Page 63 of The Burdened Duke
Lavinia bit her lip, hard. “Perhaps I am not. But I should never want to marry a man who could not put aside his pride and his sense of station to marry the woman he loved. If he truly loved her, of course.”
Miss Bainbridge blinked, seemingly taken aback. “How differently we feel,” she remarked, voice sinking to a curious murmur. Now that the news was shared, the unofficial engagement on the cusp of becomingofficial, it seemed that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. She seemed more interested than angry now, eyeing Lavinia as if she were an animal in a cage. “Aren’t you going to ask me whether I intend to speak to the dowager about you or not?”
Lavinia picked at her skirts. “Frankly, I could not care less. Speak to her, or don’t. But if you have your say, I can assure you that I’ll have mine, too.”
Miss Bainbridge allowed herself a small smile at this, almost as if she were genuinely amused at Lavinia. It was infuriating, and Lavinia had to swallow down the desire to slap the wretched woman across the face.
Abruptly, a shadow fell across them, making both women jump. Gillian stood there, her thin slippers and soft gown making no sound as they slid across the carpet.
How much did she hear?Lavinia thought, with a pang of worry. This was not Gillian’s concern. She should not be worrying about her sister being blackmailed by Miss Bainbridge, of all people.
“Lavinia,” she said, her voice a trifle unsteady, “I’m feeling a little tired. Would you take me upstairs to rest before we go to the Assembly rooms, please?”
Lavinia frowned, taking in her sister’s bright eyes and smooth face.
The little clever girl isn’t tired at all,she thought, biting back a smile.She’s giving me an excuse to leave.
She only nodded, getting to her feet. “Of course, Gillian. Come, take my arm.”
Gillian hesitated, glancing down at Miss Bainbridge.
“Are you quite well, Miss Bainbridge?”
The woman flinched, glancing warily up at Gillian. “Of course.”
“Oh. It’s just that you look rather tired and unwell. You are looking remarkably sallow today. Perhaps you ought to rest a little, too. I find a short lie-down before an activity remarkably refreshing.”
With that, Gillian turned on her heel, head high, dragging Lavinia behind her.
“Wretched woman,” Lavinia heard her sister say under her breath. “How dare she speak to you like that?”
The last thing Lavinia saw before the door closed behind them, shutting them safely out into the hall, was Miss Bainbridge furtively lifting a hand to her cheeks, pinching them to bring colour into them.
The two sisters burst into laughter.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’m doing it. I’m truly doing it.
Father was wrong. I’m not a coward. I never was.
These were the thoughts that shot through William’s mind as he rode, terror and exhilaration gripping him in equal measure. The mare moved easily and smoothly, responding at once to his tiniest touch of the reins. He knew, of course, that the horse was simply following its companion, but it did him good to imagine himself in control of the situation.
Miss Brookford had ridden well, he remembered that much. The woman was a natural horse rider, she and her horse moving as one. Now that it was over and half a day had passed, however, his ride almost seemed like a dream.
Not a dream, though. I rode a horse for the first time since father’s death. I wasn’t thrown, I wasn’t injured in any way, and nor was anybody else. I did it.
The rain continued, heavy as ever, as he dressed absently. They were all going to the Assembly Rooms at the Pump Room tonight, where all of Bath Society gathered as often as they could. There would be supper, and music, and dancing, of course. The gentlemen were less interested in the Assembly Rooms, and there was a great deal of worry that the rain would not ease up in time for the hunting outing the next day.
William had not planned to hunt, of course, but after his ride only that morning, he felt… well, he wished to repeat the process. He wanted to ride again. An image of the stallion popped into his mind, and he shifted uneasily.
Not that creature, of course.
That reminded him, Miss Brookford had not yet chosen a name for the horse. Perhaps she did not believe he was serious when he told her she could choose. Biting his lip, he nodded at his valet, who was making the finishing touches on his cravat.
“That’ll do, thank you. Don’t wait up for me, of course. It’s likely to be a late night.”
The valet bowed. “Of course, your Grace. I do hope you enjoy yourself.”
