Chapter 19
Dawn crept over the horizon as Lavinia saddled her horse. She worked quickly, her mind racing.
I feel as though if I do not ride I will surely become a mound of worries.
Her mind had not stilled in days, and it was beginning to make her troublesome to be around. That, alongside her father’s presence, was a dangerous combination. For Cecily’s sake, she needed to calm herself.
Once the horse was saddled, she pulled herself up and began the ride.
The morning air was crisp, with low lying mist over the fields as she rode out.
At first, she kept her horse to a sensible pace.
Then, her mind went back to the previousfew days.
The ball at the assembly rooms. Lord Casterleigh's visit.
The time she spent with the duke in the garden.
The way her heart fluttered in her chest when she made him laugh, and how that had pushed her into doing something foolish.
She had spent the rest of that night in her chambers, frustrated with herself.
As her thoughts surfaced, she pushed her horse harder.
She did not even realize she had done it until one of the pins flew out of her hair and her eyes started to tear up from the wind against her face. It was what she needed.
The shock of the elements on her skin. She pulled on the reins, slowing the horse down, gasping for air as she finally emerged from the whirling dervish that had been her mind. Blinking hard, she started to move her mare toward the forest path.
The dirt path was lined with small white wildflowers Birch and juniper trees stood at the edge. As she rode, Lavinia realized she could see fresh prints in the dirt. Those were not just forest animal prints. Some of them were hoof prints. She did not believe that anyone else rode so early.
Or at least, she had not believed that the only other person who would ride at that time had been awake when she left that morning.
As Lavinia turned the corner, she was quite surprised to find the duke riding slightly ahead of her.
She watched him for a moment. He rode with ease.
It was strange to see him like that. Unaware of her presence. Undefended by any sort of composure.
“Your Grace?” she called out. He turned his head to look at her, slowing his own horse as he saw her approach.
For a split second, she considered turning away.
Lavinia glanced over her shoulder. They were unchaperoned, again.
But some stubborn part of her wanted answers.
She turned back to the duke and fell into place next to him.
The ride was peaceful, with nothing being said, and only the wind between them. Lavinia glanced at him a few times.
“When you told me that marriage would stop the whispers,” she began, breaking the silence. “Was that you saying that marriage would be the practical solution for me?”
The duke hesitated for a moment, his lips pressing together in a tight line.
“I suppose,” he replied. “Although there could be many possible solutions.”
“But marriage would be the most practical one?” she pressed.
“Perhaps.”
“Your Grace,” she said, forcefully. “Do you really believe that marriage is the answer?”
His silence made her believe that he was about to refuse to answer her.
“Yes,” he said, his voice barely louder than the wind rustling the trees around them. “It would be practical.”
Her chest tightened and she sighed.
“And who exactly do you imagine would make a suitable husband for me?” she asked, not meaning to sound so dismissive.
He looked at her then back down the path.
“It is not my place to decide your future,” he replied. “You should not believe that I wish to control you.”
Lavinia frowned, trying to read his expression. Perhaps she was looking for honesty. Some part of her may have been looking for deception. However, she simply found nothing and sighed.
“You are incorrigible," she said, pushing her horse on.
“Wait—” he started, but she ignored him. The path stretched out before her, and she pushed her horse around the bend leading through a copse of trees.
Suddenly, something skittered out in front of her.
She only caught the smudge of orange and black as a fox streaked past her and her horse.
Her mare reared back, panicked.
Lavinia’s hands slipped.
Her mind did not seem to be able to process it all as it happened. First, she felt the lurch. Then she was facing the sky. Shooting pain spread through the back of her head as she hit the ground. She tried to gasp, but the wind had been knocked from her lungs.
Her horse ran forward, bucking and snorting the whole way. Lavinia tried to pull herself up, but it was no use. Something thudded next to her, and the duke filled her vision.
“Do not move,” he said. She nodded, wincing as his hands gently cradled the back of her head. “No blood," he murmured. His hands then moved to her shoulders, pressing gently, and then to her face. His eyes softened with relief when he did not find anything.
“I—” she managed to choke out as she attempted to sit.
“Stay still,” he said, his voice rough. “Do not move. Allow your body to find the air again.”
She reluctantly nodded, coughing slightly.
It was only then that she realized how close he was.
Their faces were but an inch apart, and she was able to look up into his dark eyes.
Air slowly refilled her lungs, and each breath brought his scent with it.
Amber and aloeswood. He was warm, and some part of her wished to melt into the heat.
She closed her eyes, attempting to let the thoughts and the pain pass.
But when she opened her eyes again, she realized that his gaze had dropped to her lips, only looking back up at her when he realized she had seen him. Neither of them moved. It felt as though not even the forest wished to disturb the moment.
He… He is so close…
The duke glanced at her lips again, his cheeks warming.
Is he going to kiss me?
The duke hesitated, leaning in slightly.
A bird cried out overhead and swooped from the treetops, flying off into the sky. That brought them both back to their senses, and the duke immediately pulled back.
“You should try to stand,” he said, getting up and holding out a hand to help her. She pulled herself up, her knees shaking slightly. His hands kept their grip on her arms.
“Can you ride back?” he asked. Lavinia nodded, unable to trust her voice.
“Good,” he said softly. “I will collect your horse.”
The duke turned and ran deeper into the copse to where her mare was still padding at the ground and snorting. Only then did Lavinia notice the mud on his knees from where he had been on the ground, assisting her.
***
The ride back to Briarwood Hall was silent. Occasionally, Lavinia would look over at the duke, unsure what he was thinking. In truth, after she had fallen and taken the strike to the head, she was not sure she trusted her own memories of the event.
Perhaps I simply imagined it…
But she knew she had not imagined the warmth of his hands on her shoulders, or the stillness that came over them just before the bird’s cry. She had not imagined how his eyes had dropped to her mouth.
Whatever she may have imagined in the fog of the fall, some of it had been real. Lavinia pressed a hand briefly to her chest, as though she might feel the truth of it there, some physical proof that was separate from her memory. There was none, of course. Only the steady beat of her stubborn heart.
She glanced at him again. His eyes were tight, and fixed, determinedly, on the path ahead.
It was as though he was attempting not to think about what had just happened.
Was he as unsettled as she was? Or was that something they would both be trying to forget?
She liked neither option and turned her attention back to the path as they moved out of the forest and back into the fields.
“You should call for a physician to look at the back of your head,” he murmured as they neared the gardens.
“I suppose,” she muttered. “But I feel fine.”
“Now look who is being incorrigible," he said in an attempt to lighten the mood. She may have laughed at that before. She did not feel like laughing then.
Later that afternoon, Lavinia was sitting in the parlor, her head still smarting. She had been reading, attempting to keep her mind away from the forest path and the duke. A knock at the door pulled her out of her book.
“Lord Casterleigh has arrived,” the maid said, stepping aside to let the lord in. His eyes were warm, if concerned, and he had a box under his arm.
“It is good to see you again,” he said warmly. “I hear you took a fall this morning.”
“I did,” she admitted. “My mare was startled by a fox. No real damage has been done, but I have decided it would be sensible to rest today.”
“I believe that is a very sensible idea,” he said, sitting across from her. “And I should hope that these make you look forward to recovering even more.”
She looked confused as he pushed the box between them. Sitting forward, she removed the lid. Her eyes widened.
“Paint pigments,” Lavinia whispered, taking one of the jars out and examining it. “Indian yellow…”
“You did say you were soon to run out of this, did you not?” he asked, smiling.
“I did,” she nodded, looking at the other jars. “But I did not expect you to bring it to me, let alone several others.”
“Well, I had imported some from Italy. I had intended to give them to you on your birthday but after hearing of the fall, and knowing you were running low on one, now felt like a more appropriate time,” he explained gently.
Whether it was the pain from the fall, or the generosity of the gift, Lavinia suddenly felt a rush of emotion run through her.
“That is incredibly generous of you,” she said softly.
“Not at all,” Lord Casterleigh shook his head. “It takes very little of me to listen to what you have said.”
“Even so,” she whispered. “Thank you, truly.”
“Of course,” he said, smiling warmly.
“You simply must stay for tea,” she insisted.
“I would love to.”
***
. Lavinia felt unsure what to do with the lord.
He was attentive, sweet, and pleasant. When they had courted before, he had been prone to overstepping or demanding too much of her.
Not a trace of that man appeared before her then.
It made something in her heart soften, and she felt all the more guilty for mocking him.
Eventually, he stood to leave.
“It has been wonderful to be here with you,” he said, gently taking her hand in his own. “I do hope you would not mind if I were to call again on you, soon?”
“I would not mind at all,” she said softly.
“Thank you,” he said, before leaning closer to her.
“And, if I may, should you ever feel uncomfortable at Briarwood Hall considering your circumstances, my estate is not far away. You would be welcome to stay, as my guest. The estate is well-staffed, and perfectly respectable. And if you are worried about being unchaperoned, my mother and a maid of hers would always be willing to visit. It would take you out of an awkward situation and allow us to be better acquainted.”
Lavinia’s eyes widened at the suggestion.
“You do not need to decide now,” he whispered. “I will be waiting, whenever you are ready.”
He pulled back, smiling gently at her, before leaving her alone. Once the door closed, she pursed her lips together and sank into her seat.
It is… a generous offer…
Even as she thought that, some part of her rebelled. It was all too much, and there were things at Briarwood Hall that still needed her attention.
Were there?
She looked around. It was no longer her home.
Perhaps an alternative residence is something to consider.
She sat with the thought for some time, deciding if a house away from there, with someone whosociety’sand up to her father’s temper, and societies whispers, would truly be the appropriate price for her freedom.
It could be so simple. Lord Casterleigh asked nothing of her that she could not give.
Politeness. Gratitude. The occasional smile over tea.
And yet, some stubborn part of her balked at the thought of trading one man’s roof for another’s so easily; of becoming, once again, a guest in her own life as opposed to being the mistress of it.
As the sun started to dip in the sky, Cecily stepped inside the parlor. Lavinia was still resting, looking at the pigments that Lord Casterleigh had left her. Cecily said nothing, only moving to sit next to her sister.
“Perhaps love is not for everyone,” Lavinia eventually said.
“What do you mean?” Cecily asked.
“There are women who marry for security. Companionship. Even for respect. Perhaps that should be enough. Perhaps waiting for anything more than that is foolish,” Lavinia said, her eyes still fixed on the pigments.
She looked at her sister. Cecily wrapped her hand around Lavinia’s, her expression troubled.
Lavinia looked back down at the pigments.
I would not be giving up anything.
Lavinia attempted to reassure herself, squeezing Cecily’s hand.
I would simply be making the practical decision. A decision that, perhaps, I should have made long ago.
She closed her eyes, thinking back to that morning, about the conversation she had wanted to have with the duke.
I am not even certain what answer I was hoping for. Would any answer have satisfied me?
She was aware that she had been living off of one man’s generosity for a long time, much longer than anyone ever should impose on another person. She was in a place where she had no claim, and no future, and Lord Casterleigh had just offered her an easy escape.
If I make this choice, it is simply because I am being wise.
For a moment, she could have convinced herself.
She bit her bottom lip and lowered her head slightly in prayer.
Help me make the right decision. Guide me with your hand… Do not let me fall victim to another man’s schemes again… Please.
The room had grown dim around them. The last of the daylight was fading from the windows, and still Lavinia did not raise her head.