Chapter 18
The morning after the ball arrived pale and uninvited into Roderick’s chambers. He was already awake and dressed, sitting at the window. He knew if he waited long enough, he would see Miss Lavinia pass by on her morning ride.
The dance they had shared had replayed in his mind all night.
Her warmth against him, the light of the candles reflecting in her eyes, the gentle voice she spoke with.
His chest clenched as he remembered the way she had looked at him when he had said they would find a way together.
He had, of course, meant it, but even so he was not certain what he had meant by it.
In the distance, Miss Lavinia raced by on her horse. The mare kicked up soil and grass behind it as it ran.
Roderick stood and went to his desk. It was not the time for fantasies.
It was the time for practicality. Miss Lavinia needed security, a future, and it could not depend on his goodwill.
If it did, then she would be forever tied to him.
A woman who values her independence so highly would never agree to such an arrangement.
He dipped his quill in the ink pot and found his parchment.
Dear Mr. Bell,
I must thank you for your assistance last night. I am afraid I will need your assistance once again. Please ensure that Lord Casterleigh calls upon Briarwood Hall within the week. If there is anything he needs to make that happen, let me know, and I will make sure assistance is provided.
Yours,
Roderick Vale, Duke of Alderwick
He looked down at the parchment. He had told Mr. Bell in confidence that he was now the duke, but it felt strange seeing it written down on paper.
He folded the letter and slowly stood. As he opened the door, he handed the letter and a coin to the maid so she could send it off for him.
Then, he reentered the study, his mind still unsettled.
After a little while, a knock came at the door. Mr. Pike entered, his eyebrows knitted together.
“You are looking more troubled than usual,” Roderick observed.
“I apologize," Mr. Pike said. “But I thought you should know. The old gossip about Miss Lavinia has resurfaced.”
“Not again,” Roderick said, rubbing his temples.
“Unfortunately.”
“Which ones specifically?”
“They are speaking of her wedding night. The shouting, the sound of something shattering,” Mr. Pike explained.
Roderick nodded, but his attention snagged on the mention of something shattering.
“Then, there is also the fact that people are now incorporating you in these whispers. They are wondering why you are here, and if you have some connection to the late duke.”
“At least they are on the right track,” Roderick groaned.
“Do not give them any praise, Your Grace, there is more. They have been joking that Miss Lavinia, in fact, murdered the late duke, and perhaps you should be more concerned.”
Roderick’s jaw tightened as his hands gripped the armrests of the chair, his knuckles turning white. It was one thing to imagine strangers speculating over her marriage, her fortune, or even her character. It was another to have them inventing a murder for her to have committed.
His blood boiled as he imagined them laughing about it over cards and wine, as though her life were nothing more than entertainment to be embellished. Roderick closed his eyes, thinking of the scar, the sound of something shattering. Something cold settled into his stomach.
“They what?” he hissed with a ferocity that caught himself by surprise.
“I understand, it is ridiculous,” Mr. Pike said. “But I do not believe them personally.”
“As you should not,” Roderick grumbled. “Does Miss Lavinia know that they are saying such things?”
“Most likely.”
“She should not be subjected to such things.”
“She should not,” Mr. Pike agreed. “But there is little that can be done now that these rumors are already spread.”
“I suppose not,” Roderick said, drumming his fingers on the arm rest. Even as he said that, his mind was whirling around ways that he could stop people from speaking about it, even though he knew that anything he did would only make the situation worse. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
She needs to marry, soon, to stop these rumors…
***
Lord Casterleigh arrived the following day. He was still as charming as he had ever been, his arms laden with gifts.
“Thank you ever so much for allowing me to visit,” he said to Roderick, handing the duke a bottle of deep red wine. Roderick inspected it and nodded.
“You are most welcome,” Roderick replied.
“Of course; is Her Grace doing well today?” he asked.
“She is,” Roderick nodded, leading the man toward the drawing room.
“Good. She is wonderful when she is in a good mood, but her father is ever so—”
“Father, do not!” Cecily's voice came from the drawing room.
“Oh no,” Roderick sighed.
“Let us save those poor women,” Lord Casterleigh laughed.
The men followed the sound of voices. Cecily was standing, looking aghast at her father. Miss Lavinia was pinching the bridge of her nose. Their father, however, looked completely unashamed of whatever it was he had just said.
“Lord Fenwick,” Lord Casterleigh said as he stepped inside. “It appears that you have not changed since we last spoke.”
“A man of principle should never change,” Lord Fenwick shrugged.
“Perhaps you could be kinder when you know your daughter is expecting company?” the lord said as he walked over to Miss Lavinia and handed her the hothouse flowers he had brought with him.
“Thank you,” Miss Lavinia said as she took the flowers.
“There is no reason that a guest should change my principles,” Lord Fenwick scoffed.
“No,” Lord Casterleigh agreed as he took his seat. “But not upsetting your daughters right as I arrive would be preferable.”
Cecily covered her mouth and slowly sat down.
“Perhaps,” Lord Fenwick sighed as though he had been put out. Roderick shook his head and sat with them.
“Your Grace, how has your painting been?” Lord Casterleigh asked.
“It has been going well,” Lavinia replied. “I am working on some more landscapes, although I may have to pause that for some time. I am unfortunately running low on Indian Yellow, and I do not believe that I will be able to continue without it.”
“Do you not have other yellows to use?” Her father asked with a slight eyeroll.
“I do not believe that would be a suitable idea,” Lord Casterleigh commented. “It would entirely disrupt how the painting looks if she was to change the shade of yellow she used and nothing else.”
“Thank you,” Miss Lavinia said softly. Roderick watched as she gave the lord a warm, polite smile. It made his hand grip the bottle of wine tighter. “How are your estates doing?”
“They are doing well,” Lord Casterleigh smiled. “Although they are much quieter than the ones in London.”
“I can imagine,” Miss Lavinia nodded.
Lord Casterleigh looked at her warmly and leaned in closer. Roderick’s chest tightened as he watched Miss Lavinia reciprocating.
She is trying. Good. This is what I wished for.
Even as he told himself that, he felt his shoulders tensing.
Lord Casterleigh stayed for most of the day, departing just before dinner.
“I should not take up any more of your day,” he said, slowly rising and bowing to Miss Lavinia. “Mr. Vale, might I have a word as you walk me out?”
“Of course,” Roderick said, standing and accompanying Lord Casterleigh out of the drawing room.
“Thank you for having me here again today,” the lord said. “You are aware, I am sure, of my deep admiration for Her Grace.”
“I am,” Roderick said, attempting to keep his voice neutral. “Your admiration is less subtle than you might believe it to be.”
“Ah, or you are more observant than you believe,” he laughed.
“I am grateful that you wish to help Her Grace. We are deeply aware of her position, a woman without a clear position and, if the rumors are to be believed, living in a home that belongs to another man? That cannot be comfortable for her.”
“You know better than to believe in rumors,” Roderick replied. Lord Casterleigh nodded but something sharp glinted in his eyes.
“Of course, of course,” Lord Casterleigh said. “But even so, I have corresponded with her father, and it appears that we are in agreement that the sooner her future is settled, the better it would be for everyone.”
“That may be the case,” Roderick sighed. “But I do not wish for her to feel as though she does this because she has little option.”
“That is a sweet sentiment. But there is only so far she will get with sentiment when the reality of the world forces its way into her life.”
“This is true,” Roderick relented as they got to the front door. “I do hope we will be seeing you again soon.”
“You will,” Lord Casterleigh nodded. “You can be sure of that.”
Roderick watched as the lord left. The tightness in his chest refused to let go. He tried to force himself to breathe, to relax, to return to how he should be, but his body refused.
I need air.
He turned back into the house, heading for the back door. .
Outside, he observed the gardens in the setting sun, the way the flowers seemed to change colors in the dim light, the way the small glow worms appeared to be crawling out onto the leaves to start their nightly show.
The shrubs and bushes lining the path out toward the fields rustled in the evening breeze.
A few of them had new buds. Others had older blooms that were starting to drop.
He could not help but think how wonderful it would be to watch them with Miss Lavinia.
Surely, she would be looking at all of the blooms, discussing how to paint each one.
He shook his head. She was likely inside, with her father and sister.
Then why can I smell lavender?
Walking past one of the elm trees, the smell intensified.
Did the gardener plant lavender here?
He glanced around, until he saw her. There was a stone bench under the tree that Lavinia was seated on.. She looked up at him but did not move.