Wolfishly Yours (15 page)

“Well, gentlemen,” Dash said, loud enough for everyone in the assembled crowd to hear him without effort. “I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if you two went on your way.” Then he said so quietly that only Gray and Archer could possibly hear him, “Go straight to Brimsworth House and do
not
make me have to look for you.”

Livi slid to the back of the crowd as Gray and Lord Radbourne made a hasty exit from the Assembly Room. What had gotten into the two of them? There was no reason to create such a scene. She apparently had misspoken when she’d called Grayson tame.

Sophie came up beside Livi, linking their arms together. “Smile,” her friend muttered softly.

Smiling was the last thing Livi felt like doing. Crying felt more apt, for some reason.

Sophie jostled her arm. “Smile,” she repeated. “It’s the only way to distance yourself from them. Act as though you haven’t a care in the world.”

But Livi did have a care. An enormous care who had just strode through the Assembly Room without a glance back over his shoulder in her direction. Livi feigned a smile.

Sophie laughed without mirth. “You look as though you smelled something rotten. Can you not smile better than that?”

Doing so seemed an impossible task. Livi shook her head. How could she just pretend to smile when Gray and Lord Radbourne had nearly torn the garden apart with their wolfish tempers? She’d borne witness to this sort of behavior most of her life, courtesy of her brothers; but Armand and Etienne had never done such a thing with so many people present. Never in front of society in such a blatant way. Though, in all honesty, her brothers kept more than a respectful distance from society for several reasons, not the least of which were their lack of desire to mingle with New Orleans’ well-to-do and their lack of desire to capture a bride who had aspirations of joining the powerful yet disreputable Mayeux family.

Livi’s musing was interrupted when the musicians began to play once more and the crowd began filtering back inside the Assembly Room, whispering about those unruly Hadley brothers. Soon the activity inside the Assembly Room returned to what it had been before the fight in the garden had distracted everyone.

“Thank heavens,” Sophie whispered and tapped Livi’s arm with her fan. “My cousin will be of great service. Dance with him, laugh gaily, and then we’ll leave soon after.”

“Why can’t we leave now?”

“Because that will solidify an attachment between you and one of those uncivilized men in the
ton
’s minds. And we don’t want that.”

Livi nodded as though that made sense, but it didn’t. Not completely. It wasn’t as though Gray and Lord Radbourne had been fighting over her. But why were they fighting? What had happened to make them behave so horribly?

Sophie gestured Mr. Siddington toward them with a flick of her fan and the nod of her head. A moment later, the gentleman bowed slightly before them. “You needed my assistance, cousin?”

“Henry,” Sophie pleaded under her breath, “will you stand up with Miss Mayeux for this minuet?”

He smiled warmly. “It will be my honor.” Then he offered his arm to Livi and led her to where other couples were lining up for the set. “Quite a dust-up outside, wouldn’t you agree?” the gentleman asked.

Oh, Livi agreed. She just wished she understood it. “I can’t imagine what provoked that exchange.”

Siddington snorted. “Nothing. Everything. The Hadleys never need an excuse for causing a scene.” He took her hand, raised it in the air, and began to lead her in a circle. “It’s a wonder they’re even allowed entry into these sorts of affairs. My poor cousin has been reduced to nothing more than a servant in their house. It’s a disgrace.”

At the moment, Livi agreed with his assessment. “Why is she a servant? Why hasn’t her family taken her in?” Livi asked, though she probably should have held her tongue.

“She’s prideful,” Mr. Siddington replied. “My mother offered her shelter, but Sophie refuses to accept her charity.” He shook his head in confusion. “But charity must be better than living with those beasts.”

Livi simply nodded, for lack of anything to say. They were beasts, after all.

“And then there’s Postwick, but I understand her not wanting to accept help from him.”

Who the devil was Postwick? “I’m not familiar with the name.”

Siddington’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Indeed?” Then he leaned in conspiratorially. “The Earl of Postwick is a cousin of ours. He was Sophie’s father’s heir.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” He turned her again, and Livi wished she knew what Mr. Siddington meant by that cryptic comment.

***

“I distinctly said, ‘Do not cause another scandal,’” Dash roared as he stalked across his study.

Archer slid forward in his seat across from Dash’s desk. “I was trying—” he began, but he stopped speaking when Dash sent him a withering glance.

“You’re just as bad,” their oldest brother complained. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you! Not one single word!”

His voice cracked like a whip struck across Gray’s back, and he bristled with the force of it. Dash in a temper made Gray want to tuck his tail and run. And they’d finally provoked him to the point where there was no return from it. Dash typically held his temper until he could explode with it, and now Gray feared it was time to watch the fireworks.

“What am I going to do with the two of you?” he growled as he dropped behind his desk with a weary sigh. Then he jumped to his feet again, as he obviously wasn’t quite through with his set-down.

Gray braced himself.

“First, you ruin that girl’s chances of a good marriage. I wasn’t certain she had it in her to show her face in public again, after what you did at the Longboroughs’ last night. But she is made of stronger stuff, evidently.” He shook his head. “Poor girl. She never saw the two of you coming. What was your mother thinking, involving either of you in that girl’s entry into society?”

That girl had a name. Gray wished his brother would use it. “Miss Mayeux,” he muttered.

Dash turned on Gray, piercing him with his furious golden eyes. “Did you say something?” he snarled.

Too late to back away now. Besides, Gray hated hearing Livi referred to in such a way. “I said her name is Miss Mayeux,” he repeated with a little more force.

“You were calling her Livi in the garden.” Archer snorted. “When you weren’t too busy groping her to gather words.”

Dash’s blond brows rose in something akin to angry wonder. “I beg your pardon?”

“Muzzle it, Archer,” Gray growled.

Dash rubbed at his forehead. If his headache matched Gray’s, he was in serious pain. “Please tell me you didn’t defile that girl,” Dash said, his voice low and gravely. And dangerous.

“I didn’t defile that girl,” Gray quickly assured him. “I didn’t defile Miss Mayeux.”

“Then what, exactly, did you do in the garden this evening?”

“I got into fisticuffs with Archer.” Gray stated the obvious, but he wanted to avoid any further discussion about Livi at all costs.

“Prior to that,” Dash barked, gesturing with his hands for Gray to answer quickly. “What did you do with Miss Mayeux?”

Gray shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. I took her for a walk because she was overheated.”

“She certainly was.” Archer smirked.

Gray shot him a quelling look. But Archer just winked at him. Damn his eyes.

“And what exactly happened on this walk of yours?” Dash urged.

“Nothing. Archer and Lady Sophia stumbled upon us. I barely spent a moment alone with the girl. All I did was kiss her.” He held up a hand. “I swear it, Dash.”

Dash sank back down into his chair then, almost deflating a bit as he did so. “First it’s nothing and now it’s a kiss. I’m afraid of what else I’ll learn the longer we discuss the situation.”

So Livi was now a situation? She had been better off being “that girl.” Gray shrugged. “It was nothing. How many girls did you kiss before you married Cait?”

“We are not discussing my past, Grayson.”

“Precisely.” Gray snorted. “But you
do
have a past, which includes more than kissing a girl in a garden, I’m sure.”

Dash sucked in a breath of air and his face turned a bit on the reddish side. “No matter what I was involved in or with whom, I managed to keep my name and my father’s name from being tarnished in public. There’s a lesson in there for you.”

Well, there was the matter of Dash’s altercation with the Westfield pack, but with the color of his half brother’s face, Gray thought the better of mentioning it. “I hardly think that kissing Livi is worthy of all this—”

“Now she’s Livi?” Dash interrupted, and then he cast his eyes on Archer.

“I did tell you,” Archer replied. “You weren’t listening.”

“And exactly how long has this been going on?” Dash asked, clearly listening now.

Archer shrugged. “I’m not his keeper. But I know he can describe the mark of the beast on the chit’s thigh.”

“Her thigh?” Dash roared.

Gray picked up a ledger from the desk and threw it at Archer’s head, but his brother ducked just in time for it to sail past his ear. “What is wrong with you?” Damned Archer knew full well that Gray hadn’t seen Livi’s thigh.

Dash growled. He placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward, snarling like an enraged wolf. “You will go to Holmesfield at first light and beg for his granddaughter’s hand.”

The statement hung heavy in the air, like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“Marry Livi?” Gray asked, absolutely dumbfounded. Dash wouldn’t expect such a thing if Archer hadn’t opened his bloody mouth. It was one thing to think of marrying Livi when she was close enough for him to kiss, but something else entirely when the reality of his bachelorhood was actually threatened. “I haven’t seen her thigh, Dash. She only told me about her mark’s location. There’s no reason for marriage.”

His half brother snorted. “I hope you don’t expect me to believe that nonsense. Tomorrow morning,” he jabbed a finger in Gray’s direction, “you’ll go to Holmesfield, fall on your sword in front of the man, and beg for Miss Mayeux’s hand. Is that clear?”

Gray’s mouth fell open. “She doesn’t want to marry me. Hardly a sporting thing for you to do to her.”

Dash glared at Gray, irritation rolling off him in waves. “Who says she doesn’t want to marry you? Have you asked her?”

Gray sat forward in his seat, hoping to make his brother see reason. “She doesn’t want to marry anyone here. She wants to return to New Orleans.”

“Does she now?” Dash’s brow rose in question.

“Ever since I first met her,” Gray assured his oldest brother.

“Then I suppose she shouldn’t be showing you her thigh or kissing you in the garden, now should she?” Dash folded his arms across his chest. “You’ll offer for her tomorrow.”

“With all due respect,” Archer interjected from his seat beside Gray, “Holmesfield will never accept any offer Gray would make. He’d never accept an offer from any Hadley man, for that matter.”

Archer had a point, a good one. However the truth of his brother’s words stung Gray a bit when he should have felt relieved.

“Cait and I discussed this at length on the way home from the Assembly Room. She’s under the impression that Holmesfield can be reasoned with, and under the circumstances, I’m inclined to agree with her.”

Cait? Had
she
talked Dash into this madness? “I hardly think Cait is in a position to know anything about this,” Gray protested.

“And I disagree,” Dash dismissed him. “She is also under the impression that the two of you could make a match of it, and after this discussion of kisses and thighs, I find I’m in complete agreement with her.”

Damn it all. Where was Wes when Gray needed him? He could use his twin right now. But Wes was snuggled up all nice and warm with Lady Madeline in Kent at the moment. Blast him. “I’ve never seen her thigh,” Gray stressed once more, though he would like to see it and touch it and… Those thoughts were better had when his brothers weren’t present. Not that his protestations mattered in the least, as Dash didn’t appear to pay Gray’s words any attention at all.

Archer lit a cheroot. “Then how else would you know about it?”

“You know she told me.” Gray glared at his brother. Why was Archer making this into something it wasn’t?

“Oh?” Dash drawled. “She told you, did she? What self-respecting lady would tell you something about her thigh?”

“Nobody said she’s a proper lady,” Archer tossed in, crossing his ankle over his knee and looking supremely satisfied. “And she actually likes Grayson, so her judgment is in question.”

Dash turned his glare on Archer. “Kindly close your mouth.” Then glanced back at Gray. “You have insinuated yourself into this girl’s life. Cait sees you married to her. And I don’t want to hear anymore about this. Just make it happen.” And with that final comment, he got up and left the room.

Archer whistled softly. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order.”

Gray itched to toss his brother to the ground and kick his ribs until he begged for mercy. “No thanks to you,” he growled. “Why did you have to tell him about her mark? You know damn well I haven’t seen it.”

“So you say.” Archer shrugged. “Anyway, I was just saving all the other marriageable gentlemen in England.”

“That’s hardly a complimentary thing to say about her. Livi is lovely and any man would be lucky to—”

“That’s not what I meant at all, you dolt.” His brother laughed without mirth. “I meant saving them from your wrath. You didn’t see your expression tonight when she danced with Lavendon or the others.”

He’d had an expression? Gray hadn’t realized. He narrowed his eyes at his brother, wondering if Archer’s judgment was sound or if he was being completely honest.

“You looked positively murderous,” Archer continued. “I’d hate to see you sent to the gallows or shipped off to Australia for killing a peer.” Then he shivered slightly for effect.

As though Gray couldn’t control his own temper. “What a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Is it?” Archer took a puff off his cheroot, and then he shrugged as if the conversation was of no consequence. “Anyway, you should be thanking me. At least now you can tumble the chit and get it over with. I know it will make it easier for me to be around you. All your pent-up lust and frustration is enough to drive a sane Lycan mad.”

Tumble the chit? Gray’s temper flared. “Don’t talk about her that way,” he growled.

But Archer only laughed in response. “And thank you, little brother, for proving my point. All the marriageable gentlemen in England will be much safer after you’ve married your little French poodle.”