He bent his head, his mouth claiming hers.
His kiss was gentle yet masterful, a far cry from her first clumsy attempt. There was no smooshing of lips, just soft pressure and brushes that sent wisps of heat over her skin. He slid his fingers beneath her wig, anchoring her as he courted her mouth with slow, drugging kisses. Caresses so sweet they stirred her very soul. Utterly awash, she surrendered to him. Their mouths clung as if they had nothing to hold onto but each other.
When his tongue swept against the seam of her mouth, it felt natural to open to him. To receive the wet, tender thrust that sent a wave of awareness through her body. The tips of her breasts throbbed, molten warmth gathering at her center. She felt dizzy, overcome by sensation yet wanting more. More of his kisses, more of him. He delved deeper, sliding his tongue against hers, and she moaned with desperate need.
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead briefly against hers.
“You’re so bloody sweet,” he said raggedly.
“Oh, Hadleigh.” She had to catch her breath. “Does this mean you do like me as more than a friend?”
He stared at her…then let out a guffaw. His laughter was infectious, and she joined in, enjoying the lighthearted moment, the burst of sunshine after the rain. When they both calmed, he took her hand and kissed the knuckles before tucking it against his thigh.
“I am attracted to you,” he admitted. “That is the problem.”
“Why is it a problem? You told me about your past, and it doesn’t matter to me.”
“I haven’t told you everything. And, no,” he said, cutting off her argument, “there’s not enough time to do so tonight. We’re back at Lady Fayne’s.”
Livy hadn’t even noticed that the carriage had stopped.
“Beyond that, I am too old for you,” he went on. “Your parents are bound to disapprove and rightly so. And while you and I are attracted to one another, we may not be compatible. There are things I want that are not suitable for a young virgin.”
“As Papa is older than Mama by a dozen years, they would be hypocrites for disapproving of our age difference. And clearly age has no bearing on marital bliss: look how happy my parents are,” she argued. “As for the other matter, how will we know unless we, um, try?”
He gave her a stern look; for some reason, it added to her tingling arousal.
“There is no way in hell I would dishonor you in that fashion,” he said. “If we decide to pursue something beyond friendship, then that path can only lead to marriage. Our physical relationship is not like a hat to be tried on and returned if the fit isn’t right.”
“But isn’t that the point of courtship?” she persisted. “As long as we don’t do anything, um, irrevocable, I see no problem with us spending time together to see if we are a match.”
He inhaled deeply. “Let me think upon it.”
“How long will you—”
“I will call upon you tomorrow. If you stop pestering me about it.”
Despite his exasperated expression, she saw the amusement in his eyes and knew she was getting her way.
“All right,” she said happily.
“I must also ask you to be discreet about our relationship. Until things are settled, I don’t want your reputation to be compromised in any way.”
Livy wasn’t sure she could keep things a secret from Charlie. Her mentor was perceptive…and undoubtedly going to interrogate her the minute she walked through the door.
“May I at least tell Fiona and Glory?” she asked. “They can be trusted.”
“I would not presume to stand between the Willflowers,” Hadleigh said wryly. “Now we had better get you back inside. How did you manage to slip out earlier?”
“I, um, climbed out my bedchamber window. There is a tree right outside of it,” she improvised. If she had had to leave undetected, that would have been her chosen route. “But I can go in through the front door. I have a key, and no one is awake at this hour.”
He descended from the carriage first, scanning the dark and quiet street before handing her down. “Until tomorrow,” he murmured.
“May your dreams be sweet,” she whispered.
She rose up on tiptoe, brushing her lips against his jaw. Feeling his surprise, the tightening of his grip on her waist before he let her go, she smiled to herself. Then she dashed toward the house, floating on clouds the entire way.
16
1845, London Residence of the Duke of Hadleigh
Livy is 16; Ben is 28
Hadleigh was in his study, where Livy thought he would be. Peering through the crack in the doorway, she saw that he wasn’t alone. Papa was with him, the two men standing by the window, looking out into the rain-drenched garden. She was struck by their similarity, their height and broadness of shoulder emphasized by the dark garb they wore to honor the somber occasion.
The men were silent and, at age sixteen, Livy was old enough to understand why. Things happened that defied the comfort of language. There was no cure for grief, only time and the support of loved ones to make it more bearable. She didn’t think Hadleigh had many people who loved him…and now he had lost the one person who was supposed to love him most.
She was fiercely glad that Papa was there to offer his friendship. And she would do what she could to help ease Hadleigh’s pain. Clearing her throat, she pushed open the door.
Both men turned in her direction. Hadleigh’s expression was as bleak as the rainy day. He had lost even more weight during the preceding months he’d spent secluded with his wife at their country estate, his skin stretched drum-taut over the sharp frame of his bones. His eyes were bleary, rimmed with red, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept for months.
“Livy.” Papa appeared relieved to see her. “I was about to
