You May Kiss the Bride(112)
“Although what?”
“I’ll never be a proper lady, Gabriel. A real lady.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Oh, you know. Always saying and doing the right thing, keeping my thoughts and opinions to myself. Pretending to be someone I’m not. Being perfect.”
“I would never want that.”
“You wouldn’t want me to be like—oh, Cecily Orr?”
“Never,” he said, so fervently that Livia’s last, tiny, lingering doubt vanished, never to return.
She smiled then, and reached out a hand which he took in a warm clasp.
“No more running away from me, Livia?”
“No,” she promised. “No more.”
“Say it again.”
“No more running away.”
“When I didn’t know where you were, I thought I’d lose my mind.”
“That’s in the past, Gabriel. I am here, with you.”
“Yes. Livia, can you feel it?”
“This—energy, pulsing between our hands? Yes. Always.”
“An unbroken cord.” He was silent for a few moments. Then: “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. I’ve been a beast.”
“You’ve had things on your mind.”
“I was so ashamed, so furious with myself, that I couldn’t face you. I was afraid.”
“I would never have turned away from you, Gabriel.”
“I wish I’d known that. I wish I’d talked with you more. Can you forgive me?”
“If you’ll forgive me, too.” She gave a little sigh. “It’s hard, sometimes, to talk, isn’t it? In a real and honest way. During all those years at the Abbey, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to.”
“It is hard, Livia. I know that all too well. And now you have me to talk with. I’ll do better from now on.”
“We both will.”
“We already are, I think,” he said. “About the Hall—I wanted it to be perfect for you, you know.”
“I do know, Gabriel.” Thoughtfully, Livia added, “Although it occurs to me that I’m starting to dislike the word ‘perfect.’”
“Yes. I too. Let’s make a pact to use it very carefully in the future.”
“Done.”
“Livia,” he said.
“Yes, Gabriel?”
“About the Hall. It’s going to take a great deal of effort to remedy those years of neglect.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“You’ll help me?”
“I would love to.”
“I suspect the roof leaks in hundreds of places, Crenshaw says they’ve found more dead rats, and I’m afraid to even go into the cellars.”
“I’ll go with you.”
He smiled. “Thank you. Oh, and Grandmama says we must have cats.”
Livia thought about the big striped purring tabby she’d envisioned while daydreaming in the Rose Saloon. Joy, sang a little voice in her heart, joy. “If Granny says we must have cats, cats we shall have.”
“Grandmama was distraught to learn that you’d gone. She’s very fond of you—I hope you know that? She wanted to come here and nurse you herself.”
“Oh, you wrote to her, then?”
“Of course. But I told her that I claimed the privilege for myself, and that I would bring you home soon.”
“Home,” echoed Livia dreamily. “Such a lovely, lovely word.”
“Yes, I’ve come to think so too.”
Livia smiled at him, then suddenly thought of something and her smile faded. “Oh dear.”
“What is it?”
“My stupid reputation—you here at the inn—your reputation . . .”
“Oh, you needn’t worry. I sent for Flye. She’s been here preserving the proprieties, although I think she’s probably been bored out of her mind with so little to do.”
Livia stroked his hand, admiring its strength and capableness. “You think of everything,” she said approvingly.
“I try. In my letter to Grandmama I asked that Flye bring along some of your clothing as well.”
“Thank you, dear heart.”
“You’re welcome, my love.” He paused, then said: “I have something to ask of you. If you feel you cannot do it, however, I would understand.”
“What is it?”
“I’d like to invite Grandmama to live with us.”
“Of course she must live with us.”
“Are you sure? She may try to rule the roost.”
“I’m certain she will,” said Livia serenely. “But I have a lot to learn from Granny. And, perhaps, she has some things to learn from me. Together, we’ll all be a family.”