Lady Dearing's Masquerade (21 page)

Her lip trembled. “But I do not wish to marry again.”

“Livvy . . . my heart . . . I hope you will reconsider. I can be patient. I will be planning ways to accomplish this
without
jeopardizing the Foundling Hospital.”

“I cannot think how.” Her voice was small. Uncertain.

“I’ll find a way. Just tell me you will think about it.”

“It is wrong to think about it.” Her eyes were half- closed, her breathing quickened as he leaned toward her, eagerly sensing the thread of longing that drew them together over the discreet expanse of mahogany. “But I will.”

Chapter 15

Water droplets arcing above the fountain scattered and reflected the brilliance of the sun sailing above in a perfect, cloudless sky. A perfect July day. Or it should have been.

Livvy grimaced over her lemonade. Was it too sour, or was it just her mood?

“Lady Dee, did you hear me?”

Robbie’s piping voice recalled her attention.

“I was telling you about the story Miss Burton read me.”

The look in his big hazel eyes made her feel like the most selfish creature imaginable.

“I am so sorry, Robbie,” she said, smiling down at him contritely. “My mind wandered off somewhere, just like a butterfly. I must catch it!”

She reached a hand into the air and made a show of snatching an invisible creature and popping it into her ear.

“There. I am ready to listen now.”

Robbie giggled, but her conscience still pricked her as she tried to listen to his disjointed recounting of
The Elephant’s Ball
. The other children had noticed her abstraction, too.

A week. An entire week had gone by without word from Jeremy, and she’d nearly come to the conclusion that it was wisest for them to stay apart. It was high time she accepted the fact that he had come to the same decision. Still, a perverse anger gripped her as she sat there in the sunshine with her beloved children on what should have been a glorious day.

Guilt pierced her as she realized that Robbie had paused again in his story, but before she could apologize, pandemonium broke loose.

“It is Sir Jeremy!”

“Sir Jeremy!”

“And he’s leading a—a pony!”

“A pony! A pony!”

Robbie jumped out of his seat and kept bouncing as the others chattered and looked eagerly toward the stables.

Livvy turned slowly, striving to keep some semblance of dignity. There he was, on Samson, leading a piebald pony behind him, its black and white patches gleaming in the sun. A moment later the small cavalcade disappeared from view behind the stables.

“May we go meet him?” asked Philippa, her eyes bright.

“Yes! May we? Please, please,
please
!”

Helpless against their pleading, Livvy nodded. With a word to Jane to have luncheon held back, she followed the horde off the terrace and toward the stables.

A
pony
, she thought, a lump coming to her throat, maddening tears to her eyes. Most men would have brought her flowers, but Jeremy could not have hit on a better way to her heart than through the children.

He also knew she would not be able to refuse the gift.

The children had broken into a headlong run but she followed more sedately. When she had reached the stables Jeremy had already dismounted from Samson and the children were clustered around him and the pony.

“You must remember that though he is bigger than you are, you must be very gentle with him,” he said, guiding Robbie’s hand to the pony’s nose.

“Ooh, he is so soft!” exclaimed Mary, stroking the pony’s neck.

Jeremy looked up to smile at Livvy over the children’s heads. She melted, and despised herself for it.

“Good morning, Lady Dearing,” he said politely, but there was a glimmer in his eye that was anything but civilized. “I trust you will not mind my having brought a gift for the children.”

She raised her eyebrows, knowing she had no choice in the matter. “Of course not,” she said, aware of the children’s eyes upon her. “What is his name?”

“Pirate,” he replied, turning the pony’s head so she could clearly see the black patch around one eye. “He comes from Lord Lewisham’s stables, having carried his lordship’s sons and daughters until they all outgrew him. I judge him to be quite steady and reliable.”

“He looks good-tempered,” she concurred, noting the pony’s large, kind eyes and the way his ears swiveled to listen to the endearments being spoken to him from all directions.

May we ride him now?” asked Ben, with barely restrained eagerness.

“If Lady Dearing agrees.”

She nodded. “We can eat our luncheon afterward. In the meantime, here is Miss Burton. I am sure she will enjoy watching you, and I may go inside and work on my accounts as I planned to do after we ate.”

“No, no, you must stay and watch!” protested Robbie.

She nodded, annoyance flaring at Jeremy’s amused look. Now he had the children all in a league against her. Did he not know this was
serious
?

“He really is the kindest of men, isn’t he?” whispered Jane a few minutes later, as they watched Jeremy lift Robbie into the saddle.

“Jane dear, if you continue to speak this way I shall worry you are falling in love with him!”

“Don’t tease me, Livvy! You know he is here to court you. How can you look at him with such indifference?”

“There is more to it than you know.”

“What I know is he’s determined to have you, and you should listen to what he has to say!”

“Thank you, but please do not speak of this anymore. It would be wrong to raise the children’s expectations.”

“I understand,” Jane whispered back. “But do at least give Sir Jeremy a chance to speak his piece.”

They watched in silence as the rest of the children had their rides. Livvy’s heart twisted each time she saw Jeremy help one of her children into the saddle and patiently explain the rudiments of horsemanship.

Afterward they returned to the terrace, where sandwiches, strawberries and cream awaited them. Livvy ate quietly, grateful to the children for chattering to Jeremy, annoyed with him for looking so wretchedly cheerful.

And then it was Jane’s turn to betray her. Her shy governess was the first to stand up. “Well, we have had quite enough pleasure for one day,” she said in her strictest voice. “We shall spend the next few hours in the schoolroom catching up with our lessons. Sir Jeremy and Lady Dearing have important business to discuss and they shall
on no account
be disturbed.”

Livvy blinked. The children seemed startled into obedience and Charles, who was collecting up the dishes, smothered a grin. She didn’t doubt the rest of the domestic staff would shortly be ordered to leave her and Jeremy in privacy.

Drat, he had her servants all in line, too.

She pursed her lips as he offered her his arm, blandly inviting her for a stroll in the gardens.

You should not have come here.
The words stuck in her throat. Weak-willed fool that she was, all she could do was lay her hand on his arm. “I—had not expected you to come.”

“After what I said to you at the Foundling Hospital?” he said, softly indignant as he led her off the terrace, toward the gardens.

“Well, you would have had every excuse for staying away,” she said, keeping her hold in his hand light. “I am still pretty certain this is not a wise idea.”

“Are you sorry I came?”

She turned her head away, glad of her bonnet.

“No, don’t look away. Tell me. Are you sorry?”

She couldn’t resist his pleading. “No. But I should be.”

He smiled as they entered the rose garden, no longer at its height, but still full of beguiling colors and perfumes. Far too romantic a spot; thank goodness Furzeley was there with Sam, the under gardener, both deadheading some of the late bloomers.

“A hot day today, my lady,” said Furzeley. “A stroll in the woods would be more refreshing. If ye’re tired the folly’s a nice shady place to sit. I’ll open the gate for you.”

With astonishing nimbleness for such an aged man, he sprang ahead of them to open the side gate.

Jeremy thanked him, but Livvy fumed as she passed through the gate. If she could not depend on Furzeley, who’d given her her own little plot to muck about in as a four-year-old, to protect her virtue, she could depend on no one.

“A most admirable servant,” commented Jeremy as they crossed the lawn toward the folly and the woods.

“I am sure you think so.” She gave him a sideways glance.

“Perhaps they are happy to see a respectable gentleman courting you. At least I am
trying
to court you. You have been making it extremely difficult.”

She bit back nervous laughter. “I thought you were so honorable.”

“I am. My intentions are totally honorable, but I must employ what means I can.”

She humphed.

A moment later, they passed under the open columns of the miniature temple. A stone bench stood before the tiny enclosed area used to store fishing tackle and other oddments.

As she turned to sit on the bench, she gasped. “What are you doing?”

Jeremy paused in the act of removing his coat.

“The bench is hard,” he said, eyebrows raised in mock innocence. “If I set my coat on it, it will be more comfortable for you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said crisply. “There are some blankets we use for picnics stored behind that door.”

She rose hastily, but he forestalled her, emerging quickly with several thick carriage blankets. After he’d folded them carefully, padding the entire bench, she sat down, obscurely nettled when he took a place a few feet away from her.

“You know this is madness, don’t you?” she asked, suppressing the urge to sidle closer to him.

“Madness to try to court a shrew?” He laughed.

“Madness to try to restore a pariah to society. Is there no convincing you I am a lost cause?”

He incensed her by grinning. “I told you lost causes are my specialty. If I can persuade an indifferent
haut ton
to care about foundlings, can’t I at least try to change their opinion of
you
?”

He stilled the twisting of her hands by taking them in his. “Livvy, I know this won’t be easy. But we do have influential friends. I believe that with their support we shall
do
.”

She lowered her gaze, fighting the enchantment of his voice. “What about Ivor? No one will believe that I was not his mistress.”

“I’ll admit that’s a sticky one. I think it’s useless to try to dispel that particular rumor, but in time people will accept that you have reformed your ways. To marry
me
.”

She looked up to see him smiling again. “I have not said I would.”

To her annoyance, his smile broadened, drawing her gaze to his wide, deplorably kissable mouth.

“But your family—what would they say?” she asked.

“Once they know you they will love you almost as much as I do.”

She bit her lip. There was no reasoning with his innocent confidence. “Adolphus and his wife would be delighted to put a spoke in our wheel.”

“Would they not be relieved at not having to continue your widow’s jointure?”

“Yes, but Rosemead Park is worth more than that. The way Papa arranged my marriage settlements, Rosemead goes to my husband, with additional provisions for any children I should have from any marriage. If I were to marry you—and I said if—you would be cutting out Adolphus.”

“I will tolerate that
if
. For now. But let me tell you I don’t believe you would allow that nincompoop to stand in your way. For now what I truly must understand is why you are so reluctant to even try.”

Dear God, what a tangle of fears he was asking her to bare! Struggling for words, Livvy stared down at their twined hands for a moment.

Jeremy forced himself to wait, stroking Livvy’s hands and reining in the desire to pull her luscious, fragrant self into his arms. He did not dare rush things; better to coax her slowly out of her defenses, now that he suspected the wounds she nursed behind them.

“Livvy, there is something I should tell you about.”

That got her to look up, at least.

“It is nearly ancient history now, so you may not have heard the stories about my parents.”

She shook her head.

“I am telling you this not to distress you, but to make you understand some things about me.” He took a breath. “My childhood was not . . . the happiest. My parents, for whatever reason, felt the need to test their love for each other in an endless cycle of infidelities and reconciliations. The Abbey used to ring with their noisy arguments, which sometimes became violent. And finally one of their battles turned fatal.”

She gasped, then edged closer to him in an impulsively compassionate gesture.

“It was said that my mother killed my father by pushing him down the stairs at Fairhill Abbey, but I was there. I knew the truth. They were arguing and he tripped and fell down the staircase. Later that night my mother died from an excess of laudanum.”

She pulled her hands out of his hold, to grip his instead. “Oh no . . .” There was a world of shocked sympathy in her voice. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen,” he replied steadily. “As I said, ancient history. But as a child, I knew things were not right, and at times my anger overpowered me. Fortunately, my uncle and aunt became my guardians, and they did much to help me master my temper.”

“They sound like good people.”

He nodded. “My uncle died a few years ago, but I think you will like Aunt Louisa. She’s a dear thing. But what I want to say is that over time people realized I would not tread my parents’ path. But more importantly,
I
realized it.”

A faint line appeared between her eyebrows.

“Livvy, I’m a peaceable man. Since I grew up, I’ve never hurt a child or a woman. The last time I hit anyone was at the masquerade. I would never hurt
you
.”

She turned her head aside, hiding behind her bonnet brim again. “I know that.”

“I have done a great deal of thinking about some of our encounters, the times I’ve become angry or jealous. The day I tripped over that toy in the library and knocked you over. There was something alarming in your expression . . . Now I think I know what it was.”