Page 11

He trailed off, and Livvy struggled to keep her spirits up. This was yet another reason she despised socializing. Following the rules of conversation—don’t speak solely of books, engage in all topics, even if they’re boring, keep subjects simple and surface-level. It was more exhausting than it was enjoyable.

Father was simply attempting to shelter them both from embarrassment, of course, because, unfortunately, Livvy was no stranger to embarrassing him. After all, she was the odd one on the Mount. She was the one who did not wish to conform. She was the one unwilling to speak beyond books for fear of releasing one of her many secrets.

Truth be told, she felt sorry for Father. Not just because he was dealing with a silly daughter, but because he’d had difficulties with his wife, too. More than he would ever know.

Livvy drew a deep breath. She would do her best not to cause embarrassment to him that evening. Which meant she needed to ensure she spoke with August without Father overhearing about her little escapade in the bushes.

“Livvy, do try to stay present.” Father’s perturbed voice echoed in her thoughts, and she shook her head to focus.

She always had a difficult time not being entirely distracted with her own thoughts.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I promise to be on me best behavior tonight. I’ll remain present. I’ll speak o’ bonnets and bows. And I’ll not mention a single book.”

He nodded, crossing the room again to return to his pipe. “That be the Livvy I know and love.”

Yes, the Livvy who hid away at the request of her own father.

“I’m certain ye will ’ave a grand time,” he continued. “And August will add fine conversation. Did ye know ’e returned?”

She tipped her head to the side in feigned surprise, but fortunately, Father continued so she didn’t have to respond.

“I be certain ’e don’t need to work,” Father continued as if speaking to himself, “what with the inheritance ’e’s sure to receive from ’is father, but I s’pose gardenin’ be in ’is blood.” He paused, rubbing his chin, then glanced back to Livvy. “I do think it’ll be fine for ye to be closer to the Moon daugh’ers, too. They be fine girls who be well-loved across the Mount.”

Livvy cringed. Little did he know how those “fine girls” treated her today. But knowing Father, he might be more on their side than her own.

“Yes, Father.”

She glanced at the doorway. The edge of her basket poked out from the door frame, luring her closer with the promise of numbing her feelings in the pages of her books.

But Father continued. “Per’aps this’ll be just the thing for ye to finally love socializin’ again. There be much to experience, ’specially off the Mount.”

Her chest tightened. So they would not escape this part of their daily conversation after all. “Father…”

“I only be sayin’ that it might be time for ye to consider such a possibility.”

She looked away. “Movin’ away from me ’ome ain’t a guarantee of a better life.”

Nor was it what she wanted. But she didn’t need to go through this all again. Father knew all too well her desire was to remain on the Mount.

“But it could be better,” Father pressed. “Ye know me cousins in Nanstallon. They’d take ye in, watch o’er ye. They’d do a fine job of it, too. Ye’d no doubt love it once ye experienced it. After all, ye be more like your mother than ye think. Gettin’ off this island might be just the thing to ’elp ye be ’appy.”

Livvy looked away with a grimace. She hated it when he compared her to her mother, saying how similar they were, when frankly, Livvy could not think of another person she had less in common with—a person she strived less to be like.

She also couldn’t abide the fact that Father seemed to think that the only way for her to be happy was to find a spouse off the Mount. As if she could not find one on the Mount. That wasn’t like Mother, now, was it?

But perhaps he had a point. After all, Livvy was not yet married, was she? Nor did she have any prospects.

She pushed aside the image of August, as well as the thought that always accompanied her father attempting to push her off the Mount—because he didn’t want her on the Mount.

Livvy was finished with the conversation. Walking to the doorway, she spoke over her shoulder. “Yes, Father. That would be a fine option. I’ll take it into consideration, but I fear we must be gettin’ ready for the party.”

He drew in another long breath from his pipe. “Yes, ye be right. ’Ave Sarah do somethin’ with that ’air o’ yours. Ye’ve got leaves stuck in it again.”

She pressed a hand to her head, feeling a leaf instantly. Blast. Ophelia had said she’d got them all. Wretched girl.

“Yes, Father,” she mumbled, then she walked away.

“Leaves,” Father mumbled to himself as she departed. “’Eaven knows where a girl must choose to read if she ’as leaves in ’er ’air.”