Wolfishly Yours (2 page)

What would do? Livi or her choice of day dress? Not that she cared one whit about her grandfather’s opinion on either matter. She curtsied and forced a smile to her face. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Sit.” He gestured to the sapphire damask settee not far from him and returned his eyes to the papers in his lap.

Her grandfather spoke to her as though she were a dog. That particular thought did bring a genuine smile to her lips. If he only knew how close to the truth that was. “I understand you wished for my company.” She strode across the room and slid onto the settee he’d pointed out.

Lord Holmesfield grumbled something that didn’t quite meet her ears, even with her excellent hearing. “I’ve asked Viscountess Radbourne to call on me today.”

“How nice.”

“It’s not nice at all,” the old man replied. “It was necessity. She’s our closest neighbor, and though she raised sons, she might have a better idea about what to do with you than I do.”

“You do me such an honor.” Livi frowned at her grandfather. Why did he have to make it seem as though she was a hopeless case? Not that she wanted his help in being turned into a proper lady, but did he have to be so insulting with his tone or choice of words every time he opened his mouth?

“Violet Radbourne was a friend of Grace’s, and she might be willing to help smooth your way into society. She married poorly and her sons aren’t well thought of, but we don’t have a plethora of choices where you’re concerned.”

The air in Livi’s lungs rushed out all at once. “She knew
Maman
?” Her question came out as little more than a whisper.

But her words were loud enough that her grandfather heard her and he scowled. “How many times have I asked you to speak English?”

She ignored his censure, choosing to focus on the information he’d given her instead. Lady Radbourne had been a friend of her mother’s? Livi barely remembered
Maman
. She’d been such a small child when consumption had taken her mother from her, from all of them. What Livi did remember was a delicate woman who was beautiful, kind, and generous. She remembered the fairy tales
Maman
would tell her at night, the kisses she’d dropped on Livi’s brow, the way she smelled of magnolia flowers and summer rolled into one.

“I’ll never forgive Radbourne for introducing Grace to Philippe Mayeux, but if Violet can be persuaded into helping you, it would be a start to paying off that debt.”

Radbourne. Livi did know that name. Papa had mentioned it once or twice. Why hadn’t she recognized it when Marie muttered the name in her bedchamber? Probably because Livi wasn’t thinking about her mother at that time; escape had been the only thought on her mind. But now…

From the doorway, Holmesfield’s stoic butler cleared his throat. “Lady Radbourne and Mr. Hadley, my lord.”

The earl’s frown deepened. “I didn’t invite any of her disreputable sons,” he grumbled. Then he heaved a sigh and sent Livi a look that made her feel like the worst sort of burden. “Do show them in, Browne.”

Gray winced. Why had he agreed to accompany his mother on this little excursion? Oh, yes, to avoid Lady Sophia and Archer back at the Hall. Still, how was he supposed to smile and make polite conversation with Lord Holmesfield after the man had just called him disreputable? With his Lycan ears, he had most definitely heard the insult. His human ears twitched and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, just like the dog that he was. He forced himself to lower his upper lip, releasing the snarl that twisted it.

A moment later, Browne, Holmesfield’s butler, appeared in the threshold of the small salon where Gray and his mother had been led upon their arrival at Holmesfield Court. “His lordship will see you now.” Then the old man guided them to a good-sized parlor swathed in shades of blue.

Gray’s eyes swept across the room until they landed on a stunning girl sitting on one of the parlor’s settees. She was like no one he’d ever seen before, almost exotic with her dark hair and skin that looked as though it was often kissed by the sun. He might have gaped at her forever, but his mother elbowed him in the back.

“Grayson,” she whispered, bringing him back to the present. If he stared at the girl much longer, he’d have to wipe the drool from his chin.

Gray cleared his throat. “Apologies,” he muttered softly. Then he inclined his head to the Earl of Holmesfield. “I am glad to find you looking well, my lord.”

“I’m not glad you found me at all,” Holmesfield muttered. But then he turned to Gray’s mother, inhaled deeply, and said, “I don’t know what to do with her.” His eyes slowly crossed the room until they landed on the very lady Gray had just been staring at.

The lady in question jumped to her feet with a startling show of dexterity. “My grandfather isn’t certain if he’s more mortified by my looks, my breeding, or my country of origin,” she said. Then she cocked her head to the side and continued. “Perhaps you can help him decide which part of me he should hold in the highest contempt.”

“Liviana,” the earl scolded.

Gray’s mother covered her lips with the tips of her fingers, just as a muffled sob erupted from her throat. “Are you all right, Mother?” he asked as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“She looks just like her,” his mother whispered beneath her fingertips, the words muffled to the point where Gray, with his wolfish ears, was probably the only one in the room who could hear them. He was about to ask who the girl looked like, but his mother didn’t look like she would be capable of speech for quite some time. So, Gray just rocked on his heels and waited for an introduction.

The lady looked more than startled when his mother crossed the room and wrapped her in her arms and hugged her tightly. “When did you arrive?” his mother asked. But then more questions exploded from her mouth. “How was your trip? Was the weather nice?”

“Pray allow her to answer, Mother, before you bombard her with more questions,” Gray teased. The girl looked up at him, and Gray got caught in the heat of her gaze and was nearly taken aback. He cleared his throat. But she continued to appraise him. Her gaze dropped from his hair to across his face, to his shoulders and downward.

“Close your mouth, dear,” he heard his mother whisper to her like a conspirator. The lady’s mouth snapped shut quickly, and a rosy blush settled on her cheeks. “Hadley men are handsome, aren’t they? And though they’re friendly enough, they’re like pups who haven’t been shaken by the scruff of the neck quite often enough.” His mother raised one brow at the lady. “This is my son, Grayson Hadley.” She motioned him forward with a frantic wiggle of her fingers.

He bowed his head, and the visitor held out her hand. Gray took it in his, and the heat of her skin seeped through his gloves. “Does the lady have a name?” he asked.

The blush on the exotic beauty’s cheeks grew even more vivid, and she dipped into a hasty curtsy. “Liviana Mayeux, my lady,” she said to his mother. “And sir,” she amended quickly to the end.

Gray lingered a little longer over her hand than was proper, he was sure. But she smelled like a spring meadow. Fresh and inviting.

“You can release her now, Hadley,” the earl spat in his direction.

Gray did so reluctantly, letting her fingers slide through his grasp slowly. “What brings you to the area, Miss Mayeux?” he asked. He wanted to hear her talk. She didn’t have the same cadence to her voice that the British did. He could probably listen to her all day.

“My father’s fear that I’ll disgrace him, I believe,” the chit said without even cracking a smile. Then she shot a caustic look toward the earl. “And now that my grandfather has met me, he fears the same. Must be the French in me.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders, then speared Gray with a glance. “I’ve been sent here to learn how to be a lady.”

“Which is not something you should go announcing to any ruffian who stumbles over my threshold,” the earl barked.

So now Gray was a disgraceful ruffian, was he? Normally, he would be quite annoyed by the earl’s assessment of his character, but as he stared into Miss Mayeux’s cerulean eyes, Gray turned a deaf ear to her grandfather’s criticism.

Gray’s mother crossed the room and whispered something quietly to the earl, and Gray allowed his gaze to roam as freely down the American chit’s body as her gaze had slid down his. “It doesn’t appear to me that you need any help being a lady,” he said slowly.

“It’s the social graces that I don’t fully understand.” She looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Gray felt a little uncomfortable for her. “But it appears as though you don’t either, so I’m in good company, aren’t I?”

She couldn’t have surprised Gray more if she’d offered him a bone to gnaw on under the dinner table. “My manners are in fine form,” he retorted. Weren’t they? Had he committed some egregious error already? He’d only just walked into the blasted room. He glanced back toward the earl and his mother, and discovered their heads close together as they whispered. Gray couldn’t hear a damn thing when they whispered, and his mother was well aware of that. Miss Mayeux was not.

“Don’t worry, they’re discussing how to manage me, not you,” she said, one corner of her mouth turned up in disgust.

“I’m curious to find out what you’ve done to deserve such a careful management stratagem,” he said with a low laugh. She looked harmless enough. Well, harmless in an “I’d sell my soul to the devil for a taste of her” sort of way. He shifted his stance, aiming for a much more careless air.

“You name it, and she has done it,” the earl barked from across the room. Then he leaned closer to Gray’s mother and the pair resumed their whispering.

“Pray tell?” Gray prompted the tempting American.

She looked him straight in the eye, as though she considered answering his question. But then she slightly shook her head and muttered, “They plan to feed me bread and water until I succumb to their social restrictions. I’m certain of it.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her. “Oh? And how long do you suppose one might last on bread and water alone?”

“Hopefully, long enough to find a way back to New Orleans,” she groused.

“I take it you’re not happy to find yourself in Derbyshire, then.”

“Well, you’re quick witted, aren’t you?” Her dark blue eyes flashed at him. “I figured it would take you at least a fortnight to figure out how much I loathe the very idea of being here.”

“On the contrary, I think I understood that when I first walked into the room.” Audacious little thing, wasn’t she?

“Bully for you,” she murmured.

Gray hid a smile behind a closed fist as he coughed into it.

“Do you think you could help me escape England?” She looked up at him, pierced him with her pretty eyes, and batted her lashes.

“Not ready to surrender to your fate, Miss Mayeux?” he asked.

“I surrender to no one,” she retorted hotly. “I do not want to be here. And I will return home at the first opportunity.” She sniffed. She regarded his mother and her grandfather through narrowed eyes. “What are they saying?” she asked, looking up at him with a curious regard.

“I’ve no idea,” he remarked.

“Do I look like I was born yesterday, Mr. Hadley?” She tapped the toe of her slipper against the oak floor.

Liviana Mayeux looked to be twenty or so, but in his estimation women rarely wanted an answer to a question involving age. So, he decided the wiser course of action was a noncommittal shrug.

She pointed to the area beneath her left ear. “That little mark you have there, Mr. Hadley, I know full well what that is.”

She did? Gray almost swallowed his tongue. Most people assumed his birthmark, the only physical evidence of his being a Lycan, was a love bite. But what did Miss Mayeux know of such a thing? “Beg your pardon?” he asked.

She reached out as though to touch his neck, to touch the very thing that marked him as a beast, but he stepped back before she could do so. “Who’d have thought you boys from this side of the Atlantic could be so timid?” she mused. The little minx was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

Gray raised his brows at her. “I don’t believe any Hadley man has ever been called timid before.”

“Are there more of you?” she asked.

“There are three of us,” he said with pride. Not to mention Dashiel, but he wasn’t a Hadley, at least not in name.

“Three Lycan men,” she said, appearing to savor what must have been a look of shock he couldn’t keep off his face. “Certainly one of you might be willing to help me get back home.” She smiled broadly at him and patted his chest. He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d bashed him over the head with an anvil. No one knew of his heritage aside from his own family. Gray began to speak but couldn’t croak out a single word.

She clucked her tongue at him. “It’s your turn to close your mouth, Mr. Hadley,” she whispered playfully. Then she dropped her voice to a silky purr that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Are you certain you don’t want to help me get back to New Orleans, sir?”

On the contrary, helping the little minx back across the Atlantic would be in his best interest. He couldn’t have some chit who knew exactly what he was lying in wait for the perfect moment to reveal his secret to her grandfather or anyone else who would listen.

“Lycan?” he asked, hoping for nonchalance.

“Don’t play me for a fool.” She did laugh then, a warm sound that caressed his skin and settled in his heart. “I’d show you my mark, Mr. Hadley, but it’s on my thigh and I don’t think his lordship would approve of me lifting my skirts, do you?”

Damn it to hell, now all Gray could think about was lifting Miss Mayeux’s skirts. She had a mark on her thigh? If he somehow was able to get under her dress, he didn’t think that he’d pay the slightest attention to what was on her leg.

“Cat got your tongue?” she teased. “Or should I say ‘wolf’?”

Gray grasped her arm and dragged her to the far corner of the room, hoping her grandfather wouldn’t notice. “You can’t go around saying things like that,” he hissed.

“You sound like the earl,” she replied with a pout.

“Miss Mayeux,” Gray frowned at her, “I don’t know how things are in America, but here we don’t go around talking about Lycans or mentioning… parts of one’s body.”

“
Non
?” she asked with more innocence than Gray thought she possessed. “Did I fluster you?”

More than he’d like to admit. “I’d rather not be shuffled off to Newgate Prison, if you don’t mind. So don’t mention Lycans unless you’d like to end up there yourself.”

Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Prison? Do you think they’d deport me back to America?”

“I think they’d stretch your pretty neck on the gallows.”

She touched her neck and heaved a sigh. “Well, that wouldn’t do.”

“Well,” Gray’s mother declared from her spot across the room, “I do believe that will be perfect.”

Gray’s eyes shot to his mother and Lord Holmesfield. “What will be perfect?”

“Bath,” his mother answered. “His lordship would like to go and partake of the waters. And as there is so much going on there this time of year, we’ll be able to escort and entertain Miss Mayeux in the evenings.”

Who exactly was “we”? Before Gray could ask, the earl added, “It will give my granddaughter an opportunity to navigate society before being thrust among the
ton
next season.”

The idea of the odiferous medicinal waters in the Pump Room almost made Gray gag, as did the idea of having to participate in Bath’s social scene. However his mother would enjoy the activities. Hopefully, she could impress upon Miss Mayeux the importance of keeping her pretty mouth closed on the subject of Lycans. And while they were away, he could finally travel to London to visit with his solicitor.

After all, it wouldn’t do for either Gray or Archer to stay behind at Hadley Hall with Lady Sophia alone, would it? Now that he thought about it, his mother traveling to Bath with Miss Mayeux and Lord Holmesfield was a brilliant plan.

“Well, I hope you have a wonderful time, Mother. How long do you expect to be gone?”

His mother’s eyes narrowed a bit. “I know that tone, Grayson Hadley. You’re plotting something.”

Gray scoffed. “I’m hardly plotting anything, Mother. While you’re away, I’ll head into Town with Archer as we have some business to attend to. Nothing nefarious at all.”

“But we’ll need escorts, Gray. So you and Radbourne and Lady Sophia,” she glanced at the earl, “my companion, you know,” she returned her gaze to Gray, “will all be headed to Bath with Lord Holmesfield.”

A sickness settled in the pit of Gray’s stomach, and he was certain a similar malady would befall Archer as soon as his brother learned their presence would be required on this little excursion. “We truly do have business matters, Mother,” he protested.

But his mother simply shook her head. “I’m certain Weston can manage whatever it is.” Then she turned her attention to the earl. “You did hear that Weston recently married the Duke of Hythe’s daughter, did you not?”

“I heard something to that effect,” the old earl grumbled.

“Such a dear girl Lady Madeline is. We are so happy to have her in the family. So graceful and proper, she has completely transformed my son. I’m certain you wouldn’t even recognize him.”