“Shall we partake in more of the punch? I find myself quite parched.”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “That is a very good idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lavinia woke lazily, stretching her arms above her head. She’d slept deeply, her dreams full of dancing and laughter andhim.
He loves me,she thought, head spinning.He must love me, to speak to me like that, to dance with me so often.
She kept thinking about their ride together, the panic on his face when the horse had first broken into a rolling walk, and the way his composure gradually returned, colour coming back into his cheeks. A wave of powerful affection swept through her, so intense it made her shiver.
What was he going to tell me? He asked to speak to me in private. Could it be a proposal?
That idea seemed so ludicrous she almost rejected it at once. A man like the duke proposing to her was… well, almost beyond considering.
I could think of him asWilliamnow, though,she thought, allowing herself a small smile. She had no idea whether the private conversation he wanted would end in a proposal, or if it was just some other matter. Perhaps he intended to marry Miss Bainbridge after all and wanted to warn her.
And then, with a chilling sensation, she recalled what Miss Bainbridge had said about the betrothal.
Even so, that notion now possessed no sting. Miss Bainbridge had been remarkably subdued at the Assembly Rooms, sticking with her parents and talking to few people. She had not danced with the duke at all and had gone home early in the evening. Lavinia had managed to feel a pang of pity for her. What woman would hold a man to an engagement that he clearly didn’t want? It wasn’t her fault, after all.
Well, perhaps some of it was, but not all.
Outside, sunlight streamed into the room. It was pale, early-morning light. The hunting outing was still scheduled for today, but considering the late night everybody had had, it was considered likely that they wouldn’t get started until late morning at least. She had time for a walk, or perhaps a short ride on Stepper. Lavinia was not, of course, going to go hunting. Not because she was a lady, but because she simply didn’t enjoy chasing down and killing animals.
Yawning, she rolled out of bed, dressing quickly. Last night, Lord Langley had shown such special attention to Gillian that their mother had gloated about the wedding for hours afterwards. There’d been no proposal, of course, not yet, but it was fairly certain that therewouldbe one.
Dressed in an old gown, with a shawl to stave off the morning chill and her trusty riding boots, Lavinia tiptoed through the quiet house and out into the morning air.
It was shaping up to be a fine day. No rain today, just clear skies and brisk sunlight. The air was sharply cold, but that wasn’t the worst thing for a hunting outing. Dew and patches of frost still littered the fields, and in places, thick white fog clung to the ground. The courtyard was still and quiet. Peaceful, just the way Lavinia liked it. She breathed deeply as she walked, tipping back her head to look up at the sky.
It was going to be a near perfect ride.
She approached the stable door, which was partially ajar, and extended her hand to fling it open. Voices from inside made her hesitate.
Familiar voices.
“I don’t know what to do, Timothy. I’ve gotten myself into quite a mess.”
Prickles ran down her spine. That was the duke’s voice.William’svoice.
Timothy gave a heavy sigh. She hadn’t spent much time with Timothy Rutherford, Katherine’s husband, but he was a pleasant, well-liked man who seemed reserved around his vivacious wife and talkative in-laws. He had been William’s friend for many years before his marriage to Katherine, she recalled.
“You’ll have to be honest, Will. You must see that.”
“Of course I do, it’s just… oh, I’ve left it too long. How could I go about it now? Lavinia will never forgive me.”
She flinched at the sound of her own name. Heart hammering, Lavinia inched closer, peering through the crack in the door. At the back of her mind, she seemed to recall that eavesdropping rarely worked out well for the eavesdropper, but she simply couldn’t help herself.
Inside the stables, she saw William standing in front of one of the horse stalls. It contained the mild-tempered mare he’d ridden before, who was placidly eating pieces of carrot from his palm. Timothy Rutherford stood nearby, arms folded tight, leaning against the wall. He looked serious, a frown tightening up his forehead.
“Pray, I advise you to see to it without further ado,” Timothy remarked. “To postpone will serve you naught. You should know that the Bainbridges are highly offended, and nothing good will come fromthat. Besides, the Brookfords now have raised hopes. If you intend to disappoint them, then…”
“Oh, stop it, Timothy. I told you, my decision is made. I’ve chosen my duchess.”
She sucked in a breath, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth in case she was overheard.
He’s chosen his duchess? What does that mean? Has she chosen me? Could it be me?
