Hadleigh, on the other hand, actually listened to her.
“Because I’m not like the other girls,” she admitted. “I don’t care about gowns and gossip, and I detest needlepoint. They think I’m peculiar. And it didn’t help that last week one of the girls tried to squish a spider with her slipper, and I stopped her.”
Hadleigh nodded in understanding; he knew about Livy’s fascination with spiders. Ever since Papa had told her the story about how a spider’s perseverance had inspired Robert the Bruce, the great Scottish king, to win a battle, she had become an ardent admirer of the arachnid. How many creatures showed such tenacity and fortitude? Could weave something as lovely, fragile, and lethal as a spider’s web?
“Since spiders seldom harm humans and rid us of household pests, there is no good reason to kill them,” he said gravely.
“Precisely.” She jerked her chin in emphatic agreement. “But my interest in spiders isn’t the only problem. The girls are calling me a troublemaker.”
Hadleigh quirked a brow. “Are you?”
“No—I mean, not on purpose. But if someone does something unjust to someone else, one cannot stand by and do nothing, can one?”
“Depends on who ‘one’ is. If we are talking about you, then, no, probably not.”
“The most popular girl at the school, Sally, Lord Sackville’s daughter, broke an expensive vase,” Livy said furiously. “I saw her, and so did a roomful of our peers. But Sally blamed it on Tilda, one of the maids. Tilda got sacked. And all the girls are saying how clever Sally is and how Tilda deserved it because they never liked her manner. As if that is sufficient justification to cause that poor woman to lose her position and livelihood!”
“You told the headmistress the truth, I gather?”
“Of course I did!” Livy clenched her skirts in frustration. “But it did not make an iota of difference. She said that there was no evidence that Sally broke the vase, and if one wishes to get on in society, it is best not to gossip about one’s peers. I was not gossiping; I was providing eyewitness testimony!”
Hadleigh’s lips gave a faint twitch. “If the headmistress didn’t do anything, how did the other girls figure out that you talked to her?”
“Because I went to Sally and demanded that she write out a confession,” Livy said grimly.
He coughed in his fist. “How did that, er, go over?”
“She laughed in my face. Then she told all the girls I am a tattletale. And that is why,” she finished darkly, “they all hate me.”
“I see.” He paused. “It seems to me you have to decide how to move forward.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not apologizing to Sally.”
“I would not expect you to. But you do have to decide: what matters more, being popular or being true to yourself?”
“Being true to myself. Without question.”
“Then let that guide what you do next.” His eyes were the warm indigo blue of a summer night. “Listen to your heart, Livy. It will not guide you wrong.”
She canted her head, considering the advice. “Do you listen to your heart, Hadleigh?”
Storm clouds darkened his gaze. “My heart is not good and pure like yours. I do not trust it to make good decisions.”
“Your heart is good.” Shocked that he would think otherwise, she said staunchly, “You are one of the most honorable men I know.”
“I am flattered that you think so. Now about these chits at Southbridge’s—”
“I know so.” She wasn’t about to let him divert the topic. “You risked your life to save mine.”
“I did as anyone would have done.” His tone was dismissive. “It was nothing.”
“It’s not nothing to me,” she protested. “I like being alive, thank you very much.”
He gave her one of his rare smiles that involved his lips and his eyes. Reaching over, he tugged gently on one of her ringlets. When her brother Christopher pulled her hair, Livy found it annoying, but she didn’t mind when Hadleigh did it. He brooded too much, and it was nice when he acted more carefree.
“I am glad you are alive too, little one,” he said softly.
Glad that he was back in good spirits, she said, “What were you going to say about the girls at school?”
“Find a friend amongst them,” he said. “I would wager not everyone agrees with what Sally did. Unlike you, they are probably just too scared to stand up to a bully.”
“I will try.” She sighed. “I cannot wait until next year when Glory and Fiona join me at the school. Then I will have true friends by my side.”
“The three of you together?” Amusement lit Hadleigh’s eyes. “Sally Sackville—nay, the world—had better watch out.”
Present Day
“Drat.” Beneath his floppy chestnut curls, Will’s little face was disgruntled as he looked at the board. “Livy wins again.”
Livy gave her youngest brother an affectionate look. At eight years old, he was as competitive as she was. It was lucky that Christopher, their middle brother, possessed an easy-going temperament, or their games would devolve into bloodshed.
At present, she and Chris were sitting with Will on his bed. Will had delicate lungs, a fact that frustrated the poor dear to no end. In particular, the London air brought upon a shortness of breath that prevented him from romping around as he liked. To cheer him up, Livy and Chris had brought in a game of anagrams.
The game was also a good distraction from Livy’s own despair. Since Hadleigh’s rejection three nights ago, she had shed countless tears in private, crying herself to sleep. Even though Fi and Glory had visited, giving her encouragement, she’d been despondent. Could there be anything more devastating than the man you loved telling you that he only thought of you as a younger sister?
“You could let Will win for once,” Chris said under his breath.
Livy was glad to have her mawkish thoughts interrupted. At sixteen, Chris was tall and lanky, with their papa’s handsomeness
