Page 50
Story: Taken By the Duke of Stone
She smiled at the other girl. "How are you feeling now? I do hope you're better."
"Much," Jenny said then peered over at Lady Hartfield. "My lady, I did not see you there."
"It's quite alright, Jenny," Lavinia's aunt said, "I hear you were down with the cold."
"Much recovered now," she told her before turning back to Lavinia. "I have a lot of catching up to do and you are going to tell me everything."
Their arms linked together, they excused themselves for a turn about the room. "Imagine my surprise when I left my house and could not stop hearing about you and the Duke!"
Lavinia glanced in either direction before pulling her friend into an empty hallway, "I am sorry that I did not write you about it. I wanted to explain everything to you, but I did not know where or how to start."
"You feel for him?"
Why did everyone keep on asking her that? Well, she had long been an advocate of only ever marrying for love and had been very vocal about it to those close to her, which by the way only consisted of her family and Jenny.
Lavinia felt hope about the progression of her relationship with the Duke. She could safely say they were friends now, or even something more than friends. There was no use telling Jenny the entire plot, maybe sometime in future she would laugh about how they begun.
"I-I do," she croaked but it was the first time she had allowed herself to believe that she felt something for him.
And that look in his eyes earlier had been worth the time it had taken her lady's maid to get her ready.
The red headed girl squealed and Lavinia was quick to slap a hand over her mouth, "shush."
Jenny pushed her hand away. "This is far too exciting for me to stay quiet about it. Imagine being able to say I am friends with a duchess. I will be the godmother to your son. A godmother to a duke!"
It was at that point that Lavinia's smile stiffened, because despite the progress they were making, there had been a marked absence of the devouring kisses or even any kisses atall. The heat and tension she now recognized as desire was still very much alive between them, but it seemed he was devoutly keeping to his rule of never touching her.
Which had to mean that he was touching someone else.
Her stomach churned with discomfort and she shied away from the thought.
"You are ridiculous," Lavinia rolled her eyes, "the dowager duchess does not like me and I wonder if she will allow the marriage to happen."
"If the Duke wants you enough, then Her Grace's opinion should not matter," she declared firmly.
With a laugh that she didn't really feel, Lavinia led them back to the crowded ballroom and in minutes, she had gathered quite a slew of admirers, much to the other ladies' annoyance.
Usually, she would hate being the center of such attention, but this time around, she was completely at ease and it had a lot to do with the fact that most of the men were there to flirt harmlessly, knowing fully well that she was to be married to the Duke and there was no need to try and compete with such a man.
Without the strain of the marriage mart and the expectations hanging over her head, she was able to enjoy conversations with them and best of all, she managed to get the red head to say more than three words to the gentlemen.
"Where have you been hiding yourself, my lady?" one of the men asked.
"Where gentlemen with such sugary tongues could not find me," she quipped causing them to explode with laughter.
"You are a delight, Miss Proctor," another praised. "Allow me to call on you tomorrow."
"I am not any fun when I do not have a ball dress and jewels on."
"I'll drape you in jewels for the rest of your life m'lady."
She smiled at him, "I plan to live a very long life and I'm afraid you would have run out of jewels before I ran out of life."
"I have never envied the Duke of Wyld up until this very moment," another said with a slight pout. "Do consider me if you decide he's not nearly good enough for you."
"Certainly, Lord Pembrooke," she tilted her head at him with her lips curled up into a small smile that the gossip rags would later go to describe as 'a smile that is full of secrets.'
While she delivered sharp but amusing retorts to her new admirers, she felt the weight of the Duke's eye between her shoulder blades and she wondered if she were the only one counting down the seconds till it was time for their dance.
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