Mama had merely smiled. “Didn’t I tell you we Kent women are late bloomers, dear?”
Livy hoped her new assets would nudge Hadleigh into seeing her as a grown-up. With that in mind, she had chosen her ensemble with care. The silk crepe was a shade between peach and pink, which she thought complemented her brunette coloring and light green eyes. The bodice bared her shoulders, crisscrossing to a point between her now discernable breasts, where she’d pinned a fragrant gardenia. The rest of the bodice molded to her corseted torso, elongating to a point. The full skirts draped over her petticoats, the overskirt looped up with peach ribbons to reveal her tiered underskirt.
“You look very pretty,” Glory said.
“In a virginal debutante sort of way,” Fiona said.
Livy furrowed her brow. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not at all. But this is Hadleigh we are talking about,” Fi said frankly. “You know his reputation. He is definitely not the sort of man who dallies with inexperienced misses.”
Fi had a point. During his marriage, Hadleigh and his duchess had been rather scandalous, although Livy’s adolescent ears hadn’t been privy to all the gossip. She had once overheard two sticklers sniffing to one another that the Hadleighs were “not good ton” and wondering why Livy’s parents had invited them to the affair. Livy knew the reason: ever since Hadleigh had saved her life, her parents had treated him as if he were a member of the family.
Neither a McLeod nor a Kent forgot a debt.
After his period of mourning, Hadleigh had emerged a different man. He looked healthier and stronger, emanating a male vitality that drew females to him like flies to honey. It also didn’t hurt that he was a wealthy duke in his prime, with no heirs to boot.
Ladies and light-skirts alike swarmed him, and the scandal rags made fortunes off his supposed exploits. The only females he avoided were the marriage-minded misses. As far as Livy could tell, he was as unaffected by his new popularity as he was by his prior infamy. He was always the same with her, at any rate.
He laughed and bantered with her. Protected her.
And teased her mercilessly the way an older brother would.
I will just have to change how Hadleigh sees me, she thought determinedly. To show him I am no longer a little girl.
“Livy wants Hadleigh to offer for her, not dally with her,” Glory pointed out.
Fiona arched her brows. “Doesn’t one lead to the other? Plenty of debs have received proposals on the heels of being compromised.”
“Livy does not want her reputation harmed.” Frowning, Glory asked, “Do you, Livy?”
The rush of warmth in Livy’s cheeks was accompanied by that in her lower belly. Although she shared most things with her friends, some details were meant to be kept private. She had not told the other girls about what she’d seen Hadleigh and Lady Cherise Foxton doing in the stables last year…
Longing, hot and confusing, knotted her insides.
She blurted, “What if I want both?”
Glory stared at her, but Fiona just laughed.
“It is your birthday, after all,” the latter said. “If you want both, then both you shall have. We will simply have to make you look worldlier.”
“You can accomplish that? With this?” Livy waved a hand at herself.
Fi arched her brows. “Do you doubt me, dearest?”
When it came to matters of fashion and flirtation, Fiona was the expert of the three.
“I am at your disposal, Fi,” Livy said gratefully before turning to Glory. “I will also need a diversion for my parents so that I may speak to Hadleigh alone.”
Glory’s smile transformed her face into one of rare beauty. Setting her ferret back into its wicker basket, she said, “That you can leave to me.”
Not for the first time, Livy counted her blessings that she had the Willflowers by her side. Glory went to set up the decoy. After Fi finished adjusting Livy’s ensemble, the pair joined Livy’s parents…only to find that Hadleigh was no longer with them.
Panic clutching her heart, Livy scanned the crowded ballroom. “Did Hadleigh already leave?”
“I doubt it, poppet,” Papa said. “I am certain he would not depart without wishing you many happy returns.”
Relief flooded Livy. “I should go find him.”
“What happened to your corsage, dearest?” Her mama’s acute brown gaze roved over her. “Your bodice looks rumpled, and your coiffure is coming down.”
According to Fi, this look was known as en déshabillé and was irresistible to gentlemen.
Livy resisted chewing on her fingernail, a telltale sign of nerves. “I’ll, um, go fix it.”
“I will help you freshen up,” Mama said.
Livy was saved by the strains of the orchestra.
“They are playing our waltz, pet.” Papa smiled at Mama, his fingertips flitting over the collar of diamonds at her neck. “You promised to dance with me.”
“So I did.” Mama’s voice became breathless. “But our daughter needs attending to.”
“Don’t worry, Your Graces,” Fiona cut in smoothly. “I will help Livy. And my parents will chaperone.”
“Hear that, pet? Livy is in excellent hands.”
Papa led Mama to the dance floor, his dark head bent close to hers. Even from a distance, Livy could see Mama blushing. Her parents disappeared into the colorful, whirling blur of dancers.
Glory ambled up to Livy and Fiona, a cat-got-in-the-cream smile tucked in her cheeks.
“This waltz does the trick every time,” she said with satisfaction.
“How did you know to request this particular one?” Livy asked.
“Because my parents adore it.” Glory nodded toward the dance floor just as her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Ranelagh and Somerville, floated by. “The older generation cannot resist this song, it seems.”
“And there go my parents as well.” Eyes twinkling, Fi added, “Perhaps this
