“I would be throwing nothing away.”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “And what of love?” she asked. “What of that? What if you grew to resent me because of it?”
He faltered. The words hovered on the edge of his tongue—I love you. I always have.But he swallowed them back, knowing she was not ready to hear them. “I could never resent you,” he said instead.
A tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly, her composure faltering. “I think… it is best if we avoid one another for a time.”
He stared at her, stricken. “I beg your pardon?”
“I care about you too deeply to risk jeopardizing your new position,” she replied.
Reaching for her hand again, he said urgently, “No. I will not accept that. We are friends, Livy. I do not care who knows it.”
“You say that now…”
“I will say it always. And it will remain no less true,” he declared. “If you try to push me away, I will only come right back.”
She smiled through her tears. “What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?”
He grinned, leaning in. “I suspect you bewitched me the day you poured that mud over my head.”
She laughed—a real laugh this time—and wiped her cheek. “You cannot go about accusing people of witchcraft. Though… I daresay it would be entertaining. I could fly about on a broomstick and concoct potions.”
“I believe the broomstick part is a myth.”
“That is the only part you take issue with?” she teased.
He chuckled. “Very well. I promise never to accuse you of being a witch again.”
But her humor faded swiftly. “I cannot marry you, Evander.”
“Why not? We would have such fun together. You are the only one who makes me laugh as you do.”
“It would be selfish of me to say yes,” she said, voice thick with emotion.
“Does that mean you are tempted?” he pressed.
She nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping. “Of course, I am tempted. I am five and twenty, and my reputation is in tatters. You may well be the only offer I shall ever receive.”
“Then say yes. We will post the banns at once.” His eagerness rang clear—and perhaps too forcefully. He could sense her wavering.
“I need you to be certain.”
“I am certain.”
She let out a breathless laugh, but it was without joy. “You are a viscount now. Every choice you make carries weight. Do you truly wish to tie yourself to a woman with an annulled marriage?”
“That means nothing to me. You were tricked, and everyone knows it.”
“Not everyone is so kind or forgiving.”
He leaned closer, his tone fierce with sincerity. “But I am not ‘everyone.’ You knew me when I was but the second son of an earl. The spare. And you never treated me differently.”
“Why would I?”
“Exactly,” he said with a small smile. “You are the wife I need.”
She looked upward, as though the stars themselves might grant her wisdom. “You are good.”
