Despite his exasperated expression, she saw the amusement in his eyes and knew she was getting her way.
“All right,” she said happily.
“I must also ask you to be discreet about our relationship. Until things are settled, I don’t want your reputation to be compromised in any way.”
Livy wasn’t sure she could keep things a secret from Charlie. Her mentor was perceptive…and undoubtedly going to interrogate her the minute she walked through the door.
“May I at least tell Fiona and Glory?” she asked. “They can be trusted.”
“I would not presume to stand between the Willflowers,” Hadleigh said wryly. “Now we had better get you back inside. How did you manage to slip out earlier?”
“I, um, climbed out my bedchamber window. There is a tree right outside of it,” she improvised. If she had had to leave undetected, that would have been her chosen route. “But I can go in through the front door. I have a key, and no one is awake at this hour.”
He descended from the carriage first, scanning the dark and quiet street before handing her down. “Until tomorrow,” he murmured.
“May your dreams be sweet,” she whispered.
She rose up on tiptoe, brushing her lips against his jaw. Feeling his surprise, the tightening of his grip on her waist before he let her go, she smiled to herself. Then she dashed toward the house, floating on clouds the entire way.
16
1845, London Residence of the Duke of Hadleigh
Livy is 16; Ben is 28
Hadleigh was in his study, where Livy thought he would be. Peering through the crack in the doorway, she saw that he wasn’t alone. Papa was with him, the two men standing by the window, looking out into the rain-drenched garden. She was struck by their similarity, their height and broadness of shoulder emphasized by the dark garb they wore to honor the somber occasion.
The men were silent and, at age sixteen, Livy was old enough to understand why. Things happened that defied the comfort of language. There was no cure for grief, only time and the support of loved ones to make it more bearable. She didn’t think Hadleigh had many people who loved him…and now he had lost the one person who was supposed to love him most.
She was fiercely glad that Papa was there to offer his friendship. And she would do what she could to help ease Hadleigh’s pain. Clearing her throat, she pushed open the door.
Both men turned in her direction. Hadleigh’s expression was as bleak as the rainy day. He had lost even more weight during the preceding months he’d spent secluded with his wife at their country estate, his skin stretched drum-taut over the sharp frame of his bones. His eyes were bleary, rimmed with red, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept for months.
“Livy.” Papa appeared relieved to see her. “I was about to find your mama. Why don’t you keep Hadleigh company until I return?”
Livy nodded, and as her father walked by her, he gave her a meaningful look.
“Be a comfort and not a bother, poppet,” he murmured. “Poor chap’s been through a lot today.”
Did he honestly think she would bicker with Hadleigh on the day of his wife’s funeral? Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she dipped her chin in acknowledgement. Papa squeezed her shoulder then exited, and she went to stand next to Hadleigh, who’d resumed his brooding watch over the grey and misty landscape.
“You needn’t stay with me, you know,” he said. “Regardless of what your papa thinks, I am too old to need a nanny.”
“I am not here to mind you.” Knowing Hadleigh would despise even the slightest sign of pity, she said lightly, “I am here to get away from the crowd.”
This wasn’t untrue. The house was packed with so-called “mourners” who’d obviously come for the spectacle and gossip rather than any sense of caring. To Livy’s disgust, she’d overheard people whispering horrid things about the deceased. The rumors of the Duchess of Hadleigh’s infidelity were not new; they’d even reached Livy’s young ears before. Nonetheless, Livy was shocked that people would show such blatant disrespect, not just toward the dead, but the living.
“I do not blame you.” Hadleigh looked at her then, the agony in his eyes piercing her heart. “Most of the people are here out of curiosity, if not downright spite. Arabella did not have many friends. Yet she always liked an elaborate affair, and I wanted to give her a procession fit for a duchess.”
“The arrangements you made are very grand,” Livy said softly. “I am sure Her Grace would have approved.”
“It doesn’t really matter, does it? Arabella is gone.” He exhaled. “Because of me.”
“You mustn’t say that,” Livy protested.
“Why not? It is the truth,” he said harshly. “She died due to complications in her pregnancy—a pregnancy she did not want in the first place. I was the one who insisted. The one who thought that a child would make things better between us…” His throat bobbed above his dark cravat. “Instead, I killed her.”
“No, you did not.” Livy placed a hand on his quivering bicep, over the black mourning band. “I do not know why these things happen, but they do. A part of God’s mysterious plan. But whatever the reason, you are not the cause of Arabella’s death.”
