Page 163 of Pride: The Rogue
“Love isn’t that easy,” Verity explained.
Billy snorted. “If it isn’t, then it’s not really love.”
Unable to face her pitying sisters, Livian wandered to the window overlooking Verity and Malcom’s vast rolling hills and pastures, still green, despite the winter’s hold.
“Yes, well, I’m so glad I have you both for that reminder and this very helpful discussion,” she murmured. “Now, I can freely put him from my thoughts.”
The thing of it was, not thinking of Lachlan didn’t make losing him easier; it just made Livian all the more miserable. The best moments of her life had been the scant few she’d spent with him.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she hugged herself more tightly.
When she opened them, from within the window, she caught the glance Verity and Billy shared.
“We hate seeing you this way, Livvie,” Verity implored.
This is precisely why she’d not wanted to come home. This is precisely why she, with the duchess’ assistance, concocted a plan to marry. She wanted a home of her own; one where she could live freely and freely feel her emotions and not worry about her sisters worrying after her, a grown woman.
“I am sorry I’ve made you all sad,” Livian whispered tiredly, without acrimony.
“No!” Verity and Billy insisted at the same time.
Verity said something to Billy.
A moment later, Billy placed Evangeline in the left crook of her mother’s arms.
Billy stretched a spare hand down to James. “Come along, little man. Let us find new tosher sticks outside to sketch.”
Squealing, the boy abandoned his work and raced off with Billy.
Ah, another private discussion with her eldest sister—two in the same week.
Determined to head this one off, the moment Billy and the babes were gone Livian raised her palm.
“Speaking with you alone,”about Lachlan, “doesn’t serve any purpose. It changes nothing, as such, I’d rather—”
“I didn’t expect speaking about him would help,” Verity cut her off quietly. “Nor did I believe doing so would help your heart heal. There are no magic words and no ways to erase the pain of a broken heart.”
She’d not expected that. “Oh.”
Verity joined Livian at the window and stood shoulder-to-shoulder, staring out. “I only want you to be happy, Livvie, and yet, I know I’m powerless to make you so. There’s nothing I can say to erase the pain or make you forget him.”
Sadness leant a husky quality to Verity’s voice. “I cannot give you him, but I can give you something else you deserve and crave…”
Furrowing her brow, Livian looked at her sister.
Verity reached inside the front of her white apron and from within the pocket, extracted a key.
She held it out to Livian.
When Livian didn’t immediately take the small scrap of metal, Verity pushed it against her palm.
Her confusion deepening, Livian peered at the ornate key and then her sister. “I don’t—”
“Willow House,” Verity cut off the rest of that question. “It is a small property that belonged to—still belongs to—Malcom’s family. It is a mere half-day’s ride by carriage from here. I will miss you. You are always welcome here. We are your family. Before Malcom, I wanted only independence and a secure existence. I-I cannot give you, Mr. L-Latimer,” she said, her voice catching. “But I can give you this. Malcom and I both can.”
At that depth of love and generosity, a sob slipped out.
“Verity,” she said thickly. She made to return that great gift. “I cannot—”
