Page 153 of Pride: The Rogue
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 Verityneeded 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. “Iwantto. 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 yourlittlesister.”
“That isridiculous,” 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.
