Due to Livy keeping him tied up in knots, he’d suffered a few sleepless nights. Some soporific reading material might be just the ticket.
“I hope you find the pamphlet edifying,” Lady Fayne said. “Lord Sheffield professed to find our views on the plight of women quite enlightening.”
Ben frowned. “Sheffield has read it?”
“Indeed, he was one of the first to do so.” Lady Fayne smiled complacently. “He has been a regular visitor here since Livy came to stay.”
“Has he?” Ben swung a glance at Livy, who looked back at him with wide eyes.
Why the devil hadn’t she mentioned anything about seeing Sheffield? Was she dallying with the bastard…while keeping Ben dancing on her string? Jealousy scalded his chest. He’d been played in that fashion before. Had sworn to never let another woman make a puppet of him.
“Surely you do not disapprove, Your Grace?” Lady Fayne said with arched brows. “Sheffield is excellent ton, and the Duchess of Strathaven told me that she quite prefers him.”
“Livy’s papa, the duke,” he said through his clenched teeth, “has a different view.”
“A mother knows what is best for a daughter, don’t you think?”
“I do not,” Ben snapped.
“Charlie,” Livy cut in. “Could Hadleigh and I have a moment alone?”
“Without chaperonage? My dear, would that be proper?”
“Hadleigh is a trusted family friend,” Livy insisted. “We will leave the door open.”
“Fine. You may have fifteen minutes and not one more.” Lady Fayne rose, her smile pleasant and fixed in place. “Come, girls, there are women in need of our assistance.”
After the others departed, Ben leaned toward Livy. He planted his hands on the back of the settee, caging her.
“What the devil is going on with Sheffield?” he demanded.
“Nothing.” She blinked at him. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“What if I am? Is that what you want?”
Looking into her beautiful face, he suddenly saw Arabella’s green eyes looking back. The gloating glow in them as she whispered, “Prove to me that you’re a man, Hadleigh. Prove that you’re the only one deserving of me.”
“Of course not.” Livy’s bewildered voice dispelled the memory. The eyes that stared back at him were once again guileless, with the clarity of a mountain spring. “That is precisely why I didn’t mention Sheffield. Not that there is anything to mention. He has visited a few times, yes, but you know he likes to pay attendance upon me. It isn’t anything serious, and I could hardly turn him away.”
Her rational explanation dumped sand upon the flames of Ben’s jealousy. He felt like a fool. And the veriest cad. Jerking away, he dragged a hand through his hair.
“I apologize,” he muttered. “I did not mean to alarm you.”
“I am not alarmed,” she said. “And I will accept your apology—if you explain why you acted like a madman.”
He owed her an explanation; there was no getting around it.
He forced the words out. “I thought you were trying to goad me into jealousy.”
“Why in heaven’s name would I do that?”
“Because Arabella did.”
He’d never spoken much about his marriage to Livy, due to her young age back then and also his loyalty to, if not his wife, then the vows he’d made. Yet the rumors about the state of his marital affairs had been plentiful, and Livy had always been a little pitcher with big ears. Since Arabella’s death, he hadn’t hidden the fact that he had no desire to wed again.
His clever queen had probably put two and two together. Thus, he wasn’t surprised at the understanding that filled her pretty eyes. Or her next question.
“Why did she wish to make you jealous?” Livy asked quietly.
“It made her feel loved, she said.” His lips twisted as he stared at the coffee table. “I was foolish, had married her when I was eighteen and far too young. And I took her at her word that she lied and kept secrets because she wanted my attention. It took me years to understand that what she really enjoyed was having power over me.”
“I’m sorry.” Livy placed her hand on his jaw, turning his gaze to hers. “I’m sorry she did that to you. But I am not Arabella. And I would never play with your feelings in so shabby a fashion. Love is not a game.”
“Livy.” His throat constricted; he couldn’t look away from her bright sincerity. “Hearing you say that…I cannot tell you what it means to me. Because that is the one thing I would insist upon in marriage: total and complete honesty. I will not tolerate lies from any future duchess of mine.”
Livy wetted her lips, looking…anxious? He did not blame her. When it came to romance, he was no idealistic young buck like Sheffield. What he had to offer wasn’t poetry and ardent promises but hard truths and a closet full of skeletons.
“Other than, um, honesty, do you have other expectations for marriage?” she asked.
He glanced at the open door, which offered a partial view of the empty hallway. The situation was far from ideal for this conversation, but he had to lay his cards on the table and see her reaction. Had to know whether it was pointless for him to hope.
“They all have to do with the failures of my first union,” he said bluntly. “In short, I failed in my duty as a husband and will not make that mistake again. If I marry, I will be the master of my own house. I will expect my wife’s honesty and obedience, particularly when it comes to her well-being and safety.”
“O-Obedience?” Livy stammered.
His chest tautened. This is why it is important to have this discussion now.
“I admire your spirit and always have. But I will treat you differently if we are more than friends,” he said with ruthless candor. “From experience, I know that I am a possessive lover. I will want you to belong to me as completely as I will belong to you.”
Seeing her pleated brow and obvious confusion, he felt a sinking sensation. Never was he more aware of the differences between
