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Finally, Livie’s father turned to her and said, “I commend you on holding your tongue, Miss Tyron. I know how hard it is for those of your sex to remain silent. Volubility in women reflects rudeness of breeding. I pride myself on your restraint.”

Livie nodded.

“Your daughter’s concern for you is a tribute to the soft-hearted nature of her sex,” Lord Devin put in, his voice even.

The captain’s brows drew together. “That is a good point.” He reached out and patted Livie’s hand. “I assure you that I am perfectly content. This folly shall pass. I look forward to presenting my boat design to the Admiralty. It will be of great value to ships that send their boats to shallow waters.”

“I am happy to hear that,” Livie said, forcing her lips into a smile.

“Given your ill-advised visit, I shall not write you a daily letter. Today’s missive was to be a warning against levity and indiscretion.”

“I see,” Livie said, not daring to glance at Lord Devin. If her father ever discovered the previous night’s misadventure, he might … he might disown her.

“Never expose yourself to the reproach of society, for no matter how high fortune has placed you, if you stoop to indelicacy, you will fall to the depths,” her father advised. “Be on your guard throughout every occasion. Even a simple dance can create scandal due to a loose or light gesture.”

“I don’t … We are not presently participating in society, Father,” Livie faltered.

He blinked. “Of course. I trust that you will make excellent use of this time before you re-enter the hollow world of high society. Give attention to the unpardonable faults that besiege your sex—immodesty and vanity. Tomorrow, I’ll write with some advice as regards your looking glass.”

“Thank you,” Livie murmured.

“I choose that subject deliberately. As you know, I do not shillyshally with the truth, Miss Tyron.”

Livie’s heart sank.

“Your appearance is displeasing,” he said flatly. “Perhaps your garb was becoming when you donned it this morning, but now you look a slattern, good for nothing more than scrubbing the washing.”

Tears welled in Livie’s eyes at his harsh tone. She bent her head and willed herself not to let them fall.

“A woman’s garments ought to be clean and delightful,” he continued. “Instead, yours are dirty, and an odor hangs about you. Were we aboard ship—and you a male—I would toss you overboard and have you swim after the stern or drown in your filth.”

“I apologize, Father.”

“As you know, Miss Tyron, I prefer my title,” he said, rising. “Given the closeness of my quarters, I shall not expect to see you again until the conclusion of my trial. Farewell.”

Livie stood, before sinking into a curtsy. “Farewell, Captain Sir Tyron.”

“I am not unhappy to see your tears,” the captain commented. “The eyes of women should be cisterns of sorrow, considering the gravity of their imperfections.”

“Farewell,” Lord Devin murmured, taking Livie’s elbow and drawing her out of the chamber. The guard swung the door closed behind them.

Lord Devin didn’t say a word as they walked down the stone stairs. Livie was also silent, her lips pressed tightly together to suppress the sobs rising in her chest. Despite herself, tears spilled down her cheeks as they walked into the sunlight.

“I don’t usually carry on like this,” she said, blotting her eyes with his handkerchief. “I’ll have control in—in a moment.”

“Were I you, I would be crying,” Lord Devin remarked, rather oddly.

Daisy had not returned to the carriage. She was perched on a low stone wall on the other side of the courtyard, her white-blonde hair gleaming in the sunshine.

At the sight of them, she gave a wave and hopped off the wall. As her cousin began running across the grass toward them, Livie’s vision blurred, and a sob tore out of her chest.

Lord Devin gave her a gentle push. “Go.”

Daisy met Livie in the middle of the courtyard, wrapped her arms around her, and rocked her back and forth.

“Is your father much affected by his imprisonment?” Daisy whispered, when Livie had calmed.

“No,” Livie said. “No, he isn’t. He is just the same.”