by Stacy Reid
It was not only their tempers the Blade men had in excess. It was all emotions—jealousy, love, grief, and it had led them to do terrible things. Tobias buried the memory of his father’s rages, his mother’s crying, her holding her bruised cheek as she dealt with another of his father’s jealous fits. No…Tobias certainly did not want a woman to inspire him to act with such reckless emotions, without regard for others. He’d fooled himself for years that he was different from his father, his uncles, his grandfather, but then…he had discovered what a fool he had been. Even now, at times he could still see the blood on his hands and feel the crunch of bones under his fist as he succumbed to rage.
He shook his head roughly, trying to clear away the haunting memories.
“You are…staring, my lord.”
“Am I?”
She swallowed. “Yes,” she said softly and shivered.
“You are chilled,” he observed.
“I am. Francie had intended to return with a blanket. I am not sure what has waylaid her.”
Lady Olivia deserved to be chilled. Maybe then she would act with some decorum.
“Are you to offer me your coat?” she asked with a disarming smile.
He met her eyes and what he spied strangled his breath. Without a doubt she was attracted to him. Her cat eyes glowed with wariness, but beyond the fear was desire. He had been politely distant to her since she had been in his household. It seemed he would have to be curter to ensure she would direct her tempting interest elsewhere. “No, I will not.”
“How disagreeable of you.” She sounded as if she had her teeth clenched.
“You were foolish enough to dip in the lake without thought. I trust you will be able to figure out how to enter the house without my mother seeing you or trailing water over the floor.” He tipped his hat. “Good day to you, Lady Olivia.”
Her eyes widened. He spun his horse around and cantered off. It made no sense to indulge in the desire surging through him. Despite the fact that she roused his lust, she also roused his ire, and that, he well knew, was a most dangerous combination.
…
Her heart pounding, Livvie watched the earl urge his horse into a flat run and disappear over the incline. Lord Blade already disapproved of her, and it infuriated Livvie that she wanted his approval after going her whole life without ever wanting such a reaction from a man. The least he could have done was offer his coat. Instead, he’d only stared at her in that bold, piercing way of his.
“Wretched man,” she muttered, hurriedly slipping into her dress. The only thing currently wonderful about the earl was that he had the most beautifully stocked stable of thoroughbreds.
If only he wasn’t so infuriating, so cold toward her, so sinfully handsome. Whenever he was near, she felt different, more alive, and more aware of herself. There were days she ogled the man, even though she had no idea why, for she did not like him, and he certainly held no affections for her. Her very existence seemed to vex the earl and the continued disapproval on Tobias’s face stung. But despite that, there was something. She had always been drawn to the forbidden. Everything the earl represented.
Her papa, despite everything else, had treated her like the son he’d never had. He had taught her how to ride, shoot, hunt, and fence.
At the age of eight, she had been determined to learn to swim so she could join her papa on his morning rituals by the pond instead of her mother in the drawing room. She had snuck out and had almost drowned, but within a few days she was floundering on her own and in a few weeks was a proficient swimmer.
Another of her forbidden misadventures had been when the boys in their village had climbed the large oak tree by the local inn and carved their initials. She had followed and marked her own initials. And on the way down had fallen and dislocated a shoulder. But she had done it and Papa had been very proud of her bravery.
At eleven, after she had moved to live with her mother’s new husband, she came across a dog that had seemed like a wild, starved wolf. Determined to save it, she endured many scratches and even a bite in the process. They were the best of friends even today.
Every time she had gone after something she desired, she had been hurt.
What price would she pay if she danced too close to the earl’s icy flames? For she admitted, finally, that she wanted to feel the press of his lips against hers and the sensation of being wrapped in his strong arms. If only once.
“Good heavens, what is wrong with me?” she muttered.
Livvie pinched the bridge of her nose, clutched her unruly thoughts, and then pushed them firmly aside. She moved briskly across the lawn, chafing her palms against her arms to generate heat. She would not waste another second thinking about the infuriating man. Worse, she believed he recognized her attraction to him and was appalled. Humiliation burned through her at the very notion. She vowed to do all in her power to ensure she appeared immune to his charms.
It would not do to be obvious in her admiration for a man who clearly disliked her.
Chapter Four
Three days later, one perfectly elegant and well-mannered Lady Wilhelmina, who insisted on being called Willa, descended on Grangeville Park with her parents, the Baron and Baroness Ranford, at Tobias’s mother’s invitation. Lady Willa was poised, very demur in her mannerism, and uncommonly beautiful, with her light blond hair and azure eyes. It soon became clear to Livvie that the countess intended Lady Willa as a suitable bride for the earl.
The countess’s report of Lady Willa was highly favorable and she did everything in her power to see them thrown together, from suggesting they drive along the lanes in a landau to experience the beauty of the estate to most ardently encouraging them to take several turns in the gardens alone, and even now, tonight, seating them beside each other at dinner.
It might not have been by design on her part, but Lady Willa’s pale blue high-waisted gown somehow picked out the dainty flowers in the drapery covering the windows of the main dining hall. The dining room had been recently decorated by the dowager in hand-painted wallpaper in tones of blues and creams. The blues also echoed the dinner service in Wedgwood jasperware, which the dowager had also chosen. Livvie personally disliked the large pieces that decorated the mantelpiece and the large silver epergne that acted as the centerpiece for the huge mahogany table.
“You look lovely, Willa, dear,” the dowager countess murmured once everyone was seated. Lord and Lady Ranford quickly echoed the sentiment, ladling lavish compliments upon their daughter.
Willa, of course, basked in the attention, and made it evident she had set her cap at Lord Blade, with her parents’ beaming approval. Livvie considered the dowager’s seating plan to be quite incorrect, particularly as Willa’s rank was no higher than her own and the Earl and Countess of Hempton had also been seated farther down the table. The dowager had argued she was aiming for informality to justify her seating arrangements. Livvie had been seated down the table between an unctuously prosing vicar who was balding prematurely and an extremely deaf retired army Colonel. The Colonel luckily had a string of fairly amusing anecdotes to tell about his time in the army, with which he continued to regale her, loudly, drowning out most of the vicar’s pious utterances.
Lady Willa giggled quite often, batting her long lashes at the earl and finding several reasons to touch his arms or shoulders fleetingly. Yesterday on their walk in the garden, she had even caused her ankle to twist so that Lord Blade had to lift her in his arms and carry her back into the parlor. That contrived “accident” had caused an uproar. Livvie watched it all with some amusement. Willa’s parents were clearly excited and pleased with their daughter’s progress and the countess beamed whenever she spied her son with Lady Willa. The countess had even complimented her several times on her graceful deportment, with pointed glares at Livvie.
But Tobias’s reaction fascinated Livvie. His eyes were devoid of everything but boredom. Nothing the young lady did enticed him, and in fact, it seemed his thoughts were miles away. Even n
ow, he had an air of cold insouciance about him, as he scanned his guests from the head of the table, but she sensed the powerful, clever personality reined in below the surface.
His disinterest was perplexing and strangely filled her with relief. Of course, she would prefer to spend the afternoon sewing before she’d ever admit she might have been a tiny bit jealous of such blonde, ladylike perfection.
Footmen came out with platters of cream of parsnip soup, grass lamb served with an onion sauce, baked trout, asparagus in butter sauce, venison in a raised pie, and the eating and conversation began. Livvie dearly wished she were alone, comfortable in her bed with In the Service of the Crown. The various guests she had dined with since her stay at Grangeville Park had either ignored her or treated her with veiled disdain, which the countess had pretended not to notice.
“Will you be present for the duration of the house party, Lord Blade?” the baroness queried with a smile. “My daughter is looking forward to partnering with you in the croquet match to be held on Friday.”
Tobias’s gaze settled on the baroness. “I had not thought to stay. I have business in Town.”
“My lord, surely you will be here for the weekend, at least,” Willa gasped, looking genuinely appalled at the notion her quarry would be out of reach.
“Tobias,” his mother said, quickly dabbing at her lips with the napkin. “Do not be so rude. Lord Ranford, his wife, and daughter have traveled here especially to get to know you better. It would be such an acute disappointment for me if you were to leave.”
“Rude? You are mistaken, madam, I am being excessively polite,” he said drily. “I will think on it.”
His mother gave him a pleased smile, and conversation once more flowed around the table.
“Are you very excited about your debut into society, Lady Olivia?” Willa asked.
Livvie took a sip of her wine, ordering her thoughts as she became the focus of several pair of eyes…including Tobias’s.
“I—”
“This is not Olivia’s first outing, my dear,” the dowager countess said with a tight smile. “She debuted a few years ago and society found her wanting.”
“Mother!” Francie glared at her.
Francie looked very pretty tonight in a high-waisted lavender silk gown, her dark hair piled atop her head with three strings of pearls around her neck. Her dark green eyes glowed with secrets, mischief, and a good deal of ire. She’d always rushed to Livvie’s defense whenever the countess issued one of her not-too-subtle insults. She loved Francie for her unfailing support.
“I have not misspoken. But I will admit that is what we are doing now, affixing the Blade stamp of approval on Lady Olivia in the hopes she will make a good match.”
Willa’s blue eyes collided with hers. “Is that the truth of it, Livvie? May I call you Livvie? I’ve heard Lady Francie refer to you as such and it is such a darling way to shorten your name.”
Livvie emptied her wineglass, then gently placed it on the table. “I would be pleased to have you call me Livvie…Willa. And I think the truth of it is more that I found society wanting. Or perhaps society and I were of a like mind.”
The countess’s face pinched in disapproval, and she directed the conversation where she wanted, launching into a rousing debate with the baroness on the latest fashions.
“Did you?” Tobias asked.
She glanced at him, very aware of the keen attention Willa and Francie were paying to them. “Did I what, my lord?”
His stare was unnervingly direct. “Find society lacking.”
“Yes.”
His eyes became guarded and she wondered what he was thinking behind his bland facade.
“Are you not going to ask me in what manner I found the ton wanting?” Not that she would ever reveal how devastated she had been when the whispers about her father had started circulating, and the cruel way society had judged her for his actions. But she was very curious as to what the earl was thinking.
“No,” he finally answered. “I would not want you to let loose your wayward and uncontrolled tongue at this moment. I find I am not in the mood to cross swords with you.”
Lady Willa tittered delicately behind her napkin.
“You are being rude, my lord,” Livvie said quietly, very aware of suddenly being the focus of everyone at the table.
“Surely not, merely honest.”
“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?
