“How would that help our brother become a better player?” Livy pointed out. “I am teaching him what it takes to win.”
“I don’t want Livy to go easy on me,” Will said adamantly. “I am going to beat her all on my own. It is like that story Papa tells about the spider and Robert the Bruce: if at first you don’t succeed, try and try again.”
“All right, little king,” Chris said good-naturedly. “You can go first this round.”
As they took turns drawing letters from the pile and using them to form words, Livy found it difficult to keep her mind on the game. The tale of Robert the Bruce and the spider, one of her childhood favorites, whirled in her head.
As the story went, after losing six wars to the invading English, the Scottish King had taken refuge from the enemy in a cave, where he saw a spider try to weave a web from wall to wall. Six times the spider tried to throw the thread to the opposite wall; six times she failed. Yet on the seventh try, she succeeded.
According to folklore, this inspired Robert the Bruce to persevere, which led to his trouncing of the English army in his seventh battle. Scotland’s independence was recognized…all because the brave warrior—and the spider—refused to give up.
A sudden recognition flared in Livy. If they didn’t give up…why am I doing so?
Love was a battlefield, and fortune favored the bold. Hadleigh might think of her as a sister now, but surely she could change that. After all, her own feelings for him had been transformed in a single, scorching moment. Livy felt a hot flutter as she recalled seeing Hadleigh with Lady Foxton. Until the moment she had peeped into the stable, she had thought of him as a friend. Yet as she’d watched Hadleigh spank his voluptuous lover over a bale of hay, wanton longing had spread through her.
A part of her had known that she ought to be shocked. Disgusted by such a display of depravity. What she had actually felt was fascination…and need.
When Lady Foxton had begged Hadleigh to give her release, an electrifying sensation had swept through Livy. The peaks of her breasts had stiffened, a pulsing urgency at her core. As Hadleigh had rutted Lady Foxton, his lean hips slamming against the other’s jiggling bottom, his hands holding her hair like reins as she mewled in delight, Livy had shivered with a strange and undeniable recognition.
She wanted to be where Lady Foxton was. To be Hadleigh’s lover. To be the only one to feel his masterful touch, to moan beneath his potent caresses…and to hold his heart. The truth had cascaded through every cell and fiber of her being: I am in love with him. In that instant, her girlish adoration had been transformed into a woman’s awareness and determination.
She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Ben Wodehouse.
And she would not let one measly failure dissuade her from her goal.
“It’s your turn.” Will’s impatient voice cut through her flash of insight.
Chris gave her a quizzical look. “Is something amiss? You never wool-gather during a game.”
Her cheeks warmed. “Everything’s fine.” Now that I’ve sorted things out.
Her mind back on task, she trounced her brothers readily.
Amidst Will’s groans, Mama entered the room in a rustle of rose silk.
“Heavens,” she said with an exasperated smile. “Are the three of you still at it?”
“Livy keeps winning, and Will keeps demanding rematches,” Chris explained. “I am stuck in the middle.”
“William, you need your rest. Chris, consider yourself unstuck,” Mama said. “And Livy, why have you not changed for Mrs. Hunt’s charity symposium?”
Livy had forgotten about the event. Hosted by Mama’s friend, Persephone Hunt, the symposium aimed to match young ladies with charities that interested them. Mama was taking Livy and the Willflowers.
“Sorry, Mama.” Livy jumped up. “I’ll get ready now.”
“I will help you,” Mama said with a sigh.
As they headed to her bedchamber, Livy considered confiding in her mother about Hadleigh. As much as she loved her parents, she doubted that they would approve of a match with him. They would say he was too old for her, despite their own gap in age. And how many times had she overheard them discussing his rakish tendencies? Just yesterday, she’d eavesdropped on their conversation from outside the breakfast room.
“Fine fellow,” Papa had said. “But he is his own worst enemy when it comes to females. He is too old to carry on in this fashion and ought to settle down.”
“Like you did?” Mama had teased.
“I’ve found domestic bliss. No reason Hadleigh cannot do the same.”
“Hadleigh isn’t you, darling. I’m afraid he might not be capable of being reformed…”
The last thing Livy needed was additional barriers to her romance. Mama, in particular, had a tendency to be managing. As a girl who was inclined to follow her own counsel, Livy had learned early on that it was best not to solicit parental opinions, particularly if she knew they would be opposing.
Sin first and ask for forgiveness later summed up Livy’s lifelong philosophy.
Which reminded her that she needed to put her campaign to win Hadleigh’s heart into action. Time was running out. With the Season coming to an end in a few weeks, she and her family would be leaving for Scotland. She might not see Hadleigh again for months.
After her mother and her lady’s maid helped her change into a lavender promenade dress and sat her in front of the dressing table, Livy pounced.
“Mama,” she said. “How are the plans for the supper party this Saturday coming along?”
“Fine, dear.” Mama fussed with a braided loop of Livy’s hair.
Livy tried to sound nonchalant. “Did Hadleigh send a reply?”
“Come to think of it, I do not believe he has.”
Botheration. How am I going to win his heart if he makes himself scarce?
Her frustration must have shown because Mama dismissed the maid and said, “What is the matter with you, Livy?”
She tried
