Livvie frowned, unwilling to engage in gossiping but wanting to know more about the coldly intriguing earl. “And then?” She contained a wince at her own whisper.
“Lady Sophie threw a tantrum. No doubt she never imagined he would break the engagement. It was the scandal of the Season that year.”
Livvie shook her head in disbelief. “He ruined her reputation because she was angry?”
Francie hesitated. “When Mother asked him to reconsider, Tobias said he’d had enough tantrums and hysterics to last him several lifetimes and he would not be persuaded to reconsider Lady Sophie. My brother values modesty, grace, and good sense in a young lady. His words.”
Livvie understood a bit more about Tobias, and she was startled at the ache blooming in her heart. It was not that she wanted the man for herself, but it was finally clear why he did not like her.
“There she is,” Francie whispered. “It was perverse of Mother to send an invitation to her family.”
Livvie glanced in the direction Francie indicated to see a very beautiful young lady staring intently at Tobias. A man stood at her side chattering, gazing at her with something akin to adoration, but her eyes remained firmly on the earl.
A young man walked over then, a smile planted on his face, his eyes glued to Francie’s loveliness. He bowed. “Lady Francie.”
Livvie dipped into a curtsy after swift introductions had been made. The gentleman was revealed to be young Lord Andrew, heir to a viscountcy.
“May I have you as a partner for the next set, Lady Francie?” he asked, all affable charm.
With a quick smile, she agreed, and he flushed, bowed, then scampered away.
“Oh, Livvie, no one has asked you to dance.”
She ignored the pinch in her heart. “Think nothing of it, for I shall not.”
“I shall importune upon Lord Andrew to ask you—”
“Francie, I would never forgive you! I do not require his or your pity.”
“It is not pity. You are more beautiful than most of the young ladies here, and he is the kind of man your mother would want for you to attract. His family connections are considerable.”
“No.”
“Come on, Livvie, there must be someone you find agreeable. Remember you are here to find a husband.”
Her traitorous eyes sought out the Earl of Blade. Just looking at him made her body feel incredibly alive, every sensation felt keener…sharper. Surely she must be afflicted to even be attracted to the wretched man.
“I want whatever attentions I garner to be from my own efforts, Francie, and if you insist on traversing such paths, I will ask questions as to where you were earlier that has left your lips looking as if they have been thoroughly ravished.”
Francie froze, her fingers fluttering to her lips. “You mustn’t breathe a word, Livvie. But it is the most glorious thing…he has asked me to marry him, and I am desperately in love.”
“You are engaged? To whom? Oh, that is wonderful. Will an announcement be made tonight?”
She gripped Livvie’s arm with strength. “You must not say a word, it’s a secret. I cannot tell you his name as yet, but I will soon, I promise you.”
Livvie tugged her closer to the potted palm away from the crush. “Why is it a secret?”
Her friend’s eyes glowed with happiness. “Tobias may not approve…but I am in love, Livvie. I never thought I would be so fortuitous to be given the chance to marry the man I have the utmost respect and love for.”
Love.
Her heart clenched in acute yearning and the realization jolted her. As if they had a will of their own, her eyes sought Lord Blade’s powerful dancing frame. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot and her breath hitched at the weak feelings that assailed her. Livvie’s breathing went from uneven to erratic at the awareness that she was rather taken with London’s coldest earl.
Chapter Seven
Tobias released a giggling Lady Phoebe. Without giving him time to recall his breath, her mother descended on them, glowing.
“My lord, what a fine form you were in after not having danced for so long,” the Duchess of Salop said loudly. “Of course, you and my daughter looked wonderful together. So elegant and full of charm.”
The young lady released a squeal of high-pitched giggles and blinked her eyes at him so rapidly, for a moment he wondered if she was trying to dislodge an object stinging them. “It was a pleasure, Lady Phoebe,” he murmured, bowing over her raised hand. Her eyes widened in delight, while cunning glowed in the duchess’s gaze.
He bowed again. “If you will excuse me, ladies, duty calls.”
“Of course.”
They reluctantly shifted and he made his way over to his sister and Olivia. He tried to reassure himself that as the unofficial host of the ball, it was his duty to lead her to her first dance. But in truth, he wanted to be closer to the vexing beauty and there was a need in him to dance with her even once, before relinquishing her to the bevy of suitors that would soon be flocking to her side for the rest of the Season. Many watched her with uncertainty, no doubt remembering who her father was and commenting on her lack of dowry. According to his mother and sister, if he were to be seen dancing with Olivia, her chances for a good catch would drastically improve.
As he drew closer to his sister, her voice filtered to him.
“Oh, Livvie, I love him so much. I am so frightened to tell Tobias. What if he does not approve?”
My sister is in love? With whom? He had not taken notice of any particular gentleman paying his addresses. Certainly his mother would have informed him. This was her first Season, and she had yet to be presented to Queen Charlotte, or even to attend Almacks and be launched into the ton.
“In love, Francie? What have I warned you about such sentiments?”
She gasped and twirled around, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Tobias!”
But it was Olivia he watched. For a second, pleasure lightened her features before she smoothed her face into a blank mask. Surely she had not been happy to see him?
“Lord Blade,” she greeted coolly. “Why am I not surprised you do not believe in love?”
“Love is a ridiculous notion that only inspires the foolhardy.”
Francie looked crestfallen, and Olivia narrowed her eyes. “So what do you believe in?”
“Power, tangibility, and logical reasoning.”
“Oh, you poor man,” she gasped a bit dramatically, her eyes crinkling at the corner. “No wonder you are so wooden when you dance.”
He arched a brow. “Wooden?”
She gave a tiny sniff of scorn. “Yes, I observed you with Lady Phoebe earlier and you were so…so…bland and uninspiring. Though you commanded her movements through the waltz, you exuded icy restraint and none of the flare and passion that comes with such a thrilling and provocative dance.”
His sister groaned lowly. “I can see you both are about to start and my nerves do not have the willpower to deal with it tonight. I daresay old married couples bicker less.”
“Good God, Francie, strike the notion from your thought. This is the second time you have made such an utterance and I assure you it is in poor form,” Tobias said.
“I am off to procure some refreshment,” his sister said, flouncing away.