She sat up straighter, breathing, “He’s here.”
“Who is?” Glory asked absently.
The alcove was furnished with a settee, which Livy and Glory shared. Glory’s russet curls were tilted to one side as she perused a newspaper she’d managed to filch from somewhere. Her pet ferret, Ferdinand II, was curled around her neck like a white fur scarf and appeared to be reading along with her.
Perched on an adjacent chair, Fiona rolled her azure eyes. “Who do you think?”
Her flame-red ringlets gleaming, Fiona sipped daintily at a flute of champagne. The youngest of the three at seventeen, Fi had made her debut this year. With her beauty and sparkling confidence, she’d taken Society by storm. It was widely rumored that she had broken the record for Most Proposals Received by a Lady in her Coming Out Year, and the betting book at White’s was apparently overflowing with wagers over who would eventually win her hand.
One of Fiona’s most endearing traits was that she didn’t take things too seriously, including her own popularity. She was having too much fun for that.
“Who is the one person whose presence our dear Livy would care about?” Fi went on.
“Shh. Not so loud.” Livy’s gaze darted to the screen. “What if he hears you?”
“Are we talking about the Duke of Hadleigh?” Not sounding particularly enthused, Glory looked up from the paper. Ferdinand II did the same. “I thought His Grace sent his regrets?”
The same age as Livy, Glory was less interested in finding romance and more in locating the next adventure. Indeed, the three girls’ mutual love of escapades had bonded them since they were children. If it hadn’t been for her friends, Livy’s adolescent years at Mrs. Southbridge’s Finishing School for Young Ladies would have been dreadful. Being a girl who knew her own mind had often put her out of step with others. Luckily, Glory and Fi were cut from the same cloth and, what was more, shared the same sense of loyalty. A haughty classmate had dubbed them the “Willflowers” as an insult, yet the trio had taken on the name with pride.
“He did, but he came after all,” Livy whispered back.
The excitement bubbling through her was more potent than champagne. For months now, she had kept her passion for Hadleigh bottled up. The event that had triggered her realization of her romantic feelings had been impossible for her to bring up to him. The wicked memories of what she’d seen him doing in the stables sizzled through her, leaving her confused, alarmed, and…stimulated.
She didn’t know how to tell Hadleigh what she wanted, especially when he persisted in treating her as if she were still a child and he an older brother or uncle. She cherished their friendship and feared ruining it and losing him altogether. When he’d wrestled her from Death’s grip seven years ago, a bond had forever been forged between them. Her heart beat because of him…and, she had come to realize, for him. Yet for the first time in her life, she had been afraid to go after what she wanted because she had never wanted anything this much.
She feared that she wasn’t beautiful and worldly enough for an urbane gentleman like Hadleigh. His deceased duchess and the ladies Livy had seen on his arm had all been sophisticated beauties. While Livy had passable looks, elegance and grace were not her forte. She also had a tendency to speak her mind which, apparently, wasn’t conducive to flirtation.
Moreover, she feared that Hadleigh might only see her as a younger sister. He teased her in a brotherly fashion about her suitors, and while he seemed protective, he showed no signs of jealousy. The last time he had asked about her beaux, she had replied truthfully that she wasn’t interested in any of them.
To which he had replied, “Wise choice, little one. Marry in haste, repent in leisure, as they say. I, for one, shan’t undertake matrimony again.”
His offhand remark had come as a blow. In truth, Livy ought not to have been surprised. She knew that Hadleigh had fallen in love and married young. Three years ago, when his wife Arabella had passed away due to complications in her pregnancy, he had been devastated, withdrawing to his estate. Livy had written him letter after letter, despite his lack of a reply.
Then, a year ago, Hadleigh had returned to Society, and Livy had been relieved beyond measure to see him healthy and hale. He and she had picked up where they had left off, although she saw him less frequently. Nowadays he was a busy man; weeks could go by before he paid her a visit.
The important thing is that he came tonight, she told herself. It must be a sign. You have to act.
“Uh-oh,” Fi said in a low voice. “Livy has that look.”
“What…oh, that look.” A knowing gleam lit Glory’s hazel eyes.
Frowning, Livy said, “I have a look?”
“Pursed lips, furrow between the brows,” Glory replied. “That expression has been a precursor to every adventure we have had.”
“It is a hold-onto-one’s-bonnet kind of look,” Fiona agreed.
Livy drew a breath. “As it happens, I have decided that I am going to have a talk with Hadleigh.”
At her announcement, Fi and Glory’s gazes widened.
“The talk?” Glory said in a hushed voice.
Fi leaned closer. “You are going to tell him that you’re in love with him?”
Livy nodded, busying her shaky hands by smoothing her blush-colored skirts.
“There is no better time,” she said. “I am a lady of marriageable age. Hadleigh is an eligible widower in his prime. Now that I’m older, our age difference no longer matters.”
“Not to you, perhaps,” Glory said. “I thought the biggest obstacle to your romance was that Hadleigh treats you like a young relation?”
“The two of you certainly bicker like brother and sister,” Fi said dryly.
“I shall simply have to make him see me in a different light. A more mature light.” Livy rose, squaring her shoulders. “How do I look?”
She wore a gown specially made for the occasion. Indeed,
