It was not only their tempers the Blade men had in excess. It was all emotions—jealousy, love, grief, and it had led them to do terrible things. Tobias buried the memory of his father’s rages, his mother’s crying, her holding her bruised cheek as she dealt with another of his father’s jealous fits. No…Tobias certainly did not want a woman to inspire him to act with such reckless emotions, without regard for others. He’d fooled himself for years that he was different from his father, his uncles, his grandfather, but then…he had discovered what a fool he had been. Even now, at times he could still see the blood on his hands and feel the crunch of bones under his fist as he succumbed to rage.
He shook his head roughly, trying to clear away the haunting memories.
“You are…staring, my lord.”
“Am I?”
She swallowed. “Yes,” she said softly and shivered.
“You are chilled,” he observed.
“I am. Francie had intended to return with a blanket. I am not sure what has waylaid her.”
Lady Olivia deserved to be chilled. Maybe then she would act with some decorum.
“Are you to offer me your coat?” she asked with a disarming smile.
He met her eyes and what he spied strangled his breath. Without a doubt she was attracted to him. Her cat eyes glowed with wariness, but beyond the fear was desire. He had been politely distant to her since she had been in his household. It seemed he would have to be curter to ensure she would direct her tempting interest elsewhere. “No, I will not.”
“How disagreeable of you.” She sounded as if she had her teeth clenched.
“You were foolish enough to dip in the lake without thought. I trust you will be able to figure out how to enter the house without my mother seeing you or trailing water over the floor.” He tipped his hat. “Good day to you, Lady Olivia.”
Her eyes widened. He spun his horse around and cantered off. It made no sense to indulge in the desire surging through him. Despite the fact that she roused his lust, she also roused his ire, and that, he well knew, was a most dangerous combination.
…
Her heart pounding, Livvie watched the earl urge his horse into a flat run and disappear over the incline. Lord Blade already disapproved of her, and it infuriated Livvie that she wanted his approval after going her whole life without ever wanting such a reaction from a man. The least he could have done was offer his coat. Instead, he’d only stared at her in that bold, piercing way of his.
“Wretched man,” she muttered, hurriedly slipping into her dress. The only thing currently wonderful about the earl was that he had the most beautifully stocked stable of thoroughbreds.
If only he wasn’t so infuriating, so cold toward her, so sinfully handsome. Whenever he was near, she felt different, more alive, and more aware of herself. There were days she ogled the man, even though she had no idea why, for she did not like him, and he certainly held no affections for her. Her very existence seemed to vex the earl and the continued disapproval on Tobias’s face stung. But despite that, there was something. She had always been drawn to the forbidden. Everything the earl represented.
Her papa, despite everything else, had treated her like the son he’d never had. He had taught her how to ride, shoot, hunt, and fence.
At the age of eight, she had been determined to learn to swim so she could join her papa on his morning rituals by the pond instead of her mother in the drawing room. She had snuck out and had almost drowned, but within a few days she was floundering on her own and in a few weeks was a proficient swimmer.
Another of her forbidden misadventures had been when the boys in their village had climbed the large oak tree by the local inn and carved their initials. She had followed and marked her own initials. And on the way down had fallen and dislocated a shoulder. But she had done it and Papa had been very proud of her bravery.
At eleven, after she had moved to live with her mother’s new husband, she came across a dog that had seemed like a wild, starved wolf. Determined to save it, she endured many scratches and even a bite in the process. They were the best of friends even today.
Every time she had gone after something she desired, she had been hurt.
What price would she pay if she danced too close to the earl’s icy flames? For she admitted, finally, that she wanted to feel the press of his lips against hers and the sensation of being wrapped in his strong arms. If only once.
“Good heavens, what is wrong with me?” she muttered.
Livvie pinched the bridge of her nose, clutched her unruly thoughts, and then pushed them firmly aside. She moved briskly across the lawn, chafing her palms against her arms to generate heat. She would not waste another second thinking about the infuriating man. Worse, she believed he recognized her attraction to him and was appalled. Humiliation burned through her at the very notion. She vowed to do all in her power to ensure she appeared immune to his charms.
It would not do to be obvious in her admiration for a man who clearly disliked her.
Chapter Four
Three days later, one perfectly elegant and well-mannered Lady Wilhelmina, who insisted on being called Willa, descended on Grangeville Park with her parents, the Baron and Baroness Ranford, at Tobias’s mother’s invitation. Lady Willa was poised, very demur in her mannerism, and uncommonly beautiful, with her light blond hair and azure eyes. It soon became clear to Livvie that the countess intended Lady Willa as a suitable bride for the earl.
The countess’s report of Lady Willa was highly favorable and she did everything in her power to see them thrown together, from suggesting they drive along the lanes in a landau to experience the beauty of the estate to most ardently encouraging them to take several turns in the gardens alone, and even now, tonight, seating them beside each other at dinner.
It might not have been by design on her part, but Lady Willa’s pale blue high-waisted gown somehow picked out the dainty flowers in the drapery covering the windows of the main dining hall. The dining room had been recently decorated by the dowager in hand-painted wallpaper in tones of blues and creams. The blues also echoed the dinner service in Wedgwood jasperware, which the dowager had also chosen. Livvie personally disliked the large pieces that decorated the mantelpiece and the large silver epergne that acted as the centerpiece for the huge mahogany table.
“You look lovely, Willa, dear,” the dowager countess murmured once everyone was seated. Lord and Lady Ranford quickly echoed the sentiment, ladling lavish compliments upon their daughter.
Willa, of course, basked in the attention, and made it evident she had set her cap at Lord Blade, with her parents’ beaming approval. Livvie considered the dowager’s seating plan to be quite incorrect, particularly as Willa’s rank was no higher than her own and the Earl and Countess of Hempton had also been seated farther down the table. The dowager had argued she was aiming for informality to justify her seating arrangements. Livvie had been seated down the table between an unctuously prosing vicar who was balding prematurely and an extremely deaf retired army Colonel. The Colonel luckily had a string of fairly amusing anecdotes to tell about his time in the army, with which he continued to regale her, loudly, drowning out most of the vicar’s pious utterances.
Lady Willa giggled quite often, batting her long lashes at the earl and finding several reasons to touch his arms or shoulders fleetingly. Yesterday on their walk in the garden, she had even caused her ankle to twist so that Lord Blade had to lift her in his arms and carry her back into the parlor. That contrived “accident” had caused an uproar. Livvie watched it all with some amusement. Willa’s parents were clearly excited and pleased with their daughter’s progress and the countess beamed whenever she spied her son with Lady Willa. The countess had even complimented her several times on her graceful deportment, with pointed glares at Livvie.