Chapter 3
Life at Briarwood Hall had fallen into a steady routine for Lavinia in the two years after her husband died.
Honora, a sweet and vivacious blonde woman who had been Lavinia’s closest friend for many years, and Temperance, a kind and practical friend, often visited her, the three of them spending their time on leisurely walks or embroidering together in the parlor.
While Lavinia had dressed in mourning clothes, she had only worn them because that was what society expected of her. Finally, for the first time since her wedding night, she was back to wearing her favorite emerald dress, and matching jewelry. It was a life that suited Lavinia very well.
One afternoon, the trio sat together embroidering. The parlor had been transformed from a drab room in shades of brown to a room that had clearly had a woman’s touch. The beige sofas had been covered with dark blue slips.
An emerald green rug lay in the middle of the room complementing the beautiful mahogany furniture Lavinia had chosen.
Warm sunlight poured into the room, reflecting off the pale blue walls..
Somewhere down the hall, the front door burst open, and a maid gasped as someone raced past her.
Lavinia shook her head, already knowing what that sound meant
“Lavinia!” Cecily called out to her sister.
“Cecily,” Lavinia chided gently. “You should not race past my maids like that. It is as if you forget all propriety whenever you arrive at my home.”
“That is not true,” Cecily frowned.
“I am not so sure,” Honora chuckled.
“She is young and excited; she will learn,” Temperance shook her head, smiling.
“I am not a teenager any longer,” Cecily frowned, folding her arms. “I am twenty-one!”
“I am not convinced you act it,” Lavinia laughed. “So, what has you so excited that you have felt the need to race into my home?”
“There is a young man who has arrived at the village,” Cecily beamed. “He comes from a good family; he is quite handsome… And I am hopeful that he will court me.”
“Court you?” Lavinia asked.
“That, surely, is up to him,” Honora commented with a laugh.
“I would have to agree,” Temperance nodded.
“I am allowed to speak to him about such things,” Cecily replied, frowning.
“You are,” Honora replied. “But you would not wish to come across as easily excited or too eager for his affections, would you?”
“Is it untoward to be eager for a man’s affection?” Cecily asked.
“Not per se,” Honora began. “But some men do not enjoy knowing a woman is overly eager for him.”
“I do not believe that is a fair assumption on my dear sister,” Lavinia said, shaking her head. “Ignore those two, Cecily. If you like this young man, pursue him.”
“I shall,” Cecily giggled.
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and a butler stepped inside.
“Your Grace,” he greeted. “Your father has arrived.”
The room fell into an uneasy silence at the news. Lavinia nodded and sat a little straighter.
“Please send him in,” Lavinia instructed. The butler nodded and stepped into the hall. Moments later, Lavinia’s father stepped into the room, his hair graying a little more than before her wedding, his eyes just as firm as they had ever been. Cecily quieted as he moved to stand next to her.
“Lavinia,” he said coolly.
“Father,” she replied.
“It is good to see you have time for such… Social gatherings,” he said, glancing at Honora and Temperance. Both ladies tensed.
“I would ask that you are kind to my guests, Father,” Lavinia said.
His posture tightened, his gaze focusing back onto his daughter and his eyes narrowed.
“I would remind you that I am your father,” he replied.
“And I would remind you that I am a duchess now,” she said.
“A widow,” he scoffed.
Lavinia’s eyes narrowed and she held his gaze steadily, refusing to let that old, familiar tightness form in her chest. In the past, she would have lowered her eyes the moment his voice sharpened.
That would have been back when the mere threat of his displeasure had been enough to silence her.
She was not that girl anymore. She had buried that scared girl next to her husband, and she had no intention of disturbing her rest.
“It is not my fault that my husband suddenly passed on my wedding night,” she said coldly.
“Well, with the rumors around his death, it would do you some good not to be so…” he searched for the right word.
“I do not believe that what happened on my wedding night should be any concern of yours,” she replied defiantly.
“It does when your husband died.”
“Well,” Lavinia stood from her chair. “I would not concern yourself so much with it, Father,” she said, walking toward him, the pair of them only a few inches away from each other.
“If you were so interested in my wedding night, you would not have pushed me into marriage with someone so cruel whom I did not wish to marry. I am no longer your concern. So, I ask that you comport yourself with some decorum in my home.”
Lavinia watched her father open and close his mouth, something flickering in his eyes. It was not the fiery anger that she was used to. It was something softer she dared not name.
“Cecily,” she smiled, looking over at her sister who was watching, mouth open. “It would be lovely if you could return for the market fair tomorrow. Would you like that?”
“I—yes!” Cecily nodded. Lavinia smiled and turned back to their father.
“Would you be able to accommodate my sister in that?” Lavinia asked sweetly. Their father’s hands opened and closed in fists at his sides.
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “I can accommodate that,” he added, glancing at the women behind Lavinia. She did not have to turn around to know what her friend’s expressions would be.
Cecily would be attempting to hide her smile, Honora would be grinning, and Temperance would be doing everything she could to stop herself from clapping.
Her father closed his eyes, taking a long, slow breath, as if he was trying to calm himself, knowing that he could not act without propriety in front of Honora and Temperance.
“I understand,” he snapped. “I will leave you to your evening now. Cecily, let us go.”
“Yes, Father,” Cecily said, standing. As she approached Lavinia, her sister pulled her into a deep embrace.
“I will see you tomorrow, Cecily,” Lavinia said as they left. Cecily looked behind her and waved before the door closed on them. As soon as it did, Honora and Temperance began laughing hysterically.
“Your poor father never stood a chance!” Honora gasped between laughs.
“Indeed!” Temperance added.
“I have to make sure that my father is aware that he cannot do to her what he did to me without repercussions,” Lavinia said, sitting down again.
“You will send that poor man to an early grave,” Temperance teased.
“He will survive,” Lavinia said, chuckling.
“I am not sure he is aware of how to survive a woman like you!” Honora laughed.
Lavinia shook her head and smiled warmly as her friends teased her.
That was the life she had worked so hard to have for herself. A life full of warmth, love, and independence.
The next day, the fair was in full force.
The scent of roasting chestnuts and spiced cider drifted through the crowd, mingling with the sharper tang of tallow smoke from lanterns on each stall.
Ribbons in every color fluttered from a haberdasher’s cart; somewhere nearby a fiddler was coaxing a cluster of children into an impromptu dance, and further in people laughed as they watched a Punch and Judy play.
Lavinia was walking happily with her friends and sister.
She had always loved the fair. The noise, the smells, the colors.
The way it made Briarwood’s tenants and townsfolk alike forget, even for an afternoon, the ordinary weight of their daily worries.
Lavinia adjusted her bonnet and basket, trying to keep close to her friends despite the crush of the crowd.
For a moment, her mind wandered to what it could be like if she went to the fair with a husband like the one she used to daydream of. She shook her head at the thought.
No more of these foolish daydreams.
“Stay close, Cecily,” Lavinia instructed. “The streets being this crowded means you might be jostled or knocked.”
“I would worry more about that yourself, Your Grace,” Honora said. “People seem eager to see you, and these cobbles are a little bit vicious.”
“I will be fine.”
She was immediately proven wrong as something made the crowd push around her, and a young boy raced past her.
“Careful!” a mother shouted from somewhere in the distance. Lavinia gasped, stumbling forward. The basket in her hands went flying. She covered her face, expecting the hard impact of the cobbles beneath her… But the impact never came.
She opened her eyes, surprised that she was not on the ground.
Around her waist were a pair of strong hands holding her up.
She looked up at the person who had caught her, ready to rebuke them for so casually grasping their duchess.
The rebuke died in her throat as quickly as it came, met with dark eyes and dark curling hair. A stranger…
An annoyingly handsome stranger. She swallowed hard, their eyes locked on each other.
For one absurd moment, she forgot entirely that she ought to be embarrassed.
His hands were steady, warm even through the fabric of her dress, and there was something disarming in the way he looked at her.
It was not the practiced admiration that suitors used to give her.
Nor was it the distant warmth the respectful tenants gave her.
No. It was closer to curiosity, like a man attempting to understand a puzzle.
It unsettled her far more than she cared to admit.
She could not recall the last time a man had looked at her without first calculating what her title might afford him.
Eventually, though, she managed to stand up, brushing her hands down the front of her dress.
“Do watch where you are walking next time,” she said coldly. The stranger blinked in surprise and raised an eyebrow.