by Ava Stone
The child sucked in a breath. “Mr. Gibson, I just wanted to see Papa.”
“I’ve already told you, miss. His Grace is in a meeting. And you are supposed to be in your room.”
Poppy had a room at Kelfield House? That was a bit surprising to Livvie. Though not as surprising as actually seeing the child in the flesh. Hadn’t Caroline said the girl lived with her mother in Bloomsbury?
With her most charming smile, she said to the butler, “Actually, Gibson, Miss Poppy is keeping me company.” And she was grateful for it. Waiting for Staveley and Caroline to finish their conversation with Alex and his solicitor was nearly killing her.
“Very well,” the butler responded with a frown before removing himself from the music room.
“Mr. Gibson plays dolls with me,” Poppy informed her.
That image made Livvie giggle. Gibson was fairly young for a butler, but she still couldn’t imagine the man playing with a little girl’s toys. “Do you have lots of dolls, Poppy?”
The girl nodded her head. “Oh, yes. Do you want to see them?”
Livvie smiled at the child. “Should we invite them to have tea with us?”
Poppy beamed. “That would be fun.” Then she raced from the room as quickly as she could.
Livvie stared after her, trying to sort out the situation. How often was Poppy at Kelfield House? And in the coming years would she have to see Ellen Fairchild on a regular basis? Livvie frowned at the thought. Alex was going to be her husband, and she didn’t relish the idea of spending an inordinate amount of time with his ex-lover. In fact, she didn’t like to think about him spending time in anyone else’s bed either—past, present, or future.
It was fairly uncharitable of her. And while she would never begrudge Alex time with his daughter, she’d really rather not be forced to spend time with Ellen Fairchild. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask it of her. Then again, she didn’t really want Alex to see the stunning actress without her either.
“Why do you look so troubled?” Alex asked from the doorway. He raked a hand though his black hair and stood before her, so handsome and virile that he took her breath away.
She didn’t realize until this very moment how much she had missed him, and she leapt off the seat, wiping her hands nervously on her skirt. “Alex.”
“Are you quite all right, Olivia?” He stepped into the room, a look of concern upon his face.
“I-I,” she stuttered. “Of course.” She sounded like a fool, just gaping at him. Then she dipped a belated curtsey. “Your Grace.”
He frowned at her. “We’ve long ago moved beyond formalities, sweetheart.”
Just then, Poppy barreled into the room, her arms overflowing with little dolls of all shapes and sizes. “Pardon me, Papa,” she said and then flounced on the floor in front of the piano bench, scattering her dolls all over the rug. “Here they are, Olivia.”
Alex’s eyes widened. What the devil was going on? He hadn’t even gotten the chance to explain to Olivia. And…did his daughter just call her by her first name? He swallowed. Hard. “Poppy,” he barked. “What are you doing in here?”
“Showing my dolls to Olivia,” she answered as if it was the most logical explanation in the world.
Olivia stepped towards him, chewing her plump bottom lip. “I asked Poppy to have tea with me. I hope that was all right.”
He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. Why did the most unexpected things happen when Olivia was around? Popping out of his wardrobe? Asking Poppy for tea? What was in store for him over the next several years?
Gibson entered the room with tea service, and Olivia graced him with one of her stunning smiles. It occurred to Alex that it was the first time in the longest while that he’d seen that charming dimple of hers. Blast his butler for being the recipient!
“Gibson, I expressly asked you to have Poppy wait for me in her room.”
The butler blanched. “Yes, Your Grace. I—”
“Poppy,” he began, looking at his daughter. “You will go to your room and stay there until I come for you.”
Poppy’s face fell. “All right, Papa.” Then she slinked from the room, the butler close behind her.
Then Alex refocused on Olivia, only to discover that her smile had vanished as well. He stepped towards her. “I was going to tell you about Poppy.”
“She’s precious,” Olivia replied. “I think it would be nice if she was at the wedding.”
He nearly fell over. That was certainly not what he’d expected to hear from her. “You do?” he asked in amazement.
Olivia nodded, closed the gap between them, and tentatively touched his chest. “That is, if it’s all right with her mother.”
Her touch sent warm shivers to his soul, and he ached for her affection. Wished she’d come to him willingly. It would make the rest of this much easier. But she hadn’t, and if he was wise he would remember that. “Olivia,” he began, stepping away from her reach, “about Poppy…I returned from Derbyshire to find her here. Her mother…well, her mother has moved on to greener pastures, and Poppy will be with us.”
Olivia’s hazel eyes widened in surprise, which was a harsh reminder that she’d never wanted a life with him, let alone Poppy. “With us?” she asked with a whisper.
Alex nodded. “I know that none of this is what you’d planned. I don’t have any illusions, Olivia, that if given the choice you wouldn’t marry me, but that’s not really in our control anymore. It is what it is. All I ask of you is that you try to come to terms with our situation and make the best of it.”
She frowned at him. “Where is Caroline?”
“She and Staveley are in the gold parlor, where you were supposed to be waiting. Apparently, none of my females can do what is asked of them.”
Her back visibly stiffened at the comment, and she folded her arms across her chest. “I am not one of your females.”
Alex raised his brow challengingly. “I just finished signing documents claiming otherwise, Olivia.”
She tipped her head high in the air. “Thank you for reminding me what a perfect beast you are. I’d nearly forgotten.” Then she stomped out of the music room.
He stared at the pile of dolls in the middle of the floor and rubbed his brow. That certainly could have gone better. He could have been conciliatory. He could have made an attempt at being charming. He could have dropped at her feet and begged her to care about him.
But he hadn’t. And he wouldn’t. This was, as he’d explained to Sarah, not a love match. It would be wise if he didn’t forget that. If it took raising Olivia’s hackles a bit, so be it.
Alex scooped up Poppy’s dolls and started off for her room. He probably should have told her about Olivia yesterday, before she stumbled upon her in the music room. It was foolish that he hadn’t.
He found Poppy lying on her bed, her rosebud lips thrust out in childish pout. Alex sat next to her, depositing her dolls on the pillows. “Poppy,” he began with a sigh. “Did you like Miss Danbury?”
“Miss Danbury, Papa?”
“You just met her. Olivia.”
Poppy’s smile returned. “Oh. I wanted to show her my dolls. And we were going to have tea.”
He smiled at his daughter. “There’ll be plenty of other days to show her your dolls and have tea.”
“She is my new nurse?” Poppy asked excitedly.
“No, angel.” Alex placed her on his lap and kissed the top of her head. “Olivia is going to be my wife.”
Her head fell back to look at him, big silver eyes were wide with surprise. “Wife?”
“Tomorrow, angel. And she’d like for you to be at the wedding. Do you think you’d like that?”
Poppy nodded her head. “Yes, Papa. But Ellen said you wouldn’t ever get married.”
“Ellen has been wrong about a great many things, my little love.”
Livvie looked around her room at Staveley House. How strange that it was her last night here. She never would have believed that a fortnight spent in Derby
shire would have such permanent repercussions on the rest of her life. Tomorrow she would be married—not to Philip as she’d always thought—but to the mysterious and wicked Duke of Kelfield.
The man was maddening, to say the very least. He had relentlessly pursued her for nearly a week. He had opened her eyes and introduced her to delicious thoughts and feelings she’d never experienced before. He was arrogant and yet charming at the same time. He made her want him, like she’d never wanted anyone. But he hadn’t seemed the same man when he left Prestwick Chase—subdued and morose. And he hadn’t seemed the same man today—infuriating and closed off. She wasn’t sure what to think about him.
There were also the bizarre circumstances of his child. Poppy did seem like a sweet little girl, and Livvie had quite liked her. But she didn’t know what to think about this situation. Good heavens! She was going to be a step-mother. And what exactly did ‘greener pastures’ mean anyway? Was Ellen Fairchild gone for good? And if not, how soon before she made an appearance? He really should have been clearer.
Then there was the state of Kelfield House. Caroline had informed her after they returned that only a skeletal staff was in residence, and that she would have to quickly hire a nurse for Poppy, several maids, and footmen. Luckily her own lady’s maid, Molly, who had enjoyed the last fortnight off, would be joining her at Kelfield House. That was one friendly and familiar face she could count on. But there was so much to do, and she’d never planned on this. She had no idea about running a ducal—
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in,” she muttered, miserably.
Caroline peered inside, concern etched across her brow. “How are you holding up, darling?”
“I’m feeling like a Christian about to be sacrificed to the lions.”
Caroline suppressed a smile. “I’m certain Kelfield would prefer to be referred to as a wolf.” Then she sat next to Livvie on the bed and took her hands. “And I do believe he cares a great deal for you.”
Livvie snorted. “You couldn’t tell it with the way he behaved towards me today.”
“Well, he once told me that it could be quite frightening for a fellow who spent all of his time skirt chasing to settle on only one woman. It could just simply be nerves on his part—though I’m certain he’d never admit to that.”
Was that all it was? Livvie wanted to believe that, but there was something different in his eyes—a pain of some sort.
“Anyway, Olivia, since your mother is not here to give you guidance, I hope you’ll allow me.”
Here it was. The Talk. The one every girl had with her mother or female relative the night before her wedding. Her friend Henrietta’s mother had terrified the poor girl so badly with The Talk, Hen nearly jumped out of her skin when her new husband touched her hand at the altar. At the time, Livvie and Cordie had thought the entire affair quite amusing. How different things looked now.
Just because Livvie knew The Talk was coming didn’t make it any more welcome. Though honestly, it was probably better coming from Cousin Caroline than it would have been from her very prim mother.
“As you know, I married Staveley when I was barely sixteen. The night before my wedding, your mother attended me and I was simply terrified. Can you imagine being afraid of Staveley of all people?” Caroline asked with a self deprecating laugh. “I was terribly young. Livvie, I’m going to try to give you better advice than she gave me—just promise me you won’t tell her I said that.”
Well, that did sound promising. Much more so than whatever Henrietta’s mother had told her. Livvie nodded her head.
“It is said quite often that women should simply endure their husband’s amorous activities dutifully. Grin and bear it. I’ve heard that countless times, Livvie, and in my opinion it is worthless drivel. The marriage bed can be one of the greatest joys of your life, not something you barely tolerate. In fact, I would image that if one’s husband is Kelfield, this aspect of married life will be quite satisfactory—if even half the stories about him are true.”
“Caroline!” Livvie felt her cheeks flush.
“It’s the eve of your wedding, Livvie, and the man will be your husband tomorrow. Time for being missish is over.” Caroline squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Intimacy between men and women, husbands and wives, is a completely natural occurrence. Instinct will take over to some extent. If you trust your husband, Livvie, and keep an open mind, he’ll bring you all sorts of pleasures you’d never envisioned.”
Heavens! She already experienced more pleasure than she’d ever known at his hands. How much more was there? And what should she be doing? “What about him, Caroline? How do I bring him pleasure?”
“That,” Caroline sighed, “is hard to say. One man is different from the next, or so I’ve heard, but I am confident that Alex will direct you. Follow his lead, Livvie.”
There was something that was both exhilarating and terrifying about that idea.
“I want you to have love and passion and acceptance in your marriage. I’m confident he’s capable of providing all of that for you. Make sure you offer it in return as well.”
Sleep eluded Livvie most of the night. When she rolled out of bed the next morning, the morning of her wedding, she felt more trepidation than she ever had in her life. Molly entered the room with a bright smile and cheerful disposition. She eagerly dressed Livvie in a new silver gown with a gauzy white over dress, commissioned a month earlier, but not worn until now. She certainly hadn’t imagined she’d wear this ensemble to her own wedding. Then Molly dressed her hair up, intertwined with white lilies and tiny rosebuds, gushing over her appearance with nearly every breath.
When Livvie stared at her reflection in her room’s floor-length mirror, she was surprised at her transformation. She was indeed a bride. Just not how she’d ever imagined it.
She didn’t quite remember the drive to St. George’s, though once she arrived the sheer number of guests and well-wishers when she stepped out of the coach was astounding. Weddings were not typically characterized as a crush, but there wasn’t a better way to describe hers. It was staggering.
She and Caroline peeked inside the chapel, staring in disbelief at the throng. Nearly every person Livvie had ever met was in attendance, as well as several dissolute noblemen she’d heard about and seen but never met before. The Marquess of Haversham, for goodness sake! He was possibly the only man whose reputation was worse than Kelfield’s. Depending on the day.
“They don’t actually believe I’m leaving their ranks,” a voice whispered in her ear.
Livvie spun around to find Alex standing there, looking sinfully handsome, as always, a blinding white cravat with a sparkling ruby pin set apart from his black coat and trousers. “Alex! It’s bad luck to see me before the wedding.”
He quirked a grin at her, his silver eyes twinkling. “Sweetheart, you’ll be a duchess in a matter of minutes. Luck is for the lower classes.”
Then Alex looked down and smiled at his raven-haired daughter, who appeared at his side holding a little doll. He lifted the child up in his arms and handed her to Caroline. “You’ll stay with Lady Staveley today, Poppy.”
Caroline tapped the girl’s nose affectionately and smiled. “You’ll even get to come home with me afterwards, Poppy. I have a daughter, Emma, a little older than you. I’m certain you’ll have a splendid time with her.” Then Caroline winked at Livvie. “You’ll be all right. And you,” she said to Alex, “need to be down front.”
He nodded his agreement and gently touched Livvie’s chin. “Keep this up, sweetheart.” Then he started down the aisle amid a sea of soft gasps and hushed whispers.
Livvie looked at the little girl in Caroline’s arms. Poppy wore a cheerful yellow dress, with a wide blue ribbon and a bashful smile. “Hello again, Poppy. I am glad you’re here.”
Poppy’s face lit up. “Do you still want to have a tea party? I brought one of my dolls.”
Livvie nodded. “We shall have one every
day, if you like.”
“But not today, darling,” Caroline interrupted. “You’ll be too busy playing with Emma and the others. And for now, we need to take our seats.” Then she carried the child to the front of the church and claimed her spot beside Staveley.
Livvie closed her eyes and took a calming breath. She’d never been more nervous in all her life. Not even when she’d faced down that ferocious dog when she was just a girl.
The murmuring voices of the crowd faded away, as Alex focused solely on his bride walking towards him. She was breathtaking in shimmery silver and white, like an ethereal princess. Though she smiled when she faced him and held his hands before the altar, he knew Olivia was nervous, and he wished he could spirit her off to some place where he could ease her worries away.
The clergyman began and then droned on, as they were apt to do, and Alex caressed Olivia’s hands with his thumbs, losing himself in her pretty hazel eyes and blocking out everyone but her.
“I do,” he heard her say, and he snapped back to the present.
“And do you, Alexander Everett—”
“I do,” he hastily replied, to which there was a smattering of chuckles throughout the cavernous room. He didn’t care about how anxious or smitten he appeared to the crowd in general. Besides, it would only add credence to the story they’d sent out about his impatience to have the girl, the banns to be damned.
Olivia blushed prettily, making Alex want her even more.
“Well, then, Your Grace,” the clergyman cleared his throat, “you may kiss your bride.”
Alex wasted no time in doing so. He pulled Olivia against him and pressed his lips to her soft ones. It was fairly tame as far as his kisses went. However when she sighed against his mouth, he couldn’t help but raise his head with a self-satisfied smile, looking out at their throng of guests, some cheering, some gaping.
“Her Grace and I are thrilled all of you were able to attend our wedding,” he called out to the crowd, immediately silencing them. “Please join my dear friend, Lord Carteret, who is hosting a wedding breakfast in our honor this morning. I do hope you enjoy yourselves immensely.” Then he scooped Olivia up in his arms. Ignoring her startled gasp, he continued, “Alas, I plan to enjoy my wife, so I’ll have to receive your felicitations another time.”
