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“We’ve been friends for too long for you to refuse my help now,” Dane insisted, and it was just too much. Lavinia felt fear, resentment, frustration. All the feelings she’d managed to hide in the deep, dark corners of her soul bubbled up inside her.
“We were never friends!” She cried, then burst into a bout of nervous laughter. God, men were clueless. “We wereneverfriends, Dane. I was in love with you! Iamin love with you! Always have been.”
There was a prolonged silence while neither of them spoke. Dane just stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Self-deprecating laughter burst out of Lavinia’s lips. Once she’d started, she might as well tell him all of it. What did she have to lose? “Do you remember the first day we met? My father had been…” she closed her eyes briefly against the memory and swallowed, “unkind that day. Then you came—large and strong—like a prince from the novels… And you saved me. You were the first man to ever show me kindness. And I have loved you for that. I loved you then, and I have loved you my entire life.”
Tears freely slid down her cheeks now.
Dane cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Lavinia raised her eyes to his. “Would it have mattered? Would you have married me if I told you?”
Dane looked away, his expression pained, his hands fisted by his side to the point of his knuckles whitening, and it was the answer if she ever got one. Of course, he wouldn’t.
He swallowed. “Then why are you telling me this now?”
“Because you’re married!” Lavinia wiped at her tears. “Because you are married to one of my closest friends. And for all your good intentions, seeing you now just… hurts. It hurts, Dane. And I don’t want to hurt anymore. I am telling you this”—she wiped her tears with both her wrists—“I am telling you this so you will cease looking for me and just leave me alone. I can’t accept your help, I cannot even look Caroline in the eye because of it. And the only solution for me now is to marry. And I can’t do that if you’re following me around and trying to interfere in my life.”
“I only want what’s best for you,” he said quietly.
Lavinia nodded, tiny self-deprecating laughter leaving her lips. “Yes. And what’s best for me now is to be as far away from you as possible.”
There was a beat of silence as Dane processed her words. It was obvious he wanted to say something, to protest, but Lavinia was tired of molding herself to his wants and needs. If he was her true friend, he would leave her alone. It seemed like Dane came to the same conclusion as he gave a sharp nod and walked away.
Lavinia’s strength left her, and she leaned against the wall, lest she crumble to the floor.
It felt strange… During long, dark nights she had imagined having this reckoning with Dane, and she’d expected to feel free, happy even. But she didn’t. What she felt was a gaping emptiness inside her. She felt as though she was surrounded by nothing… a void, or she was the void and nothing existed anymore. Her mind was completely blank.
Lavinia heard the soft noise of someone coming toward her, but before she could react, a crisp white handkerchief appeared before her face.
“Well, I think that was rather brazen of you.” Lavinia immediately recognized Lord Roth’s voice.
“Should I thank you for your observation, my lord? Was it meant as a compliment or chastisement?” she asked bitterly but took his handkerchief and wiped her face.
“Definitely a compliment,” he said softly. “But there’s no need to thank me for telling you what I think. But for what it’s worth, I think you handled it splendidly. Very passionate, rather reminded me of French women. Definitely not like the simpering English debutante I’ve come to expect.” There was a smile in his voice, and Lavinia couldn’t help but smile, too.
“I thought you expected vultures, impinging on your title.”
He let out a hoarse chuckle. “Or that. Yes. But you just told off a duke, so I don’t think I have to worry about either of that with you. Come, I’ll give you some wine that is not watered down.”
Lavinia threw him a suspicious gaze. “You are not going to speak of nude art again, are you?”
He smiled widely, making her knees quiver and her heart skip a beat. “I shall try to restrain myself.”
Lord Roth stretched out his arm, and she placed her hand in his. The moment he encircled her fingers with his, Lavinia felt steadier than she’d had since she’d encountered Dane in this corridor. Was she a fool to trust this man?
Whether she was or wasn’t, there was no point in contemplating, because in the next moment they were ascending the steps of the servants’ stairs. A moment later, they entered a small, stuffy chamber filled with canvases and other art supplies that smelled putrid like oil paint.
Lavinia looked around, but aside from three or four paintings, there were a few canvases with sketches on them which he had likely started but hadn’t gotten around to finishing.
Lord Roth sat her on the padded chair by the window. Then he brought a bottle of port and two glasses.
He opened the bottle and poured them each a drink. “If you don’t mind,” he said as he moved away from her, “I will paint you while you drink. After all, you did promise to pose for me.”
A hoarse chuckle left her lips. She had no idea why this gorgeous man would want to spend any time with her, let alone paint her. Her! The clumsy, unshapely lady with mousy brown hair and an unremarkable face. But if he wanted to, she wouldn’t tell him no.
So she smiled and took a sip of the port. The sweet drink with a slight bitter pang traveled down her throat, making her feel lighter somehow. She took another gulp. Yes, the port was exactly what she needed right now. “Paint away, good sir,” she said with a smile as she reached for the bottle to top her glass.
