Chapter 26 Livy
Livy
Livy discreetly studied the man next to her.
His features were so harsh, even in the darkness.
His jaw was stern and angular; his cheekbones were prominent in a face many would call gaunt.
Combined with his jet-black hair and heavy brow, he reminded her of a black wolf she once read about in the zoology books in Papa’s library.
Especially hidden in the shadows. Nothing like the jovial boys she’d grown up with.
She fixated on the lines of his jaw. Sharp enough to cut.
She never once thought she’d feel such a desperate, soul-shattering ache for the debauched scoundrel.
But she did. Inside, small slices were widening into jagged cracks, like a pond’s surface in winter, stepped on when it was too fragile.
This man wasn’t who he pretended to be. And Livy recognized so much of his hurt.
Finally saw the parts of her she’d recognized even before she’d truly known what they were.
Like staring into a looking glass. At loneliness, at hopelessness.
“Some days…my past haunts me.” His words cut through the room, and they both jolted, shoulders smacking into each other, as if he was just as surprised by his words as she was.
“Some days I struggle to…face the memories when they resurface. Unfortunately, the night of our commitment—tonight—was one of those times.”
They fell into silence again, and she studied him carefully. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the way he shifted ever so slightly, the way his hands flexed where they rested atop his knees…he looked like he was warring with himself.
“Do you want to discuss it?” she prodded. He turned to her then. Glared at her. She tilted her head in question, and he let out a huff.
“I don’t understand why, but I think I do. I think it’s your smell. It’s making me dizzy and confused.”
“Are you…telling me I need to bathe?”
He groaned. “And now I’m picturing you bathing.”
She swatted his thigh. “Rude.”
“It’s your own fault for putting the image in my mind. But no, I don’t mean you’re malodorous. I mean, you smell like vanilla. It’s bloody annoying, always being assaulted by the scent of vanilla biscuits.”
Livy nodded seriously. “Yes, I can most definitely see that. The mark of an evil woman, smelling like shortbread.” She caught his gaze, and something glimmered back at her, even in the obscurity of the study. A soft levity. But then it went dark, and he looked away.
“My mother left when I was young too.” He released a sigh so heavy it pulled her down too, forced her to sink lower against the wall.
“She ran away with one of her many lovers. And proceeded to die three days later with said lover in a carriage accident. I spent the next decade of my life watching my father drown himself in drink and vice.”
His voice turned hard. “I’m not sure what was more fun, the solitude that came from one’s existence being forgotten, or the beatings I suffered when it was finally remembered I did exist. And why I existed.
Her son. A reminder of the whore who cuckolded him and then left him.
Everyone had found out; the accident was plastered all over the papers.
I think my father hated that. I was the scapegoat for that hate. ”
A broken crooning noise fled her without thought, a mirror of the heartbreak happening inside her. Heartbreak for the boy he’d been, abused and abandoned, and for the man he was now.
“I was happy when he died,” he spat. “He died at the hands of his creditors. Discovered floating in the Thames. I was shipped home from Harrow at fifteen and took over a floundering estate. And can you guess who my father assigned as trustee? A money-hungry drunkard, just like himself. The result of a wager lost.”
He turned toward her, his green irises nothing but a striation of grey.
“I worked—I slaved—to revive the marquessate,” he whispered.
“Every small success was followed by a failure. A youth with no experience, no tutelage, no bloody clue. No assistance. And a trustee who siphoned funds as soon as I was able to create them. Until I came of age at one-and-twenty and rid myself of the leech. Finally free from the last remnants of my father.”
She reached out and squeezed his forearm. She’d have hugged him if their positions had allowed it. She had a feeling the man next to her was in desperate need of a hug. “I’m so sorry, my lord.”
“Derek.”
Both their eyes flew wide at the same time. He shook it off, shrugged, as bored and droll as ever. And she almost laughed. Goodness, he was hilarious. Mr. Must always be a tough, unfeeling marquess.
“I’m so sorry, Derek. You didn’t deserve that.”
It was simple, matter-of-fact, and it wasn’t close to enough. But he seemed to appreciate it, if his sad smile was any indication.
“I must sincerely beg your pardon, Miss Forester. For—”
“Livy,” she said, her lips curling in amusement. “It’s only fair we both trade Christian names. And, Derek?” She waited until he nodded in acknowledgement. “All is forgiven.”
His lips pursed, and he frowned back at her. “Easy as that?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Not everything requires a grand apology or penance. We’re human. I don’t plan on dwelling on it. Sometimes it’s as simple as moving forward.”
“You forgive too easily,” he murmured. “Like with this Mr. Thorton of yours. He sounds like a right prick, yet you’re the one trying to gain his attention.”
She rolled her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall, staring unseeing at the ceiling. “First off, all women try to gain men’s attention. It is how our world works. We parade out in front of you, and you point and say, ‘I’d like that one.’”
She glanced at him to see his face twisted in a grimace.
Exactly her thoughts.
“If I walked into ballrooms and failed to temper my intelligence, to soften my laughter, to rein in my rather…exuberant awkwardness, we both know how well that would go. I started out as no one of consequence, and I’d quickly find myself something worse than that if I were to be myself.
I have nothing to commend me in our world. ”
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Her heart stuttered to a stop. Usually, that fact frustrated her.
That all she had was the way she looked now.
That if she hadn’t somehow gotten lucky and grown out of her gangliness, she’d truly have amounted to nothing.
And it still wasn’t enough. But the way he said it, with such soft reverence…
it felt more than surface-level. Especially with the way his eyes were boring into her, like he saw the essence of who she was hidden underneath.
Like he was the first person to ever see her.
Her chest swelled, whirling with a foreign, fizzing feeling. Like she finally wasn’t invisible.
He cleared his throat and glanced away, breaking the charged moment. “You stole my clothes, and that went really well for you,” he pointed out. “Perhaps you should be stealing people’s garments more often.”
She bit her lip against a smile. “You’re such a noodle.”
He coughed over a laugh, staring at her with eyebrows aloft.
“Did you just call me a noodle? Christ, I don’t think anyone has called me that since my early days back at Harrow.
” A soft smile ghosted his lips. “Even then, we’d all been raucous boys trying to be tougher, older than we were.
Curses were thrown, not things like noodle. ”
“Perhaps not in your presence.” She winked, and he shook his head at her. “In any case, I will be the epitome of the modest, demure young lady society demands.”
“How incredibly revolting that sounds.”
Her jaw tensed, and she drew in a slow, steadying breath. “It is. And I don’t like it. But the way I feel about it doesn’t change anything. There are expectations I must conform to. I’d be na?ve to believe otherwise.”
They stared at each other. It was clear he wanted to say something, argue. But there wasn’t anything to argue over.
“What is my alternative?” she asked softly. She truly wanted to know. Because there wasn’t one in her eyes. Whatever argument was brewing in the tension of his frame faded away. As she’d thought.
“If I don’t conform, I simply do not marry.
Does it hurt that the man I’ve spent five years dreaming of a future with can’t be with me because I’m not someone his family approves of?
Yes, it really does.” She swallowed down the strain tightening her words.
“He’s not the only one, either. I have fallen short before.
” She interlaced her fingers, rolling them together.
She wasn’t even good enough for her own mother. “I refuse to fall short again.”
He stared at her for a long time, not speaking, mouth slightly parted like the words were just about to come forth.
Finally, he said, “I hope he’s worth it.”
“My destiny in this life is to become a man’s possession.
Either that or I live a life alone. Those are my two options.
I know Warren. I know, despite the barriers keeping us apart, he cares for me, and I know what my future would look like as his wife.
” She smiled sadly at him. “Oddly enough, the only person who has ever seemed to appreciate me as I am, obsession with mathematics and all, is you.”
His gaze darted away. Once again, he proved her correct. The instant discomfort when she spoke of him as a suitor who’d appreciate her was loud in the quiet room. Because he’d never be her suitor.
“Men like you only want one thing from women. You want me in your bed; it’s what our deal is based on, after all.
You most definitely don’t want marriage.
And I don’t hold that against you, Derek.
Just so you know. You’ve been nothing but honest with me.
But all I am is a diverting time to you.
That doesn’t lead to a future with someone to share meals and quiet conversations with.
To fill a home with children and laughter.
I want that. I’ll do what I must to get it. ”
He pressed his lips tight, the whitening skin like a small flash in the darkness.
“Have you heard of a chameleon, Derek?”
His brows drew together, but he hummed his assent.
“They change their color to blend into their surroundings. To protect themselves, so they can survive. If that’s what I must do to survive, so be it.
I don’t want to be alone. I shouldn’t have to be alone.
” Frustration mounted, shaking her words.
She paused, tried to force it away with a slow, unsteady breath.
“I know already that Warren appreciates some of my colors, ones society never would.” She smiled, but it was forced, a weak attempt to cover up the sadness that came with that reality.
“And perhaps one day, he’ll appreciate every one of them. ”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you win your beau, Miss Forester.”
A small twinge of disappointment pinged in her chest. For a brief time, it’d felt like they’d been friends. But it was clear he wanted to put distance back between them.
“We should get you home. I’ll escort you this time.” He arched a brow, that small movement brooking no argument.
“You do realize, I’m probably more at risk being alone with you in a carriage than if I were to get a hackney back to my rooms.” Especially considering the last time.
His face split into his signature devilish grin. “Naturally. I may have said I’ll do whatever I can to assist you. But I’m still just as determined to seduce you.”
He was insufferable.
She couldn’t say she hated it.