Tears slid down her face. Richard stepped back. Now he truly looked at her. He looked at the way her fingers trembled. The way she held herself too still.
This was not disgust. This was fear. This was definitely not what he had expected. Richard had expected the pride he saw in her on the first day, the sharp tongue hidden behind lowered lashes.
He had not expected a frightened mouse. Richard softened his voice. "How long have you been here?"
Livia swallowed and whispered, "Three years."
"You don't look any older than seventeen," Richard said, his brow lifting with curiosity. "You've been doing this for that long?"
Livia flinched slightly at the question. "No," she said quietly. "I was a servant here. I just recently…" Her voice trailed off.
Richard understood enough. His jaw tightened. "Beaumont was waiting for you to grow older."
