Page 10 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

The King’s Bath was truly beautiful. Lavinia took in every detail, awestruck, and wished she’d thought to bring a notebook. Or, better yet, a sketchbook. She was not skilled at watercolours, but she could produce a serviceable sketch, if the situation called for it. It would be pleasant to sketch some of the architecture and look over them once she was back home.

The thought of home made her feel uneasy, for some reason. If the Season went well, Gillian would make a remarkable match and would never probably come home again.

I’ll be alone. Just Mama, Papa and me. There’ll be no need to come to London anymore, or attend the Season, as there’s no likelihood that I’ll marry.

I’m going to be so alone.

Misery tightened her chest, almost making her breathless for a moment or two. She swallowed hard, bringing herself back down to the present.

There were mostly men touring the King’s Baths. Lavinia had realized that there was a tradition about the tours – men toured the King’s Baths, and women toured the Queen’s Baths. There were a few women here, of course, notably Lady Abigail Willenshire, Katherine, and, to Lavinia’s dismay, Miss Bainbridge.

Often, Lavinia felt eyes bore into her back, her neck itching, and she would turn to find Miss Bainbridge averting her eyes. It was the first time she had ever seen the woman even a little discomfited.

She was not sure she liked it. Miss Bainbridge was well-known in the higher circles of Society, being both rich, intelligent, and confident. Some men pretended to turn up their nose at her, finding fault in her character, face, or form, but everybody knew that if she flashed them a smile, they would come running to her. Miss Bainbridge struck Lavinia as the sort of woman who could have anything she wanted and knew it very well.

Am I jealous of her? Lavinia thought, allowing herself a small smile. Yes, I believe so. I suppose it is a compliment to Miss Bainbridge, in a way. I have no idea what I could have done to make her dislike me, though. Have I offended her in some way?

She was inspecting a crumbling aqueduct with a sculpture looming above it when a familiar figure came to stand beside her.

“I came here when I was a boy,” the duke said, eyes fixed on the sculpture. “I thought it remarkably beautiful. I would have stayed for hours, I think, but my father got tired of the place rather quickly, and so we left. I suppose I could have come back any time I liked, once he was gone, but somehow, I never did. Isn’t that odd?”

Lavinia pursed her lips. “Habits can be deeply ingrained, as can some beliefs. Perhaps if your father thought this place was not worth seeing, you somehow believed it yourself.”

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “It didn’t stop me from buying and devouring books about Roman architecture and the Roman Baths, though.”

“Well, that’s different from coming here, is it not? My mother believes that novels are a waste of time, and nothing but silliness. That doesn’t prevent me from enjoying them, but whenever my sister tries to read them, she says that she can’t seem to enjoy them herself. I know that it isn’t simply her own preference, because before Mama told us what she thought about novels, she liked reading them very much.”

“I suppose that if somebody you admire and respect has a low opinion on something, it is hard not to share it,” the duke said, still staring thoughtfully at the sculpture.

“And love.”

He blinked down at her, missing a beat. “Hm?”

“And love. Somebody you admire, respect… and love. That’s a rather crucial part of the story, don’t you think?”

The duke looked at her for a second or two, expression unreadable.

“Yes, of course,” he said at last, but there was something odd in his voice, something that Lavinia could not interpret.

She was beginning to feel out of her depth. All of this – Bath, the architecture, the company, the houses – belonged to people above her.

This is not my circle. They are not my people. She glanced up at the duke, who was now looking at the sculptures again. He didn’t seem to be truly seeing them, though. There was a furrow between his brows, making him look oddly younger and more vulnerable. A wave of affection rolled through Lavinia, no matter how hard she tried to stamp it down and remind herself that this was not a proper feeling. She wanted to wind an arm around his broad shoulders and pull him down for an embrace, reassuring him that everything would be fine, absolutely fine.

These are not his people, either. I suppose he is just more used to pretending.

He is afraid.

As if to highlight her fears a little more, Miss Bainbridge appeared.

“There you are, your Grace,” she said, smiling easily. “And Miss Brookford, too! I am surprised to see you here. I might have thought that the Queen’s Bath would be more to your taste.”

“I haven’t seen either of the Baths,” Lavinia answered, managing a cool smile. “I would like to see the Queen’s Baths, too. There’s a great deal I would like to see in Bath.”

Miss Bainbridge chuckled benignly. “Yes, I forget that you don’t come here every year. Why don’t you, by the way? It’s very fashionable to keep a house in Bath these days. We have our own townhouse, naturally. Bath is so very refreshing after the heat and bustle of London.”

Lavinia laughed uncertainly. “I’m not quite sure why we don’t have a house here. Perhaps my parents don’t believe we’d use it enough. It would be quite wasted.”

“Wasted? Not at all. All you would require is a modest staff to oversee matters, and you could keep it closed for the greater part of the year. The expenditure would be quite minimal. I trust you are indeed mindful of the costs, naturally.”

She added the last part gently, almost regretfully. Lavinia’s face burned.

Of course, it was fairly clear that her family could not afford a house in Bath. They couldn’t even afford a house in London, and it was growing increasingly likely that they would not be able to afford their country house, either. That was a particular worry that Lavinia was trying her utmost to ignore.

She wasn’t entirely sure how Miss Bainbridge could know the full extent of their situation, but the tight, mirthless smile on her face seemed to indicate that she did. Lavinia glanced up at the duke, bewildered, not entirely sure how to respond, not sure what veiled insults she was missing.

The duke pressed his lips together. “I can’t say I agree with this modern idea of keeping half a dozen houses in various parts of the country,” he said suddenly. Miss Bainbridge shot him a sharp look, which he pretended to ignore. “What good can it possibly do? The expense – forgive me for saying, Miss Bainbridge – is truly shocking, and for what benefit? A house in town and a house in the country is quite enough for any family, in my opinion.”

There was a faint pause after this. Lavinia was vaguely aware that the duke had just corrected a lady, which of course was not at all the proper thing to do.

Miss Bainbridge spoke next.

“I suppose you are right,” she said at last. Her voice was light and almost careless, but there was a hard look in her eyes which Lavinia did not like. “Let us just change the subject. Tell me, your Grace, but do these sculptures not remind you of a particular gallery in Italy? I cannot recall the name, but I am sure you have visited it on your Grand Tour.”

Lavinia felt like sinking into the floor. It was fairly clear that Miss Bainbridge was trying to push her out of the conversation, and frankly it was working. She had never travelled abroad, never gone anywhere further than Scotland. She’d never seen Paris, or Italy, or Spain, or Germany. She’d barely managed to go to London once a year.

However, in the silence that followed, it became clear that Miss Bainbridge had mis-stepped.

“You are mistaken, Miss Bainbridge,” the duke said, his voice cold. “I never had a Grand Tour.”

The woman blinked, looking a little disconcerted. “Oh, I was sure…”

“No, never. Do excuse me, ladies.”

Abruptly, the duke turned on his heel and strode away, leaving the two women standing side by side, both red-faced.

Miss Bainbridge bit back an unladylike curse which had Lavinia convinced that her ears were playing tricks on her.

“His father, of course.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lavinia said, bewildered.

Miss Bainbridge waved her hand. “The old duke was quite mad, everybody knows that. He ruled his family with an iron fist. He allowed the second Willenshire boy – Henry – to travel a little, and he had a Grand Tour. I can’t recall if Alexander went abroad. I think not, but it hardly matters. His Grace has not travelled abroad at all. I cannot believe that I was so foolish as to forget that.”

Lavinia said nothing. The Grand Tour was generally seen as a proof of one’s manliness, almost a rite of passage. It made sense that the duke would be uncomfortable about not taking a Tour.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she found herself saying, trying to reassure her. “It was just a mistake.”

Miss Bainbridge breathed in deeply, straightening her shoulders. She turned to look at Lavinia with a cool smile.

“Perhaps so. But I should warn you, my dear, that I do not make mistakes very frequently. Remember that.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode away, leaving Lavinia with the sinking feeling that, once again, she was well out of her depth.