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“Are you not?” Livvie latched on with a remarkable astuteness for one her age.

“How could I not be hopelessly enthralled by a woman who’d climb into the sewers of London?” A twinkle glinted in his eyes.

Hopelessly enthralled, indeed. “Enough,” she mouthed.

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t think I shall.” He clearly enunciated each syllable.

Oh, this had really gone on long enough. Dismissing Malcom outright, Verity turned to her sister. “Livvie, His Lordship and I have more pressing matters to—”

“Verity pointed out that you’d gone to Gunter’s.”

“We did,” he confirmed with such smug glee it was all Verity could do to keep from delivering a kick to the back ofhislegs.

This was to be her penance, then, for the years she’d spent prying information from others. “His Lordship and I have pressing matters to attend.” Which wasn’t untrue. She needed to be gathering information for her article, and those funds would be all that saved them after Malcom saw her banished to the English countryside.

He scoffed. “Not at all. I cannot imagine anything more pressing at this moment.”

The pair continued on as though Verity’s interruption had never happened. Folding her arms, she stuck a foot out and tapped it in an impatient staccato rhythm.

“I pointed out to Verity that you’re otherwise rarely together.”

Verity and Malcom spoke at once.

“We are not rarely—”

“You are not incorrect,” his words continued over Verity’s.

He would opt for blunt honesty, even with her innocent sister.

Livvie beamed, positively glowing in ways Verity was certain she herself never had been.

And there was surely a wicked deficit in Verity’s character at the stab of envy at the attention ... and warmth ... trained on her blushing sibling. And the ease with which the pair of them got on.

Livvie ceased swinging her legs. “Are you? Happy, that is?”

I never smile ... What do you have to smile about?Her stomach tightened. Her sister wasn’t one who could understand—

“Oh, undoubtedly.”

Undoubtedly?

And with that, he shot a glance over the top of Livvie’s head and favored Verity with a wink.

That brief but deliberate flicker of his lashes that alluded to a teasing game they two shared. Which, with the way he felt about Verity, was as preposterous as it was impossible, and yet in that very moment, she believed whatever game of pretend he put on for Livvie’s benefit.

“Then where do you go during the day?” Livvie peered up at him through thick, golden lashes. Their mother’s lashes, as Verity had thought of them through the years. The ones Bertha had claimed snagged an earl’s improper attention and would be the crux of many problems for her—and them—in the future. It appeared the future was now. “Why aren’t you ever about for mealtime?”

Verity ceased her distracted foot tapping. “Livvie,” she said sharply. “His Lordship doesn’t want to take questions ...”

Malcom merely peered back. And then he crooked his four fingers, urging the girl closer.

Livvie hesitated, and then springing to her feet, she drifted over.

“I search the sewers of London,” he said in a loud whisper.

“Stilllll?”Livvie’s mouth pulled. “I’ve heard as much. Crawling in tunnels for coins? I cannot see how you’d prefer spending your days in the sewers to living”—she threw her arms wide—“here.”

He scoffed. “Where’s the excitement in that?”