Chapter 5 Livy
Livy
That same night.
London.
Livy placed another one of her dresses—her very few dresses—in the wardrobe of her London rented rooms. She was really here. And she was really doing this.
It had taken some…clever thinking on her part. Papa, when she’d finally managed to draw his attention from his work, hadn’t thought a trip to London was necessary.
“A season? Aren’t you a bit long in the tooth for a season? How old are you now?”
She chuckled to herself even as a pang went through her chest as she smoothed out the dress and tucked it away.
Twenty, she’d reminded Papa, she was twenty.
She tried not to let it hurt that he didn’t remember.
And, yes, twenty might be edging toward the later side for a debut, but it wasn’t as though she was on the shelf.
Then he’d dropped very surprising news on her.
“And the barony goes to you upon my death. So, you don’t need to bother yourself with a husband. I am sure I discussed it with you at some point.”
Papa hadn’t. Though he’d probably meant to. Another common occurrence with Papa.
Her lips curled sadly. Perhaps if she dressed up as a planet, she’d have an easier time keeping her astronomy-loving Papa’s attention.
She’d been grasping desperately to find a reason for them to go to London.
She’d even tried to lure him with the presentations he could attend at the Royal Society.
But he’d assured her he was close to a breakthrough—for certain this time—he couldn’t possibly go to London right now.
And then she’d lost him to his fervent scribbling again.
She didn’t blame him for his absent-mindedness.
It was who he was, and she knew he loved her, in his own way.
He may have his faults, but she loved him dearly.
Mother hadn’t, though. Why couldn’t individuals love one another for who they were?
She’d always love Papa, oddities and all.
But that wasn’t the usual way of the world; a person had to have purpose, something valuable to contribute.
She wasn’t about to fade into the background and be forgotten.
She would make sure she was someone worth loving.
Fortunately, the perfect idea had come to her—
“This is all dreadfully dull.”
Livy bit her lip against her grin and turned to her Aunt Mellie.
Her aunt was on the far side of Livy’s bedchamber, hips swaying and generous bosom bouncing as she paced.
The Mirror of Graces was spread open in one hand, and her nose wrinkled in disgust. Her aunt was a handsome woman in her early fifties.
While Papa had gone completely white early, Aunt Mellie still retained her dirty blonde locks, locks currently framing a pair of increasingly rosy cheeks.
Aunt Mellie wasn’t exactly what one would consider a perfect chaperone.
She was a bit quirky, in the best way, just not in your typical matron of the ton way.
It had been quite some time since Livy had seen her aunt with Uncle Nigel’s long illness and then passing.
Oh, but spending time with her aunt was going to be amazing—for the both of them.
Something Papa had agreed whole-heartedly with.
Which was how Livy found herself in a set of rented rooms in London.
“Now, it says here we need to make sure you are not eating overly fatty foods, fasting for inordinate periods of time, nor drinking in excess.” Aunt Mellie blinked at her freshly refilled wineglass. “I do hope these rules don’t apply to chaperones.”
Livy bit back a chuckle. Her aunt did enjoy her wine.
“They also recommend exercising daily, specifically two to three hours a day.”
Livy’s eyes flew wide. “I beg your pardon, did you say two to three hours a day?” Livy loved spending time outdoors, riding, swimming, wandering through the countryside…but two to three hours a day?
A giggle escaped Aunt Mellie, followed by a hiccup. “Dear me, I read that wrong. Apologies. Exercising two to three hours after sunrise is recommended.”
“That seems much—”
“And clean. You must be clean.” Aunt Mellie’s gaze was locked on the book again, tapping the page.
Livy narrowed her eyes at her aunt. “Are you sure this will be helpful? Will I truly make an impression on society because I don’t overindulge in food and drink, go for walks in the morning, and take regular baths?”
“I am sure the regular baths will help. No one will want to talk to you if your person is malodorous.” Aunt Mellie looked up again, grinning, her blue eyes twinkling. “Whatever would you have done if I hadn’t rushed to your aid in the middle of the night?”
Livy’s lips twitched. “I most certainly would have gotten tosspot drunk and rolled in a pile of manure before attending my first ball.”
They shared a small smile. Aunt Mellie looked back at the book, and a frown pulled at her features. “I think the most difficult piece for you will be hiding your intelligence, dear. It notes that—with men, especially—you should be reserved on certain subjects.” Aunt Mellie looked pointedly at her.
Livy huffed. “Yes, I know. I will not speak on mathematics.” I will not speak on mathematics. She was really going to try.
Warren’s alarmed visage when she’d failed to hold her tongue flashed across her mind.
She winced. She was naturally inquisitive, with a slight obsession with numbers.
She always struggled to refrain from blurting out answers when someone posed a math question.
But Warren really shouldn’t have asked for another hit during that game of Ving-et-Un, not with the cards that would have been left in the deck.
Numbers made sense to Livy in a way nothing else ever had.
But no man wanted to marry a woman like that.
Livy couldn’t wrap her head around why. Was it enjoyable speaking to someone who had feathers for brains?
According to texts on deportment and what she’d learned from her governess, men wanted ninnies for wives.
Seemed awfully boring. Especially when dinners could be spent discussing differential equations.
She set her shoulders. “I will do whatever it takes to be what they want me to be, Aunt Mellie.” No mathematical equation had ever stumped her. She wouldn’t let this either.
“I wish it weren’t so, dearest. Such is the lot of a woman in this life.
We must conform or risk ostracization. However…
” Her aunt’s eyes glinted mischievously, a cunning little smile curving her lips.
“You would be surprised how easy it is to control a husband who underestimates your intelligence.”
Poor Uncle Nigel hadn’t stood a chance. Though considering how utterly besotted the two were, Livy didn’t think he’d minded.
“You know, dear, I do think some of this looks to be in our favor. It says here that the best dress is one without excessive adornments as it will take away from the female’s form.
” Aunt Mellie took a sip of wine and glanced at the stray dresses lying on Livy’s bed.
“We have no money for excesses, so that works out quite nicely.”
Livy snorted, and her aunt grinned. “My housekeeper and I altered my dresses to the best of our ability. Though I don’t have enough to get through the remainder of the season…” And beyond that, it would be painfully clear her gowns were worn and hardly made of the finest silks.
“We shall just have to find you a husband quickly, won’t we? I met your Uncle Nigel at the first ball I attended, recall.” Her aunt raised a blonde brow, a teasing glimmer in her blue eyes.
Though her aunt said it in jest, a tightness built in Livy’s chest. Her aunt didn’t realize how much her statement rang true. She needed to convince Warren she was his perfect wife. Before he found someone else.
“I just know you will ensnare the men of the ton.” Aunt Mellie set down her wineglass and clapped her hands. “Our first ball is tomorrow. And it’s the Chesterfield Ball. Are you excited? This is going to be so much fun!”
Livy smiled at her aunt’s exuberance as she walked over to her satchel.
“I am excited. And nervous. I hope our preparations are enough.” I hope I will be enough.
But it wasn’t just that. Livy had attended her fair share of country dances.
But a London ball? Her stomach squirmed.
Everything was more relaxed in the country. More free.
Livy pulled her notes out of her bag, her gaze sweeping over them. She’d much rather curl up against a tree with her newest text on calculus by Mr. Frederick Hodge, but this was who she needed to be. A viscount’s wife would need to host her own balls.
“Nerves are normal, Olivia. Don’t you worry, with your plan”—Aunt Mellie nodded toward the papers in Livy’s hand—“I have the utmost faith you will make an excellent match.”
Over the past week, Livy had devised a battle plan of sorts. If there was one thing she was good at, it was studying. And she had put all her focus into studying society. Debrett’s was filed away in her mind, ready to be recalled at a moment’s notice.
And this plan she’d devised? Ended with her as the Honorable Mrs. Warren Thorton. Once she proved to Warren that she would make him the perfect wife, she would never have to worry about being forgotten. She would never have to worry about being found lacking.