She was inspecting a crumbling aqueduct with a sculpture looming above it when a familiar figure came to stand beside her.
“I came here when I was a boy,” the duke said, eyes fixed on the sculpture. “I thought it remarkably beautiful. I would have stayed for hours, I think, but my father got tired of the place rather quickly, and so we left. I suppose I could have come back any time I liked, once he was gone, but somehow, I never did. Isn’t that odd?”
Lavinia pursed her lips. “Habits can be deeply ingrained, as can some beliefs. Perhaps if your father thought this place was not worth seeing, you somehow believed it yourself.”
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “It didn’t stop me from buying and devouring books about Roman architecture and the Roman Baths, though.”
“Well, that’s different from coming here, is it not? My mother believes that novels are a waste of time, and nothing but silliness. That doesn’t prevent me from enjoying them, but whenever my sister tries to read them, she says that she can’t seem to enjoy them herself. I know that it isn’t simply her own preference, because before Mama told us what she thought about novels, she liked reading them very much.”
“I suppose that if somebody you admire and respect has a low opinion on something, it is hard not to share it,” the duke said, still staring thoughtfully at the sculpture.
“And love.”
He blinked down at her, missing a beat. “Hm?”
“And love. Somebody you admire, respect… and love. That’s a rather crucial part of the story, don’t you think?”
The duke looked at her for a second or two, expression unreadable.
“Yes, of course,” he said at last, but there was something odd in his voice, something that Lavinia could not interpret.
She was beginning to feel out of her depth. All of this – Bath, the architecture, the company, the houses – belonged to people above her.
This is not my circle. They are not my people.She glanced up at the duke, who was now looking at the sculptures again. He didn’t seem to be trulyseeingthem, though. There was a furrow between his brows, making him look oddly younger and more vulnerable. A wave of affection rolled through Lavinia, no matter how hard she tried to stamp it down and remind herself that this was not aproperfeeling. She wanted to wind an arm around his broad shoulders and pull him down for an embrace, reassuring him that everything would be fine, absolutely fine.
These are not his people, either. I suppose he is just more used to pretending.
He is afraid.
As if to highlight her fears a little more, Miss Bainbridge appeared.
“There you are, your Grace,” she said, smiling easily. “And Miss Brookford, too! I am surprised to see you here. I might have thought that the Queen’s Bath would be more to your taste.”
“I haven’t seen either of the Baths,” Lavinia answered, managing a cool smile. “I would like to see the Queen’s Baths, too. There’s a great deal I would like to see in Bath.”
Miss Bainbridge chuckled benignly. “Yes, I forget that you don’t come here every year. Why don’t you, by the way? It’s very fashionable to keep a house in Bath these days. We have our own townhouse, naturally. Bath is so very refreshing after the heat and bustle of London.”
Lavinia laughed uncertainly. “I’m not quite sure why we don’t have a house here. Perhaps my parents don’t believe we’d use it enough. It would be quite wasted.”
“Wasted? Not at all. All you would require is a modest staff to oversee matters, and you could keep it closed for the greater part of the year. The expenditure would be quite minimal. I trust you are indeed mindful of the costs, naturally.”
She added the last part gently, almost regretfully. Lavinia’s face burned.
Of course, it was fairly clear that her family couldnotafford a house in Bath. They couldn’t even afford a house in London, and it was growing increasingly likely that they would not be able to afford their country house, either. That was a particular worry that Lavinia was trying her utmost to ignore.
She wasn’t entirely sure how Miss Bainbridge could know the full extent of their situation, but the tight, mirthless smile on her face seemed to indicate that she did. Lavinia glanced up at the duke, bewildered, not entirely sure how to respond, not sure what veiled insults she was missing.
The duke pressed his lips together. “I can’t say I agree with this modern idea of keeping half a dozen houses in various parts of the country,” he said suddenly. Miss Bainbridge shot him a sharp look, which he pretended to ignore. “What good can it possibly do? The expense – forgive me for saying, Miss Bainbridge – is truly shocking, and for what benefit? A house in town and a house in the country is quite enough for any family, in my opinion.”
There was a faint pause after this. Lavinia was vaguely aware that the duke had just corrected a lady, which of course was not at all the proper thing to do.
Miss Bainbridge spoke next.
“I suppose you are right,” she said at last. Her voice was light and almost careless, but there was a hard look in her eyes which Lavinia did not like. “Let us just change the subject. Tell me, your Grace, but do these sculptures not remind you of a particular gallery in Italy? I cannot recall the name, but I am sure you have visited it on your Grand Tour.”
Lavinia felt like sinking into the floor. It was fairly clear that Miss Bainbridge was trying to push her out of the conversation, and frankly it was working. She had never travelled abroad, never gone anywhere further than Scotland. She’d never seen Paris, or Italy, or Spain, or Germany. She’d barely managed to go to London once a year.
However, in the silence that followed, it became clear that Miss Bainbridge had mis-stepped.
