The Seduction of Lady X by Julia London

gentleman tell me what to do!”
    “I suspect you will marry,” Lord Hastings had said. “But rest assured you will scare off anyone with twenty thousand a year.”
    “Livi, my love, I know that the marquis will offer for you,” her mother had said excitedly. “He seems taken with you and he has just come into his title. He needs to be about the business of producing an heir. Now then, you must always present yourself as demure and obedient,” her mother had counseled. “Mind that you do not argue. Make him feel pleased.”
    Olivia blinked back a burn of tears at the memory. God knew how hard she had tried to please her husband, but it was impossible. Even in the days before he’d grown to despise her, he’d had no use for her. He had never given her the same sort of warm smile that she received from Mr. Tolly each day. Frankly, Edward had never really seemed to see her at all.
    But Mr. Tolly . . . God help her, Olivia wouldn’t have cared if he’d had only five hundred pounds a year, she would still desire him above all others. She’d been seduced by his warmth and kindness, his ready smile. She’d been captivated by his bright light in her otherwise abysmal life.
    She thought back to a few weeks ago, when the icy grip of winter would not let go of Everdon Court. She’d gone to the hothouse to collect some flowers to brighten her sitting room and give her a hint of spring. She was examining the potted flowers when Mr. Tolly had come in search of Mr. Gortman, the groundskeeper.
    “Madam,” he’d said, tipping his hat and flashing a smile that charmed her to the tips of her toes.
    She had been unconscionably thrilled to see him. “You must help me, Mr. Tolly,” she’d said instantly. That was her way of keeping his company as long as she might—she asked for his help. She held up two flowerpots. “Yellow? Or white?”
    He had looked at the flowerpots. “Red.”
    “Red?” She’d laughed and looked around her. “But there is no red.”
    “Ah, but there is,” he’d said with a sly wink. “You are not acquainted with Mr. Gortman as I am. Come.” He’d taken the pots from her and put them aside, then took her hand and laid it on his arm, escorting her outside to a small shed just beside the hothouse. It was warm inside the shed; off to one side, the coals in a small brazier glowed. But it wasn’t the brazier that had made Olivia gasp with delight; it was the red flowers. There were pots and pots of them: geraniums, cockscomb, dahlias, and miniature roses.
    “Mr. Gortman plans to replant the small reflecting garden,” Mr. Tolly explained.
    “It’s beautiful!” Olivia had said appreciatively. It was a small room full of the promise of spring. “Do you not think so, Mr. Tolly?”
    “Yes.” He’d said it instantly, softly, and Olivia had turned around to him. But he was not looking at the flowers—he was looking at her in a way that had sent a shiver deep through her veins.
    But the moment quickly passed as he moved to the door and held it open for her. “I shall inquire of Mr. Gortman for you. I am certain he would be delighted to make an arrangement for you.”
    She’d wondered if perhaps she’d wanted so badly to see something in Mr. Tolly’s expression that she’d imagined it. “Thank you, but I could not possibly impose. He has taken great care to grow them for a particular reason.”
    Nevertheless, the following morning, Olivia had awakened to a vase of red flowers on her vanity. “Where did these come from?” she’d asked her maid.
    “Mr. Gortman sent them up, mu’um,” Nancy replied.
    Olivia had been as pleased as if he’d sent her diamonds, and thinking of it now, she couldn’t help smiling to herself.
    “What are you thinking, Lady Carey?” Edward asked, startling Olivia from her thoughts. She reluctantly turned her attention to her husband. He was seated at the head of the table, holding the Bible in one hand, drumming the fingers of his other on the