by Wendy Vella
“I loathe tea.”
She looked at him, lifting one delicate eyebrow.
“Englishmen do not loathe tea, Lord Ryder.”
“This one does… passionately. I developed a taste for coffee when I was away.”
“Lord Ryder, do wait up!”
Will looked up as the loud voice reached him and saw several women hurrying towards them.
“Don’t look now, my lord, but three of the town’s most eligible young ladies are bearing down upon you,” Phoebe said. “I’m afraid escape is impossible at this point,” she added, her eyes alight with laughter.
“Dear God,” Will whispered as the women smiled and waved at him. Leaning closer to Isabella and Phoebe he said, “I purchased you buns, therefore you owe me a favor, and I call in that favor now.”
“Oh, this should be good,” Phoebe said.
“I am begging you, do not leave me alone with those women.”
“I’m sure you will cope admirably, my lord. Considering your past record with women, these three should not present you with any problems,” Olivia said, her tone prim.
“If you stay, I shall have a dozen cinnamon buns delivered to you by sunset.”
“Done!” Livvy said promptly. Will then watched as she turned to greet the approaching women.
“Lady Hemplewaite-Brown, Miss Chillervy, and Miss Smythe, how wonderful to see you again.”
She changed before his eyes into a giggling, chatting young lady. She was even fluttering one gloved hand around, mimicking the others. He remembered this Olivia, the fun loving, sweet temptress that had once enthralled him.
“It’s so seldom I see Livvy that way anymore, it always takes me by surprise,” Bella said, looking at the group of women that now included Phoebe.
“Why do you not see her like this anymore?” Will questioned, feeling his stomach tighten as Livvy giggled; the sound was sweet and clear.
“It won’t work, though,” Bella added, ignoring his question just like her older sister often did.
“What won’t work?”
“They won’t be deterred for long, especially by Livvy and Phoebe.”
Pulling his eyes from the soft skin at the base of Olivia’s neck, Will looked at Isabella.
“Why?” he questioned. She, however, just raised her brows and looked steadily back at him. Turning to the women he studied them closely, and immediately understood what Isabella was getting at.
The Langley women could wear flour sacks and be beautiful; it was in their soft skin and the way the carried themselves. They were bone deep beautiful and that would not sit well with other women. He turned back to Isabella,took her arm and placed it through his.
“Your beauty rivals your sisters, Isabella, never forget that,” he said, leading her slowly forward until they, too, stood in the chatting cooing circle of women.
“Lord Ryder. At last you have returned to us!”
“Ladies.” Will offered them a bow as he removed his hat.
He only had a vague idea of who all three women were as they could only be seventeen or eighteen at the most—making them considerably younger when he had left England, thus not someone who had caught the attentions of a selfish rake.
“Are you attending the social gatherings during the Christmas season, my lord, starting with the Assembly here in town in three days’ time?”
“Ah, Assembly?” Will said, looking at Olivia who just smiled back at him in that smug sort of way that suggested she was enjoying this—him, caught off guard. Well, it may have been a few years since he had faced English society misses, yet he had socialized in India and remembered what was required of him.
“Here in town,” the blonde one, who he thought was named Miss Chillervy, stated.
“I can think of nothing that would give me more pleasure, Miss Chillervy, than attending such a gathering surrounded by, undoubtedly, England’s most beautiful ladies.”
“Amazing how quickly he transformed back into a rake,” Phoebe whispered to Olivia, which of course Will heard, as he was meant to.
The three women all tittered and batted their lashes at him. The three Langleys, however, rolled their eyes. Surprisingly, it was their gestures that made him smile.
“I understand, dear Miss Langley, that Mrs. Popplehinge has charged you with care of the church flowers,” Lady Hemplewaite-Brown said smiling, although the gesture never reached her eyes, especially when they turned from Olivia to Phoebe.
“Indeed she has and, as you can imagine, we are honored,” Olivia said smoothly, although Will had the distinct impression she and her sister were in fact anything but impressed with the honor, especially Phoebe, who looked like she’d swallowed something vile.
CHAPTER SIX
“And are you visiting the church today, Miss Langley?” Lady Hemplewaite-Brown questioned.
“Yes. As you can imagine, my sisters and I are eager to see to the task Mrs. Popplehinge has set us.” And that, Livvy thought, was her cue to leave. She would not stand around while these women fawned all over Will, nor did she want to listen to him flirt back with empty compliments that tripped with ease off his tongue. He had once complimented her in the same way; however, now she realized that those words had been insincere, and she had been thrice a fool for believing them.
Bloody man. He had strolled up telling her he would wear cinnamon for her love, looking like a hero in one of Bella’s books. Tall, dark and absurdly handsome in a long overcoat with his hair curling over the brim of his black hat, he appeared far too disturbing for her peace of mind, especially as the last time they had met he had kissed her.
“If you ladies will excuse us, we must attend to the flowers,” Olivia said, curtseying. Moving towards Will, she then did the same and, upon standing, took the remaining buns out of his hands before he could react. His gray eyes narrowed.
“You promised,” he whispered.
“Surely you know that promises are made to be broken, my lord.”
Livvy knew she sounded terse but could do nothing about it. She’d suffered when he’d left her, her emotions raging between pain and anger at his desertion. Eventually, she’d forced those feelings down deep inside, but seeing Will again had made them resurface. She needed to stay as far away from this man as possible if she was to keep her emotions under control.
“That was mean,” Isabella said as Livvy took her arm.
“He can look after himself, Bella. Did you not hear him ladling on the charm just minutes ago?” Livvy would feel no shame for leaving him.
“You sound jealous, sister,” Phoebe added, taking another bun before looking over her shoulder at Lord Ryder who was glaring at them.
“Don’t be ridiculous! I just don’t have the patience any more for all that simpering and mindless prattle.”
“Well, I like him. He’s funny and handsome, and if he wasn’t old I would fall in love with him,” Bella declared. “I was too young to really know him well before he left, but to my mind, anyone who buys me a cinnamon bun is someone worth my time.”
Livvy and Phoebe stared at their youngest sister. She was rarely outspoken, especially over someone she did not know well.
“He’s not old,” Livvy felt moved to say.
“Old or not, you should be nicer to him, Livvy, especially as you robbed him on his first night back in the country.”
“Sssh, Bella,” Livvy hissed, looking around her. They were reaching the end of town, but there were still people about. “And I do not have to be nice to him at all. He is nothing to me. We are no longer friends.
“You will have to forgive him one day, Livvy.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Bella, as I am well over Lord Ryder and have no wish to continue discussing him; therefore, this will be the end of that subject, if you please.”
The Langley sisters fell silent as they concentrated on consuming the remaining buns and walking to the church. Wiping the last of the sugar off her hands, Livvy opened the small white gate as they arrived and headed
down the path that led around the back of the old stone building to the small door at the rear.
“Do you know, Phoebe, I am beginning to realize we were not very nice people before our parents died,” Livvy said, lifting the latch and opening the door.
“Well, I’m sure this conversation does not include me as I am loved by everyone,” Bella said, following her sisters inside. “So I am going to sit for a while and watch you two do all the work,” she added. Limping towards the back of the church, she then settled herself in a pew, turning so she could stretch out her leg on the bench.
“We should not have let her come.” Livvy looked at her youngest sister. “She’s in pain.”
“She wanted to, Livvy, and after a rest she will feel better,” Phoebe said. “Now, tell me why you think we were not nice people?”
“Because of the way some people react to us. Old Mr. Bramble even said the other day that I was quite a pleasant wee thing now.”
Phoebe thought about that while Olivia walked around the church, retrieving the vases and placing them on the floor beneath the table in the small annex at the end of the room. She then opened the cupboard and collected Mrs. Popplehinge’s apron. Removing her bonnet she slipped it on over her coat.
“I suppose it could be true. We were terrible flirts even when we were younger, and you used to be quite cutting. Sometimes even I was in awe. However,” Phoebe added, “most of the women in Twoaks have always disliked us, and each other for that matter, due to the fact that we are all competing for the few decent noblemen there are in this area.”
“True,” Livvy agreed.
“I’ll go and cut some fresh flowers from the greenhouse,” Phoebe said, picking up a basket and heading back out the door.
“I’ll be back soon, too. Bella, you just rest,” Livvy called to her sister as minutes later she followed Phoebe with an armful of dead flowers.
“I thought we had a deal?”
Livvy shrieked and dropped the flowers. “You scared me!” she gasped, clutching her chest as she looked at Lord Ryder. His gray eyes held a decidedly hostile glint as they stared back.
“Serves you right for abandoning me.”
Heart thumping, she dragged her eyes from his unrepentant gaze and bent to retrieve the dead flowers she had dropped.
“You appeared more than happy with ‘those women’, Lord Ryder. In fact, I would go so far as to say you were comfortable with all the adoration,” Livvy snapped when her tongue worked again.
“I would be more comfortable had I fallen into a bramble bush,” he muttered, dropping to his knees beside her.”
“I have no need of your assistance, my lord. Therefore, please return to your business.” Livvy refused to look at him as she snatched a dead flower from his hand and then hissed in pain as a small splinter stabbed her.
“Let me see.”
Livvy ignored him and tucked the hand into her skirt, but he was stronger and soon held it clasped between his.
“It’s a tiny splinter, nothing more and there is no need-”
“What are these from?”
Livvy shivered as he ran his thumb over the calluses on her palm.
“Chopping wood,” she said without thinking.
“Why are you chopping wood?”
He was just too bloody disturbing, with his handsome face and flashing white teeth, even if he was scowling at her. She shouldn’t have said anything; now he would know that she had no one to chop wood for her.
“None of your business,” Livvy snapped, tugging her hand back. “Now go away. I can manage very well on my own and have done for years.”
“You were always such a sweet-tempered young lady.”
He was taunting her, of course, and she shouldn’t respond.
“Yes, well, one cannot stay the same forever, and now, as I have stated, I have no need of your assistance, my lord, so please leave.”
“Unlike you, I still have the manners my mother continually hammered into me from a young age, and as you still appear to be in some kind of pain, the gentleman in me cannot allow you to carry anything that may inflict further discomfort.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake.” Livvy glared at him. “We merely left you surrounded by silly young ladies. How bad can that have possibly been for you? Five years ago, you couldn’t get enough of that sort of universal adoration.”
He regained his feet in a fluid gesture as she picked up the last dead flower, and then she felt his hands around her waist and suddenly she was standing.
“Please don’t do that, my lord!”
“Do what?” he said, looking as if he had no idea what she was talking about; however, Livvy was fairly certain he did.
“Pick me up,” she snapped.
“I was merely assisting you, as your arms were full.”
Livvy was not fooled by his innocent look. “Do not toy with me, my lord. I am no longer a simpering young maid who will worship at your overlarge feet.”
He sighed, a long weighty one that started at his toes.
“I have apologized for leaving you without a word, Olivia, yet still you are angry with me.”
“As I have stated, Lord Ryder, I neither care that you left nor that you have returned, but if I did, then a handful of words carelessly spoken would not make up for the hurt that you caused. Not to me, you understand,” she rushed to add. “I have no need of your empty apologies, but your family, I’m sure, deserve more from you.” Livvy drew a breath hoping it would steady her.
He looked at her, eyes solemn.
“And yet I say again that your attitude towards me would suggest I did indeed hurt you, Olivia, and you insult me by suggesting my apology was empty.”
“Then you can take your leave, my lord, as we have nothing further to say to each other,” she added, walking away from him.
“Leave? When the company I am keeping is so delightful? Surely you jest,” Will said, following her for no other reason than he couldn’t seem to get himself to leave. She halted again, her cinnamon eyes looking up at him. Will had to clench his fists to stop himself from touching the bruises beneath. She was tired and worried and he wanted to know why.
“Don’t flirt with me, Lord Ryder. I am no longer available for your amusement.”
“Are we flirting?”
“We are not flirting. You are flirting. Please note the difference.”
Will held her eyes for several seconds and he saw another change in her. She was stronger willed than she used to be—however, so was he.
“I thought we were talking as old friends often do.”
“As I have already explained, my lord, we are no longer friends, merely acquaintances.”
“Would an acquaintance know about your love of butterflies and that your favorite book is the “The Aurelian” by Moses Harris, and the butterfly you most wish to see is the Purple Emperor?” Will fell in beside her as she began to walk away with the flowers. “Or that you cannot roll your tongue as I can and—”
“I have no wish to discuss the past,” Olivia interrupted him, her voice sounding shrill. “Go and meet whoever it is you were meeting, Lord Ryder. This is not work for men and certainly not a lord.”
Will thought about that as he trailed along beside her.
“So because I am both a man and a lord I am therefore exempt from carrying flowers?”
Her teeth snapped together so hard he feared they would shatter.
“Men do not traditionally do the church flowers, Lord Ryder, as you very well know.”
“Is the Derby still run on the 21st of December, Olivia?” he said, changing the subject because it was a foolish one. She was walking fast to try to outstride him, which was ridiculous because his stride was two of hers.
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I shall be settled by then and look forward to an entertaining day, especially as you are to compete.”
“You are leaving Twoaks, then?”
She wasn’t looking at him, so Will couldn’t tell if she was ha
ppy or sad about the prospect. He thought, perhaps, the earlier.
“No, I’m looking to purchase a property nearby.”
“Oh,” was all she said as she threw the flowers, with what Will thought unnecessary vigor, onto the mound of other dried clippings and then turned to march back to the church.
“I think the Earl of Dobberly is to be praised for his forward thinking, Lord Ryder. After all, it shows a strength of mind, does it not, for being bold enough to continue to allow a woman to compete in his race, especially as there are many who would try to persuade him otherwise.”
“I believe I am firmly put in my place, Olivia.”
They had reached the church once again; the old stone building looked unchanged from the last time he had stepped inside its hallowed walls.
“Here are the flowers, Livvy,” Phoebe said, joining them and handing the laden basket to her sister. “Hello again, my lord. I tried the plum bun but still believe the cinnamon ones superior.”
“There you have me at a disadvantage, Phoebe, as I have yet to try a plum bun because your sister stole them from me.”
“Well, perhaps you could stop and get another on your return journey,” Phoebe added, looking from her sister to Lord Ryder, sensing the tension between them.
“Excellent idea, sister, and as I’m sure the buns will all be sold soon, you should take your leave at once, Lord Ryder.” Olivia threw him a false smile of encouragement; her eyes, however, told another story.
“I couldn’t possibly leave without going into the church; after all, I could walk out a better man.”
“To the best of my knowledge, my lord, the last miracle performed here was two hundred years ago,” Olivia muttered.
“Livvy!” Phoebe laughed.
“Your sister has lost her sweet nature since my departure, Phoebe.”
“Not without provocation, my lord.”
“Care to enlighten me further?” Will questioned Phoebe.
“No, she does not!”
Phoebe gave her sister a steady look then said, “I shall be in the glasshouse if you need me.”
“Allow me,” Will said, reaching around Olivia to take hold of the basket. She held fast so he tugged and she had to yield or give in to an undignified tug of war. Silently they walked into the church.
