Page 98 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
She peeked at him, chewing her lip. “Sorry, it’s my mum.”
Now Veronica frowned. “She doesn’t usually call at this time of day.”
“Answer it,” Liam said. “We don’t mind.”
“Actually—”
He cut off Patricia’s protest with a scowl, as Liv mouthed a “Sorry” and pressed the phone to her ear.
“Mum?”
He wanted to follow as she exited the room but knew the meeting had to close, so he took matters into his own hands and closed it. “With the ball in just over two weeks, we’ll meet again same time next week. Anything urgent, please call or email those concerned.”
He grew impatient waiting for the others to depart, and then he joined Veronica in looking for Liv before finally finding her seated in the Lady’s Parlour, next to the dying flames in the fireplace. She glanced up, her features drawn, the phone still stuck to her ear. “Sorry for intruding.”
He waved off her concern. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s my dad,” she whispered, covering the phone.
His chest thudded.
She bit her lip. “He’s had some angina.”
“Oh, Liv.”
She shook her head. “He’s okay,” she murmured. “But Mum is a little concerned.”
He waited, silently praying, until she finally handed the phone to Veronica. “Mum wants to speak to you, Gran.”
Veronica took the phone, and he took the chance to kneel beside Liv and wrap her cold hands in his warm ones. “Do you need to go back to Australia?”
“No. He’s been seen by a doctor and put on medication, and provided he stays off his feet and eats healthily over the next few weeks and months, they think he should be okay.” Her nose wrinkled. “Of course, now that it’s almost Christmas and the busiest time of year at The Silver Teapot Café, it’s not likely he’ll do either of those things.”
He picked up her clasped hands and kissed them. “If you need to go back, you only need to say the word. We’ll manage.”
“It’s fine. I think.” She ruffled his hair. “But thank you.”
Veronica ended the call with a sigh, which prompted him to pray aloud for God’s protection and peace to be on John Bennett, and Elizabeth, and Liv’s sisters.
“Thank you,” Liv whispered, looking deep into his eyes.
“Anytime,” he promised. And he meant it. He’d do anything for this woman. Even wear those stupid breeches at the Regency Ball in two weeks’ time.
Chapter 22
The day of the Regency Ball dawned, the skies bitter, grey, and sullen. A million things remained to be done.
“I hope this weather won’t put anyone off attending,” Marge said, hefting trays of tiny mince pies from her van into the café’s kitchen.
“If they’ve paid that much, they’ll be coming,” Liv assured her, assisting her. “And if they knew how good these smelled, and how fabulous the catering will be tonight”—thanks to Marge—“then they definitely won’t let the possibility of snow stop them.”
Snow! Yes, the breeze held a bite, which would make the thin gowns tonight unfun to wear, but it was all worth it if God decided to bless them with snow. She’d seen snow exactly twice in her life, so snow flurries felt like the ultimate English Christmas experience.
“Well, we’ve all worked hard, so let’s hope it all goes as planned.”
“It’ll be perfect,” she asserted. And maybe Liam would finally say something about her returning in the new year. Oh, she couldn’t wait to finally meet the owner tonight. Liam had already warned her that the trustees planned to appear, so he’d have to appear too, right?
“It’s a good thing we made the tickets nonrefundable,” Marge said.
