“Mama, what is wrong?”
“Nothing, my sweet,” her mother purred as she patted her turban. “I am only pleased to see you.”
Lavinia looked around the hall for Madeline or the Dowager Duchess of Pemberton, but she was not sure where either of them had gone. When she could not spot them, she cast a glance around in search of Charles, but he had vanished too.
Something strange is going on here.
Curiosity gnawed at her as she joined her mother and they walked down the hallway to her father’s study.
What could this be about? Why does Mama seem so pleased?
Her mind raced as she followed her mother into the study. The room, with its towering bookshelves and dark mahogany furniture, was a place of both comfort and authority for her. She had spent many afternoons here with her father as a child, listening to stories of the world, of his travels, and of his life before becoming Lord Crawford. But today, something felt different.
Her father gestured for her to sit in one of the leather armchairs by the fireplace, and he took the seat opposite her. Her mother perched on the edge of the desk and swung her legs merrily.
Her father’s expression softened, and for a moment, Lavinia felt like a little girl again, seeking his approval.
“Father,” she began, but he held up a hand, stopping her.
“Lavinia,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful, “I want to talk to you about something very important.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “Something that will shape the rest of your life.”
Her heart rate quickened. What could this be?
Her mind flashed to Peter, to the emotions still swirling inside her, but she pushed them aside, focusing on her father.
“I have been thinking a lot about the future,” he continued, “and about your happiness. You are growing into a fine woman, Lavinia. A woman of grace, intelligence, and kindness. You remind me so much of your mother when she was your age.”
Lavinia blinked, surprised by the warmth in his words. Her father was renowned for giving sentimental speeches, but something felt unique about this one.
“I have been fortunate,” he said, his gaze soft for a moment, as if recalling memories long past. “Your mother… she’s been my anchor, my happiness. We have built a life together that I would not trade for anything in the world. And I want that for you.”
Lavinia’s brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t understand, Father. What do you mean?”
Lord Crawford leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked her directly in the eyes. “I mean, I want you to find the kind of happiness I have found with your mother. Someonewho will love you as deeply as I love her. Someone who will take care of you and cherish you.”
Lavinia’s breath caught in her throat. His words hung heavy in the air.
“Father, I want that too…” She faltered. “You know I have waited so long to marry because I hoped to find a love like yours.” She cast a glance at her mother, who smiled in answer. But then she looked back at her father. “Why are you telling me this? Why are you reminding me of things I already know?”
Her father smiled softly. “Because an offer has been made. A gentleman has asked for your hand in marriage.”
The room seemed to close in on her. Lavinia’s heart began to pound in her chest, and her mind raced to catch up with the words her father had just spoken.
An offer of marriage? Who could it be?
“An offer?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” her father confirmed, his tone calm, almost reassuring. “A respectable match, one that will bring you stability and happiness.”
Lavinia felt the blood drain from her face. She had not expected this, not now, not when her heart was still so tangled in confusion over Peter.
But maybe the offer came from Peter?
Her blood pumped through her veins erratically as she momentarily entertained the notion.
Peter might be in love with me, after all. He might have spoken to my father before he left, and that goodbye… that parting… it was just… just…
She was so overwhelmed by the possibility that she could not even finish the thought.
