Page 18 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

Miss Bainbridge was positively seething, that much was for sure. The duke had danced with her, alright, but only a sedate, matronly sort of jig. It was a slow, dull dance, full of partners who were dancing together out of duty or obligation.

The duke had asked Lavinia to dance the waltz with him.

She hadn’t realized it at the time, not until the music started up and he came to claim her.

It was odd, dancing the waltz. This would be the second time she’d danced the waltz with the Duke of Dunleigh, and that would be noticed. Eyes were all set on Lavinia as she swirled around the room with him, the skirts of her gown swinging out and glittering.

Miss Bainbridge had chosen a deep red velvet gown, cut in the latest style. It was a pretty enough dress, and suited her, but the colour – which she had doubtless intended to be striking and mature among a seat of pastel-coloured gowns – simply made her seem dark and dull. She did not stand out, and a handful of serious old matrons had chosen the same shade of dark red. Velvet was also a popular material amongst the widows.

Lavinia bit back a giggle at this thought. She didn’t mean Miss Bainbridge any harm. Under different circumstances, they might even have been friends. But it was pretty clear that Miss Bainbridge wanted the duke – or, more to the point, she wanted to be a duchess – and since she considered Lavinia as a rival, they could not possibly be friends. She’d taken every opportunity to make Lavinia feel silly and small, and so it was hard not to feel a little triumph.

“You seem distracted,” the duke remarked, when Lavinia nearly trod on his foot.

Serves me right, she thought wryly, for being too triumphant over Miss Bainbridge. He’s probably still going to marry her , at the end of the day.

“I’m tired,” she said, and it wasn’t exactly a lie.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you dance.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I…” she paused, biting her lip, and forced herself to meet his eye. “I’m enjoying myself. Truly, I am. I’m glad we’re friends again.”

Was that too much? Was she presuming that they had ever been friends to begin with? Any doubts Lavinia had were wiped away when the duke smiled, slowly and almost shyly.

“I’m glad,” he said, voice quiet. “I’m glad we’re friends again, too.”

She beamed.

***

Lavinia woke up to a strip of sunlight shining directly onto her eyes. She’d been wrapped up in a lovely dream about the dinner party last night.

It was a triumph. Me, dancing the waltz with the duke again, Gillian and her Lord Langley staring dotingly at each other all night. Miss Bainbridge’s palpable rage. Yes, it was a success.

She squinted at the sunlight, streaming through a crack in the curtains. Her feet were still sore from all the dancing she’d done last night. Once it was clear that the duke wanted to dance with her, suddenly all the other gentlemen wanted to stand up with her, too. She’d danced with Lord Langley too, of course, but that was just to please Gillian. He was a pleasant enough man, and Lavinia thought she would like to see him as her brother-in-law.

She sat up, stifling a yawn. The house, as far as she could tell, was silent. A glance at the sky outside revealed that it was probably no later than seven o’ clock in the morning. The servants would be up and about, of course, but most of the guests would still be resting after their late night. Perhaps a couple of early risers would be taking breakfast – the Bainbridges, she’d be willing to bet – but most of them would not appear until close to noon.

Lavinia debated lying back down again. A few more hours of sleep would do her good.

Somehow, though, she had plenty of energy, and sleep did not seem quite so appealing. She lowered herself back onto her elbows, peering up at the canopy.

It didn’t take her long to decide.

Flinging back the covers, Lavinia hopped out of bed. She washed and dressed quickly, not bothering to ring for a maid. Last night’s dress was spread out in front of the wardrobe, ready to be washed, pressed, and replaced. Her dancing slippers were set side by side beside it, the toes scuffed and the soles more worn than any dancing slippers she’d worn before.

Grinning to herself, Lavinia pulled out a worn old dress, plain brown, easy to get on by herself. She took out a pair of riding boots to go with it, and carelessly pinned up her hair on top of her head, not caring about the few locks that fell down around her ears. It wasn’t as if anybody was going to see her.

Yes, an early morning ride was just the ticket. She missed Stepper. Her mother, of course, would disapprove. So would Gillian, as a matter of fact. Sneaking out to go riding alone was bad enough when one was at home, but when one was a guest at a house party like this one, it was much worse.

Nobody will know, she reminded herself. It doesn’t matter.

Already thrilling with excitement at her own little adventure, Lavinia slipped out into the hallway. She would put her boots on at the door. No sense in being overheard and caught out before her adventure had even started.

***

Stepper was clearly thrilled to go for a ride. He fidgeted as Lavinia saddled him up, tossing his head and rubbing his nose against her shoulder. She shushed him, keeping her eyes peeled for a groom. They might insist on coming with her, or else send word to that disapproving butler.

Or worse, her mother.

Lavinia led Stepper out of the stable, saddled and bridled and ready to go. She was already planning out her route in her head. They would ride up the hills, to where the mist still clung to the damp ground, and the sky was so heavy and grey it seemed to be about to touch the summits. The view from up there had to be spectacular.

She stopped dead at the sight of a man, sitting on a bench with his back to her, facing the horse paddocks. She could see that, in one of the distant paddocks, the beautiful black stallion was cropping grass.

She froze. Can I sneak past him?

On cue, Stepper snorted loudly, and pawed the ground, annoyed at the delay. The man tensed and twisted around to look behind him.

It should not have come as a surprise for her to see that it was the duke. He, at least, seemed equally surprised to see her. He jumped to his feet and made a neat bow.

“Miss Brookford. I apologise, I didn’t… didn’t know that anyone was here.”

She bit her lip. He must have arrived minutes after her, since the courtyard had been empty when she arrived.

“It’s alright. I hope I’m not disturbing your…” she trailed off, not entirely sure what it was he was doing. “I was just going out for a ride.”

“Oh. I see.” He eyed Stepper nervously. Annoyed with the delay, the horse tossed his head, tugging on the reins in Lavinia’s hand.

On impulse, she led him over to the fence, wrapping the reins around a post. Stepper gave a snort of annoyance, then resigned himself to cropping the grass at the bottom of the fence post.

She edged towards the duke, who was still standing awkwardly beside the bench.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

He flinched, eyes wide. “What, on your horse?”

“Well, no. You’d need your own horse.”

He glanced over at the stallion.

“Not that one,” she added hastily. “A nice, tame mare from the stables. I’ve seen some of them bear children on their backs. You’d be safe.”

“It’s… it’s not that I’m a coward, I just…”

“I don’t think you’re a coward,” Lavinia said firmly. “Fear is entirely natural, and whoever says otherwise is just a simpleton. “My brother, Hugh, was afraid of horses, and he was a remarkably brave man.”

There was a brief moment of silence between them. Hugh’s name seemed to hang in the air. It prickled over Lavinia’s skin. When was the last time she’d spoken his name aloud? Oh, he was always on her mind, his name and face always going round and round in her head. But she felt that if she spoke his name aloud, it would start up the pain again. The pain of grief and loss, she’d learned, never quite went away.

The duke looked away. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You… you didn’t.”

“Your brother… he is not… not with you? I had heard that you had only one sister. But… my sister told me that there was a tragedy about your brother.”

She looked him full in the face and gave a bleak smile. “There is just the two of us, now.”

The duke understood and dropped his gaze. “I am sorry. I have never lost a sibling, and I can’t… cannot imagine how it would feel.”

“It feels… as though the bottom has dropped out of one’s world,” Lavinia said, voice so quiet she could barely even hear it herself. “Hugh was a remarkable man. He was kind, fair, handsome, charming, and so intelligent. I said once that my parents – my mother, at least – favour Gillian over me. It was never like that when Hugh was alive. He brought balance to our family, it seemed. He used to love giving presents, I remember that much,” she paused, chuckling at the memories which came flooding in. “He would bring back trinkets for us whenever he went away, silly tin necklaces and wooden rings and carved animals, things like that. He’d wrap them up so carefully, and hide them in our beds, so that we would find them when we went to bed. I remember once he bought me some books he knew I wanted and slipped them under my pillow. I was tired, and threw myself into bed without checking, and banged my head on a pile of books. I was fairly cursing him; I can tell you.”

The duke chuckled. “He sounds like a kind man.”

“He was, he was. He loved getting presents, too. He would get as excited as a child. I often wish now that I’d given him more things. I never thought about it, at the time.”

“How old was your brother, when you… when you lost him?” the duke seemed to have difficulty getting out the words. Lavinia wondered which of his siblings he was imagining losing.

“Twenty,” she said at last. “Just turned twenty. He was the oldest of the three of us. He was never strong. When he was young, a horse threw him and broke his arm. It could have happened to anyone, and his arm healed well, but he refused to ride again or have anything to do with horses. Papa loves horses, and is interested in breeding horses, and he’d always intended for Hugh to help him with that. I think the day Hugh told him he intended to go into the law was the only time I’ve heard the two of them argue.”

She sighed, looking down. “Papa always thought he’d change his mind, but once Hugh started learning the law, that would be the end of that. They parted on bad terms. Hugh went to London and began his studies. He excelled, from what I heard. But as I said, he was not strong, and London is… well, you know what it’s like. And of course, Hugh was not staying in the good part of London. He’d taken on cheap lodgings. You must already know that we are not a rich family anymore, and those lodgings were all Hugh could afford. He had been studying for about six months when he got ill. He stayed quiet about his illness for a while, thinking that it would clear up. When it became clear that he was seriously ill, and could no longer afford the physician’s fees, he travelled home to us.”

Lavinia paused, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand. She was a little shaken at how powerfully the story had affected her. The duke said nothing, eyes fixed on her face, waiting for her to continue.

“He died a week after coming home,” she finished at last, voice shaking. “We tried to nurse him, paid for all the best physicians, but it was too late. The sickness had taken his lungs, you see. When he arrived home, he looked like a ghost. I don’t think I’ll ever forget his pale, gaunt face. And just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “the light of our lives was extinguished. I used to have a locket,” she paused, tapping her collarbone where Hugh’s locket would lie, “with a picture of Hugh as a child in it. I lost it at a ball one night. I remember always taking it for granted, and then one day it was gone forever. My last piece of Hugh. Gone. The clasp broke, I imagine.”

The duke flinched at that. Perhaps the image of a lost locket was too powerful for him to resist. She drew in a breath and continued.

“My point is, your Grace, life waits for nobody. Things can change in an instant. Allowing fear to rule us can be fatal – we have no idea what waits around the corner. Your father is gone. Dead. So is Hugh. We, however, are not.”

He swallowed hard. “And what is your purpose in saying all that, Miss Brookford?”

She smiled wryly, swallowing back the familiar tide of grief. “I am saying that you should ride a horse again, your Grace. Today. Now. After all, tomorrow we may all be dead.”

He sighed. “What a cheerful notion.”

“I am just being honest.”

He breathed in deeply, squaring his shoulders. She saw him glance across the paddocks to the glistening black stallion.

“Very well,” he said at last. “I will go riding with you.”