Chapter 52
Livy
Livy gazed out at the crowded Montgomery ballroom, a blur of soft ivories and pastels of the ladies’ dresses interspersed with the blacks and navies of the men’s coats.
The jovial atmosphere was at odds with the sinking feeling in her stomach.
The one that had gnawed away at her insides as the evening had progressed, and she still hadn’t seen any sign of Derek.
Aunt Mellie had tried her best to reassure Livy.
Her aunt was sure he’d be here; it was probably just him having a small case of nerves.
Very typical of men. But the same disappointment that had at first come over Livy was now showing on Aunt Mellie’s face.
There was only one set left for the evening.
Derek was to have danced two with Livy. Declare to the ton he’d set his cap for her.
Now it took everything in her power to keep her feet rooted to the floor and not leave right this moment and seek him out.
She lost herself in visions of when she’d visited his townhome all those nights ago, him sitting on his study floor, despondent, imprisoned somewhere inside himself.
Disappointment was long gone, worry firmly in its place.
She needed to make sure he was well, ease her mind that he hadn’t fallen into that dark place, and if he had, remind him she would be by his side until he got through it, that she’d help him get through it.
“I think I’ll fetch some lemonade.” She needed to do something or else she was going to expire from the restless unease burning under her skin.
She glanced longingly at her aunt’s glass of punch—which she knew Aunt Mellie had generously topped off with brandy when no one was looking.
Livy would much prefer that over the tepid lemonade.
Sadness glimmered in Aunt Mellie’s light blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Olivia.”
Livy’s smile tightened, and she shook her head. It was fine. It would be. As soon as she made sure he was all right. Though if he was well and nothing was wrong, and he hadn’t shown up… No. Not thinking those thoughts. She believed in Derek, in them.
I plan to marry her.
She repeated it like a litany on her way to the refreshment table, all through pouring her lemonade, all while she stood there and stared blindly at the muted yellow liquid.
“Miss Forester.”
Livy jolted, and her drink sloshed over the rim of her glass and onto her gown. She winced. Blast.
“Apologies, Liv,” Warren murmured, pulling out a handkerchief. “I hadn’t meant to frighten you.”
She smiled weakly at him. “Not your fault, Mr. Thorton.”
“I—” He hesitated, his gaze darting away as he blew out a breath before meeting hers again. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. Speak to you privately.” He indicated toward the terrace.
“I’m not certain that’s a good idea,” she said carefully.
“Please.” His eyes begged her, the vulnerability in his expression making him look so much like the young man she’d grown up with.
The one who’d been a friend to her, the one she’d laughed with, had freely shown her affection.
The one she thought still existed beneath this version that had bowed to the rigid expectations of their world rather than defied them.
“I owe you an apology,” he whispered.
She bit her lip and nodded.
Warren led them down the terrace. The cool evening air was a welcome reprieve from the stuffy ballroom.
Though with the way Warren’s strides ate up the terrace, she would be overheated again soon.
Warren’s head jerked back and forth, his gaze hastily scanning, and he ushered them into the shadows, discreetly passing by the other guests deep in conversation.
“Warren, I’m sure we have gone far enough…”
They reached the end of the terrace, where three steps led down to a garden.
She stopped dead in her tracks, but Warren continued forward, his body dragging hers along.
She yanked violently, tearing free and stumbling backwards, her gaze fixated on the dark garden below, the shadows reaching for her.
Her heart frantically fought against the confines of her ribcage.
She wildly shook her head, the haunting visions of that night assaulting her.
Someone grabbing her from the shadows, a hand smothering her scream.
Lord Pennington atop her, his weight pinning her down, helpless.
No. Air, she needed air. Gasping, she struggled to fill her desperate lungs.
“Liv?”
Warren’s concerned voice drifted to her ears, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t look away from the shadows of the garden.
“Liv, are you well?”
A large hand rested on her arm, and she recoiled, retreating in on herself, her gaze shooting to Warren. He stared at her, brows furrowed, eyes searching hers.
“I-I…” She drew in a shuddering breath. Oh God. The nightmare of that night hadn’t haunted her like that in a long time. “Would it be all right if we stayed upon the lit terrace?”
“Of course.” He glanced distractedly toward the guests in the distance at the other end of the terrace. “Of course that is fine. I just wanted a small amount of privacy for this conversation. This will do just fine.” He paused and really took her in. “Are you sure you’re well? You’re shaking.”
He frowned at her, his gaze darkening. “Did he do something to you? Quinton had told me he was to declare his intentions tonight, and when he didn’t make an appearance…
I thought perhaps he was just living up to his reputation.
But if he hurt you, Liv, I swear to God I’ll—I’ll rearrange his ballocks. ”
Livy gaped at Warren, all unease chased away by pure shock. Who was this man standing before her? She shook her head slowly. “No, Lord Dunmore has done nothing to hurt me. In any way.”
He nodded stiffly. “Excellent. Just wanted to be sure.”
She studied him. Clenched jaw, a muscle visibly ticking beneath the surface. A faint flush coloring his cheeks. Tension radiated from him. “Warren, is something amiss?”
“Me.”
“I… Pardon?”
“I am what is amiss. I am what is wrong. God, Liv.” He ran a hand through his blond hair glinting in the moonlight. His eyes slid shut, and he tilted his head toward the sky. “I was such a pompous arse. Unforgivably so.”
When his lids lifted, it was a tortured gaze that met her own.
“It’s not a justification, but I did as my parents told me to do.
I believed what they told me to believe.
But they were wrong. They are wrong.” He fisted his hands in his hair, pulling.
“Christ, it’s like I lacked all spine. I was a complete imbecile, giving them blind obedience, playing the part they wished of me.
I didn’t fight for you, for us. I was—am—pathetic.
I don’t even know who I am, but whoever that is, I don’t like him. ”
His hands dropped to his sides, and he shook his head, blond waves falling back into place.
“What I do know is that I have treated you intolerably, someone I hold the deepest affection for. And for that, I am deeply sorry.” His voice lowered, pain lacing his words.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Liv. There will never be words strong enough to express my regret, my shame in the way I treated you,” he said hoarsely.
“You were always so good to me. And now that I realize what you put up with? I never deserved you. I don’t. ”
She opened her mouth, but she was too dumbfounded to form words. To form thoughts.
“I’ve told my parents I won’t be marrying this season.
They’re extremely displeased, considering they’d already had a match in mind.
But I’m not fit to be someone’s husband.
Not when I’m ashamed of the man I am. I’m going to learn to be better.
” He tilted his head back and let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve got a long bloody way to go.”
“Warren…”
His gaze clashed with hers, shattered. “You will forever be my greatest mistake.”
Livy swallowed hard, eyes burning. Her heart was nothing but a destroyed mass in her chest. Because it was agonizing facing a love ended, seeing the last remnants of it standing before her.
She knew he spoke the truth; the conviction in his tone didn’t leave any room for doubt.
He was going to change. He was going to become the man she always knew was there within him.
It was who she’d met at the age of fifteen, who slowly year after year had faded away.
She’d held on tighter, grasping, but he’d disappeared and fallen out of reach.
If they truly had been meant to be, she would have been able to hold on.
And he would have found her something worth defying for.
That man would resurface. She had no doubt.
“Don’t think that way, Warren,” she said softly.
“When we met, the boy you were was someone destined to grow into a great man. Our world is not one in which rules are lightly set aside. But I was never the woman for you.” Her vision blurred, and she clenched her teeth against the hollow ache that tore through her like a gutting.
She cleared her throat. “After the time we spent together, that wasn’t an easy fact to accept.
I cared—still care—deeply about you. But I know without a doubt now that we were never meant to be forever. ”
Warren’s gaze shimmered in the shadows, nostrils flaring, the same raw pain looking back at her. “And your forever is Lord Dunmore.”
There was no question in his statement, but she answered anyway. “Yes.”
“So that is that then,” he said tightly. “Five years together, thrown away, all for naught.”
She knew he was hurting. Heavens, she was hurting. She knew that was the reason behind the bitterness in his voice. Even so, she wouldn’t let that comment slide.
“As I recall, you were quick to throw it away not two months ago.” She said it carefully, as gently as she was able, while remaining firm in her resolve, knowing the truth in the words would be salt in the wound.
She thought, perhaps, Warren would benefit from someone putting him in his place a bit more often.
He turned away, his face contorting in a grimace. “Yes, there is no one at fault here except for me.”
Livy reached for him, her hand settling on his forearm. He didn’t look at her, so she gave him a slight squeeze and waited until his gaze finally landed on hers.
She smiled and forced a bit of teasing into her tone. “A good mistake to learn now, yes? So that when the right woman does come along, you won’t muck it up.”
He dropped his chin in a clipped nod. “Yes, I suppose there is that.”
Now she really needed to leave this ball and get to Derek to ensure he was well. That they were well.
But later, when she finally managed to steal away to his townhouse…he’d been nowhere to be found.