Page 17 of The Duke of Ruin
"Is that so?"
Lord Deveraux arched an eyebrow, and his dark gaze raked Olive from head to toe, in a most impudent manner.
"Yes," Olive decided that the best way to treat a man like Julian, was to speak firmly, adopting the same tone that one would use with an unruly child. "Your sister has informed me, that you are struggling to find someone to take up the lease, and that as a result the village is suffering."
Julian scowled at his sister, presumably for underselling the value of the boarding house. Jane flushed again, and refused to meet his eye, instead opting to stare fixedly at the carpet on the floor of the library.
"It's a fine building, one of the grandest in the whole village," he declared, his gaze challenging Liv to disagree.
"I should hope so," she replied sweetly, adopting a sickly sweet tone of innocence underscored with a steely note. "For I mean to build a thriving business, my Lord, and should hate to start off in anything less than perfect."
Lord Deveraux gave a harrumph of annoyance, he was not a man who liked women dictating to him, and Liv's confident tone seemed to be upsetting him.
Good, she thought to herself, for she did not like this Lord Deveraux. The way that he spoke to his sister was dismissive and rude, and he was faring no better with Liv. She knew instinctively that a man like Julian would like all women to live by the rule of being seen and not heard, but Liv didn't give a fig. She lived by her own rules now.
"The lease is worth fifty pounds a year," Deveraux snapped, clearly tired of the charade.
"I'll give you thirty," Liv smiled, "For as I understand the building has lain idle for some time, and will be in need of considerable repairs."
"Thirty? I might as well give it away for that price."
"I'd be more than willing to accept that offer too, my Lord," she gave him a glacial stare. "The village is suffering from a lack of visitors, it would be terrible if I was to let it be known in the tavern that you refused a poor, young widow's request to reopen it."
Jane, standing behind her brother, gave Liv a shocked smile. She had probably never witnessed anyone stand up to his bullying.
"Fine," the Viscount growled, raking a hand through his dark hair in agitation. "But I don't want to see it filled with the same riff-raff like that crackpot Mrs Baker entertained."
"I'd hardly call ladies of an intellectual disposition riff-raff," Liv answered evenly. "They're hardly thedemimonde."
"Would that they had been," Julian glowered at his sister, who visibly shrank under his censure. "Then maybe dear Jane would have developed an interest in men, like a normal woman, and not dusty old books."
An uncomfortable silence fell, in which Liv regarded the Viscount with what she hoped was a most disapproving look. Poor Jane, red faced, remained silent, her attention still fixated on her feet.
"Call for Edgeford," Julian spoke, after a tense minute. He directed the instruction to his sister, though his eyes still held Liv's. "He'll draw up a lease for this Mrs Black, and then show her to the house."
"Oh Julian, thank you," Jane said, with far too much gratitude and deference to her awful brother for Olive's liking. The young woman took Liv by the hand, and led her to the office of the Viscount's agent John Edgeford, who thankfully had a much more pleasant manner than that of his employer.
"This is it," Edgeford said, as he led both ladies into the dusty entrance hall of the Boarding House, which stood in the centre square of St. Jarvis. It was large, and airy and the walls were covered in delightful little miniatures, which on closer inspection Liv found depicted famous novelists.
"Mrs Baker had no relations," the agent continued, leading Liv and Jane through a maze of rooms, "And so all her things are still here. The pictures, the ornaments, the books..."
Jane gave a squeal of delight as they opened the door to the library, a handsome room lined with mahogany shelves. Every wall was crammed with books, on every different kind of subject; from leather bound works on the Classics, to some very recent Gothic Romances. It appeared the late Mrs Baker had appreciated variety in her reading matter.
"It needs a lot of work," Liv spoke absently to herself as she surveyed the dust, "And I shall have to advertise in the papers that we are open for business again."
"I shall write to theBas Bleumembers tonight," Jane interjected, her glasses sliding down her nose as she smiled with excitement. "They'll spread the word, and we can invite speakers for Wednesday Salons, like Mrs Baker did in the old days. Oh, it shall be such fun!"
Liv had to smile at her enthusiasm, Jane's positive outlook on her current situation bordered on naivety, but her optimism was infectious. Looking around the elegant room, Liv could almost picture in her mind's eye what it would look like filled with fashionably dressed women and men, discussing philosophy and other egalitarian things.
This thought seemed to have crossed Edgeford's mind too, for he looked at Jane frowning, the lines in his forehead even more pronounced with apprehension.
"I don't think your brother would be too happy, if you start trying to resurrect the ghost of Mary Wollstonecraft, Miss Deveraux," he said his tone worried on Jane's behalf. Liv raised an eyebrow at the mention of the controversial writer and philosopher Wollstonecraft, who had been condemned after her death as a fallen woman, for her many affairs and mothering of illegitimate children. Her best known work,A Vindication of the Rights of Women, had shocked the world with its argument that there was no difference between the intelligence of men and women. Liv smiled, of course the bookish Jane would have Wollstonecraft as a heroine.
"Rest assured Mr Edgeford," Liv soothed, "As a widow living alone I should not tolerate anything scandalous happening under my roof, bar tea, cake and enlightened conversation. Which you shall be most welcome to participate in."
Edgeford flushed with pleasure,he was a man in his early fifties, and there had been no mention or hint of a wife or family. The prospect of an evening with pleasant company seemed to cheer him greatly, for he left promising to send up a maid from Lord Deveraux's the next day, to help Olive with the initial clean, and a bucket of coal so they could warm the house.
"Oh, Jane," Liv said, once the older gentleman had left and they were alone in the dusty library, "How can I ever thank you?"
