Chapter 24

“No sooner met but they looked;

No sooner looked but they loved;”

T ucked away in the reading nook which overlooked her brother-in-law’s sprawling gardens below, Livian continued to stare at the same inked quote written in her hand and read by the Duchess of Argyll nearly one week earlier.

“…No sooner loved but they sighed…

As a small girl, she’d dreamed of the ideal home. There’d be a devoted father—one who didn’t leave. There’d be a doting and equally loving mother. And of course, in this dream world she’d imagined, both she and Verity lived within it.

“…No sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy…

With the sounds of her sister’s laughter filling the parlor awash in sunlight, and the echoing joy-tinged mirth of Verity’s husband, Malcom, Livian finally dwelled under a roof like the one she’d always imagined for them.

“…Love has no limits, no color…no time.”

As a girl, the part she’d failed to recognize was that she wanted such a future for herself. One in which she had a man who loved her.

“And in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marr—”

And who not only loved her but respected her enough to give her and their children his name and protection.

“What you looking at, Aunt Livvie?”

Livian’s book tumbled to the floor.

Her chubby-cheeked, dark-haired nephew rescued the little volume in his even littler fingers.

“This?” Livian took the copy from him. “This is only my favorite book in the entire world.” She tickled him in the ribs until he giggled and squirmed. “I made it myself.”

James’s eyes rounded in cherubic, childlike innocence. “You made book?”

“Well, I didn’t write the poems myself.” Livian patted the cushion. “When I was a little girl, your mama and I had no money,” she explained when he’d scrambled to join her.

“Then Mama found Papa in sewers!” he said excitedly.

“Exactly!” Livian dropped her voice for dramatic effect. “But before your papa, bad men came and took all our most treasured things.”

Even though Livian recounted the same story Verity shared countless times with the boy, James’s eyes remained as wide as ever. “Mama’s crystal pens.”

“Yes, her crystal inkpot and pens, gone,” Livian said, infusing all the old heartache into her telling. “And Aunty Livvie’s books. I was so sad. Do you know what your mama did?”

He shook his head wildly, sending his curls bouncing.

“Your mama gave me this one.” Livian fanned the pages so he could see the words written there. “And a membership to the Circulating Room so I could take out as many books as I wanted. She’d let me use her pens to copy the poems, sonnets, and stories I loved and have them forever in this very book.”

James flashed a smile. “Mama is hero.”

“Yes,” Livian murmured. “Yes, she is.”

Together they looked across the room to where Verity and Malcom sat.

Oh, hell.

“Mama and Papa look worried,” he whispered.

The devoted spouses were engrossed in a conversation, Livian would have wagered her soul, had everything to do with her.

As if she and James drew their attention, Verity and Malcom looked over. Livian’s sister and brother-in-law wore the same serious expressions they’d had on since her arrival.

Without taking her eyes off Livian, Verity said something to Malcom. Livian’s brother-in-law, slid a discreet glance Livian’s way.

Bloody, bloody, hell.

“Why?” her nephew asked, bringing her attention right back to her tiny partner.

Me .

Livian leaned close to her nephew. “Do you know what I think?”

He gave his head another big shake.

“I believe they are thinking up all the fun things they wish to do with you,” she said, rustling his wild mane of hair.

James giggled.

At that childlike exuberance and playfulness, Livian found herself laughing real, genuine laughter. “Don’t you ?”

Such was the power of children.

Clamoring up onto his knees, he took his tiny hands and messed her hair in like return. “No, silly.”

A thought slipped in of an imagined child. A wide-eyed, innocent, smiling little boy of her own, but with Latimer’s dark hair.

Her joy vanished like the mist rolling off the streets and absorbed into the sky.

“This is what they’re talking ’bout,” James said.

Before Livian could look around, her nephew pressed each of his index fingers against the corners of her lips and pulled them outwards.

“My mouff ?”

Again, he giggled.

“Silly, Auntie Livvie.” James yanked her mouth down at the corners and kept her face frozen like that. “Your frown . They talk about your frown sooo much.”

Splendid . “Haff they?”

Ironically, were it not for the firm way he dug his fingertips into her cheeks, Livian would have smiled.

Peering at her, James squinted hard, then guided Livian’s lips up into the desired position. Apparently pleased with his efforts, he beamed.

“Mama, Papa!” James cried. “I made Aunt Livvie smile.”

On that damning, mortifying declaration, James used the same fingers holding Livian’s lips in place and steered her face for all to see.

Livian’s stomach sank.

Everyone: Verity, Malcom, Billy—hell, even newborn babe, Evangeline, who Livian could count on both hands the number of times she’d seen the baby’s eyes open—stared, and with varying degrees of sadness, worry, and confusion.

This is why she hadn’t wanted to come. Not only did she have her sister and brother-in-law and Billy fretting about her, but now Livian’s young nephew.

Livian attempted a real smile, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

In perfect—and alarming—harmony, that trio across the room stood in unison.

Avoiding Livian’s eyes, Billy rescued their young niece from Verity’s arms and hurried out.

Verity, on the other hand, headed over.

Oh, hell. Billy had given a vow of silence to not discuss Lord Forfar’s attack with Verity. Were Malcom to find out, he’d absolutely kill the viscount. Livian would never bring that suffering down upon Verity’s family. Billy well-understood that.

Which could only mean…

They knew about Lachlan.

As her sister marched over like a determined general, Livian briefly eyed the door, but her wiry brother-in-law stood blocking all hope of escape.

When Verity reached them, James launched himself into his mother’s arms. “Mama!”

While mother and son embraced, Livian came reluctantly to her feet.

Verity touched her nose to James’s button one. “I see you are enjoying time with Aunt Livvie.”

“I make her smile, Mama. She’s not sad now.” James turned quickly to Livvie and pointed. “See?”

Oh, double drat.

James’s grin dipped. “She sad again.”

Verity kissed his cheek. “Would you mind if Mama had some time with Aunt Livvie?

Your papa wishes to take you climbing.”

James let out a little whoop and took off running.

“Bye, Aunt Livvie,” he shouted, without looking back.

“Good—” Bye.

James had already sailed out.

Livvie stared wryly after him.

Ah, the ease with which a man left started early, then.

In a clear display of brotherly support, Malcom nodded at Livian, before closing the door behind him and his son.

Verity claimed James’s earlier seat and caught Livian’s hand. “Join me?”

Livian lifted an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Since you arrived, it is as though you’ve gone out of your way to avoid me.” She stared at Livian with wounded eyes. “Never say, you do not wish to speak with me?”

Ah, this performance she recognized all too well from her younger days. When they’d been on their own, and Verity needed Livian to do something she didn’t want, she’d turn those sad eyes her way.

“It is not that at all,” Livian assured. “You’ve only recently had a babe, Verity. You don’t need to be looking after your younger, unmarried sister, too.”

Verity’s expression grew earnest. “But I haven’t, Livvie, and that is why I have no idea what happened to bring this great sadness to you, or how to fix—”

“This!” Livian cried. “This is what I’m talking about, Verity.”

This is why Livian had gotten it into her head in the first place to find a husband of her own.

“I don’t understand, Livvie,” Verity begged.

“You gave me everything,” Livian continued, this time getting her emotions under control. “When I was a girl, you were a sister, mother, and even father to me. And then, when we learned Bertha betrayed us and you sent her away, you assumed that same role, but I wasn’t a girl at that point anymore, Verity. I was a woman whom you were still looking after. Now,” she said, “I’m even older, and you still have this same sense of obligation.”

Her sister protested. “I do not feel I have to watch over you, Livvie.” Verity traced her gaze over Livian’s face. “I want to. I love you. We are family, we look after each other. You are no responsibility. You are my friend. You are my sister.”

Livian sank onto the seat next to her. “But you don’t see me as just a sister,” she beseeched. “You see me as your little sister.”

“That is ridiculous ,” Verity said exasperatedly. “Of course, I realize you’re not a child.”

Her sister still didn’t see.

“Recognizing I’m now grown and treating me that way are entirely two different things, Verity,” Livian said quietly.

They were at an impasse.

Livian tried a different approach. As a reporter, Verity dealt in, and with, facts. “Why did I have a London Season?”

Confusion creased her elder sister’s brow. “I’m not sure what you’re asking. I thought it was time…” Her words trailed off.

When Verity didn’t continue, Livian quizzed her again. “Did I have a London Season?”

“Yes!” Verity latched on to Livian’s reminder. “Why would I have done that if I did not see you as a woman? You were a romantic,” Verity said. “And I knew…I thought—” Her eyes grew stricken.

Livian pushed her. “Did I ask for a London Season?”

Verity’s lips moved. “I…I cannot remember.”

Didn’t she? Or the better question being, did she not want to? Either way, Livian remembered well enough for the both of them period.

“I can.” And vividly . “I never asked to be presented before society, for the simple reason being, I never wished for that.”

Verity continued to fight the truth in front of her. “But when I met Malcom, and we found ourselves living in his London townhouse, you were so excited for me. You were filled with such eagerness about my marriage to Malcom and the new life.”

“Yes. That is true.” Livian paused. “Can you tell me when you were eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one,” Livian continued hammering home. “Twenty-two, twenty-three, dreaming about a London Season and marrying some haughty, lofty nobleman?”

Verity remained close-lipped. Proud, resolute, and obstinate as the London streets were unforgivable, Livian’s elder sister always struggled mightily to acknowledge the times when she was in, or had been, in the wrong.

Livian opened her mouth, but Verity put up further resistance. “If that were the case, Livvie, then…then…why did you not tell me? If you had been honest with me, I would have absolutely told you—”

“I needn’t,” suffer through , “have a Season?”

“Exactly!”

“If our roles were reversed, Verity,” she said quietly, “and I was your elder, newly and happily married sister, urging you to have a London season, what conclusion would you have reached?”

Verity recoiled. “No,” she whispered. “I…you actually believed—”

“I was under foot?” she supplied. “I was underfoot. I always was. You had a career you loved, and work you needed to see you over the years, and in that time, Bertha was my mother. She was my caregiver.”

“How could you doubt my love?” Verity whispered.

For how Verity’s expression shattered, Livian may as well have struck her in the face.

“I would do anything for you, Livvie. Absolutely any—”

Livian gave her sister’s hands another, firmer squeeze. “I know you love me. I know you would lay down your life for me, but I don’t want you to continue to sacrifice for me. If I let you, you’d have me about until your babes are old and grey.” She ran her gaze over Verity’s ravaged features. “But, Verity, you always put me first. It’s time you are able to live without worrying after me.”

Verity took that in with a lengthy silence.

“We were never really innocent, though,” Livian said quietly. “You were the older sister, but we were both born to the same circumstances. We were and are, bastard daughters to a nobleman who turned out to be a bigamist and who never deserved our mother’s heart.”

Livian and Verity looked at one another. And in an instant, no, in that instant, they were more than sisters.

They were two women united over a shared past.

With a long sigh, she dropped her head sideways and rested it against the thick lead windowpane.

A sad smile played about Verity’s lips. “And here I saw you as the romantic one. You were the whimsical one. I feared if I didn’t guard you closely, you’d suffer a painful fate like Mother.”

Verity’s gaze grew more inward, more introspective.

“When, in actuality, you saw far more than I ever did. You knew more about Mother and the earl.” A slow, anguished understanding emanated from Verity’s revealing eyes. “Perhaps all along, in doing so, I sought to protect myself from all those truths.”

There was no perhaps about it. That’s precisely what her sister had done. Undoubtedly, there had also been a large part of Verity needing to feel some sense of control in their out-of-control existence.

Livian moved closer to Verity. She wrapped an arm around her big sister’s shoulders and drew her in.

“I am so—”

“Do not even say it,” Livian cut her off. “You have absolutely no reason to apologize to me. When our mother died, you were given an impossible task. You were forced to grow up. Another sibling, any other sibling, would have been resentful. You cared for me and loved me like the older sister and mother we both needed.”

Verity edged away and looked at Livian.

“I am here now, Livvie,” her sister said earnestly. “I finally see you. I hear you. I’m listening now. Please, tell me the reason for this infinite sadness you’ve carried around since your arrival.”

Livian scrubbed her hands up and down her face. This is precisely why she hadn’t wished to come. She’d known the minute she arrived she’d not be able to conceal the all-consuming misery that engulfed her since she left Lachlan.

Her sister rested her palms upon Livian’s hands, and with an infinite tenderness, Verity drew them away from Livian’s face and guided them down to her lap.

“You called me out—and rightly so—for failing to treat you as an equal and friend,” Verity said pragmatically. “If you wish for that relationship, then you need to see me as an actual friend. Friends and sisters, do not see the other as a burden.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Livian struggled around her thick throat.

It’s that she didn’t know how to speak about Lachlan without falling apart.

Her sister gently persisted. “I won’t attempt to fix anything you need fixed.” Verity paused and flashed a teasing smile. “That is…unless you ask me.”

Too emotionally drained to feign shared amusement for her sister’s behalf, Livian looked out the window instead.

“The duchess was…” she grimaced, “ is ,” she corrected herself, “hosting a house party.”

“Yes, yes. I was aware,” Verity said, nodding.

Like a makeshift mirror, the windowpane reflected back her sister’s visage, and Livian dipped her stare to the grounds below. In order to share, it was easier if Livian didn’t face her.

“What I didn’t mention,” Livian began quietly, “is the duchess did so on my behalf and at my request. I asked for her help in finding a husband.”

Livian felt her sister stiffen.

“You also know,” Livian continued, “on my travels to the Dutchess of Argyll’s, my carriage became stuck in the middle of a storm. And…” Livian closed her eyes and remembered back to that volatile night, “I met someone.”

And I will never be the same.

Before speaking, Verity sat with that information for what Livian recognized as a difficult amount of time for her sister, the investigative reporter.

“ Someone ?” her sister repeated back carefully.

Tears welled in Livian’s throat. She attempted to say Lachlan’s name. When she couldn’t get those four syllables out, Livian gave a juddering nod instead.

Then, after several false stops and starts, Livian at last found her voice. “His name is Lachlan.”

And when the words came, they continued coming. And coming. And coming.

She started with her decision to employ the duchess’ help and the fraught journey which led to Livian’s fateful meeting with Lachlan, and then she shared the special moments she’d spent with him. The bond they’d forged. The way he defended her. The way it had felt being with a man who hadn’t been born to the peerage and understood in every way what it was like to be born outside the noble ranks.

When she finished, the roles reversed once more, and Livian found herself sinking against her sister’s side.

Verity wrapped an arm about Livian, drew her close, and held her. As promised, her older sister didn’t attempt to fix the situation.

The irony wasn’t lost on Livian. Had Verity possessed a magic wand and could, with a flick of her hand, provide Livian with Lachlan’s love and a future with him, she would have happily tasked her with the assignment.

Sadly, there had never been any magic stronger than love or a broken heart.