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Livie beamed at him. Suddenly the evening didn’t seem so dire. “I am!”

“So, tell me which rakehell made an improper advance,” Lord Devin said. He had the kindest expression in the world, but suddenly Livie glimpsed a steely interior.

“Oh, it wasn’t that,” she said. “It’s just that not everyone is welcoming.”

Lord Devin grinned. “Jealous, are they? Well, you are frightfully pretty, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Livie felt herself turning pink again.

“They say that yellow hair is the fashion, but I prefer a darker hue.”

“You are very handsome as well,” she said, twinkling at him. “So are your four sisters my age or closer to yours?”

He winced. “That’s put me in my place, hasn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Livie cried. “You … of course, you are most handsome, and age doesn’t matter to a man, does it? Ladies love a cleft chin!”

Lord Devin broke out laughing. “Do you always say just what you’re thinking?”

“Far too often,” she confessed. “My aunt is most displeased by my rashness. I’m afraid that earlier I was snubbed and I … well, I responded with unkindness.” She felt a flash of shame. “I ought not to have been so forthright.”

“So, you were insulted not by a rakehell, but by a lady,” Lord Devin said thoughtfully. He raised one eyebrow. “May I have the details?”

He looked like the older brother that Livie had always longed for, so she told him the truth. “I compared her fiancé to a scallion, so of course she had the right to be angry with me. But she wasn’t meant to overhear, and she was so nasty about it!”

Lord Devin burst into laughter again. “A scallion? As in a green onion?” he said, glancing around them. “Who is wearing green today?”

“It was really the Brutus hairstyle,” Livie confessed.

“Presumably slender,” Lord Devin said. “I must say, surveying the ballroom, I feel that beets are more in evidence. Red coats must be in fashion.”

“The lady was justly angry. Unfortunately, she announced that she will ensure no eligible gentlemen will dance with me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lord Devin said.

CHAPTER THREE

SUCCESS IS THE GREATEST REVENGE

The quadrille was ending, and by all rights, Livie’s dance partner, Lord Devin, ought to return her to Lady Wharton. Her aunt would be waiting to introduce her to another possible suitor.

Instead, he nodded at a tall, thin gentleman. “Is that the scallion?”

“No,” Livie whispered.

“A beansprout, but the nicest fellow,” Lord Devin said. “Since you won’t consider the older set—in short, me—I don’t mind introducing you. He’s a future baron, by the way.”

Before Livie could apologize again, or tell him that she didn’t care about titles, Lord Devin introduced her to Mr. Robert de Lacy Evans. After swirling around the ballroom with Mr. de Lacy Evans, Livie was introduced to Lord Argyle, who had sweet blue eyes and an obsession with timepieces.

Lord Argyle took her to supper, where they were joined by Daisy, escorted by Lord Fencibles. The four had just seated themselves when Lord Devin approached their table and introduced his sister Clementine, escorted by Mr. Peter Caron. Mr. Caron turned out to be a friend of Mr. de Lacy Evans, who used that as an excuse to join them. The seven of them sat around the table talking and laughing; when the music began again, they paid it no attention until Lady Wharton came and whisked away the three girls, taking them back to the ballroom.

By the time the event drew to a close, Livie had had so much fun that she didn’t think twice about Lady Regina. When Daisy told her mother on the carriage ride home that the lady had been quite rude, Lady Wharton brushed it off; she was positively giddy after being assured by the other dowagers that Livie and Daisy were certain to make excellent matches.

“Lord Devin laughed repeatedly while dancing with you, Livie,” Lady Wharton crowed. “Everyone noticed. He is the richest man in London.”

“I wouldn’t want to marry him,” Livie objected. “I don’t care how rich he is, Aunt Wharton. I’d rather marry someone without a title. A title seems to give people the excuse to act in an extremely ill-bred fashion.”

Daisy nodded. “I agree. Lady Regina has appalling manners. True, we did compare her fiancé to a scallion, but how were we to know she was lurking behind a screen?”