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But this was different.
This was a beauty that came from within her and made her luminous. She was not of this earth, nor from any fairy tale she might have shared with the children this afternoon.
She was heavenly.
Her eyes caught his, and he hardly dared breathe. She smiled at him—first with her eyes and lips and then with her whole countenance.My angel, he thought.Mine.
He crossed to her and bowed low over her hand, leaving a prolonged kiss there. “My beautiful Lavinia,” he murmured, “what an honor it is to have you in my life.”
He meant every word, and he realized with urgency that he must find a way to keep her in his life, to make the betrothal one in truth.
* * *
“I understand from Thomas that I missed a rather extraordinary theatrical performance this afternoon,” Isobel said at dinner as soon as everyone was seated. Delia and Artie had asked to take their meals in their rooms so they could retire early, their antics entertaining the children having thoroughly worn them both out, and Hannah had opted to join them. “I’m sorry I missed it. I had already heard from the children about it. They were quite enamoredby it all, from what I understand. I must congratulate you, Lavinia.”
“Thank you,” Lavinia replied demurely, taking a sip from her goblet. She was still feeling shaken from the look she and Lucas had shared after the last story. His eyes had burned with an intensity that had made her heart pound. It was similar to looks other gentlemen had given her over the years—but also completely different.
He’d looked at her with passion, but a passion that went beyond physical attraction to a higher plane. It was at once exhilarating and terrifying.
“I, for one, was enchanted,” Clara said. “I wish you had been there, Isobel. And Susan and Rebecca too.”
“Nothing of note ever happens around here except when we haveappointments in the village we are obliged to keep,” Rebecca said, dipping a spoon into her soup and blowing gently to cool it before taking a sip. “The chestnut soup is divine, Mama.”
“I believe Cook added bacon to the recipe this time,” Lady Thurlby said.
“Perhaps you can be persuaded to do an encore performance for those of us who weren’t there,” Viscount Thurlby said, directing his comment to Lavinia.
Lavinia looked at Lucas, which was a mistake. Her insides trembled again.
“Perhaps tomorrow evening, Father, with your—and the others’—permission,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Tonight, I should like to spend some time with my betrothed showing her the portrait gallery.”
“Be warned, Lavinia,” Susan said as the main course of pheasant and vegetables was served. “There is a horrid picture of Lucas there—the only image we had of him before he left for Spain. You wouldn’t recognize it as him unless you were told. I dare you to not laugh when you discover which one it is out of the many fine Jennings men hanging on the walls there.”
“It’s not so bad,” the viscountess said.
“It’s terrible, Mama,” Lucas replied. “One might think it was painted upon my return from war, having become disfigured in battle.”
Lady Thurlby waved her hand at him in dismissal. “They exaggerate, Lavinia. While I will concede it isn’t the best likeness—”
The viscount coughed, making Lucas laugh.
“Nonetheless, it looked enough like him for me to feel comforted that I had something to remember him by should—” She stopped speaking abruptly and looked down at her lap.
Everyone paused while she collected herself. After a moment, she sniffed and dabbed at her nose, and then raised her head to continue. “I’m beyond relieved that you are returned to us, Lucas, when so many mothers lost and continue to lose their sons in this cause. Now, enough of my foolish sentiment. What did you learn on your inspection of the farm?”
“Perhaps that is a conversation suited to another time, Alice,” the viscount said.
“For we’d much rather discuss the latest frills on this year’s fashions,” Susan said with perfectly placed irony.
“I was directing my question toLucas, who, rather than spend his first full day here in the bosom of his family,leftus once again to return to this Primrose Farm,” Lady Thurlby said, her earlier tears gone, her eyes gleaming.
“You will have noticed that our mother is not fearful of speaking her mind,” Lucas whispered to Lavinia.
“Thank goodness for that,” Susan whispered, overhearing his words.
“It’s no wonder you haven’t found a husband,” Thomas tossed into the hushed conversation.
“You’re quite correct, Thomas,” Susan said more loudly. “But it isn’t for a lack of offers, you’ll recall.”
