Lavinia inclined her head. It was not everyday that a gentleman introduced himself to a lady without an intermediary, and it was rather refreshing. “Lady Lavina Pembroke,” she introduced herself and glanced at Frances. “And this is my sister, Lady Frances Pembroke.”
“It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” His eyes returned to Lavinia and lingered a fraction too long on the patch where her glove had been mended at the base of the thumb. "My lady, you grace the park as the moon graces a cloudless sky."
A sigh, very nearly audible, escaped her. "How poetic."
"Are you fond of poetry, Lady Lavinia?" He leaned in, very slightly, as if the three of them shared some great secret. "Words have such power, do they not?"
Frances shot Lavinia a look, warning her not to sabotage the entire interaction in a single volley. After all, they did not know what connections he might have that could benefit them.
"Some words have power," Lavinia conceded, "but only when one means them."
He did not catch her tone at all. "Precisely! Would you care to take a turn about the lake, Lady Lavinia? There is a small bench on the north side that?—"
Before she could manufacture an excuse, Frances released her arm and, with suspicious speed, darted off toward a clutch of young women at the far side of the path. She offered a fluttering wave and a mouthed 'Good luck!' that did nothing for Lavinia's nerves.
Mr. Pettigrew watched Frances depart, then turned all his focus on Lavinia. "I must confess, I am not much given to walking," he said, slowing his steps. "But in your company, I could wander for an age."
"You would be quite lost, then," Lavinia replied, "as I often forget where I'm going."
He seemed briefly nonplussed, then recovered. "So long as we are lost together."
They walked in a silence that grew steadily more uncomfortable. Lavinia picked at the seam of her glove, wishing she had brought her embroidery to keep her hands occupied. Mr. Pettigrew coughed lightly into his hand.
"Your family is quite well, I trust?" he said.
"As well as can be expected."
"And your father's estate—Pembroke Manor, is it not?—I understand it is considered one of the jewels of the countryside."
"We do our best to keep it shining," Lavinia said.Though not for lack of polishing. "The roof leaks in the east wing and the apple orchard is half dead, but one must make do."
He chortled, expecting a joke, then realized she was serious. "The, ah, apple orchard?—"
A sudden hush overtook the park, as if all the birds had agreed to pause their songs for a single moment. Lavinia felt it first as a change in the atmosphere, a coolness that prickled the back of her neck. She glanced up.
At the edge of the path, standing beneath a chestnut tree with the stance of a general observing the battlefield, was the Duke of Evermere.
Tristan Lilacourt did not move. He did not need to. His very presence caused Mr. Pettigrew to falter in step, words dying on his lips. Lavinia's heart gave a tiny, traitorous leap before resuming its usual beat.
"My lady," Mr. Pettigrew said, his voice suddenly half an octave higher, "perhaps we might?—"
"Lady Lavinia," came the Duke's voice, sharp as a blade, "may I have a word?"
He was closer than before, though she had not seen him approach.How does he do that?His gaze pinned her in place, as if she were a butterfly under glass. Lavinia nodded once to Mr. Pettigrew and turned to face the Duke.
He did not offer his arm, only inclined his head for her to walk beside him. She matched his stride, perfectly in time, and for a moment it was as though the rest of the park had faded to a blur.
They had barely taken ten steps when the Duke said, "Your companion is unworthy of your time."
"Mr. Pettigrew?" Lavinia kept her voice polite, though every word was loaded. "He seems harmless enough."
"Harmlessness is not a virtue in a man who would court you," the Duke of Evermere replied. "He is a man of little ambition and less discernment."
"You sound like my father," Lavinia said, unable to keep the bite from her voice. "He was fond of dictating whom I should or should not speak to."
"Your father had excellent sense," the Duke replied.
Lavinia stopped walking. "If you summoned me only to disparage my acquaintances, you may return to your brooding and leave me to mine."
