Page 12 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

Generally, Lavinia hated the part of the evening where the gentlemen and ladies separated. The ladies always retreated to a parlour or the drawing room, to talk genteelly and occupy themselves, while the gentlemen indulged their desire for brandy and smoked cigars.

It wasn’t that Lavinia disliked the company of other ladies in the slightest. It was just that many of the other ladies spent the time eyeing their rivals and waiting in scarcely veiled impatience for the gentlemen to return. More than once, Lavinia had seen a pair of young women fighting fiercely for the attention of some weak-chinned lord, only to put up a pretence of friendship during the interlude between dinner and the return of the gentlemen.

It was sickening, frankly.

This time, she had another concern. Gillian.

Gillian was visibly tired, and had been all day, and now she was fighting back yawn after yawn. A pair of ladies stood with her near the mantelpiece, side by side, talking about something or other. It meant that Gillian could not sit without breaking off the conversation, and of course she would rather collapse than be impolite. The heat of the fire had to be burning into her, and Lavinia saw a flush spreading over her sister’s neck and collar.

The ladies only glanced briefly at her and continued their rattling on about whatever it was they were discussing. Lavinia had been introduced to the two women, of course, and had an idea that they were cousins, although she could not remember their names. They hadn’t seemed particularly pleasant to her, and doubtless saw Gillian as a staunch rival.

It's no good. I must intervene. I must do something .

Just as the idea was taking root in Lavinia’s head, and she was looking about for inspiration, Katherine came striding back into the room. When had she left?

She glanced around the room, and immediately her gaze came to rest on Gillian.

“Goodness, Miss Gillian, you are standing far too close to that fire! You’ll faint from the heat! Miss Susan, Miss Anne, do you not see that the poor girl is flushed all over?”

Things happened quickly after that. Katherine escorted Gillian to a seat, while Miss Susan and Miss Anne protested innocence and claimed that they were not affected by the heat. Gillian was soon sitting on a long sofa, with Lady Abigail and Lady Eleanor on one side, and Katherine on the other. Lavinia watched as a normal colour returned to her sister’s cheeks, and she relaxed in a calm and soothing conversation.

Those Willenshires are remarkably nice people, Lavinia thought, sinking back into her seat in relief. Nicer than I would have expected.

Her reprieve did not last. No sooner had Lavinia begun to relax again then she spotted none other than Miss Bainbridge, heading her way with an icy smile on her face.

Oh, good heavens. What have I done to deserve this?

“Do you mind if I sit by you, Miss Brookford?” Miss Bainbridge asked sweetly, taking a seat. “May I call you Lavinia?”

“Of course.”

Miss Bainbridge did not suggest that Lavinia should call her Victoria. Lavinia thought about asking and decided against it.

The sofa was a two-seater, and the half not occupied by Lavinia was occupied by a large, fluffy white cat, curled up into a ball. Miss Bainbridge made an impatient gesture, and the cat leapt down with a growl of annoyance. She took its place, picking at her cuffs and readjusting her skirts.

Lavinia stayed silent. Something had undoubtedly driven the woman over here, and she would wait patiently to hear it.

“The gentlemen are taking their time to join us, are they not?” Miss Bainbridge said, at last.

Lavinia smiled weakly. “I hadn’t noticed. I quite enjoy it when it’s just us women, you know.”

“Oh, really? I quite despise the company of women. They never have anything interesting to say.”

“They? Don’t you mean we ? You’re a woman too, Miss Bainbridge.”

Miss Bainbridge only smiled absently. “In body only, I think you’ll find.”

Lavinia considered asking what on earth that was supposed to mean, but once again decided against speaking.

I’m getting quite shrewd these days, she thought, allowing herself a small smile. Keeping my mouth shut at opportune moments.

“His Grace, the Duke, is a remarkably kind man, don’t you think?” Miss Bainbridge said at last, her gaze still fixed on a distant point across the room.

Lavinia hadn’t been expecting this and found herself somewhat thrown by the comment.

“Hm? Yes, I suppose so.”

“You suppose so? Why, you’ve been the recipient of his kindness since you arrived!”

Lavinia blinked, beginning to feel uncomfortable. “Do you mean his hospitality?”

Miss Bainbridge chuckled. “Oh, you are sweet. Gentlemen like the duke are rather practised in seeking out… oh, how shall I say this?... the most unfortunate in their society. You know, older widows, frumpy spinsters, gawky debutantes who haven’t a clue how to act or what to say. The sort of woman that nobody would expect to marry a duke, which means that his reputation is quite safe. He’ll be kind to her, make sure she is comfortable, make sure nobody is unpleasant to her, and so on. Like a charity endeavour, you know. People will follow a duke’s lead, after all.”

There was an unpleasant little silence between them.

“Forgive me,” Lavinia said at last, “but I really don’t understand what you are trying to say, Miss Bainbridge.”

Miss Bainbridge gave a forced titter of laughter. “You are so sweet, Lavinia. Let me be plain, because I don’t wish for you to embarrass yourself more than you have already done. Let me assure you that his Grace is not pursuing you for matrimonial reasons.”

Colour rushed into Lavinia’s face. “Well, I didn’t think that he was.”

“It’s just that you are… oh, how shall I say it? You are pursuing him. It’s a little unbecoming. He is trying to be kind, trying to put you at your ease, and… well, it’s clear that you have misinterpreted his kindness. I am only telling you this because somebody must, my dear. With the greatest respect to dear Lady Brennon, it seems that she is entirely concentrating on pushing poor Miss Gillian and you towards the single gentlemen of our party. She’s made a determined set, and people are beginning to notice. Oh, now I’ve upset you.”

With a mournful expression that barely concealed a triumphant grin, Miss Bainbridge reached out and laid her hand on Lavinia’s. The sharp edge of one of her nails dug sharply into Lavinia’s knuckles. She couldn’t tell whether it was deliberate or simply an accident.

“My mother is not pushing me towards anyone,” Lavinia said at last. She couldn’t quite believe what Miss Bainbridge had said.

Is it true? Is this some sort of high-Society politeness that I am not receiving properly? I certainly never imagined he could feel anything for me. I am a spinster, and he is a duke, and the most eligible man of the Season.

“Mm-hm,” Miss Bainbridge said, smiling disbelievingly. “I just would hate for you to start thinking of him with hope, you know. When there is none. None at all, I’m afraid. The duke and I have an understanding, and a betrothal announcement is forthcoming.”

Lavinia only smiled tightly and murmured something congratulatory. It did not deceive Miss Bainbridge, of course, but it concerned merely the appearance of matters.

Why should it matter what I think of him, in the privacy of my own head?

Miss Bainbridge lifted an eyebrow when the moments dragged on.

“Don’t you want to thank me, Lavinia?” she said, voice gentle.

“Thank you for telling me, Miss Bainbridge,” Lavinia managed, hating herself even as the words exited her mouth.

“You are most welcome, my dear, most welcome. As I said, I should hate to see you embarrass yourself more than you have already.”

“Do retract your claws, you disagreeable little creature, or I shall be compelled to send you sprawling across the chamber.”

There was an icy moment of silence at Lady Brennon’s voice. Both women twisted to look up at the woman, who was standing directly behind the chair, hands on her hips.

“I beg your pardon?” Miss Bainbridge managed. Her voice was clipped and icy.

Lady Brennon smiled sweetly. “I was speaking to the cat, my dear.”

All three of them glanced at the recently dislodged white cat, who was sitting a little way away, its claws notably not out.

“I see,” Miss Bainbridge said, sounding irritated.

“Would you mind giving up your seat to an old woman, Miss Bainbridge? I would love to sit by my daughter, you know.”

Miss Bainbridge smiled, tight-lipped, and rose without another word. She sailed off, never once glancing back, and Lady Brennon dropped into the seat beside Lavinia.

The cat came running up, leaping on Lady Brennon’s lap. It curled up at once, purring hard, and she began to absently stroke it.

“You weren’t talking about the cat, were you, Mama?” Lavinia said, after a pause.

“Of course not. I would never harm a cat.”

Lavinia bit back a smile. “You don’t want to make an enemy of Miss Bainbridge.”

“It seems that you already have.”

Lavinia’s smile faded. “You heard what she said, then.”

“I did, and I was furious. I hope you didn’t believe anything she said.”

“Well…” Lavinia glanced down at her lap, where her fingers were knotted tightly together. “I am a spinster, and a poor one at that. He has been remarkably kind to me, but I’d be a fool to take his kindness for anything other than plain old politeness.”

Lady Brennon shifted to face her. “Now, you listen to me, girl. I am not the finest mother in the world, and I know that… that sometimes I focus a little too much on Gillian.”

“I know, I know, you don’t have to remind me.”

“But let me tell you this. I know more of the world than you, and more than little Miss Bainbridge, too. Gentlemen like the duke do not simply act flirtatiously towards spinsters and women of your age and station out of charity , regardless of what that woman tried to tell you.”

“He is not flirting with me, Mama.”

“No, but he is singling you out. Here is my opinion on the matter, from what I have observed. The duke enjoys your company. You are clever, outspoken, confident, and you are pretty. You don’t flirt with him , and you do not appear to be endeavouring to win his affections. It is refreshing for a man like that. So, as I said before, he enjoys your company. You are friends. It is a very small step from friendship to love, let me tell you. The two can be almost indistinguishable. There is no reason why you should not catch the duke, and Miss Bainbridge knows it.”

Lavinia bit her lip.

Stop it! she wanted to scream. Stop building up my hopes! He’s not going to marry me, even if I wanted him to.

I don’t, of course. That would be nothing but foolishness. He’s going to marry Miss Bainbridge, everybody knows it. Miss Bainbridge, or at least a woman just like her. Not somebody like me.

“I don’t want to win his affections, Mama,” she said at last. “He shall engage into matrimony with somebody more suitable, after all. There is little merit in indulging hope, is there not?”

Lady Brennon was quiet for a long moment.

“Did you hear of the Dowager’s story, my dear?”

“What? No.”

“She was madly in love with the old duke – his Grace’s father – but he only married her for her money and her breeding. Because she would make a good duchess, you know. It is most distressing to witness a marriage decay in such a manner, when one party is full of affection and the other has yet to experience a single sentiment of it.” Everybody in London knew how the old Duke treated his wife, and how she adored him all the way through it. She still does, as far as I know.”

Lavinia glanced across the room to where the Dowager Duchess sat, surrounded by a cluster of friends, talking and laughing. There was a sort of hollowness in her face, even when she was smiling. A blankness behind the eyes, perhaps. Lavinia felt, not for the first time, a powerful pang of sympathy for the woman.

She didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that.

“That’s awful,” Lavinia said, voice barely louder than a whisper. “The poor woman.”

“Yes, I thought so. But it seems to me that the current duke – all of the Willenshire children, as a matter of fact – are keen not to make the mistakes of their parents. They’ve all married for love, if rumours are to be believed, and having seen them together, I quite agree. Why should the duke not marry for love, too?”

“But…”

“Do you think he loves Miss Bainbridge? Do you think she loves him ?”

Lavinia shook her head. “No, but it’s more complicated than that. It must be.”

Lady Brennon only smiled faintly. “My darling girl, it is not as complicated as you think. Not nearly as complicated. Why not give it a try? Attempt to garner the duke’s attention and observe the outcome. Miss Bainbridge wouldn’t have warned you off if she hadn’t seen you as a threat, would she?”

Lavinia had to grin at that. “No, she wouldn’t, would she? That’s quite an interesting point, Mama. And… and thank you. For standing up for me the way you did.”

Lady Brennon winked, reaching out to pat Lavinia’s cheek. “I do love my girls, Lavinia. I might not be the best mother in the country, but I love my girls.”

There was no time for anything else, because at that moment, the door opened and the gentlemen began to file in, talking and laughing.

Lavinia found herself seeking out the duke and loathed the way her heart clenched when she saw him.

Stop it, she scolded. You mustn’t.

Miss Bainbridge was across the room in an instant, all but glueing herself to the duke’s side. She laughed and tossed her hair, smiling up into his face, and if she didn’t quite smile smugly across the room at Lavinia, the intention was there.

Lavinia got up abruptly. “I’m tired, Mama, and so is Gillian. I’m going to retire for the night, and I’m taking her with me.”

Lady Brennon sat back, folding her hands across her stomach.

“As you wish, my dear, as you wish. But do give heed to my words, if you would.”

I could scarcely refrain from contemplating it, Lavinia reflected with a twinge of irritation.