Her Duke in the Dark (Trapped by Temptation #1)
Chapter 1
“Perhaps you will find love soon, dearest. It is time for you to marry, after all.”
Miss Lavinia Fitzroy was stunned. She sat at a desk in the corner of her room, writing a lengthy letter to one of her favorite correspondents in London, Miss Cordelia Foote.
With ink-stained hands and a head full of questions for Miss Foote, she would have normally smiled, nodded, and then proceeded with her work, had the subject of this conversation been light and breezy. But marriage talk? Again? After all these years? She was concerned.
“Mama?” she questioned. “What is the matter?”
“Henrietta Linfield wrote to me the other day. Her son will be accompanying her and Madeline today, and I believe he has yet to be married,” Tabitha Fitzroy, the Baroness Crawford, answered, her face wrinkling as if she were struggling to remember her conversation with the Dowager Duchess of Pemberton.
She lifted her hand and brushed a stray lock of chestnut brown hair from her forehead. A set of bangles on her thin wrist jingled and jangled as she did.
“Maybe that’s something that might interest you, dearest?”
Her unruly forelocks fell into her eyes once more, and she made a show of inhaling deeply before blowing a gentle puff of air skyward, making them flutter.
The rather quiet drawing room began to lose its peace as soon as the Baroness broached the subject of marriage, so Lavinia placed her quill neatly in the inkpot, turned all her attention to her mother, and cleverly steered the conversation away from the marriage mart.
“I do hope the Dowager Duchess mentioned Lady Madeline when you last spoke to her,” Lavinia said, sitting straighter and giving her a pleasant smile. “It has been an age since I’ve seen my friend, and she has not been keeping up with our correspondence lately.”
“Lady Madeline…” Lady Crawford mumbled the name as if she had never heard it before. Then, with a dismissive flick of her wrist, the bangles on her arm tinkled once more. “I am sure everyone is excited to attend our house party. Your friend will surely be welcome here.”
“Of course,” Lavinia said softly. “But Lady Madeline is not just my friend, Mama. You know her well. She is the daughter of the Dowager Duchess of Pemberton.”
“Lady Pemberton…” Her mother tapped a long index finger on her chin. “What was it I heard about her the other day?” She did not pause for longer than a fraction of a second. “Oh, yes! She is bringing her son to our event, and I hear that he is quite the eligible bachelor.”
“Oh, I only hope for a marriage quite like yours, Mother.” Lavinia got up from her chair and crossed the room so that she might stand nearer to her mother.
The Baroness looked up at her. “My marriage is unique, darling. Your father and I were a love match, and our feelings have grown over time. A lady, especially one of your age, cannot anticipate having my good fortune.”
Lavinia did not bristle at the comment regarding her age. Instead, she replied, “I cannot and will not marry a man I do not love. It is… illogical. So, I shall wait until I find a man I can love completely and who is worthy of the fanfare.”
She pointed at the massive wedding portrait of the Baron and Baroness.
It had been finished two weeks prior. The painter, Delphinus Rossetti, had spent days painting it.
It showed a couple who profoundly admired each other.
They were not just a man and wife posing stiffly and having their portrait made so it could hang in the hall for years to come.
No, the Baron and Baroness Crawford were more in love with one another than ever, and Master Rossetti had captured their warmth and adoration for one another with every brush stroke.
Lavinia sighed and, feeding her mother’s ego, feigned yearning.
The Baroness was easily persuaded, almost impelled by her daughter’s guise. Unfortunately for Lavinia, her brother was ready to reveal her mummery.
“And what are your prospects so far, Sister?” Charles walked up behind them, almost making her jump in surprise.
Lavinia and Charles were twins, born just minutes apart. But because Charles was older by a few minutes, he seemed to find joy in making her feel like she was way younger, infinitely worthy of teasing.
He gestured to the letter she had left unfinished on her writing desk. “Were you penning a missive to a potential suitor? Is there a duke waiting in the wings for you to call him to our little piece of the countryside?”
The Baroness shushed her son, while Lavinia rolled her eyes.
“Silence, Charles. I am quite certain the Duke of Pemberton will be as accepting as his mother will be. And your sister would never dream of writing a letter to a gentleman who had not already offered for her,” the Baroness sputtered.
Charles only chuckled and squeezed his sister’s shoulder, reassuring her that he was only in jest.
“I am writing a letter to my friend, Miss Foote, my dearest brother. You may remember her. I introduced you to her last spring when we attended her father’s supper and cards party.” Lavinia wiggled her eyebrows, reminding her twin that she, too, could be playful and teasing.
“I remember Miss Foote quite well.” Charles tugged uncomfortably on his cravat. “It has been some time since our paths crossed, though. Do send her my best wishes.”
Lavinia laughed lightly when she saw the bright pink spots of color on his cheeks. She could not say precisely why he was embarrassed, but she thought this change in his countenance was rather charming. “I shall do just that.”
She returned to her writing desk and scribbled a quick note to Miss Foote, mentioning her brother.
She was hard at work, trying to think of a gentle way to mention to her friend that Charles might be interested in seeing her again soon, when her mother rose from the settee and said absentmindedly, “But where’s your father anyway?”
“Hmm?” Lavinia hummed, wishing to ignore the distraction and finish her writing.
“I have not seen him all day,” Charles replied.
“But surely he is around here somewhere.”
No sooner had Charles and the Baroness spoken those words than the door of the drawing room opened and a slight breeze stirred the air. Lavinia looked up from her correspondence and met Charles’s eyes, before turning her attention to the empty doorway.
Then, almost as if on cue, the Baron Crawford whisked through the door, holding a slender velvet box in his hand. “I am here now, my love,” he announced.
“Ambrose, dear!” the Baroness gushed.
He walked towards her, took her hand, and gently lifted it to his lips.
Lavinia watched in awe. Though she had only tried to distract her mother from nagging her about marriage, she genuinely hoped to marry for love. She had always wanted to experience a love like her parents’. Perhaps she was a keen follower of romance.
“Tabitha, darling, I know I promised I would be here as soon as the rooster crowed, but an important matter delayed my arrival.”
“You are forgiven,” the Baroness said at once, staring longingly into her husband’s eyes. Then, she tapped the tips of her fingers on the box he held. “Did you bring it?”
“It?” Lavinia and Charles mouthed in unison as they glanced between their parents.
Ambrose turned to Lavinia as he opened the box, smiling. “My sweet daughter, your mother and I planned to give you this on your wedding day, but we would rather you have it now, so we may admire it longer.”
Her parents often presented one another with extravagant gifts. The bangles that jingled on her mother’s wrists were given on an odd Tuesday night, when her father said the Baroness deserved a little treat.
Likewise, three months ago, for no reason at all, the Baroness had ordered a new silver pocket watch to be made for her husband. She had delighted in having him open the box at dinner one night so that he might show the trinket to the entire family.
Their generosity also extended to Lavinia and Charles. When Lavinia had made her debut in London Society, they had showered her with opulent gifts. She had ballgowns galore and so many pretty bonnets that she did not need to wear any of them more than once.
As for Charles, he never wanted for anything. He’d been gifted a pony before he was old enough to ride, and when he had asked for a bit of extra pocket money, they had granted the request most obligingly.
Lavinia looked down into the box now, stupefied.
Never in her life had she seen a piece of jewelry that suited her taste so well.
A diamond necklace lay there, snuggly nestled between folds of sumptuous aubergine velvet cloth.
The daylight streaming through the windows made the diamonds glitter.
Lavinia held a hand to her chest, letting the warmth fill her heart.
“This will look splendid on you, Lavinia,” her mother said as soon as Ambrose lifted the necklace and offered to clasp it around her neck.
At first, Lavinia hesitated. While she had been surrounded by opulence her whole life, she had never owned anything quite so extravagant before. She glanced askance at her brother, and he nodded encouragingly.
“Go on,” he urged. “Do not keep Father waiting.”
Lavinia turned and held very still as her father clasped the necklace around her neck. It rested heavily against her chest, and she could not resist the urge to lower her chin and admire it.
She marveled at the glittering diamond. She knew her parents carefully chose such beauty, always finding remarkable things to impress the ton, but this piece… this diamond… was incomparable. She had never seen anything like it.
“The guests will love it,” the Baroness cooed as she looked at Lavinia, who was still admiring the necklace.
“Speaking of guests,” the Baron said as he stepped away from Lavinia, “has anyone arrived yet?”
Charles laughed. “If they had, it would be abominably rude of us to stand in our drawing room, having this conversation, and leaving them to stand in the hall on their own.”