refused to give up.

  A sudden recognition flared in Livy. If they didn’t give up…why am I doing so?

  Love was a battlefield, and fortune favored the bold. Hadleigh might think of her as a sister now, but surely she could change that. After all, her own feelings for him had been transformed in a single, scorching moment. Livy felt a hot flutter as she recalled seeing Hadleigh with Lady Foxton. Until the moment she had peeped into the stable, she had thought of him as a friend. Yet as she’d watched Hadleigh spank his voluptuous lover over a bale of hay, wanton longing had spread through her.

  A part of her had known that she ought to be shocked. Disgusted by such a display of depravity. What she had actually felt was fascination…and need.

  When Lady Foxton had begged Hadleigh to give her release, an electrifying sensation had swept through Livy. The peaks of her breasts had stiffened, a pulsing urgency at her core. As Hadleigh had rutted Lady Foxton, his lean hips slamming against the other’s jiggling bottom, his hands holding her hair like reins as she mewled in delight, Livy had shivered with a strange and undeniable recognition.

  She wanted to be where Lady Foxton was. To be Hadleigh’s lover. To be the only one to feel his masterful touch, to moan beneath his potent caresses…and to hold his heart. The truth had cascaded through every cell and fiber of her being: I am in love with him. In that instant, her girlish adoration had been transformed into a woman’s awareness and determination.

  She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Ben Wodehouse.

  And she would not let one measly failure dissuade her from her goal.

  “It’s your turn.” Will’s impatient voice cut through her flash of insight.

  Chris gave her a quizzical look. “Is something amiss? You never wool-gather during a game.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “Everything’s fine.” Now that I’ve sorted things out.

  Her mind back on task, she trounced her brothers readily.

  Amidst Will’s groans, Mama entered the room in a rustle of rose silk.

  “Heavens,” she said with an exasperated smile. “Are the three of you still at it?”

  “Livy keeps winning, and Will keeps demanding rematches,” Chris explained. “I am stuck in the middle.”

  “William, you need your rest. Chris, consider yourself unstuck,” Mama said. “And Livy, why have you not changed for Mrs. Hunt’s charity symposium?”

  Livy had forgotten about the event. Hosted by Mama’s friend, Persephone Hunt, the symposium aimed to match young ladies with charities that interested them. Mama was taking Livy and the Willflowers.

  “Sorry, Mama.” Livy jumped up. “I’ll get ready now.”

  “I will help you,” Mama said with a sigh.

  As they headed to her bedchamber, Livy considered confiding in her mother about Hadleigh. As much as she loved her parents, she doubted that they would approve of a match with him. They would say he was too old for her, despite their own gap in age. And how many times had she overheard them discussing his rakish tendencies? Just yesterday, she’d eavesdropped on their conversation from outside the breakfast room.

  “Fine fellow,” Papa had said. “But he is his own worst enemy when it comes to females. He is too old to carry on in this fashion and ought to settle down.”

  “Like you did?” Mama had teased.

  “I’ve found domestic bliss. No reason Hadleigh cannot do the same.”

  “Hadleigh isn’t you, darling. I’m afraid he might not be capable of being reformed…”

  The last thing Livy needed was additional barriers to her romance. Mama, in particular, had a tendency to be managing. As a girl who was inclined to follow her own counsel, Livy had learned early on that it was best not to solicit parental opinions, particularly if she knew they would be opposing.

  Sin first and ask for forgiveness later summed up Livy’s lifelong philosophy.

  Which reminded her that she needed to put her campaign to win Hadleigh’s heart into action. Time was running out. With the Season coming to an end in a few weeks, she and her family would be leaving for Scotland. She might not see Hadleigh again for months.

  After her mother and her lady’s maid helped her change into a lavender promenade dress and sat her in front of the dressing table, Livy pounced.

  “Mama,” she said. “How are the plans for the supper party this Saturday coming along?”

  “Fine, dear.” Mama fussed with a braided loop of Livy’s hair.

  Livy tried to sound nonchalant. “Did Hadleigh send a reply?”

  “Come to think of it, I do not believe he has.”

  Botheration. How am I going to win his heart if he makes himself scarce?

  Her frustration must have shown because Mama dismissed the maid and said, “What is the matter with you, Livy?”

  She tried not to squirm beneath her mother’s tea-colored gaze. Mama was uncommonly, and at times annoyingly, acute. Before marrying Papa, Mama had apprenticed with her brother, Livy’s Uncle Ambrose, in his private enquiry business. During Livy’s childhood, Mama had continued to take on a few cases…nothing too dangerous, of course. Papa would not allow that. Being an overprotective sort, he’d insisted on escorting Mama on all her investigations.

  In recent years, Mama had taken a hiatus from her enquiry work. She had not lost her powers of observation, however. And she used them frequently on her children.

  “Something has been amiss since the ball,” Mama stated. “I wish to know what it is.”

  “Everything is fine,” Livy said.

  In the looking glass, Mama’s gaze veered heavenward. “You take after your papa, no doubt about it. But I am your mother, Livy, and I can tell you have not been yourself.”

  Knowing her mama could be like a mongrel with a bone, Livy searched for an excuse. “I am sad that the Season is coming to an end, that is all. I shall miss my friends when we return to Scotland.”

  “I do not blame you, dearest. Strathmore is not the liveliest place for a young woman, is it?” Mama sighed. “If it weren’t for William’s condition, we could stay here longer, but the London air is so trying for his lungs.”

  At her mother’s torn expression, Livy was struck with guilt.

  “I do not mind,” she said quickly. “Will’s health must come first.”

  Mama studied her, then gave a brisk nod. “Now about the supper party. I am working on the seating arrangement and wondered who you preferred to be placed next to, Lord Sheffield or Lord Kinley?”

  Neither. I’d like to sit with Hadleigh.

  Suppressing a sigh, she said, “Either would be fine.”

  “Lord Sheffield has been paying
you marked attention these past months, and Lord Kinley has all but stated his intentions to your papa. Do you have a preference for either of them, Livy? I would like to know where your inclinations, if any, lie.”

  With Hadleigh. Always and forever with him.

  “I have no preference between Lords Sheffield and Kinley,” she said honestly.

  “Well, there’s no rush, is there?” Mama adjusted a ribbon in Livy’s hair. “You are young, and you have the Kent blood running in your veins. It is a proven fact that we Kents marry for love, so when the time comes, your heart will guide you true.”

  Listen to your heart. Hadleigh had given her the same advice once.

  Hearing Mama reinforce this message lifted Livy’s spirits. The Kent side of the family was legendary amongst the ton for making love matches; surely that would hold true for Livy as well? All she had to do was convince Hadleigh that their love was meant to be.

  I will wage a battle to win Hadleigh’s heart, she thought fiercely. I’ll try and try again until I succeed.

  6

  The charity symposium was held at the Hunt Academy, located on the fringes of Covent Garden. Mr. and Mrs. Hunt, who were close friends of Livy’s parents, had purchased the former spice warehouse, transforming it into a bright, cheery school for foundlings. The academy’s purpose was to provide its students with food, shelter, and the tools to earn a living once they graduated. The curriculum included reading and writing, as well as instruction in a variety of trades.

  As Mama led Livy and her friends into the packed auditorium, they were greeted by Persephone Hunt, a pretty blonde whose slender form was clad in a flounced frock that matched her vivid blue eyes.

  Mama exchanged air kisses with her friend. “Percy, my dear, you have outdone yourself. Your symposium is an absolute crush. Half the ton must be here.”

  “The response has been even better than I had hoped.” Mrs. Hunt beamed. “There are over two dozen charities represented today. With such a selection, I hope the ladies will find a cause worthy of their time and energy.” Addressing Livy, Fiona, and Glory, she said with a smile, “Go on and browse the tables, my dears. And be sure to stop by the Hunt Academy booth. Pippa is manning the table—or womaning it, as she would say—and would love to see you.”