“We shall, of course, host a ball,” her mother said, interrupting her thoughts. “But not for a month or so, I should think. So many will be wanting to show off their daughters, but we’ve no need to compete with the mad crush.”
Two years ago, she hadn’t been able to wait to be old enough to attend the balls. Now she merely wished none occurred on Tuesday.
If her mother spoke true, if Thorne was to make good on the contract their fathers had signed, the next few months with Finn would be her last and she wanted to make the most of them.
When they finally arrived at the residence in Mayfair, she didn’t bother sending him a missive. He would know she was back in London. Somehow he always knew. She suspected he kept a watch on the house, on her. She probably should have been appalled, but she wasn’t. Nothing about him, not even his occupation, appalled her. Not after she’d witnessed the kindness he bestowed on Sophie.
For the next several days, she made morning calls with her mother, received friends for tea, visited various shops, and counted the hours until midnight of Tuesday rolled around. Then, outfitted in her simplest attire, she made her way stealthily down to the servants’ entrance, not even in need of a lamp to guide her because during all of her many outings, she’d fairly memorized the path. She knew which planks to avoid because they groaned, which hallways required she walk a narrow path down their center because of protruding tables, chairs, or statuettes. She knew when to hold her arms at her sides in order not to knock vases from their pedestals. She no longer had to worry about passing certain doorways, fearful her brother might catch her as he played billiards or downed more whisky after a late night out with friends. This Season was one of change for him as well. He’d moved into his own lodgings, modest though they were.
She would see less of him, which meant she might see less of Thornley. Although if her mother were correct, he would continue to come by the residence. However, his attention would be directed solely on her, something she should be anticipating with all of her might, instead of finding she rather dreaded it. After years of yearning for his attention, she wouldn’t at all mind now if he delayed giving it to her. All of seventeen, she hardly felt ready to take on the responsibility of becoming a duchess and rather hoped he’d feel the same when he looked upon her. That she might be of an age to attend balls but was hardly ready to take on the management of his household.
Having reached the servants’ door, she unlocked it, stepped out onto the stoop, and all thoughts of Thornley flew from her mind like dandelion petals caught in a tempest and blown free of their mooring. Finn stood there, and she wished desperately to have a lamp in hand, so she could get a better gander at him. He seemed taller than she remembered, definitely broader, and she didn’t want to consider the number of axe swings that might have caused that result.
With tacit agreement, after so very many meetings, neither spoke, and she’d never found the chore so difficult. She wanted to shout out how frightfully glad she was to see him. Instead she dropped down to the top step and began putting on her shoe. He went to one knee beside her and worked to get the other into place. His warm hand closing around her ankle caused her breath to catch. She should object at the informality, the intimacy, but this was Finn, someone who had become her dearest friend, someone with whom she shared secrets and the night and the truth about Sophie. She trusted no one more, knew he wouldn’t take advantage, even though her young traitorous heart suddenly wished he might.
She was appalled by the realization. What would Thornley think to know her yearnings had careened toward a commoner, to someone other than him? But the reality was that as much as she had craved his attention, she’d never trulylongedfor him. Based upon the rather neutral friendship they’d developed over the years, she suspected he had yet to view her as a woman to be desired and still considered her a child, not yet capable of returning the unbridled passions a man of his years no doubt experienced. Besides, she very much suspected at this very moment he was showering those passions over a mistress. She was rather certain it was her brother’s need to pursue pleasure that had resulted in his gaining his own residence.
A lady, on the other hand, could have passions aplenty but was given neither the freedom nor the opportunity to experience them. And she certainly wasn’t given lodgings of her own, so she could do as she pleased. Therefore, Lavinia was not going to feel guilty for sneaking out of her parents’ residence in the dead of night or for having a young man she was quite keen to know better being intimately familiar with the shape and feel of her ankle.
Both shoes in place, he stood, reached down, took her bare hand—she’d long ago stopped wearing gloves when seeing him, much preferring the roughness of his palms to the supplest of leather—and pulled her to her feet. Then they were both racing toward the gate and his wagon.
They said not a word until they were well on their way. She no longer found fault with the swaying of the wagon, the way it jostled and made her brush up against him. Although not as much distance separated them now as it had when they’d first met. Now her hip and thigh rested against his.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming this year.” He always spoke calmly, quietly, without irritation, as though she was one of the horses he needed to calm.
“My mother and I went to Paris first, so I could have some proper gowns made for my first Season. Paris is in France, across the Channel—”
“I know where Paris is.” His tone was curt, so unlike him.
“I meant no insult. I forget how much you know.” He’d told her once that he and his siblings had a membership in a lending library, so he was forever educating himself. Sometimes she wished he could see her family’s libraries at the London residence and the estate. Hundreds of books. She wanted him to have the opportunity to read every one of them.
“I wasn’t insulted. Just don’t see the point in talking about what I already know. Tell me something I don’t. What did you do while you were away?”
She sighed with the reality of how absolutely dull her life was. He, and he alone, provided the excitement. “The same as always. A few country parties, a lot of embroidery, some riding.” She’d never told him about Thornley or the arrangement their fathers had made. Finn possessed a moral character, and she rather feared if he knew she was promised to someone, he would bring a halt to their clandestine adventures, no matter how innocent they were. Once Thornley asked for her hand, she’d stop seeing Finn, of course. There was no question of that, but for now, where was the harm in their friendship?
Besides, he was only six years older than she compared with Thornley’s eleven, and she found him much easier to talk to. He had no expectations of her, didn’t look at her knowing a time would come when he would bed her. He didn’t treat her as though she were a child, but then he hadn’t known her the whole of his life. Thornley had no doubt seen her in nappies. This Season, when he saw her in her Paris gowns, he would realize she’d grown up. She should have been excited by the prospect. Instead she wished Finn would see her in the gowns. Perhaps she’d wear the green silk on one of their outings. She couldn’t get into it on her own, however, so she might have to let her maid in on her secrets. Surely, Miriam could be trusted. Although Lavinia knew she should address her lady’s maid by her surname, Watkins, the girl was only half a dozen years her senior and they’d become friends of a sort over the years. Miriam had held her as she’d wept when Sophie had been taken away, consoled her when Thorne was too busy for her and made her doubt her appeal, reassured her when her mother’s sharp tongue took her to task for not being ladylike enough. Miriam had even confided that she’d fallen for one of the footmen and hadn’t objected when he’d given her a kiss beneath the mistletoe last Christmas, so surely she could relate to her young mistress wanting some adventure before she finally settled into married life. She wouldn’t confess all the encounters she’d had with Finn but would merely explain the outing to be an innocent lark with someone she knew from long ago. With Miriam’s assistance, she could wear petticoats and have her hair properly styled. Her maid could help her sneak out. She’d probably enjoy that since she’d found glee in kissing a footman when she shouldn’t.
“Is that all?” Finn asked.
His words abruptly brought Lavinia from the scheming she’d been doing. “I beg your pardon?”
“Is that all you did these many months you were away?”
“I went on my first fox hunt. I didn’t much care for it.”
“Your heart is too soft for the killing of animals.”
“Yes, I rather think it is.” Thornley had been there and had looked disappointed in her when she’d refused to be blooded with the kill. Such an archaic ritual of smearing the prey’s blood on an initiate’s cheek. “I wanted the fox to get away.”
Putting his arm around her shoulders, he gave her a squeeze. “Sorry I asked. Don’t think about it.”
“What did you do while I was gone?” she asked, striving to throw off the somber thoughts, while her enthusiasm for the answer wasn’t feigned. She wanted to know everything he’d done. They didn’t write each other while they were separated for fear her parents might get hold of the letters and confront her about their relationship. It was agony going weeks and months without knowing what he was doing.
“Work. Drank. My sister’s tavern is doing quite well. If I don’t get there early enough I have a hard time finding a chair to sit in. I’d like to take you sometime.”
It was a good thing she no longer sat at the very edge of the bench because she’d have fallen off the wagon. For two years, it had only ever been the two of them and Sophie. “What if someone sees us?”
He laughed. “Of course someone is going to see us. But it won’t be anyone you know, and the people I know won’t know who you are. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, about how I’d like to do something more with you than this.”
