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“How like a gentleman to claim his inappropriate speech as blunt honesty, but in a lady it is seen as brash and scandalous behavior. I would have only been honest as you are, my lord.”
“Are you attempting to match wits with me, Lady Olivia?”
“I believe I succeeded.”
A deceptively wicked smile played about his mouth.
“You are quite decisive with your tongue, young lady,” the baroness said with a frown.
Before she could retort, Lady Willa interjected sweetly and softly, “Dear Livvie, a young lady must never be seen as vulgar in her comportment.”
The baroness harrumphed her approval.
“I daresay she should not be a docile doormat, either,” Livvie said with a small smile, and then deliberately stuffed her mouth with a piece of lamb to prevent herself from saying anything further. She would wait five more minutes and then excuse herself. Five minutes. She could do this, she assured herself.
“Upon my word,” Francie said. “Forgive my brother, Willa, I daresay there are days he and Livvie bicker as if they are an old married couple. It’s quite fascinating really.”
“Good God,” Tobias snapped low and hard into the silence that fell at the table. “I’ve never heard a more appalling jest from you, Fran.”
She smiled widely, a glint in her eyes that made Livvie distinctly uncomfortable.
“I rather think you and Livvie would make a riveting couple, don’t you agree, Mother?” Francie asked sweetly. “They are positively charming together.”
The dowager countess glared at her daughter, and Willa flushed, narrowing her eyes at Francie.
Then Tobias spoke. “I’d rather be drawn and quartered.”
The cold rejection pierced Livvie’s heart. That he would so baldly say that he found her unsuitable in front of company stung, deeply. Her hands trembled and she lowered her knife and fork, unable to glance in his direction. It angered her, that he could have provoked such an emotion in her heart. What she hated even more was the sudden silence at the table. The meal was almost over, she only had to survive a few minutes longer and then she could plead a headache and retire.
“Well,” Lady Blade said, “I understand that lovely Lady Willa has been practicing a delightful new piece for the pianoforte. Shall we withdraw to the drawing room so she can play for us?”
After a few seconds of no reply, Livvie looked at Tobias. Her breath strangled in her throat. She was the sole recipient of his piercing and unflinching regard. Would he apologize? Not that it would improve her reputation in the eyes of his guests after his cutting words, but it would soothe the unrelenting sting in her heart. She held his eyes for precious seconds, then his cold magnetic gaze lowered and dismissed her. There was a soft gasp from Francie, as humiliation and anger burned through Livvie in equal measure.
“I would be most pleased to hear Lady Willa play,” he said, his face impassive. “After the gentlemen have drunk their port.”
His calm indifference was beyond rude and it did not improve Livvie’s temper. Her chest hurt with the effort to remain apparently unaffected. With as much comportment as she could muster, she placed her napkin on the table, and stood. “If you will excuse me, I have a headache and wish to retire to my room.” After a slight curtsy to the general assembly, she walked quietly from the large dining hall.
Instead of heading to her room, she rushed through the hallway and went to the side entrance out into the gardens. She took a deep breath. Then another. It did not help. Anger still coursed through her veins. How could he be so boorish and uncivil? She rushed down the path, breathing the cold ai
r into her lungs, remembering her lessons. A young lady must never openly display her anger or emotions. Her lower lip trembled and she bit into it to make it stop. After staring at flowers unseen, a smile touched her lips.
She knew exactly what she needed to do to feel better… It was highly unladylike and improper, and in this moment she did not care one bit.
Several hours later, Livvie waited stealthily beside the stairs of the east wing. It was talked of by the servants in whispers as Lord Blade’s wing. He was the only person at Grangeville Park to reside in this section of the house. All the current guests, his sister, mother, and her rooms were in the west wing. She had spent hours immersed in painting, waiting for when he would retire. She had barely escaped his rooms, and had even passed his valet at the top of the stairs with the bucket in her hand. Mr. Ackers had seemed flummoxed, and she had given him a wide smile and continued on her merry way, praying he would not turn down the sheets for the earl.
After Lord Blade finally left the library and climbed the stairs, she waited a few minutes before following. Now she was sitting on top of the stairs in her very ugly, bulky, and favorite nightgown feeling decidedly foolish. Oh, what had she been thinking? What if he was so outraged at her ill-conceived prank that he had her kicked out?
Jumping to her feet, Livvie rushed toward the earl’s chamber. She needed to find a way to distract him and remove the slugs. A loud, surprised bellow echoed in the hallway. She faltered.
Too late.
A crash was heard and what sounded suspiciously like an enraged snarl echoed through the door before a chilling silence. Instead of great satisfaction, she felt distressingly small. The door was wrenched open and the earl framed the doorway. She swallowed, her eyes glued to a powerful male chest. He was only clothed in a purple banyan…which was so loosely tied, it bordered on indecent. “I…my lord…I…” What could she say? What defense did she have?
“It speaks,” he said dangerously soft, and all the contrition she had been feeling melted away.
It?
“I beg your pardon?”
