Ben flashed back to the last time he’d had his hands on Livy. The plump curve of her hip beneath his palm, the torturous bliss of her bottom rubbing against him…
“This is a lot to ask, I know.” Apparently mistaking Ben’s silence for refusal, Strathaven said earnestly, “It would be for a few weeks only, at which time I will return to fetch her. I would consider it a personal favor and would be in your debt—”
“There will be no talk of debt.” Ben gathered himself. “I would be happy to keep an eye on Livy in your absence.”
You will keep your eyes on her,he lectured himself.And your bloody handsoff.
Relief softened Strathaven’s features. “You have my gratitude. She looks to you like an older brother, and despite her desire for independence, I am certain she will find your presence a comfort. In fact, it is strange that she has not burst in on us the way she has always done.”
You want me to stay away?Livy’s voice rang in Ben’s head.You’ll never have to see me again.
Livy could hold a grudge as well as anyone…which was why Ben had used cruel words to drive her away. Knowing that he’d done the right thing did not quell the hollowness in his chest. Although he lived a life of privilege, he possessed few things of true value. And now he had lost something dear…something that could never be replaced.
“She is probably otherwise occupied,” he said gruffly.
“The Society of Angels certainly keeps her engaged. I wonder what they do all day; how many pamphlets can a lady write, after all?” Strathaven’s look turned wistful. “It seems like just yesterday when Livy would come dashing in here, arms akimbo and plaits flying. And now she is a young lady, with a life of her own. Where does the time go?”
“I do not know.” It was the truth. Ben had no idea how Livy had transformed from his little friend who made him smile into a tempting minx who twisted him into knots.
Strathaven’s smile was rueful. “I confess, my friend, I am not quite ready to let her go.”
Ben wasn’t ready to let that little girl go either. As he promised her father, he would protect Livy—from afar. He would never let anyone hurt her, least of all himself.
13
Blinking, Livy lay on the mat and waited for the stars to fade. When her vision cleared, she saw Mrs. Peabody hovering overhead. As it turned out, the half-Chinese, half-English woman was not only Charlie’s housekeeper but an expert combatant. For the past two and a half weeks, Mrs. Peabody had been training the Willflowers in a unique fighting style adapted to women’s strengths. The techniques relied on speed and accuracy rather than brute force and focused on maneuvers that quickly disabled an attacker.
“Do you need to rest?” Mrs. Peabody asked.
“No, I’m fine.” Livy rose, dusting off her loose linen tunic and trousers, the uniform for sparring practice. “I am ready for another round.”
“Good,” Mrs. Peabody said approvingly.
Despite Mrs. Peabody’s diminutive frame, she could take down a man in seconds...and had demonstrated this with Hawker, the mountain of a butler. At first, Hawker had held back; despite his rough-and-tumble appearance, he’d clearly been afraid of hurting his colleague. Mrs. Peabody had not shared his qualms. Time and again, she’d sent the brawny man flying onto the mats, the last time pinning him in an inescapable hold that had Hawker grunting in annoyance.
“Train your instincts to anticipate your opponent’s moves,”Mrs. Peabody had instructed.“Then strike, using his strength against him.”
Livy and her instructor circled one another, the other Willflowers watching on. The hours of drills helped Livy to notice when Mrs. Peabody shifted her weight to the left. Livy instinctively parried the oncoming right punch, then the left punch that followed. She issued her own offensive, aiming a sidekick to her opponent’s front leg, throwing the other off-balance. She took that opening to strike the other’s chest, sending Mrs. Peabody sprawling onto the mats.
Livy leaped on top, stopping her punch a hairsbreadth from the other’s head. Mrs. Peabody looked at the fist above her, and her golden eyes gleamed with respect.
At the sound of applause, Livy looked up.
Charlie had entered the sparring chamber and was standing next to Glory and Fi.
“Well done,” Charlie said. “You are making excellent progress, Livy.”
“Thanks to Mrs. Peabody’s instruction.” Rising, Livy offered her hand to her teacher, who rose with the grace of a ballerina and the efficiency of an assassin.
Mrs. Peabody inclined her head. “You are a quick study, Lady Olivia. Much like Lady Fayne.”
“Hopefully you will emerge from Mrs. Peabody’s training with fewer bruises than I did,” Charlie said with a rueful smile. “But the important thing is that you will know how to fend for yourself if danger arises.”
Charlie had emphasized the importance of safety throughout. While Mrs. Peabody had concentrated on physical combat and conditioning, Hawker had trained the girls in the use of weaponry. He also showed them useful skills such as lock-picking and employing “sticky fingers.”
Charlie, herself, was in charge of developing the girls’ mentation skills. She taught them that the core of investigation lay in the ability to observe through the senses. She showed them how to note even the most minute details and then applied her lessons in real-life settings.
One afternoon, she took them to Burlington Arcade, an exclusive shopping area off Piccadilly, and assigned each of the girls a passerby. The task was to glean as much information about the target as possible without being noticed. Livy had surprised herself with the number of tidbits she’d collected, including her target’s name, address, banking institution, birthdate, and favorite tea blend.
