Page 22 of A Duchess in Ten Days (Icy Dukes #2)

"You're free to do as you wish," he continued, leaning back slightly. "Spend as much as you like. I don't care about the money." His voice softened. "But, Lavinia, please...take care of yourself. It's still winter, and you're doing far too much."

Lavinia's voice was firm yet playful as she interrupted him. "One condition," she said, her eyes glinting with mischief. "If I agree to take care of myself, you have to agree to spend some time with me. You will stop avoiding me."

Andrew hesitated, his brow furrowing as he considered her request. "What do you mean, spend time with you?" he asked.

Lavinia leaned forward slightly, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Just an hour each evening. We will do whatever activity I please. Just you and me."

Andrew studied her for a long moment before finally responding. "Fine," he said finally. "An hour. Every night."

Lavinia's eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "It's a deal then."

Lavinia sat back against the armchair, beaming with happiness.

Apparently, all it took to shift the dynamic between her and Andrew was this one conversation.

She hadn't expected to feel so lighthearted, so alive, after such an exchange, but here she was, feeling something stir in her chest. It was as though a barrier had been lifted, just slightly, revealing a glimpse of something more between them.

She wasn't sure what it was, but there was a shift between them now.

Something had changed. His usual coldness was still there, but it seemed less like a wall and more like a shield, one he was letting slip, just a little, around her.

Deep down, she wanted to know what it was—the reason he had his guard up all the time—but she figured it was too soon to ask him about that.

"I am here to claim my hour, Your Grace," Lavinia said with a playful smile as she stepped into Andrew's study, closing the door behind her.

Andrew looked up from the ledger he had been scribbling in, his eyes meeting hers with a faint hint of amusement. He closed the book with a soft snap, setting it aside. "I suppose I'm obligated to fulfill my end of the bargain, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," she answered and sat on the other side of the table.

"I'm beginning to think I've made a deal with a very persistent woman. Very well then, Lavinia, I'm at your service."

She smiled, her hands folded on the table as she leaned forward slightly. "I trust you're not too busy with...whatever it is you do in that ledger of yours."

Andrew's gaze flickered briefly to the book before he met her eyes again. "No," he answered. "It can wait. I see you brought cards."

Lavinia flashed him a playful smile as she shuffled the deck. "I did. I thought it would be a nice way to pass the time. Do you play?"

Andrew leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a faint smirk. He took the cards from her hands, his fingers slightly brushing hers. "Do I play? Lavinia, I'm a man of many talents. Cards happen to be one of them."

Lavinia raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. "Well, I hope you're ready to prove it. I wouldn't want to embarrass you in your own study."

Lavinia's fingers absently traced the edge of the table, her gaze lingering on Andrew as he shuffled the deck.

A sense of relief washed over her. It was warm and unexpected.

It seemed as though the tide between them had shifted, and for the first time in weeks, she didn't feel as though she was standing on uneven ground.

This—the talking, laughing, sharing space without the usual tension that had defined their marriage—felt like a glimpse of what they had before everything changed.

Back then, there had been an unspoken understanding between them, a mutual ease that made their interactions surprisingly enjoyable even though they bickered a lot.

Lavinia hadn't realized how much she missed that simplicity until now.

It felt as though they were reclaiming a piece of something lost, and for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to relax in his presence.

She liked this version of Andrew, the one who didn't shy away from her, who spoke to her like a friend. It was more than she'd dared to hope for, and it left her heart feeling strangely light.

Andrew leaned forward as Lavinia dealt the cards. "Just so you know, I won't go easy on you."

"Neither will I," she answered.

He chuckled, picking up his cards and fanning them out in his hand. "Confident, aren't you? But confidence can be a dangerous thing."

"Only for those who can't back it up," she quipped. "And I assure you, I can."

Andrew slowly placed a card on the table. "Oh, I don't doubt your capabilities, Lavinia. It's just...sometimes overconfidence has a way of getting people into trouble." His gaze lingered on her a beat longer than necessary, and there was no mistaking the subtle flirtation in his voice.

Lavinia playfully rolled her eyes. "Is that so? And what kind of trouble are you referring to, Andrew?" she asked, her voice carrying the same playful tone.

He leaned back, tapping the edge of the table with his fingers. "The kind that makes one question whether they were wise to provoke their opponent." His smirk deepened. "But I'll leave that for you to decide."

"Provoke you?" she asked with mock offense, laying down her own card. "You overestimate yourself, Your Grace. This game was over the moment I picked up the deck."

Andrew threw his head back laughing, the rich sound filling the room. "Such arrogance," he murmured, shaking his head. "Where do you get it from?"

Lavinia tilted her head, a sly smile forming as she responded. "Arrogance? Hardly. This confidence has been earned through years of practice."

Andrew briefly met her eyes. "What do you mean?"

“My father and David were my most frequent opponents growing up. They weren't the most gracious losers, mind you."

Andrew raised a brow, intrigued. "Oh? Were they sore enough to flip the table when you won?"

"Not quite that dramatic," Lavinia replied with a soft laugh.

"But when I won—which happened often—their moods soured for the rest of the evening.

My father would grumble about how I'd been overly ambitious with my plays, and David would sulk, claiming I had an unfair advantage.

Winning against them wasn't just about the game, it was like challenging their authority.

It unsettled the whole household. So, sometimes I let them win, just to keep things. ..calm."

Andrew's gaze lingered on her, his expression softening. "You shouldn't have had to do that."

She glanced up at him, startled by the depth in his voice. "It wasn't so bad," she said lightly, though her fingers fidgeted with the corner of her card. "It made things easier for everyone. Plus, it was only once in a while."

He leaned back in his chair, studying her with an intensity that made her want to look away. "You downplayed yourself for their comfort," he said quietly. "That must have been lonely."

The words struck her in a way she hadn't expected. Lonely. She had never thought of it like that—at least not in a way she was willing to admit, even to herself. But the truth was there, undeniable, in the way she had tiptoed around her own abilities to avoid disrupting the fragile peace.

Lavinia shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, but her voice betrayed her. "It was just how things were. I didn't mind, really."

Andrew didn't respond immediately, and when she glanced up, his eyes were fixed on hers, steady and unyielding. "You shouldn't have had to shrink yourself for anyone, Lavinia."

Lavinia tried to force a smile, but it didn't come. Andrew's words stirred something deep within her, unraveling memories she had long since tucked away. She didn't like to think about the seemingly insignificant sacrifices she’d made growing up, or the things she had done because of how insecure she’d felt. The times she had held back her thoughts, her ambitions, her voice, just to keep the peace in the house. Always second-guessing, always making herself smaller, quieter, more agreeable. It had been easier that way, she’d convinced herself.

Her gaze fell to her hands in her lap, too aware of how vulnerable she was at this moment. Would he think less of her? Would he see her as weak?

"My father, the late duke, was an awful man," Andrew said to fill in the silence as he continued to play, his voice quieter now, tinged with something darker than the usual sharpness.

He glanced at her, his expression distant for a moment, as if the words themselves were a weight he hadn't yet fully borne.

"He was cruel, especially to me. Always pushing, demanding, punishing me when I didn't meet his expectations.

" He paused, dropping his gaze to the cards in his hands.

"I was his heir, you see. His legacy. He made sure I never forgot that. Nothing I did was ever good enough."

Lavinia's breath caught in her throat as Andrew's words settled between them.

She had never expected him to open up like this—not about his father, not about the pain that shaped him.

A strange feeling enveloped her heart. She was surprised at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all she could do was sit there, her mind racing to process his words.

"I'm sorry, Andrew," she said and shook her head. "It must have been difficult."

“Oh, it was. My sister and I learned how to deal with it in our own way," he said. “We didn't have anyone else. My father's cruelty…it wasn't just toward me. It spread to her too. I think I was happiest when he passed away. I know it's a cruel thing to say, but?—"

"It's not," she chimed in.

Lavinia's heart ached for him. She had never imagined that the man before her, the one who carried himself with such control and grace, had once been so broken.

She couldn't fathom the idea of him growing up under such harsh conditions.

Yet here he was, not defeated, but rather shaped into something stronger, something capable of carrying the world on his shoulders.

"You should be proud of yourself, you know?" she said to him, setting her cards down on the table.

Andrew looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly as if her words surprised him. "Proud?" he repeated, his tone almost questioning. "Of what?"

"Of how far you've come," Lavinia said, her voice soft but sincere. "You've survived so much. It can't have been easy, but here you are, still standing, still moving forward. That takes strength."

Andrew merely smiled in response, but there was something unreadable in his expression, before he returned his focus to the cards in his hands.

"Where is your sister now?" she asked, her voice soft but curious. "You mentioned her earlier, but I have never heard of her. I haven't seen a portrait of her in the estate either.

Andrew remained quiet, staring blankly at the table. Lavinia, sensing that he didn't want to dwell further on the topic, shifted her gaze to the cards on the table, then glanced up at him.

She hesitated, then asked softly, "Do you not want to talk about it?"

He paused for a moment, his fingers stilling on the cards, before he gave a brief nod, his expression softening just slightly. "Not at the moment," he replied, his voice quieter now.

"That's all right," she answered.

They continued their game of cards, and after a while, Andrew eased up and started smiling again.

They talked about everything—from the latest balls they had been invited to, to the renovations at the estate.

The topics shifted seamlessly, and Lavinia found herself laughing, exchanging stories, and enjoying his company more than she had anticipated.

As the minutes passed, she realized they had spent over an hour together. Time seemed to slip away, and she didn't want to leave. The room, with its flickering fireplace and the quiet comfort of their companionship, felt almost like a sanctuary, one she hadn't known she needed.

She wasn't sure how to explain it, but she knew she was enjoying this, enjoying him, more than she cared to admit.