"By all means, then, continue to work on my house and the townhouses. I wouldn't deprive you of the chance to do great work because I overstepped your boundaries."
Like a gentleman, he was taking all the blame. She would not dicker with him. This catastrophe was hers, all hers. Her desire for him outpacing her own common sense. Well, no more. No more.
"Thank you. I appreciate your understanding," she said, but her heart was not in her words. Sadness was.
His hand out, he took a step toward her. "Liv—"
Had he seen her despair?
She could not deny how she cared for him. Even to work for him, she had to resolve her conflict about how she viewed him. He’d once been her nemesis. Now her employer. Her friend. To appreciate him more, she’d have to slay ghosts of her past. And those who might condemn her for associating with him now. Was she that strong? She stepped toward him—
"I say! My lord! Come back!" A man shouted in the hall. "My lord, you cannot go upstairs."
Killian whirled toward the door, a hand out to waylay her. "Stay here."
"Who is that?" she asked him as he jogged away and flung the door wide.
He stepped into the hall.
"Sir!" A man yelled. "Stop! You can't go up there!"
Liv recognized the voice of Perkins, the Seton family butler.
"Where is he?" shouted another man.
"My lord," Perkins bellowed, "His Grace is not here!"
A stocky man ran up to Killian and tried to go round him. "Out of my way, Hanniford."
Taller and more muscular, Killian grabbed his arm. "Carbury! Stop right there!"
Liv picked up her skirts and raced to the doorway. The earl whom she'd seen on a few occasions recently looked nothing like he had months ago at his wedding. He'd gained weight, a considerable amount. His round face was red, apoplectic. And his anger was a rage.
"Let me go, you cur!" he blustered at Killian.
Killian had him by his lapels. "What's the meaning of charging in here like a mad bull?"
"To hell with you, Hanniford. Where's Julian?"
"Sir?" the butler, panting, had caught up to Carbury and Killian.
"I have him, Perkins," Killian assured the servant.
"Where's Julian?" Carbury demanded.
"His Grace," Killian took care to enunciate his son-in-law's title, "is out consulting with his tenants."
"I need to see him."
"I doubt you will be granted an audience with His Grace when you barge into his house like a lunatic."
Carbury, up on his toes because Killian held him at attention, sneered at his captor. "Oh, I'll see him to be sure. His idiot sister is a whore. He'll see me or I'll throw her out. How will he like that, eh?"
"You're crazed."
"I am. No doubt with cause, Hanniford. Get me Julian. Get him now."
"I'll go," the butler said. "I'll send a footman down to the cottages."
"You do that," Carbury said, his wicked little eyes on Killian.
"Where can we put this man?" Killian asked the butler while his gaze remained on Carbury.
The earl scoffed. "You will address me as I should be. I am, to you, 'my lord'."
Killian scoffed. "You are, to me, nothing."
"The small parlor, Mister Hanniford," said Perkins. "We'll put him downstairs in the back parlor."
"Very well. Do come along, Carbury." Killian pulled him from the wall and walked him toward the stairs.
Liv watched them go, her heart beating frantically.
"What's wrong?" Lily appeared, Garrett in her arms, at the door to her chambers. "Who's yelling?"
Liv strode to her. "The earl of Carbury is here demanding to see Julian."
Lily approached the railing and leaned over to watch Carbury and Killian descend the staircase. "Trouble with Elanna?"
"It seems so. Yes." Liv curled an arm around Lily's waist. "Come back to your rooms."
"She should never have married him," Lily said. "She's hated him almost from the moment they were engaged."
Liv could utter compassionate words to her, but thought such sentiments less than useful. "Let Killian and Julian handle it."
"I worry about their son."
Of course she did.
"Elanna has no idea how to care for a small baby. I didn't. And she's without her mother as I was. Nate will suffer, poor mite. Fortunate me, that I have you as a friend."
"And I with you as my friend, Lily." She steered her back into her chamber and indicated she should sit in one of her Chippendale chairs.
"I fear what she'll do," Lily said, her eyes on the hollow of the fireplace.
Liv took one of her hands. "Please don't worry. You'll convey that to young Garrett and he won't understand why. Let your father and your husband handle Carbury."
"I'm telling you, she is a slut!" Carbury yelled.
At the violent words rising up from the hall, Lily's eyes went wide. "Dear god. What is wrong with that man?"
A door slammed shut.
Other male voices rose up the staircase.
Lily jumped to her feet and raced to the hall, the baby in her arms.
Liv was right behind her.
They stood, horrified at the scene below them.
In the beauty of the pink marble foyer, three angry men faced one another.
"You came quickly, Seton!" Carbury taunted Julian. "Wise of you. Tell this man to release me."
"I'd say he must have reason. I saw your carriage from the cottages. Saw my footman running toward me. What do you want, man?" Julian strode to his brother-in-law.
"Heed my words, Seton. Your sister goes too far. Restrain her. Put a bit between her teeth."
"What's happened?"
"She insults me. Shames me. I'll not have it. You're to blame. Stop her or—or else!"
"Do not threaten me, Carbury!"
The earl lunged for Julian.
"Oh!" Lily gasped.
"Let me go!" Carbury demanded of Killian who still had him by the arm.
Julian advanced on the earl. "You go home and make amends to my sister. I have no idea what you've done to her but she's become another person since she married you. Before, in fact."
"She's become a witch," the man spat back.
"You have yourself to blame."
"Her blame. All of it. Her blame and that solicitor of yours that you've sent to her."
Liv had no idea who that was.
Carbury gloated. "She fancies him. Smiles and coos, sends for tea and whisky. And him? He looks at her with his huge frog's eyes. Did you know he came yesterday? Yes, he did. For his monthly meeting, he called it. She locks the door behind them when he comes, always has. Why, eh? Why?"
"Phillip Leland sees her at my order," Julian said. "I told you that. I will not change it. Let him in or I shall have the sheriff to enforce it."
Carbury fumed. "He is her lover."
"He is her friend," Julian said with solemnity.
Carbury laughed loud and long. "Friend? No, never. Makes me wonder if this baby is truly my heir?"
Julian went quite still.
"Is he?" Carbury tried to step closer to Julian, but Killian held him in place. "We'll see, won't we? If he keeps that watery blond hair or those droopy blue eyes."
Julian was slow to speak. "The most lamentable characteristic of my sister's personality has occurred since she pledged herself to you, Carbury. Whatever has befallen her is for you to remedy. I suggest you do it for both your sakes as well as that of your son." Julian turned to one side, his arm out toward the front door. "Now you may leave."
"I do not want that man in my house again. You tell him that, do you hear me?"
Julian advanced on him and met him nose-to-nose. "Never."
"If he darkens my door, I will kill him."
Julian did not seem to breathe. "I will warn him to go armed."
Carbury recoiled, then resumed his bravado. "Do that. A pistol will do him no good. He'll die anyway because if I don't shoot him, s
he'll eat him alive."
"Leave."
The earl pulled at the points of his waistcoat and then the tails of his coat. "I've warned you."
"Now, Carbury! Or I throw you out," Julian said.
Julian and Killian moved not a hair as Carbury stalked around them and slammed shut the front door.
"Marvelous weather today." Liv attempted to lighten the mood of both men in the carriage. "I would bet the sun is wonderful in Brighton today."
Killian attempted to smile at her. "Windy, too."
Julian and Killian sat opposite her as the Seton traveling coach crossed the Thames to enter London. They'd all set out together after breakfast this morning and for the past few hours, the men had been silent, lost in thought, brooding.
"I hope you'll be able to enjoy yourself while you're there the next few weeks," Killian said.
She'd told him she planned to stay three weeks in the coastal town to acquaint herself with the painters and drapers with whom she'd not worked in a few years. "I'm sure I will."
"Do come stay with me in Piccadilly, Julian," Killian said to his son-in-law. "No use to disturb your small house staff for only one night. Mine is still in residence and up to task. Besides, I wish to hear how your discussion goes this afternoon with Phillip Leland."
"He'll be undeterred by Carbury's bluster," Julian said with assurance. "Aside from the fact that he carries out my orders to call upon Elanna each month, he welcomes the chance to see her."
Killian's dark eyes widened with understanding. "He cares for her?"
"God help him, he does. Always has. I blame myself for this crisis. After she was indifferent to Lily and me when my father died, I wanted someone to be in contact with her regularly. I wanted her to know that someone cared about her. She wouldn't see me or Lily. But I always worried about her after she married Carbury. Now I worry Carbury may take revenge on Phillip."
"If he loves her as you say he does, he may not take heed to your warning," Killian said.
"Yes. I know. He's always been hopelessly in love with her. I should not have presumed upon him to do this work. I should have known that if Phillip saw her often, he'd hurt himself as well as incite Carbury's jealousy. The two of them love her too much."
Killian winced and turned away from Julian to glance out the window.
Was he reflecting on how his son Pierce also found Elanna fascinating? Liv had witnessed how devoted Pierce was to that young woman. And yet she saw no characteristics in that lady which merited such enchantment. Indeed, the countess seemed spoiled, self-centered, irrational to the point of compulsion. Nor did she seem interested in changing.
"I don't know how she manages it," Julian said, shaking his head and crossing his arms.
"What's that?" Killian asked.
"She draws men to her. Many men. I can't say she lures them on purpose. She'd not ruthless. Yet she's never found any one man she favors. And that was part of her problem in the two Seasons she was out. She said she never met a man she cared for enough to marry. Then we had no means for her to carry on another Season and she married Carbury. Bad enough we have her acting like a Bedlamite, now we have Carbury too."
Rejecting her newborn child was not the action of a rational person. Instinct alone would drive a mother to hold her baby, cuddle him, nurse him and coo to him. But according to all who told tales of life at Carbury Manor—a dairy maid who came to deliver cream to Willowreach, the doctor, and the earl himself—Elanna had not relented. She ignored her child. The same way she ignored her husband. And by that act, tormented him.
Liv understood that behavior all too well. "Does she know anyone who did the same?"
The two men turned to her with surprise on their faces.
She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. "Forgive me. I should not have asked."
Julian stared at her. "Don't apologize. Yes, of course, she has a model for her actions."
A dark moment of silence passed in the coach.
But Julian sighed and looked from one to the other. "My parents. Our parents. Yes, did exactly that. Not quite in the same way. Both took delight in torturing the other with affairs or rumors of them. I don't recall my mother totally abandoning my care or Elanna's. But she might as well have done. She might be the model upon which Elanna takes her cues."
"So many take out their failures on others who should bear no suffering," she said. "I know. We had a member of our family who did that." My father. Poor man. "Hated himself and ridiculed all in his path for their foibles and faults. Bedeviled."
"I cannot allow Phillip to suffer," Julian said on the thread of sound. "Or be hurt by Carbury. Elanna must take responsibility for her own actions. Become responsible. Sensible."
She may not be able to do that.
Liv pushed the hideous thought away. Leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the shops and parks, she noted that they passed the Bank of England in the financial district. The Seton family solicitor, Phillip Leland, would have his offices nearby.
The coach idled. The footman pulled open the door and Julian alighted.
"After your meeting, will you come stay in Piccadilly, Julian?" Killian asked. "Please do."
"Thank you. I think I will. I'll need good company when I'm done here."
They said their farewells and the coach resumed its way winding west across town.
Killian's gaze was warm and probing. "Who was it that was so outlandish in your family?"
She shifted and wished she'd not opened this topic. "My father. Later, my mother, too. A pity for them, since they had a good marriage, and we were a sound and happy family..."
"Until?"
She took in his sympathy. But she could not answer.
He moved to her side of the coach and took her hand. "Happy until what?"
"Catastrophe struck. And he could not recover."
"I'm sorry," he said with compassion and the apology was not lost on her for the irony of it. And its solicitude.
She caught back hot tears.
He raised her hand, turned it over and dropped a kiss into her palm. Through the fabric of her glove, she recognized his earnestness. That too made her throat thick with unspent tears.
"Don't cry, Liv. Come to dinner tonight with us. We will be three morose gentlemen in need of good company."
"I cannot." She inhaled and shook her head. No, enough of this delight in Killian Hanniford. Enough of his family and their unbounded support of each other. Their joy in each other and their dogged understanding of failure and despair.
"I want to insist. Business associates do, you realize."
She slid her hand away. "Thank you. But no. I have much to do to move to Brighton. I have my lists of items I must find in Paris shops and I need to write to my vendors and plan my visit there. Then I must go south and find a small house to rent while we finish your houses."
"Then you need a good dinner."
"Killian, no. We are client and consultant. Friends at most."
His silver eyes dimmed. He did not reach for her hand again.
And when the coach came to a stop before her townhouse door, Killian alighted first.
"I do not expect to come south for another two weeks or more," he said as he took her hand to help her take the step to the street.
"That gives me a good start. By then, the builders may have begun erecting the frame for your cliff house. Perhaps even have spruced up the foundations of the townhouse block. I'll have much prepared for you to review."
"Do that. Thank you."
"If you decide to go to Paris, please write to tell me the dates you're there," he said.
To walk the boulevards with him would be bliss.
"We'll go to the Sèvres factory together."
She chuckled at the absurdity of Killian Hanniford choosing dinner service. "You want new china, do you?"
The smoldering look on his face said he wanted her. Only her.
She could not breathe.
"I want everything, Liv."
She wanted his beautiful mouth. His hands on her. His affections.
"I want china and fine tapestries. Good Lyon silk and your opinions on new art for the main salon. I want to drink with you, dine with you, dance. All of it."
To drink champagne with him at the Ritz and buy paintings from the new impressionists up in Montmartre lured her like a fly to honey. "You'd want a piece of sculpture, perhaps?"
He nodded, his eyes twinkling in delight. "By Remy? Yes, if any is appropriate for a home. I'd also like at least one painting by that new female artist who's becoming popular."
She grinned, happy for the lighter subject. "Marianne Duquesne?" Marianne Roland had not taken her famous husband's family name professionally, but used her maiden name. She said she would not trade on Remy's fame, but wished to earn her laurels on her own merit.
"Would you assist me with buying art in Paris, Liv?"
I shouldn't. "If the timing seems right."
Fires burned in his brilliant eyes. "It would be strictly business."
"Strictly business."
Chapter 11
Liv climbed the hill, her small leather reticule in one hand, her hat in the other. The sun streamed down, so bright and warm that she was happy she'd donned her lightest cotton gown on this hot July Saturday afternoon. The stone masons and carpenters would be at home on their half day of rest, enjoying their suppers with their families. The terrain to the top was clear of brush, thanks to the crew that labored to level the drive and the gardens for Killian's country home. She had easy walking up the steep terrain. For days, she'd yearned to come here this afternoon and be alone with the sun and the sea. Could the heat bake her mind and the wind free her body of her never-ending debate about how much she missed Killian Hanniford?
She picked her way up the hillside to the cliff and muttered to herself about her conflict. She couldn't rid herself of it. Her need to see Killian. Her fear that next week she'd meet with him and want his kisses so badly that she'd act like a hoyden. Occupying herself well each day, she worked hard and bent to her work, her choices of Bath stone for the corner quoins in the townhouses, the baked roof tiles, the plumbing pipes for the cisterns and the roasting oven ironwork. And more, so much more. She was grateful for the wealth of it, the details she had to master. But at dusk when she returned to her neat little house facing the sea, he invaded her thoughts. She'd dismiss her maid, her only servant here at the seaside house. She often cooked her own dinner and then she would sit at her bay window, her view out to sea. And he would come to her.
Sweet Siren: Those Notorious Americans, Book 3 Page 10
