"Well done! Quick reflexes are an essential skill for a lady. You never know when you might need to catch a falling teacup or intercept an indiscreet note before it reaches the wrong hands."
This earned her another twitch of the lips from Sophia—closer to a smile this time.
"Now, watch carefully." Lavinia placed the book on her own head again and walked a perfect circle around the girl. "The key is to move from your center, not from your shoulders or head."
She demonstrated several more turns, then purposely wobbled. "Oh no—I'm losing my literary balance—the poetry is rebelling—help!" She staggered dramatically, arms pinwheeling, as thebook slid from her head and tumbled to the floor with a satisfying thump.
A small, precious sound escaped Sophia—a giggle, quickly stifled behind her hand, but unmistakable. Color bloomed in her pale cheeks, and for the first time, her eyes met Lavinia's directly.
"I believe it's your turn again," Lavinia said, smiling as she retrieved the book. "Remember, the key to perfect deportment is confidence—even when one is about to make a complete cake of oneself."
Sophia accepted the book, and this time, when she placed it on her head, the ghost of a genuine smile played about her lips.
They practiced for another quarter hour, their steps becoming a sort of dance around the room. With every attempt, Sophia's shoulders lowered a fraction more, her fingers unclenched a little further from their tight grip. When Lavinia pretended to lose her balance and nearly collided with a chair, Sophia's laugh rang out.
It was small but genuine, a bell-like sound that transformed her solemn face entirely.
A knock at the door interrupted their progress. A footman entered, his expression carefully neutral despite the sight of his duke's daughter with a book balanced precariously on her head.
"Lady Lavinia, His Grace requests your presence in his study," he announced with a bow.
Lavinia glanced at the clock on the mantel—barely eleven. "I see. Thank you." She turned to Sophia, whose face had already begun to close like a flower at sunset, the brief bloom of animation fading. "Lady Sophia, you've made excellent progress today. We shall continue tomorrow—perhaps with a more challenging volume. Something by Shakespeare, I think."
"Yes, Lady Lavinia." The formal mask had returned, but not entirely, because a hint of warmth remained in those eyes.
"Until tomorrow, then." Lavinia gathered her reticule and followed the footman into the hallway, her mind already racing ahead to the upcoming confrontation with the duke. Three hours early for their scheduled meeting—this could not bode well.
The footman left her at the study door with another bow. Lavinia smoothed her skirts, adjusted the lace at her collar, and knocked.
"Enter."
The duke was once again behind his desk when she entered, though he rose at her appearance—a courtesy she hadn't expected. The morning sunlight had shifted, casting half his face in shadow, the other half illuminated with startling clarity.
"You sent for me, Your Grace?" She was politely inquiring, though her heart had accelerated to a most unladylike pace.
"I did." He gestured to the chair before his desk. "Sit."
Lavinia complied. "I had thought we were to meet at four o'clock."
"I decided not to wait." He remained standing, his height allowing him to look down at her from a position of clear advantage. "What progress have you made with Sophia this morning?"
"We've only just begun our acquaintance, Your Grace," Lavinia replied carefully. "I focused primarily on establishing a rapport."
His fingers tapped against the surface of his desk. "By balancing books on your heads? My butler reported this... unusual method when he passed the schoolroom."
Of course he did,Lavinia thought. Aloud, she said, "Deportment exercises are a standard part of a young lady's education. I find that approaching them playfully often yields better results than strict drilling."
"My daughter isn't sent to the schoolroom for play, Lady Lavinia. She is there to learn."
"And she will." Lavinia met his gaze directly. "But a child who is at ease will learn more readily than one who is afraid."
His expression hardened. "Are you suggesting my daughter fears me?"
"I'm suggesting that Lady Sophia is an exceptionally reserved child who has had three governesses in a single year," Lavinia replied, choosing her words with care. "Such upheaval would unsettle any young person. My first priority was to create an environment where she feels secure enough to engage with the material."
"And how did you determine this to be necessary? What signs did you observe?" His tone was skeptical, but she noted the genuine inquiry beneath it.
"Her posture—rigid, defensive. Her gaze—always lowered. Her responses—minimal, designed not to invite further conversation." Lavinia leaned forward slightly. "Your Grace, I cannot teach a child who is afraid to speak. Today was about earning her trust, not filling her head with facts she would be too anxious to retain."
