“I would be most pleased to hear Lady Willa play,” he said, his face impassive. “After the gentlemen have drunk their port.”
His calm indifference was beyond rude and it did not improve Livvie’s temper. Her chest hurt with the effort to remain apparently unaffected. With as much comportment as she could muster, she placed her napkin on the table, and stood. “If you will excuse me, I have a headache and wish to retire to my room.” After a slight curtsy to the general assembly, she walked quietly from the large dining hall.
Instead of heading to her room, she rushed through the hallway and went to the side entrance out into the gardens. She took a deep breath. Then another. It did not help. Anger still coursed through her veins. How could he be so boorish and uncivil? She rushed down the path, breathing the cold air into her lungs, remembering her lessons. A young lady must never openly display her anger or emotions. Her lower lip trembled and she bit into it to make it stop. After staring at flowers unseen, a smile touched her lips.
She knew exactly what she needed to do to feel better… It was highly unladylike and improper, and in this moment she did not care one bit.
Several hours later, Livvie waited stealthily beside the stairs of the east wing. It was talked of by the servants in whispers as Lord Blade’s wing. He was the only person at Grangeville Park to reside in this section of the house. All the current guests, his sister, mother, and her rooms were in the west wing. She had spent hours immersed in painting, waiting for when he would retire. She had barely escaped his rooms, and had even passed his valet at the top of the stairs with the bucket in her hand. Mr. Ackers had seemed flummoxed, and she had given him a wide smile and continued on her merry way, praying he would not turn down the sheets for the earl.
After Lord Blade finally left the library and climbed the stairs, she waited a few minutes before following. Now she was sitting on top of the stairs in her very ugly, bulky, and favorite nightgown feeling decidedly foolish. Oh, what had she been thinking? What if he was so outraged at her ill-conceived prank that he had her kicked out?
Jumping to her feet, Livvie rushed toward the earl’s chamber. She needed to find a way to distract him and remove the slugs. A loud, surprised bellow echoed in the hallway. She faltered.
Too late.
A crash was heard and what sounded suspiciously like an enraged snarl echoed through the door before a chilling silence. Instead of great satisfaction, she felt distressingly small. The door was wrenched open and the earl framed the doorway. She swallowed, her eyes glued to a powerful male chest. He was only clothed in a purple banyan…which was so loosely tied, it bordered on indecent. “I…my lord…I…” What could she say? What defense did she have?
“It speaks,” he said dangerously soft, and all the contrition she had been feeling melted away.
It?
“I beg your pardon?”
“You are clothed in the drabbest God awful sack, your hair…your hair appears to be a bird’s nest— Can you not tame those maddening curls?”
Before she could retort he continued, “With only one candle in the hallway, I thought you a frightful apparition until you opened your mouth. I must assume your presence here in my wing is the reason I have a dozen or so slugs in my bed? I swear I can still feel one in an area no unmarried young lady should know about.”
His mien was so icily polite his indifference intimidated her, and she resented it most heartily. “You insulted me most grievously earlier and I have settled the account.”
His dark eyes were intent on her. She could have imagined it, but she thought his lips twitched. “I see,” he murmured.
“Yes, you were rude…and hurtful.”
He was irritably silent and the tension made it hard for her to swallow. “Now if you will excuse me, my lord…I bid you good night,” she said in a voice of careful nonchalance.
His gorgeous lips curled into a cruel smile and a warning danced down her spine. Then she glanced up. Oh dear. “It seems one of the slugs has a particular partiality to your hair.”
“Hmm,” he said noncommittally, then his hands darted like a striking adder and grabbed her. Before she could protest, he dragged her into his chamber, lifted her into his arms, and dumped her onto the bed of slugs. Good heavens! A cold, wet sliminess slithered down her neck. She shrieked and scrambled from the bed, tumbling to her knees on the lush green Persian carpets.
Livvie surged to her feet, gripped the slug attached to her cheek, and threw it at him.
The dratted man chuckled, provoking amusement dancing in his eyes.
He is the devil.
Within two strides he was in front of her, pulling her to him so she was flush to his chest. “My lord!”
Her heart clambered up to her throat, and she fought to gather her composure at their close proximity. She became very aware that she was alone in his chamber at such an indecent hour. Not that any time of the day would have rendered her visit respectable. But somehow, knowing it was dark outside, and the household slept, and that they were alone in an entire wing had nervous energy coursing through her veins.
“Release me at once,” she said, and to her acute annoyance and embarrassment, she sounded breathless.
Dark green eyes roamed over her face. “No.”
She floundered. “No?”
“You invited yourself to my chamber, and you chose to come when all servants are abed, now… Do you truly wish for me to release you, Lady Olivia?”
She almost fainted. Was she imagining the menace in his tone? The earl was a tall man with very wide shoulders, so she had to tilt her head at an odd angle to meet his eyes. He was so still…and watchful.
“I did not invite myself to your rooms! I was at a perfectly safe and respectable distance in the hallway.”
Once again, he remained maddeningly silent.
“I am sure you know the consequences of keeping me here.”
The dratted man smiled. “If this is a ploy of yours to be caught with me, know that I will never marry you,” he said drily.
She stared at him, dumfounded. “You are the one who pulled me into your chamber,” she whispered furiously. “And I assure you, my lord, there is nothing on this earth that could induce me to marry such an arrogant—”
She spluttered as he plucked the slug that had finally slid from his hair to his forehead and held it close to her face. She prevented herself from twitching.
“Are you ready to place them back in their home?”
“Their home?”
“I assume you went by the lake?”
“Yes,” she admitted softly.
He nodded and released her, suddenly looking brisk and business-like. “I have a long day ahead of me, Lady Olivia, I suggest you get to work.”
“Me?”
“This was your handiwork, was it not?”
She drew a deep, steadying breath. “I’m deeply sorry,” she said abruptly.
His eyebrow arched in evident surprise. “An apology?”
She looked at him helplessly. “It was childish of me to place slugs in your bed. I felt no satisfaction from it.”
“You had one or two snails in there as well.”
Her gaze sought the massive bed in the center of the room and the gray mass situated comfortably in the middle between silken sheets. There were indeed a few snails. “Do you accept my apology?”