He smiled at that, the first true smile she had ever seen from him. “I promise, Lavinia, you will see.”
They stood in silence, the draw of each to the other so intense that it was almost a physical tether. She could not look away.
He bowed, then, as if she were a queen and he a soldier on the scaffold and not a duke. “Until tonight.”
She watched him go, and did not know whether she had just saved her own life or ruined it beyond repair.
Her hands were shaking, but she did not let herself collapse until the door shut behind him.
Outside, she could hear Lady Montfort and Frances whispering like a pair of conspirators. She composed herself, smoothed her hair, and opened the door. Both women jumped to attention. Lady Montfort’s fan was vibrating at a dangerous frequency; Frances’s lips were pressed together so tight they were nearly white.
“Well?” Frances demanded.
Lavinia drew herself up, the words feeling strange and heavy in her mouth. “We have been invited to dine at Evermere this evening. I believe it is to be… a family affair.”
Frances’s eyes went wider, if possible. “Is he truly… did he really?”
Lavinia nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Lady Montfort exhaled sharply. “Well,” she said, “thank the saints and the Prince Regent. Perhaps we may be spared the scandal after all.”
Lavinia looked out the window at the retreating figure of the Duke. He walked like a man headed to battle, or to church, or to both at once.
She felt the edges of herself begin to uncoil, just slightly.
Tonight. Tonight, she would find out if there was such a thing as a second chance. And if there was, she would be damned if she did not seize it with both hands.
CHAPTER 37
“Are those real Grecian columns, or has Evermere merely pillaged the Parthenon?” Lady Montfort craned her neck out the window of the coach, pressing her nose to the glass with the fortitude of a naturalist glimpsing an extinct specimen.
“Do you require the carriage to circle a third time?” Lavinia asked, her patience running low and her gloves wringing themselves into early retirement.
“I should like to see the portico in full daylight. The Duke’s taste has always been greatly complimented by theton,” Lady Montfort said, ignoring the question entirely.
“How is it that for all your closeness with the Duke, you have never been to his estate, Aunt Petunia?” Lavinia asked.
“Well, he has been rather reclusive.”
Frances, seated between them, hummed with excitement and nerves. “I think it is splendid,” she whispered, eyes wide as they took in the marble steps, the impossible height of the entrance, and the intricate stonework that climbed the façade like ivy.
Lavinia counted the seconds until the footman opened the door. When it swung wide, Lady Montfort was halfway out before the man could even lower the step.
Once inside the entrance hall, the grandeur nearly knocked them backward. Frances’s breath caught audibly. “Oh! It’s like something from a book.”
Lady Montfort swept her gaze over the columns, the inlaid marble, the rows of statuary. “It is exceedingly well-executed for a pastiche,” she murmured, but her posture had acquired two additional inches of height.
A figure approached from the far end of the hall. Lavinia braced herself, but it was not the Duke, nor a butler, but Sophia, dressed in a dress of pale blue and bobbing with barely controlled excitement.
“Lady Lavinia! You’re here!” Sophia darted forward, then paused, hands clasped and twisting the skirt of her dress.
“Lady Sophia,” Lavinia said, bending slightly so their eyes met. “This is my sister, Lady Frances.”
Frances curtsied, caught between nerves and awe. “It is very nice to see you again, Lady Sophia.”
Sophia beamed. “Likewise.” She turned to Lavinia. “I made another ribbon for Whisper.” She held out a pale blue ribbon, the same shade as her dress. “Is it all right?”
Lavinia laughed. “Oh, I am sure he will adore it!”
