by Ava Stone
She smiled at him, a warm, sincere smile that was uniquely hers. “Very poorly, I’m afraid. He didn’t mention Kurt and Kitty until we were on English soil.”
“He didn’t?” The two had met and married in the Caribbean. It wasn’t until months later that the pair, along with his crew, had arrived in England. They’d spent many weeks aboard his ship. But Simon never mentioned his children? Not once?
She shook her head, a look of annoyance settled on her pretty face. “He didn’t think it was important.”
“And yet, you don’t think it’s important for me to tell Miss Danbury?”
“Your situation is different, Alex. You aren’t asking Miss Danbury to raise Poppy. And she already believes you’ve fathered dozens. I just wouldn’t go into the details at first. This I have finally learned after years of marriage, but feel free to ask Beth or Caroline for their opinions. However, I know for a fact there is a lot they don’t bring up in front of James and Staveley—Caroline in particular, as it keeps disharmony from creeping up. But I am also equally certain that Simon, James, and Staveley don’t tell us everything either.”
He smiled at her honesty, one of her most endearing qualities. “I thought you said James couldn’t keep secrets from Beth.”
“There are secrets and then there are secrets.”
Simon came up behind them and clapped a hand to Alex’s back. “I’ve never seen Staveley glare, not even at his degenerate brother-in-law. What did you do?”
Madeline brushed her hand along Simon’s arm and smiled. “I’ll leave him to you, my love.”
Simon draped his arm across Alex’s shoulders. “That bad, is it?”
Funny, Simon was his best friend, the one he was the most similar to, the one who knew most of his secrets; but he was the only one of his friend’s that didn’t have a clue about what was going on with Olivia. Since his impending nuptials were now a foregone conclusion, he told Simon everything about Olivia, the wardrobe, and Staveley’s discovery.
“Staveley’s reasonable. I’m certain marriage isn’t necessary, especially since she’s already engaged. We can all keep our mouths shut.”
Alex scowled at him. “Yes, your sister has done a magnificent job of that so far.” He shook his head as the two of them started down a winding path. “Besides, I’ve been trying to convince Olivia to accept my suit ever since it became apparent that marriage was our only recourse, and if she hadn’t been compromised before, she certainly has been now.”
“So you’re to find yourself a married man then?” Simon swallowed a laugh. “I never thought to see you in such a situation.”
“Neither did I,” he growled miserably.
“Oh, come now, Kelfield. You’re not indifferent to the girl. I’ve watched you drool over her since the day you arrived.”
Alex shot Simon a murderous look.
“And marriage? Well, some of us find the state much to our liking.”
Alex shook his head. “Yes, those of you who had the opportunity to pick your own wives. Not all marriages are as—” he struggled to find the right word, “—happy as yours, James’, or Staveley’s.”
“Staveley’s marriage was arranged.”
Alex snorted. “By Staveley. You were gone then. He spotted Lady Caroline Beckford, vivacious and full of life, at some ball. He found out who she was, and the next day agreed on said arrangement with her brother, Masten, never having worked up the courage to dance with or even speak to the girl. But he still got to do the picking.”
“Do you find Miss Danbury’s character or intellect lacking?”
On the contrary, Olivia was charming in every way. She was perfect. He only wished she felt the same about him, that he’d had more time to convince her to accept him before she didn’t have a choice in the matter. “She’s enchanting. Unfortunately, she loves her fiancé. And I’ve tried, Simon, truly I have, to win her over—to get her to accept me before this thing was forced on both of us. But I’ve run out of time.”
You know, even if most marriages aren’t as happy as ours, most are not as unharmonious as your parents’.”
Unharmonious? That was a euphemism. Dreadful. Ghastly. Cruel. Those were more apt. “This has nothing to do with them.”
Simon’s gaze bored into him. “Liar. I’ve known you forever, Alex. How many years did we share a room? You never allowed yourself to expect anything from anyone, lest you become disappointed. You never rushed to get the post. Never once believed that anyone had sent you a letter or package—”
“And no one ever did,” he reminded his friend. Except for once, his first year at Harrow when he’d received word from his father’s solicitor that his mother had died.
“You never went home, convinced the duke didn’t want you there.”
Alex didn’t want to rehash those terrible years or think about that bastard. Not ever. “I think it is fairly obvious he didn’t want me there, Simon. The man never wrote, visited, or sent for me. And as much as I’m enjoying this trip down memory lane, none of it has anything to do with my situation with Olivia.”
“The point I’m trying to make, my old friend, is that you judge everyone by your father’s measuring stick. Since he was an incredible bastard, you never expect anything from anyone. You’re always convinced that people will disappoint you.”
“An expectation they generally live up to.”
“I suggest you give Miss Danbury the benefit of the doubt. I’ve been watching her, Alex, and she’s not indifferent to you either.”
No, she filled his arms nicely, and he rather imagined that she liked being there, especially if last night was any indication. It wasn’t her passion he was concerned about. It was her heart, and all the unanswered questions that went along with it.
Moments later, he was summoned by a footman. Lord Staveley requested a word with him in Mr. Beckford’s study.
Something had happened, but Livvie didn’t know what exactly. It was rather obvious, however, that it wasn’t good. She sat on an uncomfortable settee while Caroline paced a path in front of her. She’d been summoned from her room by Lord Staveley and told under no circumstances was she to leave the blue salon. That had been a full hour ago.
“Please, can’t you tell me what’s going on?” Livvie asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. Until now, Caroline had quickened her pace when she asked, or frowned, or simply shaken her head—all of which were rare reactions for her loquacious cousin.
Finally Caroline stopped walking and dropped onto the seat next to her. “Darling, why didn’t you tell me? Haven’t I always been there for you?”
“Tell you what?” Livvie’s heart pounded viciously. Had someone seen Alex enter or leave her room last night? Or was she simply anxious and this all had to do with something else entirely?
Caroline frowned. “There’s no point in hiding it anymore, Olivia. Lord Carteret has told Staveley everything. Your mother will have my head.”
She felt the color drain from her face. “Everything?”
Caroline clasped Livvie’s hands and nodded. “He’s meeting with Kelfield as we speak. There’s no time to waste. And we are very fortunate that Staveley has connections to the archbishop. You can’t imagine how many times that’s come in handy.”
“The archbishop?” she echoed, feeling her freedom slip away, making all of this much more real.
“You don’t have time for the banns to be read, Olivia. Too many people already know that something has gone on. And he is Kelfield. None of us want to see your reputation tarnished. Besides, anyone would believe that if Alex found the woman he wanted to marry, he wouldn’t wait for banns. He’s very impatient in that way. He’d marry by special license in any event. That does work in your favor.”
“B-but Philip—”
Caroline sighed, squeezing Livvie’s hand. “There’s no Philip, Olivia. Not anymore. I am very sorry… But I am certain that Alex will take care of you. He’ll have to answer to me if he doesn’t.” She tried to smile, but it didn’
t quite reach her eyes.
Just then, the door swung open, and Alex stepped over the threshold. His grey eyes looked angry and his jaw was set tight. Unsure how any of this had even transpired, Livvie swallowed uncomfortably, barely meeting his gaze. What she saw there chilled her to her bones.
“Lady Staveley,” he began, though his eyes never left Livvie, “I’d like a private word with my betrothed.”
“Alex—” Caroline started.
“Thank you for keeping her company, Caroline, but that will be all.”
No one ever dismissed Caroline in such a fashion. Livvie was surprised when her cousin quietly left the room with a submissive nod. Then Alex stood before her and offered his hand. Livvie took it, staring up at him. Even angry, he was the most handsome man she’d ever known.
He lifted her from her seat slipped his arms around her waist, holding her close. “I didn’t want it to happen like this, sweetheart.” Then he dropped a gentle kiss on her brow.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t think she could speak without her voice cracking. Livvie simply nodded.
He stepped away from her and dipped a short bow. “I’ll see you in Town.”
And then he was gone.
Prestwick Chase was fairly subdued after Alex departed. Everyone knew that the duke was destined for Lambeth Palace to obtain a special license, and Livvie felt as if her indiscretions had been bared for all the other guests. Though Juliet, Lady Carteret, and Mrs. Greywood smiled sympathetically whenever they saw her, not everyone else was as kind. Mrs. St. Claire, and some of the other matrons, avoided looking at her altogether. That hurt a bit, as she had always tried to be kind Mrs. St. Claire, who had been a fairly insecure merchant’s daughter before her marriage. However, Livvie preferred being ignored by Mrs. St. Claire and the others like her to the looks of caustic derision that Captain Seaton seemed to reserve just for her.
Livvie’s friends remained her strongest supporters, and one or more of them always surrounded her, giving her strength. However their constant hovering was also unsettling, as she didn’t know how to answer most of their questions.
“Did he kiss you?” Felicity asked, in hushed tones while they played silver loo in the blue salon.
Phoebe dropped her cards to the table, leveling the young girl with an annoyed look. “Heavens, Felicity, he had to have done much more than that for Livvie to have to marry him.”
Livvie’s cheeks burned and she would have left the table altogether, if Cordie hadn’t placed a staying hand on hers. “Nonsense. They’re simply in love and His Grace can’t wait to marry her.”
In love? If only that were true. Unfortunately, it was nothing more than a Banbury tale.
“So then, he did kiss you,” Felicity pressed.
Livvie nodded her head, but said nothing else. She didn’t know what to say.
“Of course he did,” Cordie assured them, as if she had all the answers. “He kissed her when she accepted his proposal. Livvie is very fortunate to have such a man in love with her.”
She was grateful for Cordie’s defense, though Livvie was ashamed that her friend’s words were entirely false.
“I think it’s more than that,” Phoebe insisted. “My Uncle James said we’d all have to pack up and go to London for the wedding and show our support, to keep talk down. Why should there be talk unless something more than a kiss transpired?”
Cordie heaved a sigh as if she was dealing with the most simple of simpletons. “I’m certain that is exactly what Lord Carteret is afraid of. Kelfield doesn’t want to wait for the banns—that’s what Lady Staveley told me. He is very anxious to marry Livvie. Therefore, some people will think it is more than that, which is why we’ll all go to London for the wedding. Show our support. Keep people from saying things that aren’t true.”
Livvie stared at Cordie. If she didn’t know the truth herself, she’d easily believe her friend’s version. Cordie was very convincing.
The entire party set off for London the next morning—a full day after Alex had departed Prestwick Chase. While her young cousins and their governess filled one of Staveley’s coaches, Livvie, Cordie, Caroline, and Staveley occupied the other. The tension in the air was so thick, it was hard to breathe. There was very little talking, and Livvie tried to remain stoic, refusing to let herself cry.
She didn’t know what she would have done without Cordie, who always seemed to know when she was at her weakest and would smile or squeeze her hand.
Finally, after hours of silence, Staveley turned to his wife. “You’ll need to take care of dealing with St. Georges.”
“Yes, darling.”
“And get invitations sent post haste.”
“Of course.”
Cordie broke in with a smile. “My mother and I will help in whatever way you need us, Lady Staveley.”
It wasn’t until that night at an inn that Livvie finally relaxed a bit. It was a great comfort that she and Cordie would share a room, though it was most certainly the last time they would ever do so. She was to be married in just a matter of days to a man she barely knew, while Cordie continued down a different path alone.
Livvie collapsed on the lumpy inn bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling above her. “Why did you say all those things to Phoebe and Felicity last night?”
Cordie quietly sat next to her and leaned her head against the wall. “Because they needed to hear them, and I won’t let anyone ever think ill of you.”
Cordelia Avery really was the most loyal of friends.
“Even if the unflattering things they’re thinking about me are correct?”
With a shake of her head, Cordie smiled sadly. “Do you love him?” she finally asked.
Livvie turned on her side, staring into her friend’s concerned, green eyes. “I-I don’t know,” she answered honestly. He made her heart race, but it wasn’t necessarily the same thing.
The particulars behind her hasty marriage had not been discussed, though Livvie was certain Cordie had her own theories about the situation. She really was the dearest friend not to pressure her in any way, but to simply offer her support. She hadn’t even asked about Philip, which Livvie was very thankful for. She didn’t know what she could possibly say, and she didn’t think she could ever repay Cordie’s fierce loyalty.
After a moment, Cordie sat forward, taking Livvie’s hands in hers. “He is very handsome, and he does seem enchanted with you.”
She was enchanted with him. The way she felt when she was with him. The naughty things he whispered to her. His eyes that seemed to stare right into her soul. But still…he couldn’t be particularly happy with this turn of events. Never mind the fact that he had proposed and told her more than once she would marry him, he didn’t seem at all like himself the day he left Prestwick Chase. The hardened look on his face still had her stomach tied up in knots, and she wasn’t certain they would ever come untangled.
“He must love you very much,” Cordie offered.
He said he wanted her. He never said he loved her. And truly, she hadn’t expected it. They barely knew one another, after all. She tried to smile at her friend, though her lips started to quiver.
“What’s wrong, Livvie?” Cordie’s comforting green eyes searched hers for an answer. “You can tell me anything, you know?”
She blinked back tears and squeezed her dearest friend’s hand. “It’s just nerves.”
Cordie wrapped her arms around Livvie and held her tight. They had been through so much together, since they were tiny children. She couldn’t remember a day in her life they hadn’t seen each other.
Cordie started to laugh. “Just think. In a matter of days you’ll be a duchess. I shall have to call you ‘Your Grace’, and—”
“Don’t you dare!” Livvie choked on a combination of a laugh and a sob.
“It’ll all be fine, Livvie. It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”
Just as Alex reached the front step of Kelfield House, his special license in hand, the door was wrench
ed open before him. His butler, Gibson, a normally pleasant young man in his twenties stood on the threshold, looking quite harassed. “Your Grace! Thank God you’ve returned.”
It was unusual for a man so young to oversee a ducal household, but Alex’s reputation had kept older, more qualified candidates from seeking the position. For the most part, he’d been happy with Gibson’s work and didn’t consider the fellow’s age a hindrance. Though at the moment, the butler looked almost possessed and Alex was a bit flummoxed by his appearance. An older butler would have had years of practice of maintaining his composure, despite whatever problem waited inside Kelfield House.
And whatever the problem was, it would have to wait. He had enough on his plate at the moment.
“Gibson.” Alex brushed past his butler into the main entryway. As soon as he stepped inside his home, he was assaulted by a childish squeal. Then a pair of tiny arms threw themselves around his legs.
“Papa!”
Startled, Alex smiled down at Poppy, his energetic five-year-old daughter. He ruffled her ebony hair and sunk down to embrace her. He wasn’t quite sure why Poppy was here instead of with her mother, but at the moment he was just glad to see her. His daughter never failed to put a smile on his face, and he desperately needed just that at the moment.
“What are you doing here, my little angel?”
Fingers smeared with pudding of some sort grabbed at his neck cloth as Poppy kissed his cheek. “Ellen said I was to live with you from now on.”
Completely thrown, Alex stood up and frowned at his daughter. He always hated the fact that Ellen made the child call her by her given name. Though at the moment, he was much more concerned with the rest of her statement. Live with him from now on? She couldn’t live with him. He was marrying Olivia in three days’ time.
Why would Ellen say such a thing? They had an agreement that had worked fairly well up until now—Poppy lived in a little house with Ellen, and Alex paid for whatever they required and then some. He saw Poppy every fortnight or so, lavishing her with gifts and magical stories, but she’d never before come to Kelfield House. Suddenly the harassed look of his butler started to make sense.
