Chapter 24
Livy
“I don’t think he’s coming, dear,” Aunt Mellie said from where they stood in their small parlor. Pacing. Waiting.
Livy deflated with a heavy sigh. Aunt Mellie was right. Lord Dunmore had been expected to arrive at four to escort them to Ranelagh Gardens for promenading and then dinner. It was now half-past five. No note, no servant sent with regrets. But his absence was loud enough.
“I suppose we should change into something more comfortable. I’m sorry your efforts on my coiffure will be wasted.
” She hated the dejection in her tone. Hated the hollowness that had stolen over her; like when she’d deflated, finally accepting he wasn’t coming, a part of her had whisked away with it.
She’d been so looking forward to tonight.
And if she were honest with herself, it had nothing to do with her social standing.
Would it have helped to be seen with the illustrious Marquess of Dunmore?
Be introduced to more influential members of the ton and have word trickle back to Warren?
Certainly. But she’d truly wanted to see the gardens, hear the music, view the entertainment.
And more than anything, get more glimpses of the true man behind the mask. The man behind the Marquess.
Silly, foolish Livy.
“Nothing to apologize for, Olivia. I love spending time with you. I don’t care if we get all done up just to sit at home sipping wine. Would you like a glass of claret? We can have our own little supper, dressed to the nines.”
Livy smiled. “I’d like that. I think I’ll change first. It was the gardens and music more than anything I was looking forward to. But I’ve always liked comfortable. I think I’d prefer curling up on the settee in the parlor with claret and supper.”
Her aunt reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry, dear. After Hyde Park and the dresses… I truly thought he’d keep his word. I was skeptical when you’d enlisted his help, and he did seem different from what I expected. Yet…”
Aunt Mellie’s words trailed off, but she didn’t need to say more.
It was all there in the heavy silence. Yet this is what one must expect of a man with his reputation.
A man whose only care was for his next conquest. Rude.
Arrogant. A man who didn’t honor his promises.
Not for a woman he could only steal a kiss from, especially when other women practically fought to share his bed.
The thing was…Livy was fairly certain the Marquess of Dunmore was nothing like that man. He tried to be, but every time they’d been alone together, he’d slip. Something genuine would surface, and he’d hurry to cover it up.
This world loves to hate.
But she had a feeling he didn’t. He just wanted everyone else to think he did.
There was something about him, something she couldn’t quite name, but it felt familiar.
It went beyond matched minds, a shared interest in numbers.
There was a likeness between them, a glimmer of herself reflected in him.
Distant, blurry, something she wasn’t able to make out, but she could feel it—the quiet kinship.
She’d thought they were becoming something like friends before tonight.
Her stomach whirled, unsteady and uncomfortable. A question murmured in the recesses of her mind:
What if he wasn’t here, not because he’d gone back on his word, but because something was wrong?
She followed her aunt upstairs to change, twisting her fingers in front of her. She hoped he was all right.