Lord Westfall had also brought his seven-year-old daughter, Emily, who was the sweetest child. When she had bounded around the corner with a puppy hurtling behind her, the marquess’s entire demeanor had changed. He had smiled, swinging her into his arms and then into the air to the child’s delight. Livvie had been shocked when the little lady had calmly announced she was his bastard daughter and made an enquiry as to who Livvie was.
The entire meeting had possessed an air of unreality, but Tobias had smoothed the tension with surprising charm, and luncheon had been quite entertaining and pleasantly diverting, when she had found herself liking Lord Westfall’s dry wit. His daughter was delightful, and it wasn’t till after she had told him so, that the man had bent and kissed Livvie’s cheek, welcoming her to the family. That evening, she had instructed Mrs. Potter to make sure they were properly welcomed as she hoped they would stay.
“Yes, please do inform the earl.”
“Yes, my lady,” Mrs. Potter said and left.
Livvie hurried from the parlor and bounded up the stairs. Her stepfather’s home was less than an hour by carriage. She would visit and return home in time for dinner. It felt like a lifetime since she had last seen him, and she wondered if he was truly well. Was there a new worry hidden between her mother’s lines? With the aid of her lady’s maid, Livvie dressed in a pale lavender carriage dress with a matching bonnet and gloves and donned walking boots. She would encourage her father to wander with her through the lovely gardens of Riverhill.
After leaving a quick note for Tobias, she summoned the carriage and departed to visit her parents. She was quite happy that they lived in such close proximity, and in truth, she could easily visit her parents once per week.
She shifted in her seat, making herself comfortable before opening In the Service of the Crown. Within seconds, she was drawn into the world of intrigue and murder, and her heart raced along with Wrotham as he investigated who in his cadre betrayed secrets to France. About half an hour later, the coach pulled into the forecourt of her parents’ home, and she reluctantly closed the leather volume. She was assisted by the footmen who greeted her with pleasure, and she fairly sailed through the entrance.
“Your ladyship,” the butler Emerson said on a deep bow.
She grinned and inclined her head. “Where are Father and Mother, Emerson?”
“His lordship is in his study and her ladyship is in the gardens, my lady.”
“No need to announce me, I will intrude upon Father in his study. However, please inform Mother I’ve come to call.”
“Very well, my lady.”
She handed him her coat and then walked briskly down the hall. At her father’s study, she knocked twice, then waited.
“Come in.”
With a smile, she opened the door. “Good morning, Father.” Livvie untied her bonnet strings.
Her father pushed from behind his desk and walked over to engulf her in a warm hug. “You did not send word you were coming.”
“Mother sent over a note. I’m sure she is quite aware and wanted my visit to be a surprise for you. It’s quite convenient that we live in such close proximity and I shamelessly took the opportunity to pay you a visit.”
His eyes widened in undisguised alarm. “Good God, you did not leave your husband, did you?”
She chuckled. “No, Father, I simply wanted to see my family.”
He patted her shoulder. “Come, luncheon will soon be served and it will be pleasant for all of us to gather once more. William is here as well, with Lady Louisa. They return to Town next week.”
Distaste curled through Livvie, and she strove to show an unaffected mien. She had not seen William since the occasion when he had accosted her. Of course, he would have heard the news she was now a countess. Should she now tell her father, since he had recovered, of the despicable manner in which his son had acted? She looped her hand through his arms as they exited the study and made their way to the gardens. “Are you well, Father? It has been over a week since we last spoke. Are you on the mend?”
“Dear girl,” he said with a smile. “I daresay I should stop referring to you as dear girl, you are a countess now.”
“Oh, pish, Father.”
He chortled and her heart lifted with happiness. To think that three months ago she had thought she would lose him to death.
“I am recovering quite well, my dear. Your mother, bless her heart, is with me every step of the way. It was just last week that I put away the walking stick. I still tire and do not indulge in long walks, but in no time, I shall be mended in its entirety.”
“I’m glad.”
He patted her hand where it rested against his arms. “Tell me, Livvie, are you happy?”
She cast him a quick glance. “Of course.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I am relieved. While Lord Blade is not an unpleasant man, he has a reputation of being cold.”
Her heart twisted. “Father, I—”
Her sister’s shrieks of joy were an effective distraction from further conversation. With a light laugh, Livvie pulled away and ran down the well-tended pathway that led to the garden to greet Ophelia and her mother. They spent a pleasant hour together chatting about the gossip in the area, namely the momentous occasion of Squire Wentworth marrying the Dowager Duchess of Wolverton last week in a small, intimate ceremony at Rosette Park. The vicar had also been caught in an awkward situation with the butcher’s daughter and was being pressured by the bishop to take her as his wife. Surprisingly, he was staunchly denying any wrongdoing and refusing to offer for the girl. His congregation was not taking kindly to the news, as most were insisting he marry the girl. It was feared that he would lose his position.
Laughing, Livvie gasped, “I never thought the vicar had it in him.”
“It is rubbish if you ask me,” her father growled. “The vicar had his arm on the girl’s shoulder as she cried. It’s his duty to offer comfort when needed. There is certainly no cause for a marriage as her family is demanding.”
“They were alone in a closed vestibule. I daresay her papa is doing the right thing in demanding the vicar to act with honor,” her mother sniffed.
“By the by, Livvie, I have in my possession the latest volume of In the Service of the Crown. The delivery came yesterday. I thought with your hasty wedding and everything, you would not have gotten a chance to place your order,” her father said with a wink.
She almost combusted on the spot. “It is here?”
He smiled indulgently. “Yes, my dear.”
She jumped to her feet from the garden bench, and hurried away to the house. His laughter followed her as she all but ran through the hallway to the library. She swept inside and hurried over to the large oak desk where a small brown parcel was atop it. With impatience, she tore through the package and a smile burst on her lips when she spied the familiar leather volume. The door to the library closed with a snick and she spun around.
“Oh, Father—” Livvie’s words faltered and she instinctively retreated a step.
William. Her stepbrother leaned against the door watching her like a silent predator.
“Why have you closed the door?” she asked with cool aplomb.
“I saw you from my window when you arrived. I watched you in the gardens with Father. How you glowed. You look ravishing, Livvie. I can see you are a woman now,” he said thickly.