Page 13 of A Duchess in Ten Days (Icy Dukes #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

" I 'm certain he's avoiding me."

How was it possible to feel so many emotions at once?

The frustration was an endless, simmering feeling that had been her constant companion since Andrew's infuriating proposal.

It was a frustration born of uncertainty, of unanswered questions, and of the sheer audacity of the man who had upended her life and then disappeared without so much as a word.

Embarrassment was another feeling eating her up inside, one she couldn't quite understand.

She was mortified by the proposal, of course.

It had been delivered with the coldness of a business transaction.

Nothing more, nothing less. But that wasn't the source of this deeper, gnawing shame. No, it was something far more personal.

Was it because she couldn't reconcile the man she had come to know—the flirty, impossible and indifferent Duke of Hargrave—with the vision of a husband she had once dreamed of?

Or was it because she knew, deep down, that she would never be the kind of bride a man like the Duke of Hargrave could ever truly want?

Emma sighed, setting her cup down with a soft clink. "Oh, Lavinia, must you always leap to the most dramatic conclusions? Andrew is not avoiding you?—"

"He is," Lavinia answered firmly. She was seated with Alice and Emma in the small, sunlit drawing room, the rays of sunlight filtering through the lace curtains and casting delicate patterns on the floor.

But no amount of light could chase the heavy shadow that hung over her thoughts.

"I'm meant to walk down the aisle in two weeks, pretending everything is fine.

How am I supposed to act as if this is anything other than a punishment? "

"Why do you think he's punishing you?" Alice, seated across from her, asked.

"Because it feels like it," Lavinia answered. "I don't understand a thing. I mean, everything was going so well. I told you both about Lord Grove, didn't I?"

Emma and Alice both nodded. "Yes, you were very excited about the prospect of marrying him," Emma said.

"He is such a gentleman, Emma," she groaned, her voice thick with a mix of frustration and longing. "He is charming, and he listens. He let me talk as much as I wanted, even when I rambled on about nonsense. Things were going quite well with him."

"I agree. There were even rumors that he was going to propose to you," Alice added.

"Exactly!" Lavinia said, throwing her hands in the air, as her frustration bubbled over.

"I cannot understand where it all went wrong.

One minute, I am swooning over Lord Grove, and the next minute, the Duke of Hargrave asks for my hand in marriage.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot wrap my head around it. "

Perhaps, that was the worst of it—the unshakable knowledge that this marriage was an arrangement that Andrew had orchestrated all on his own.

She couldn't shake off the idea that she was nothing more than a pawn in a grand scheme.

Something only Andrew was aware of. What other reason could there be for his choice?

Emma and Alice exchanged a glance but said nothing, letting Lavinia continue her tirade.

"Perhaps, I should just abandon it all," she added with a dramatic sigh, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her thoughts. "Run away to some distant village where no one knows me. Start anew as a governess or —heaven forbid—a shopkeeper. Anything but this."

Emma leaned back in her chair, and raised an eyebrow. "A governess, Lavinia?"

"It sounds nice doesn't it?" Lavinia asked. "It works, too. I love children, and I'm almost a spinster. It's the perfect job for me."

Alice chuckled softly but then sobered. "What would your family do if you ran away? Your father would likely throw a fit. I mean, he has worked so hard for you to come this far. Your brother...well, he would probably find you and drag you back kicking and screaming."

Lavinia groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Must you always be so rational? Can't you let me bask in the hope of my imagination for a moment longer? I am miserable."

Emma reached over and patted her arm. "You're not miserable, Lavinia. You're confused, and you're upset because Andrew hasn't made his intentions clear to you. But running away won't solve a thing."

"He hasn't even written to me or visited!

" Lavinia exclaimed, pulling her hands away from her face.

"Not a single note, not a single word since the day of the hunt when we last spoke.

It's as if he's decided that the act of proposing was enough and now he can just vanish until the wedding day without giving me any explanation. "

Alice tilted her head and arched her eyebrows. "Maybe he's giving you space. Men aren't exactly known for their delicateness in these matters. Perhaps he thinks you need time to adjust."

"Adjust to what?" Lavinia shot back. "Adjust to being thrown into a marriage I didn't ask for? To spending the rest of my life with a man who I don't find...appealing?"

Emma shot her a knowing look, one eyebrow arching in a way that made Lavinia's cheeks heat. "You don't find him appealing? Really, Lavinia?"

Lavinia opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out.

Instead, her thoughts betrayed her, conjuring up an image of Andrew with his disarmingly handsome face, gorgeous smile, the sharp line of his jaw, and those maddeningly intense eyes that seemed to see far too much.

She could practically hear his deep, smooth voice—half teasing, half commanding—as it lingered in her mind.

"He's...tolerable," she muttered, avoiding Emma's gaze.

"Tolerable?" Emma repeated, her lips twitching with suppressed amusement. "Lavinia, if the Duke of Hargrave is tolerable, then the rest of the men in the ton might as well crawl under the nearest rock."

Lavinia groaned and sank deeper into the cushions of her chair.

"Fine," she admitted grudgingly. "He's attractive.

But that's precisely the problem, isn't it?

He's the kind of man who knows he's attractive, who uses it to his advantage.

He's charming and rakish and completely untrustworthy.

Men like the Duke of Hargrave don't fall in love, Emma. "

"I thought we had given up on that?" Emma asked and shook her head. "As painful as it might seem, perhaps, this is the best you are going to get, my dear. Andrew isn't unkind, Lavinia. He may be a rake, and he may not be the warmest man, but he is not heartless."

Deep down, Lavinia couldn't stop the questions from swirling endlessly in her mind.

Why had he changed his mind? Andrew had been so resolute, so unyielding in his refusal to marry her.

What could possibly have changed in so short a time?

Had David pressured him? Had there been some scandal, some secret reason that made marrying her a necessity rather than a choice?

Alice leaned forward, caressing her stomach. "You have the chance to build a family, Lavinia. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

A family.

She had always dreamed of that. A home filled with love and laughter, children running about, a husband who adored her. But this...this was nothing like the picture she had carried in her heart since she was a girl.

"Enough of the brooding!" Emma said abruptly. "You're getting married to a duke, Lavinia Webbs. You—my dear—are going to be a duchess. Now, let's discuss your wedding gown. I hear silk is all the rage this season, though muslin has a certain elegance..."

Lavinia's eyes widened. "Are we really changing the subject to fabric?" she asked, her voice half-amused, half-relieved by the distraction.

"Yes," Emma answered and sighed. "Because you and I both know that there is nothing we can do about this situation. I haven't seen your papa smile in years, Lavinia and today, he welcomed me with a grin that stunned me. He has even started sending out invites."

"She's right," Alice added. "Your father is ecstatic about this match, Lavinia. He's practically glowing. There's no point in brooding over things we cannot change."

Lavinia sighed. ”I suppose you're both right," she muttered. "But it's hard to feel excited when it's all happening so fast."

Emma gave her a warm smile and patted her on the back before clearing her throat. "Like I said, no brooding. Now, what are you wearing on your wedding day, Lavinia Webbs?"

Lavinia chuckled softly, the sound surprising even herself. "Apparently, silk and lace," she replied, glancing at the fabric samples spread out before them.

For a moment, the tension in her chest eased as the conversation shifted to colors and embellishments. It felt almost normal, like the kind of afternoon she had always imagined spending with friends while planning her wedding.

Yet, as the laughter bubbled and the chatter filled the room, a small, nagging ache persisted in her chest. Andrew's disappearance left her wondering once again why he had proposed when he seemed so utterly uninterested.

She smiled at something Alice said about floral embroidery but felt the pang linger in her heart. It was impossible to relax completely when the man she was set to marry was still something of a mystery.

"For heaven's sake, Andrew, what has gotten into you?" Victor's tone was sharp as he dodged a half-hearted swing, his annoyance clear. "You're fighting like a man with his head in the clouds."

Andrew exhaled, stepping back and adjusting his stance. "I'm fine," he replied curtly.

But he wasn't fine. Not in the slightest.

He had no control over his thoughts or the voices that echoed in his mind and it was driving him crazy. How had it come to this? He could scarcely believe it himself. He had spent his entire adult life avoiding entanglements, and in the end...this was now his reality.

"You don't look fine," Victor countered, landing a light jab to Andrew's ribs. "And don't tell me this has nothing to do with your upcoming marriage. It's written all over your face."