Page 50 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

"Good, we're alone," Emma said and sat back.

"Did you learn nothing from my experience?" Alice asked. "You have no reason to give up on the idea of love. If it happened for me, it could happen for you."

Lavinia had once dreamed of a husband who adored her, of children filling their home with laughter.

But now, those dreams felt like a lie. "Maybe love isn't in the books for someone like me," Lavinia muttered and shook her head.

"Look at Edwina. How can someone who's caused so much pain by bullying other people be rewarded with everything I've ever wanted? "

"It's just how life is, Lavinia," Emma said gently. "I mean, can we really fault her for finding happiness?"

"No," she muttered again and crossed her arms. "Soon, I'll be shipped off to the countryside to live with my Aunt Meredith and her cats and spend the rest of my life there.

That scares me. I pretend that whatever happens is for the best, but that's only because I'm scared to voice what I want. I feel so pathetic."

Lavinia's fingers fidgeted with the lace of her gloves.

"I do want to get married," she continued.

"I always dreamed of it. I wanted to marry for love, but that doesn't seem possible now.

But apparently, I cannot change who I am.

Trust me, I've tried. I cannot help how reluctant I am to look a gentleman in the eye or talk to him without my cheeks flushing crimson.

Also, it is so difficult to be attracted to someone.

No one talks about that. How do you even fall in love? "

"What about Lord Brandon?" Emma chimed in, leaning forward. "He's respectable, well-mannered, and accomplished. You're in a hurry to get married so your papa doesn't send you away. He might be our most viable option."

Lavinia grimaced. "He's as lively as cold tea. All he talks about is business. We would have nothing to discuss."

"Beggars cannot be choosers," Emma said, shrugging.

Lavinia rolled her eyes. "Thank you for that uplifting sentiment."

"I see Emma's point," Alice chimed in. "Lord Brandon is boring, but he's respectable. You could try to talk to him."

"I don't think so," Lavinia answered.

"Do you want to live with your Aunt Meredith?" Alice pressed.

"No," Lavinia said, slumping. "But Lord Brandon is a viscount. He's got his pick of women. Why would he choose someone like me?"

"Well, it's either we figure out how to catch his eye, or you trap him in a scandal," Alice said with a shrug.

"That's absurd. I couldn't do something so manipulative to a man that has done me no wrong," Lavinia said and shook her head.

"But think about it," Alice continued. "A gentleman's reputation is rarely ruined by a scandal. It's always the lady who bears the brunt of it. If you succeed, he'd have no choice but to marry you. If you fail..." Alice hesitated. "What do you really have to lose, Lavinia?"

Lavinia stiffened. Her heart sank at the truth of those words. Her reputation was already in tatters, her options dwindling.

"It's either this risk," Alice said softly. "Or you live with your Aunt Meredith. I don't want to see you go, Lavinia."

The garden fell silent, and strangely, Lavinia didn't have an answer for Alice.

She just sat there, staring at the vines twisting around the trellis above them .

She wanted to dismiss it outright, to insist she was above such schemes, but she sat quietly until Emma changed the subject completely and they started giggling about something Lavinia was too troubled to listen to.

"Do you have any idea how many handkerchiefs I have retrieved this week alone?" Andrew asked, his voice laced with mock incredulity as he leaned against a mantle.

Victor Terrell, his friend—swirling an amber liquid in his glass—scoffed and arched a brow. "More or fewer than the fainting debutantes?"

Andrew shook his head and let out a dramatic sigh. "Let's just say the handkerchief brigade is relentless. Lady Bellingham's daughter managed to drop hers twice in one evening. Twice, Victor. It's an epidemic."

Victor snorted, nearly spilling his drink. "An epidemic? I don't think so." He shook his head. "I would say it's more of a sport, and you, my good friend, are the trophy."

"Oh, they have turned it into an art form," Andrew replied, scanning the crowd at the tea party.

"A calculated flutter of the lashes here, a perfectly timed stumble there.

And then, of course, there's the fainting.

" He stopped, looking over his shoulder at Victor with an almost pained expression.

"I hate the fainting, Victor. It's always such a hassle. "

London seasons were a blur of predictable chaos.

Andrew had mastered the art of navigating them with minimal fuss and maximum amusement.

Call it years of practice, but he knew exactly how to handle the sharp-eyed mamas, their fluttering daughters, and even the occasional scheming debutante with dreams of charming her way into a proposal from him.

The truth was, he didn't begrudge the women their attempts. Marriage was their battlefield, and they fought with the weapons available to them. But Andrew had no intention of being captured. He was too quick, too clever, and far too disinterested in anything resembling commitment.

"I am not against marriage, my dear friend," Andrew continued. "I just don't see the point of making this big a production out of it."

Lord Pembroke's wife, Lady Catherine Pembroke, had organized a small tea party at their estate, a charming if overly tranquil gathering designed to "foster meaningful connections," or so the invitation had declared.

Andrew had intended to skip it, judging from how intimate he thought the gathering would be, but Victor had convinced him to attend.

"You have been groaning ever since we arrived," Victor stated. "You can at least try to have fun."

Andrew squinted his eyes, his disbelief etched into every line of his face. "I never thought I'd hear that word from your mouth. Fun? Really, Victor? When did you start attending balls and tea parties for fun?"

Victor waved a dismissive hand, as though brushing off Andrew's cynicism like a speck of dust. "If Alice wants to be here, then I'm here," he said simply.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the column with a grin plastered on his face.

"Ah, so this is what marriage does to a man.

Turns him into a willing participant in.

..this," he said, gesturing broadly at the tea party scene before them.

"What happened to the Victor who used to claim social gatherings were a farce designed to make men miserable? "

"That Victor met Alice," Victor replied smoothly, his lips twitching into a smile that Andrew found equal parts irritating and oddly sincere.

"Right," he answered. "In all honesty, Victor, I don't want to be here. The mamas are going to find me soon enough and bore me with tales of their daughters' virtues, musical talents, and dowries. I'm not in the mood for it."

"What do you expect? You're the Duke of Hargrove, an eligible bachelor with a fortune large enough to tempt even the most respectable families into scheming for your attention."

Andrew groaned, tipping his head back as if to petition the heavens for rescue. "You make it sound as though I'm some sort of prized livestock at a country fair."

Victor chuckled. "Well, you are being sized up for breeding potential. I suppose that's not far off."

"Charming," Andrew muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I should probably stop complaining and just enjoy it. I mean, I don't loathe the attention."

"You don't. What you loathe is marriage," Victor teased.

"I do not," Andrew answered.

His issue wasn't that he hated women. It was quite the opposite.

He enjoyed their company, their wit...their beauty.

But Andrew had learned long ago to keep them at arm's length.

He reveled in their attention, yet never allowed anyone to get close enough to see any cracks in his carefully constructed facade.

"So you've never contemplated it?" Victor asked him. "Falling in love? Getting married? Do you still hold on to that belief that it's just not for you?"

Andrew's lips twisted into a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know me, Victor, you know why."

Victor leaned back, and lowered his head. He had long understood that Andrew kept people at arm's length, not because he disliked them, but because he couldn't afford to let anyone too close. His boundaries were there for a reason.

"You can tell yourself that you'll never fall in love.

You can keep people at a distance, live your life exactly the way you want to.

But the thing is, Andrew, nothing in life stays permanent.

You can't control everything. You can't guard yourself from everything, no matter how hard you try. Trust me, I know."

Andrew chuckled and shook his head. "I disagree. I can control most things. I've spent years perfecting my art and it has worked so far."

"If you say so," Victor answered. "Although, I don't think your reputation as a rake is going to help you much anymore. The mamas and their daughters are all too eager to see you settled. You've become their latest challenge."

"I know how to handle the mamas, thank you very much," Andrew said. "This isn't my first season, and it surely won’t be my last."

Victor chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You say that like it's something to be proud of. Do you enjoy being paraded around as one of the ton's most eligible bachelors year after year?"

Andrew leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting over the crowd.

"Enjoy? Not exactly. But I'm not fighting it.

I know you are a married man now, and you're only trying to make me see the merits of settling down.

You think there's some grand revelation waiting for me, don't you?

That I'll stumble into a ballroom one day and suddenly find myself bewitched. "

Victor grinned. "I'm just saying, it's not impossible. I mean, look at me. If someone told me a few years ago that I'd be happily married now, I would've laughed in their face."

Andrew offered Victor a small smile. Part of him wanted to tease his friend about falling in love, especially since, not long ago, Victor had sworn it wasn't in the cards for him.

But he held back. He, more than anyone, understood what Victor had endured.

He was genuinely happy for him. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Victor.

"I cannot believe you are going to be a father," Andrew said lowly, shaking his head.

Victor glanced at him and smiled. "I know. It still feels quite surreal."

"I'm happy for you," Andrew said. "Truly."

Victor extended his hand, and Andrew clasped it firmly. "Thank you," Victor said.

As Victor turned to rejoin the crowd, Andrew remained where he was, his gaze following him. A faint smile lingered on his lips but it waned swiftly.