In recent years, Mama had taken a hiatus from her enquiry work. She had not lost her powers of observation, however. And she used them frequently on her children.
“Something has been amiss since the ball,” Mama stated. “I wish to know what it is.”
“Everything is fine,” Livy said.
In the looking glass, Mama’s gaze veered heavenward. “You take after your papa, no doubt about it. But I am your mother, Livy, and I can tell you have not been yourself.”
Knowing her mama could be like a mongrel with a bone, Livy searched for an excuse. “I am sad that the Season is coming to an end, that is all. I shall miss my friends when we return to Scotland.”
“I do not blame you, dearest. Strathmore is not the liveliest place for a young woman, is it?” Mama sighed. “If it weren’t for William’s condition, we could stay here longer, but the London air is so trying for his lungs.”
At her mother’s torn expression, Livy was struck with guilt.
“I do not mind,” she said quickly. “Will’s health must come first.”
Mama studied her, then gave a brisk nod. “Now about the supper party. I am working on the seating arrangement and wondered who you preferred to be placed next to, Lord Sheffield or Lord Kinley?”
Neither. I’d like to sit with Hadleigh.
Suppressing a sigh, she said, “Either would be fine.”
“Lord Sheffield has been paying you marked attention these past months, and Lord Kinley has all but stated his intentions to your papa. Do you have a preference for either of them, Livy? I would like to know where your inclinations, if any, lie.”
With Hadleigh. Always and forever with him.
“I have no preference between Lords Sheffield and Kinley,” she said honestly.
“Well, there’s no rush, is there?” Mama adjusted a ribbon in Livy’s hair. “You are young, and you have the Kent blood running in your veins. It is a proven fact that we Kents marry for love, so when the time comes, your heart will guide you true.”
Listen to your heart. Hadleigh had given her the same advice once.
Hearing Mama reinforce this message lifted Livy’s spirits. The Kent side of the family was legendary amongst the ton for making love matches; surely that would hold true for Livy as well? All she had to do was convince Hadleigh that their love was meant to be.
I will wage a battle to win Hadleigh’s heart, she thought fiercely. I’ll try and try again until I succeed.
6
The charity symposium was held at the Hunt Academy, located on the fringes of Covent Garden. Mr. and Mrs. Hunt, who were close friends of Livy’s parents, had purchased the former spice warehouse, transforming it into a bright, cheery school for foundlings. The academy’s purpose was to provide its students with food, shelter, and the tools to earn a living once they graduated. The curriculum included reading and writing, as well as instruction in a variety of trades.
As Mama led Livy and her friends into the packed auditorium, they were greeted by Persephone Hunt, a pretty blonde whose slender form was clad in a flounced frock that matched her vivid blue eyes.
Mama exchanged air kisses with her friend. “Percy, my dear, you have outdone yourself. Your symposium is an absolute crush. Half the ton must be here.”
“The response has been even better than I had hoped.” Mrs. Hunt beamed. “There are over two dozen charities represented today. With such a selection, I hope the ladies will find a cause worthy of their time and energy.” Addressing Livy, Fiona, and Glory, she said with a smile, “Go on and browse the tables, my dears. And be sure to stop by the Hunt Academy booth. Pippa is manning the table—or womaning it, as she would say—and would love to see you.”
Pippa, Mrs. Hunt’s daughter, was a few years older than Livy. She was vivacious and fun, and Livy looked up to her like an older sister. Since Pippa’s marriage last year, Livy hadn’t seen as much of the other.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hunt,” Livy said. “We cannot wait to catch up with Pippa.”
Livy, Fi, and Glory wandered into the perfumed throng. Booths lined the perimeter, and ladies were perusing the charities like they would shops on Bond Street. Glancing at the tables, Livy saw groups dedicated to sewing garments for those in need and reading the Good Book to women in prison. Although these were commendable causes, she could not work up much interest: needlework was her nemesis, and her reading taste ran toward sensation novels.
“I daresay I’ve never seen so many do-gooders gathered in one place,” Fiona murmured.
“Don’t you want to do good?” Livy queried.
“Yes, but I want to have fun while I’m doing it.”
Livy agreed, her eyes widening as she took in the taxidermied animals parading along the next table. All the creatures had gory wounds and looks of agony upon their furry faces. The banner hanging from the table read, Society for the Protection of Animals Subject to Cruelty and Untold Abuses. The two representatives of the organization were wearing white blouses and skirts speckled with what was, Livy hoped, artificial blood.
As Glory walked by, one of the ladies let out a huff of outrage.
“Have you no shame, young miss?”
Blinking, Glory looked around her. “Pardon. Are you speaking to me?”
“Indeed I am. That fur scarf you are wearing is an offense to decency,” the second lady decried. “To think how that poor ermine must have suffered for the sake of vanity and fashion.”
“Oh, this isn’t an ermine. Or a scarf.” Glory looked relieved. “This is Ferdinand the Second, and he’s a ferret.”
At the moment,
