Less than three minutes later, Abigail knocked on the door, and Lavinia called for her to enter.
“Miss Fitzroy,” Abigail greeted, immediately moving to begin her morning chores. “I did not expect to find you already up and about. Where were you last night? Your mother was looking for you, but no one seemed to know where you had gone.”
Lavinia’s heart skipped a beat, the question catching her off guard. She forced a calm expression, hoping her maid would not notice the flush creeping up her neck.
“I was not feeling well,” she lied smoothly, keeping her voice steady. “I turned in early. The excitement of the ball must have gotten to me,” she added, laughing nervously.
Abigail paused for a moment, her brow furrowing as if she suspected something more, but she said nothing. Instead, she nodded and began to help Lavinia with her morning rituals, brushing out her long hair and preparing her day clothes.
“Your mother was asking about you earlier,” she mentioned as she worked. “She seemed concerned that you left the party so soon.”
Lavinia swallowed, her mother’s scrutiny weighing on her. “I’ll speak with her later,” she said, waving off the concern. “It was not anything serious. I just needed some air.”
Abigail paused and fixed her with a knowing look. “I thought you said you turned in early.” Lavinia nodded, understanding that she was caught in her lie. “But if you were here, in your bedchambers, then how were you getting some air?”
“I…” Lavinia gestured wildly toward the windows on the opposite wall. “I came up here… threw open all the curtains… and let the cool night breeze fill the room.”
Abigail’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Lavinia to the closed windows with their drapes drawn.
“Very well,” she murmured. “If you say you filled the room with night air, I have no cause to question you, miss.” She returned to her duties, but then added after a beat, “I heard that the Linfields might be staying a little longer. Your Mother is hoping to keep them here for a while.”
Lavinia’s heart fluttered. “The Linfields?” she asked, trying to sound casual. “They’re still here? I was hoping to see Lady Madeline before they left.”
Actually, she wanted to see Peter and speak with him before it was too late.
“I am not quite sure when they are leaving,” Abigail replied, adjusting the sleeves of Lavinia’s dress. “Lady Crawford has spoken with them, and it seems they might stay a bit longer. Though I did hear that the Duke might leave earlier than his mother and sister.”
Lavinia felt a jolt of panic at the thought.
Peter leaving? No. She could not let him go without speaking to him first. Not after last night. She needed to know if it had meant something to him or if he felt the same way she did.
“Thank you, Abigail,” she said, her heart racing in her chest. “I can manage the rest myself.”
Abigail blinked, then nodded, stepping back. “Of course, miss. I’ll leave you to it.” She exited the room, leaving Lavinia alone.
The moment the door closed, Lavinia took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come next.
Her mind spun with thoughts of Peter, of the way his lips had felt on hers, the way his hands had held her close. And yet she had felt his restraint, a carefulness that both frustrated and intrigued her. He had wanted her, she knew that, but he had stopped.
Why? What did it all mean?
She could not wait any longer. She had to know.
She hurried to the door, her heart pounding as she made her way down the familiar path toward Peter’s chambers. She remembered when she had wandered there before. She remembered the first time she felt him near. Her cheeks blushed at the memory of his bare torso. She wondered what those muscles would feel like if she ever saw him again.
His room was in a secluded part of the house, far enough from the other guest rooms that it gave her a sense of privacy.
As she approached, she hesitated for a moment, her hand poised to knock. What if he rejected her? What if last night had meant nothing to him?
No, she could not think that. She had seen the way he had looked at her, felt the way he had touched her. There was something between them. There had to be.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked.
The door opened slowly, revealing Peter standing there, his expression unreadable. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension between them palpable.
“Lavinia,” he said, his voice low. “What are you doing here?”
She swallowed, her heart in her throat. “I need to speak with you,” she said quietly. “Please.”
