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“I suppose it’s your choice,” Livie said. “Is the world much better after a bottle or four?”

To her surprise, Frederick took that seriously. “Yes. It is.”

“Well, then,” Livie said. “I’m sorry, because your world must be dreadful when you’re sober.”

He gave her a crooked smile and moved away from the wall. “The dance will be ending soon, and I’d like to stow you away so that Lady Regina doesn’t come after you with a pitchfork in hand.”

Livie winced.

“She never forgets an insult. A few years ago, I was three sheets to the wind and told someone loudly that the only way Regina would be judged a ‘diamond of the first water’ was if she pasted one on the end of her nose.”

“Very unkind,” Livie said, trying to keep her face solemn.

“Naturally, she was informed.” He swayed slightly and caught himself against the wall. “Since you’re going to be my sister-in-law, I’ll share the aftermath.”

Livie’s eyes rounded. “I haven’t agreed—”

Frederick waved his hand, cutting her off. “Regina takes every opportunity to inform people that I’m a tippler, never mind the fact that she had once hunted me as if I was a stag who’d gobbled fermented berries. And here’s the kicker.”

“What?” Livie asked, when he fell silent.

“Forgot what I was saying,” Frederick muttered. “Oh! You know how she decks herself out in diamonds?”

Livie nodded. “I have seen it.”

“Unladylike,” Frederick said. His eyes were full of wicked humor. “But pointed, wouldn’t you say? I think she did her best to follow my guidance.”

Livie snorted.

“How unladylike of you,” Frederick chortled. “Now, let’s stow you somewhere so I can swill a little more brandy, collect my brother, and bring the two of you together. It’s rather Biblical, don’t you think?”

“How so?” Livie asked.

“Obviously, I’m God, and you’re Adam and Eve. No, Eve and Adam—well, you’re just Eve—You get the idea, don’t you? Of course, there’s Mary and Joseph, but I beg you not to have any children out of wedlock. It gives people ideas, and before you know it, they’re painting your portrait with a gold halo rather than a wedding ring.”

“I won’t,” Livie promised.

“Come along. The duchess is a friend, so I know precisely where to put you,” Frederick said.

“Where?” Livie asked, following him.

“Somewhere no one will find you except my brother. Are you afraid of the dark? I’d better give him your location before having more brandy, because what if I forgot? They’d find you years later, withered from lack of love, not to mention lack of food.”

Livie sped up. “The dark does not bother me, but starvation does.”

“I have a dramatic turn of phrase,” Frederick told her. “Ignore me. My father and Joshua do. Well, Joshua doesn’t, but he doesn’t pay me any mind, either. I promise not to let you wither, how’s that?”

“Excellent.”

“Or marry that disgusting fellow your father has in mind. The prospective spouse is unlikable, isn’t he?”

“My father’s plans are not agreeable to me.” Livie took Frederick’s arm because he seemed incapable of turning his head to look at her while walking in a straight line.

“I expect he’s betrothing you to a disgusting lout, a fate that befalls far too many women. Why do you think I have so many married lady friends? By the way, don’t think the Duchess of Trent is one of them. She is tiresomely in love with her husband.”

He stopped outside a door. “What is the prospective husband like? A white-haired, irresponsible, drunken, future earl?”

Livie couldn’t help grinning at him. “That would be better.”