She tore her eyes away from his face and looked down at her hands. Unfortunately, the ink stain was still there. She glared at it, but then was struck with inspiration.
“Forgive me.” She hastily rose to her feet and looked from her mother to the Duke. “I just remembered that I left a letter to Miss Foote unfinished and?—”
“You cannot leave now,” her mother scolded lightly. “You have not eaten more than a few bites, and I am sure you are quite famished.”
Lavinia’s eyes locked onto her piece of toast.
I cannot walk away without eating it. I will surely starve if I skip another meal.
She knew she was exaggerating, but Lavinia also understood that she was not equal to the task of sharing this meal with the Duke. There was something about him that made her nerves twitch, and she knew it would be better if she retreated to her room, composed herself, and returned once she was in a calmer, less flustered state.
Before she could make up another excuse or insist that she could not keep her correspondent waiting, Lord Windham walked into the breakfast room. Yesterday, he had seemed youthful and rather reticent to interact with others. But today, he held his head high and looked directly at her. There was a soft smile on his lips, and he seemed comfortable and pleased.
“Pleasant morning, Lady Crawford, Miss Fitzroy,” he greeted, sketching a quick but graceful bow. “Your Grace,” he added.
“Lovely morning, My Lord,” Lady Crawford said as she rose and patted his shoulder. “I hoped you would join us earlier. We’re headed to the garden at the moment. Would you care to escort us?”
Wait!
Lavinia panicked.
When did we decide to go to the garden?
She cast a look at the Duke, but he merely shrugged his shoulders indifferently and popped another piece of toast into his mouth.
Why am I trying to come up with excuses to take my leave when my mother has just presented me with the perfect opportunity to escape?
She grinned gleefully, then stepped around the table so that all she had to do was dodge around Lord Windham and her mother, make a beeline for the door, and hurry upstairs to the safety of her bedchambers.
“I could never decline such an offer from you, Lady Crawford,” Lord Windham said. “Today’s a perfect day for a stroll, isn’t it?”
He held both arms out, indicating that he meant to escort both Lavinia and her mother.
Lady Crawford immediately accepted his proffered elbow. “I think we shall have ourselves a lovely morning.” Her eyes slid toward Lavinia before dropping to the Duke, who still sat at the table. “Will you join us, Your Grace?”
The Duke plucked a third triangle of toast from the holder and made a show of spreading jam all over it. “I must decline, My Lady. Though I was in the gardens earlier, and you are correct—no day could be finer than this one.”
Lady Crawford smiled pleasantly at him, then turned her gaze to Lavinia once more. “And you, dearest? Will you stay with the Duke, or will you join us in the garden?”
Lord Windham held out his free arm a second time, and Lavinia hesitated.
Do I go with Lord Windham and my mother, or do I stay here with the Duke?
A quarter of an hour later, Lavinia was exhausted by the conversation swirling around her. Lord Windham and her mother chattered away happily, while her mind swirled with turmoil.
Then, quite suddenly, they stopped walking, and her mother waved to Mr. Norton.
“Oh, Norton!” she called, beckoning for him to come nearer. “Do be a dear and join us.”
Lavinia pursed her lips to stifle a groan.
Then, something peculiar happened. As soon as Mr. Norton approached and greeted them cordially, her mother relinquished her hold on Lord Windham’s arm and asked the gentleman to walk with her through her rose collection.
“What are you doing?” Lavinia hissed as her mother clung to Mr. Norton’s arm.
“I am giving you some time so that you might get to know Lord Windham better.” Her mother winked, fluttering her eyelashes madly. “I think you will learn to like him, Lavinia, so do listen attentively when he speaks.”
Lavinia stared at her mother’s retreating figure, for no sooner had she said those words than Mr. Norton towed her away toward the sweet-smelling pink, white, and red rose bushes.
