Page 42 of Three Nights with the Beastly Duke

Arthur did not consider himself an emotional man. But as Lavinia put the cravat in his hands, he felt a long-forgotten stirring inside of him. A pleasure that was not brought on by sexual gratification, but by being emotionally touched by another person’s thoughtfulness.

“That is most kind of you,” he managed to say while grappling with the foreign feeling.

Lavinia’s smile grew wider, and her eyes lit up. “You are most welcome, husband,” she replied, stepping closer as she put her hand over his. “I meant what I said last night,” she whispered so that only the two of them could hear. “I pray you give me the opportunity to prove it to you. No matter how long it may take.”

Arthur was struggling to come up with a response when his valet arrived at the door, announcing the arrival of the family solicitor. He was both thankful and annoyed by the interruption and dropped the cravat back into Lavinia’s hands.

“It is a suitable color,” he agreed, not responding to her statement. “Have Gregory take them to my rooms. I will be sure to wear them tonight.”

With a polite bow toward her and the rest of the ladies in the room, Arthur turned and quickly left, hoping that, by the time he sat down in his study, his mind would focus on something other than the clashing emotions Lavinia seemed to cause within him.

* * *

“Lavinia, please, forgive me,” Timothy pleaded, keeping up with Lavinia’s brisk pace as she made her way back to the ballroom. She had snuck off quickly to use the powder room, and when she’d emerged, she’d found Timothy waiting for her with the look of a sticker pup on his face.

“Now is not the time, Timothy,” she replied dismissively, refusing to look at him. “I must make my way back to my family.”

“Yes, I spoke to your father, and I think if you’d give him a moment, he’d tell you that he has the same reservations that I—”

“You misunderstand me,” Lavinia stated coldly, cutting him off. She wanted to stop and look at him, to show him how serious she was, but she kept moving. “I meant my new family, Timothy. My husband. Who, if I recall correctly, demanded that you address me properly. We are no longer children, Lord Stonehames, and I demand that you see me for what I am. The Duchess of Whitekin.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the sharpness of her voice or that they were starting to draw attention, but Timothy stopped in his tracks and let her step into the ballroom alone. Relief swept through her as she was left to herself, and she took a moment to gain her bearings.

Arthur had given her no promise of revisiting their conversation from the previous night, but after their interaction that morning, she was hopeful that they were on the precipice of change. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardize that by giving in to Timothy’s whims of imaginary danger.

“Your Grace,” a familiar voice called to Lavinia’s left.

She looked over and felt a maternal urge to protect Lady Stonehames. Emily was a beautiful young woman with the fragility of a fawn—a woman most men would die for. Suddenly, she felt another streak of annoyance go through her as she thought of how Timothy sometimes took her for granted.

“Lady Stonehames, a pleasure to see you again,” Lavinia said, smiling at her.

“And you, Your Grace,” Emily replied with a polite curtsey.

Lavinia noted her breath seemed strained, but before she could ask if she was alright, Emily’s expression quickly became one of worry, and she added, “I hate to bother you, but I seem to have once again lost my husband. I always do that when we attend such gatherings together. Pray, have you seen him?”

Lavinia was struggling to give a proper answer when Arthur appeared in front of them. He gave her a calm, almost empty stare, then the corners of his mouth turned up, and he bowed to Emily.

“Lady Stonehames, you look well,” he told her.

“I am quite well, thank you,” she replied with a timid smile.

Lavinia watched as the other woman’s eyes locked on her husband’s scar, and she felt a stir of disappointment. Must everyone see Arthur as a monster?

“I was just asking your wife if she’s seen my husband,” Emily continued. “I always seem to lose him at such things.”

“I believe he is in the gentlemen’s parlor, My Lady,” Arthur replied kindly. “I could escort you there if you’d like.”

Emily’s cheeks turned bright red as she quickly but politely refused his offer and moved away from them. Lavinia wanted to stop her, to tell her she should be ashamed of her reaction toward Arthur, but in truth, she pitied the woman. For having to put up with Timothy’s strange behavior, and for not having the ability to see the good in people—a trait she had once thought the two of them had shared.

“You were gone for a while,” Arthur stated as Emily left their side. “Is all well?”

Not wanting to risk any advantage she might have gained since the night before, Lavinia smiled at him and took his arm. “For me? Perfectly. For the poor Lady Stonehames? Unfortunately, I do not think so,” she replied.

Arthur smirked. “Indeed,” he agreed. “I thought the poor woman would drop dead of fright right in front of me. Perhaps this evening was not a good idea.”

Lavinia looked at her husband as he stared ahead. There was a stoicism about him that almost read as emotionless strength. But behind his mask, she could see the threads of strain begin to form around his eyes and mouth.

Paying more attention to Arthur’s face than the path in front of them, her left foot caught on a chair, and she suddenly felt herself falling forward.

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