Chapter 38 Livy
Livy
Something was wrong with Derek.
Livy stared down at the letter she was writing—the mostly blank letter.
She was supposed to be composing some of her thoughts for Mr. Hodge regarding his mechanical engine.
They’d struck up a correspondence after the Rutledges’ dinner party.
But for once, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Because she was consumed by thoughts of last night.
Last night had been…
Incredible. Not that it was surprising that a notorious rogue would live up to his reputation when it came to his prowess in bed.
It had also been illuminating. About herself, about who she was.
Someone who liked to take control. She could ask for what she wanted.
She dusted the feather of her quill over her chin.
It wasn’t a position she’d ever been in before.
She’d always followed Warren’s lead when they’d been together, fumbling through their firsts, learning each other.
She’d been so nervous she’d do something wrong, something to deter his interest…
It had never even occurred to her there might be parts of herself she’d been unknowingly silencing; hidden desires she’d never had the chance to explore. That would make her feel powerful.
With that power came the third truth: it had been liberating.
Freeing. He'd given her back her agency.
No. She'd taken it back for herself. Derek had understood.
Had known what she needed. He always seemed to know what she needed.
That was the heart of it, wasn't it? Somewhere between the calculated schemes and reckless nights they'd revealed fragments of their true selves.
She wanted more pieces. To put them together until she saw all of him.
Except for the fact that something very strange had happened last night after their intimacy had come to its conclusion.
The silver-tongued Marquess of Dunmore…had turned tongue-tied.
The man had been awkward, had barely been able to put a coherent sentence together before he’d fled her rented rooms like his breeches were on fire.
Not only that, he’d been blushing, his cheeks flaming red.
Which was curious. Livy was curious. She would have found it all rather endearing…if she had any idea what it meant. She absently drew a swirl on the parchment in front of her. She really wanted to find out what it meant.
“Oh dear, my head aches something dreadful.”
Livy glanced up, a smile pulling at her lips. “I wonder why that would be?” she teased.
Her aunt huffed. “I blame Lady Rutledge. Without her bosom chum at her side, she tasked me with the role, and I am not as young as those two ladies. Apparently, as you age, you cannot eat nor drink as much.”
Livy pointed her quill at her aunt and raised her brows meaningfully. “You didn’t seem to mind much when you two were whispering behind fans last night.”
“Yes.” Her aunt’s lips tilted softly. “It was a splendid evening, and I quite enjoyed Lady Rutledge’s company. She’s different from other ladies of the ton. She is fun.”
Livy chuckled to herself. Yes, Franny was fun. The woman was made of sunshine, her joy infectious.
“I didn’t fail to miss how familiar you and Lord Dunmore were while I was whispering behind fans. If you meant to set the ton talking, I’ve no doubt you two with your heads huddled together in full view of the theater did the trick.”
It had been the last thing on Livy’s mind.
All she’d wanted to know was how Derek was faring after everything.
To see him, speak to him. She hadn’t even cared what about.
It had been…calming…being in his presence after everything.
All the noise had settled when they’d locked eyes, the bad fading away, only hope and possibility left.
“It definitely should improve the way I’m viewed in society,” Livy murmured absently. “Being seen in the Duke of Ironcrest’s box, conversing with the Marquess of Dunmore.”
“Mmm.”
Livy’s gaze snapped to her aunt’s. There’d been something in that “mmm”. A disbelief.
Aunt Mellie smiled softly. “I may be a horrible chaperone, Olivia. But I’m not a fool.
I know we came here with the objective of winning someone’s attention.
Did you think I’d believe you didn’t have someone in mind already when you came up with your plan to take over the ton?
You had a target. If I’m not mistaken by the visitor to the box last night, that target used to be a Mr. Thorton. ”
Livy rolled her lips in and nodded slowly. She didn’t fail to notice her aunt’s phrasing.
“But…he’s not who you have your sights on any longer?”
Livy frowned. Did that make her fickle? Impulsive? Derek’s words from the night they met assaulted her.
I will prove that you are no different from every other woman walking this earth. Flighty. Unfaithful. Inconstant. Only ever concerned with your own selfish desires.
“What’s on your mind, Olivia? Your face is doing much more talking than your mouth is.”
Livy let out an enormous sigh and flopped backward on the chaise.
The chaise. Her choice of seating was not helping the confusion in her brain right now.
“You’re correct. On all fronts. I came here with the intention of convincing Mr. Thorton I was worthy of his hand in marriage.
And somewhere along the way…everything has gotten all mixed up.
I…I don’t want to marry him any longer.”
“But Lord Dunmore?” Aunt Mellie prodded.
Livy’s eyes slid shut. “Yes,” she whispered, finally admitting it out loud. Finally admitting it to herself. “I want to marry Lord Dunmore.” Heaven help her. She wanted to marry the most marriage-averse man in London.
The cushion of the chaise dipped, and Livy’s eyes popped open. Her attention landed on her aunt sitting by her feet.
“Why do you admit it like it’s a confession?”
“Is it not…foolish? Weak-willed? For five years, I had thought Mr. Thorton was my future. I wanted him to be my future. More than anything. For five years. And now, after—what? A month—I’ve decided to throw all that away?
For one of the most notorious bachelors of the ton, of all men.
” She winced. “Just saying it aloud, I sound like I’ve lost all sense. ”
Aunt Mellie studied her silently, and Livy couldn’t hold back her squirm. When Aunt Mellie wasn’t enjoying her claret—and apparently even when she was—she saw much more than she let on.
Finally, she spoke softly. “You know I met your Uncle Nigel at my very first ball. It was minutes, Olivia. We both knew in minutes. But I also have friends who have known their partners since childhood, and it wasn’t until much later that feelings developed.
You can’t put a timeline on love. How long it’ll take to develop, nor how long you’ll have it. ”
Livy’s heart cracked for her aunt—at the pain that seemed to have drained some of the rich blue hue from Aunt Mellie’s eyes, like part of it had faded away along with Uncle Nigel.
Aunt Mellie smiled sadly, then cleared her throat. “Why did you want to marry Mr. Thorton?”
Livy blinked at the abrupt question. “Urm. He made me happy. Made me laugh. He filled the empty places…” The ones born from a mother's abandonment, a father lost in his own world, a friendless childhood.
“For once, I felt like I had a safe place to land. After feeling alone for so long, he was warmth and security and hope for a future different from what my current life was like…”
“But…?”
“I spent those five years trying to be someone I’m not.
Not entirely different but still hiding some parts of myself because it’s not what’s accepted by the greater part of society, Mr. Thorton and his family included.
By Mother,” she added the last on a whisper.
“And now I feel as though perhaps…I was willing to give up too much to hold on to that feeling—of not being alone.”
“Hmm.” Aunt Mellie pursed her lips. “And Lord Dunmore? Same question.”
A stinging built behind Livy’s nose, and she pressed her lips together against the well of emotion swirling inside her chest. But she couldn’t hold it back. The burn built, her vision blurring over. She met her aunt’s gaze through her watery one.
“Because he sees me. All of me. He sees me, Aunt Mellie, and he genuinely likes that woman. I’m not sure I can put into words the way he makes me feel.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
And I didn’t want it. I tried to ignore it.
But I can’t.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “Not any longer,” she whispered.
Aunt Mellie leaned forward and took Livy’s hands in her own.
She gave them a firm squeeze, a wealth of reassurance in that small gesture.
“It’s not a bad thing, Olivia. I don’t doubt—nor should you—how you felt about your Mr. Thorton.
But in life, it’s a rare thing that a childhood infatuation comes to fruition, that the first person we develop an attachment to ends up the person we spend our entire life with.
Especially in a society where one is lucky if there are any positive feelings at all.
I may have met your Uncle Nigel at my first ball, but it’s not as though I’d never fancied a man before him.
Stolen a kiss or two.” She winked, and Livy’s lips pulled up.
But they immediately fell. “Unfortunately, Lord Dunmore isn’t the marrying type. Something I have repeated so often to myself, it should be etched into my brain. And still…here I am.”
“All men aren’t the marrying type, darling.
” Her aunt arched a brow. “Until they marry.” Her smile turned sly.
“You came up with this clever plan to win over society. And it is working, Olivia. I have no doubt you can snag that marquess. When you are determined, you are a force to be reckoned with. You can conquer anything you set that clever mind too.”
Livy huffed out a laugh. Her aunt made her sound like some villainous tactician. “I won’t trap him, Aunt Mellie,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to coerce him. To force him. If he didn’t want to marry her…
“Oh, darling, you won’t need to trap that man. Call me a romantic, but some souls are just meant to be together. I see it with your Lord Dunmore.”
Livy’s gaze snapped to her aunt’s at that. “You do?” she blurted. Heat rose in her cheeks. “I mean…whatever could make you say that?”
Her aunt snorted at her terrible attempt at nonchalance. “You didn’t see him the night of your accident. That man is so besotted he has no idea what to do with himself.”
Something burst in Livy’s chest, bright and crackling and full of hope. She’d love to believe they shared whatever this feeling was. That, perhaps, his out-of-character reaction last night might be because he too was confused and overwhelmed by whatever was passing between them.
But as the fireworks inside her fizzled out, something he’d mentioned at the theater whispered through her mind. Something involving the funding of a foundling home.
It was more complicated than just convincing a reluctant man to become open to the idea of marriage.
Because Derek admitted he would marry. For the foundling home.
As much as that man wanted the world to think he was heartless, the Marquess of Dunmore had a bigger heart than most. He’d do the thing he wanted least in this world… if it meant saving his charges.
Livy didn’t have a penny to her name. Even if she could convince Derek, if there was even a chance he felt something close to what she did…she couldn’t ask him to put children on the streets for her. He wouldn’t do that. She knew it with absolute certainty.
A knock sounded, and Livy startled out of her reverie.
The butler entered. “A letter for Miss Forester,” Peterson intoned.
Livy took the proffered letter from the butler and sliced it open. A small firm card peeked inside the parchment, its telltale red seal winking at her. She scanned the light blue ink, and her breath left her on a hitch, free hand flying to cover her mouth.
Ladies Voucher
Almack’s
Deliver to
Miss Olivia Forester
Tickets for the Balls on the Wednesdays of May 1817
And there in the corner, the initials: D.D.I.
Livy closed her eyes. The Dowager Duchess of Ironcrest. She’d done it. She, a poor lowly baron’s daughter, someone nobody had ever heard of, just received a voucher to Almack’s.
“What is it, Livy, dear?” Her aunt waved her hands wildly at Livy, like she could hurry Livy up with the movement alone.
Livy turned the voucher toward her aunt.
Her aunt scanned over the letter, and then Aunt Mellie was bouncing in her seat. “Oh, Olivia! I knew you’d succeed. I knew it. You’re brilliant and beautiful inside and out, and you so very much deserve this.” She crushed Livy in a hug and whispered, “I’m so very proud of you, my dear.”
Livy swallowed hard. If only her mother could see her now.
She’d only bring me embarrassment.
Not anymore, Mother.
Livy looked back at the letter accompanying the voucher, instantly recognizing the tiny, precise scrawl as Derek’s. In her excitement, she hadn’t noticed who’d sent the letter. She flipped it over and traced her finger fondly over the Dunmore crest.
“I will arrive with my carriage to escort you and Lady Elliot to Almack’s Wednesday next. It will do well for your pup to see you walk in on a man’s arm.”
M of D
Aunt Mellie hummed by Livy’s ear, clearly reading over her shoulder. “Well, isn’t that something? It looks like we start Wednesday next.”
Livy’s brows pinched, and she turned to meet her aunt’s mischievous eyes. “Start what?”
“Your new plan. You have a rogue to conquer.”
Livy bit her lip against a smile. Her aunt was right.
Derek may have fled last night, but this voucher, this letter, spoke volumes.
Perhaps he wasn’t ready yet. But had she ever backed down from a challenge?
Equations didn’t solve themselves, after all.
And yes, a new variable had just been thrown into the mix with the foundling home, but goodness, was there anything more exhilarating than a multivariable equation?
If Derek thought he’d be an equation she couldn’t crack, he was in for a surprise.