1
Numbers are reliable.
They’re always there.
They don’t care if you’re odd,
because some are odd too.
Numbers will never abandon you.
Never find you a disappointment.
But they also won’t ever wrap you in a hug.
2
Livy
April 1817
Hampshire, England.
Livy may not have been the most well-versed when it came to men, but when a woman brought up marriage while half-naked in bed with one, she was fairly certain silence was not the desired response.
She stared up at the man who’d played the leading role in every fanciful dream of her youth, the one who now lay frozen on his forearms above her.Something passed in his light-blue eyes, something she couldn’t decipher.
Soft thunder rumbled in the distance, punctuating the heavy silence that had fallen over the Thorton family’s hunting lodge, and her heart sank under the oppressive weight of it.
“Pardon?”Warren finally asked, his voice strained.
“I don’t want to anticipate our vows,” she repeated hesitantly.“We were to wait until we’re officially married before we consummate our relationship…”
This wasn’t a new development.She and Warren had had this discussion years earlier when their innocent flirtations had become more…passionate.And up until this point, they’d never had an issue with waiting.But Warren had been different tonight.Something in the way he’d touched her had been a bit more frantic, a bit more grasping.
He remained still and silent.She put a tentative hand on his smooth, muscled chest.“I’m happy to have a short engagement so we can be married quickly and resume…this.”
She smiled uncertainly up at him.That was where they’d been heading, wasn’t it?Had she miscalculated?Hadn’t they decided they’d wait until marriage?Marriage was implied.
Five years of flirtations, of stolen moments, of learning everything about each other surely added up to a marriage proposal.She knew what made those ice-blue eyes dance with laughter.She knew how he loved a wild country dance, preferred card games and whisky with his mates here in Hampshire over the raucous city life of London.She knew of his most private fear—the fear that he wouldn’t live up to his parents’ expectations.
Warren squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, his soft sandy-blond waves brushing over her face as his forehead came to rest against hers.His lean frame expanded into hers for a moment, then he rolled away.
Livy turned to him, panic bubbling up inside her.Her brain frantically worked through the events of earlier that day when he’d called on her.Hissurprisecall, considering he wasn’t due home for another two months from his journey to the continent.
I missed you, Liv.I had to see you.I came here the moment I arrived home.
Surely that was positive.The degree of certainty undeniable, the margin of error miniscule.He’d come home early because he’d missed her.
“Get dressed, Liv.We need to talk.”
She double-blinked and pushed up on her elbows.“Pardon?”she parroted his earlier response.That very much soundednegative.
He stood, gathered her dress off the rug, and tossed it next to her on the bed.She sat up and snatched up the garment.Her fingers twisted the fabric, her gaze glued to the bunched-up pale pink muslin of the dress she had hastily donned before sneaking out to meet Warren at midnight.There had been a promise in his eyes when he’d called on her earlier that day.A promise for the rest of their lives.She’d thought the day was finally here.Why else would he come home early, come home straight to her?
She gnawed on her lip.“I don’t understand, Warren.”
“I’ll explain once you’re dressed.”
