Chapter 3 #2
“What caused you to fall into the lake in the first place?” He had a cold, inquisitive tone.
It reminded Lavinia of when she got into scrapes as a child—climbing trees she should not have, stealing pies from the cook’s table—and then facing the interrogation of her father before the meting out of justice.
“I believe you witnessed the event,” she said stiffly. “I slipped.”
“There were other young ladies walking about the lake that day,” the duke said, his eyes careful and calculating. “It did not seem as though the path was dangerously close to the water’s edge, or that slipping was altogether common.”
It was taking every bit of Lavinia’s effort to respond calmly, considering that he scolded her like a child. “I went in after a kitten that had been stranded by the night’s rains.”
She saw a subtle movement from her father, who was not at all enjoying the trajectory of this conversation. The duke smiled for the first time—a twist of the lips that was more critical than his sober interrogation had been.
“Ah, yes,” he said drily. “A kitten.”
The fire lit in Lavinia by his manner thus far sparked into a flame. “Your Grace, if you have something to say to me, I invite you to speak plainly. There is no need to ask questions and make commentary as though I were a child.”
The smile disappeared. “Very well, My Lady—I shall speak plainly. I believe risking your life for a small kitten was an egregiously irresponsible choice. It shows a lack of judgment, caution, and duty.”
“Oh, all that?” Lavinia retorted. “How completely you have summed up my character after only knowing me for the space of a few minutes—”
“Lavinia.” Lord Bamford’s voice held a warning, but Lavinia pressed on.
“I went in after the kitten because it was in danger of dying,” she said. “You may not put a value on life, but I felt instinctively that I needed to go to it or watch it perish. Have you no compassion?”
“I check my instincts, My Lady, whenever they conflict with my values,” he answered gravely.
“And what value allows you to stand by as a kitten drowns in front of you?” she pressed. “I know that it was considered improper in the eyes of all those gathered there, but I had to set aside what the ton expected for the sake of saving a life.”
“While risking your own.” His eyes were dark and intense, and they pinned Lavinia to the ground before him like an insect to velvet.
She opened her mouth but could think of no retort. In the end, it was the earl who came to her rescue.
“Your Grace,” he said calmly, “I am the last person who will stand before you and defend Lavinia’s actions at Kensington Gardens, but even I, who views the whole matter with a degree of fatherly censure, can acknowledge that it shows a measure of kindness and character—not simply foolishness.
My dear daughter has a heart for broken things; she always has. ”
Lavinia turned and looked at her father, as taken aback by this sudden tenderness as she had been by the duke’s severity.
The earl gestured to a settee before the fire.
“Please sit, Your Grace, and we shall have tea as we planned. Let us speak of more than this first meeting—let us speak of the future, for marriage is built upon duty and responsibility rather than perfect compatibility.”
“Ah, yes,” the duke said quietly. “Duty. Responsibility.” He repeated the words with his eyes on Lavinia, as though comparing her to these qualities. It looked as though the comparison was not altogether in her favor.
But in the end, he sat, and Lavinia did as well. The earl rang for tea, then took his own place across from them.
“Tell me of your home, Your Grace,” he said, changing the subject at last.
The duke cleared his throat, his eyes on the earl alone. “It is a country estate—simpler living than what you find in London, of course—but a beautiful vista to be certain. The tenants are well established, and we run both sheep and cattle.”
Lavinia watched her father expertly take the reins on the conversation for the remainder of the visit.
He steered the talk from matters of business to matters of home life, all of which the duke answered in cool and detached tones.
He was quite obviously an intelligent man who believed in honor and propriety, but he was so rigid, distant, and cold that Lavinia could hardly see his more positive qualities.
At one point, he spoke about his two sons, Edward and Henry, but he barely conceived two sentences about them—two sentences in which he did not mention anything about their characters, personalities, and likes or dislikes.
Lavinia thought wryly to herself that she doubted if he even knew these qualities about his own sons.
Likely he was the sort of aristocratic father who bundled his own children away into the arms of a nanny and promptly forgot about them.
The remainder of the conversation leaked by without the duke even attempting to engage Lavinia in real conversation. Anything she said was drawn out by her father’s prompting, and she matched her betrothed’s manner entirely, saying as little as possible since he said as little as possible to her.
After what felt like an eternity, he took his leave, and Lavinia could at last slip away to her own chambers.
She watched from her window as he climbed into his carriage, her heart sinking. She prayed Rosamund would not come quickly to inquire about the details, for she had not the heart to spin a falsehood yet.
If she were to tell the truth, it would crush her sister—he is an arrogant man that I dread marrying. That was the truth, and if there was any way to avoid the wedding, Lavinia meant to find it.