Page 24 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

There was absolute silence inside the Brookfords’ carriage. Nobody looked at anybody else.

Lavinia was sitting beside her father. At the beginning of the journey, he’d thrown a few sympathetic looks her way. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to look back.

He knew, of course. They all did. Gillian had stridden right over to their parents’ room, gone into the small, attached parlour area, and explained the whole situation.

The reaction from Lady Brennon was exactly what Lavinia had expected.

“Don’t be a simpleton, Gillian! Of course we cannot leave! I am sorry that Lavinia has been so disappointed over the duke, but after all, a duke was quite far from her reach, I think. What about Lord Langley ?”

Lavinia, who had followed out of instinct rather than any real desire to hear what was being discussed, saw the way Gillian’s face paled at the mention of Lord Langley. There was a flicker of anguish on her face, quickly smoothed away.

“If Lord Langley likes me as much as I think he does, he will write to me,” Gillian had responded, as calm as she could.

Lavinia bit her lip. That was not necessarily true. Of course, Lord Langley may prove to be the sort of man who, once his heart had been touched by love, he would not quickly forget.

In Lavinia’s opinion, however, gentlemen were more fickle than that. Men tended to forget rather quickly, once the lady of their affections was out from under their eye. Lord Langley might prove to be such a man, and then what of Gillian’s heart?

An argument naturally broke out, between Gillian and Lady Brennon. It wasn’t like Gillian to have such strong opinions about anything, and certainly not to stand up to her mother in such a fearsome way.

Lavinia lingered by the doorway and said nothing. When she glanced over at Lord Brennon, she found that he was already looking at her, his expression unreadable.

When a gap in the conversation came, he folded his newspaper away with slow, deliberate movements, and rose to his feet.

Lady Brennon turned pleadingly to her husband.

“Tell them, won’t you? Tell them that we cannot throw away Gillian’s prospects over an insult levelled at Lavinia.”

He glanced between his daughters. “Gillian wants to leave, too.”

“I do not care. We are going nowhere! Lavinia may ignore the duke if she likes, but I for one will not stand by and do nothing while…”

“We are leaving.”

Lord Brennon uttered the three words slowly and carefully. Deliberately, almost. There was a brief silence after he spoke. Lady Brennon paled.

“What did you say?” she whispered.

“We are leaving,” he repeated evenly. “Gillian wishes to go. Lavinia wishes to go, and I will not stay in a house where my daughter has been so insulted. If Hugh were here, he would say exactly the same. As for you, my dear, I will not drag you into the carriage. You may stay or go as you please. Girls, I suggest you begin packing.”

It felt like a lifetime ago now. The packing had passed in a haze, with Lavinia crunching and crushing dresses almost beyond repair, shoving them deep down in the trunks. Lady Brennon had come with them, of course, tight-lipped and visibly furious.

Green, leafy landscape rattled by them. Soon they would be out on the streets of Bath, weaving through the traffic, back out into the countryside.

I daresay we’ll never come back here, Lavinia thought, her heart sinking more.

She wasn’t sure whether she had truly absorbed what was going on, how entirely her prospects were destroyed. Their sudden departure would be all anybody would talk about for the rest of their stay. The Dowager’s friendship with Lady Brennon was likely over. If they were lucky, a plausible excuse might be invented.

Lavinia did not feel particularly lucky at the moment. She leaned back against the carriage seat, resting her head and closing her eyes.

“We’re ruined,” Lady Brennon said bitterly, cutting into her thoughts.

“Stop it, Mama,” Gillian said, with more sharpness in her voice than Lavinia had ever heard before.

It seems that my sweet, kindly little sister is finally starting to find her way and grow into herself , Lavinia thought. All it took was all of my hopes and dreams to be dashed at one blow.

And hers too, I imagine.

I never even got Hugh’s locket back.

That felt like the hardest part of all. A lump formed in her throat, choking her and stinging her eyes with tears.

I could write to him when we get home. Request him to send over my locket. He knows how important it is to me, what Hugh meant to me. Surely, he would have a little pity, at least.

Miss Bainbridge might advise him to be kind. She can be a kind woman, I imagine, once she’s won. Anybody can be generous in victory.

Deep down, however, Lavinia did not believe she could put pen to paper if she knew she were writing to the duke.

To William.

She could ask Gillian, perhaps, although Gillian had already done far too much on her behalf.

Lavinia bit her lip, praying that she would not disgrace herself with more tears in front of her family. She wasn’t sure what was worse – the tangible sympathy on the faces of her father and sister, or the cold fury on her mother’s.

Wouldn’t it be funny if the carriage door opened up, right now, and I just tumbled out? Lavinia thought, hysterical laughter bubbling to the surface. That would be pleasant. Just falling out into the ditches on either side of the road, perhaps knocking myself unconscious. Lord, what I wouldn’t give to sleep for a while right now.

Sleep seemed a long way off for her right now. Her father, naturally, was beginning to nod, eyes flickering.

Abruptly, without warning, nausea lurched in Lavinia’s stomach, a sharp reminder that she had not eaten since last night.

“I feel sick,” she murmured. Lady Brennon gave a snort.

“Well might you feel sick! I feel sick. All of us feel sick, on account of our prospects and hopes for the future dwindling into nothing! For my part, I am shocked and horrified to learn that…”

Lavinia tried to block out her mother’s shrill, angry tones. Shifting towards the window, she focused on the scenery flashing by.

Are those horses’ hooves I can hear? She thought faintly.

A black flash shot past the window, and Lavinia flinched back, gasping aloud.

“What is the matter with you now, Lavinia?” Lady Brennon snapped.

And then there was chaos.

A shout came from the coachman, and the entire carriage lurched forward and to the side, skidding to a painful halt. All of them were flung bodily from their seats.

In the painful silence that followed, Lavinia clearly heard a man shouting, a horse snorting, and the stamp of iron-clad hooves on hard-packed road.

“What’s going on?” Lord Brennon quavered, reaching up to bang on the roof. “Coachman? What is it?”

“It’s footpads,” Lady Brennon gasped, clutching at Gillian’s hands. “Oh, what have we done? What trouble are we in now? We are going to be robbed and then left dead on the side of the road!”

Lavinia tried to ignore her mother’s panicked babbling, instead leaning forward and trying to catch glimpses of the conversation outside. The coachman sounded angry.

“Move aside, sir! What are you about?”

A muffled reply came, but the voice was familiar enough to make Lavinia suck in a breath. She glanced around the carriage to see if the others had realized just what was going on.

They hadn’t. Lady Brennon was now wailing about being murdered and nobody ever finding their bodies – a change from her earlier fears, where their half-naked bodies would be deposited in a ditch besides the road – and she was clutching Gillian to her as if trying to protect her. Lavinia noticed with a wry smile that her mother did not seem to be particularly worried about her .

Lord Brennon looked a little less apprehensive. Apparently, he thought that footpads on a main road in Bath, in the middle of the day, was somewhat unlikely. He was shouting up to the coachman, and between the three of them, nobody was listening to Lavinia.

Biting back a curse of annoyance, she tried to peer out of the carriage, trying to get a glimpse of the horseman on the road, to confirm what she already knew.

It was no good. With a sigh of resignation, Lavinia unlatched the door and flung it open wide. Lady Brennon gave a shriek, and even Lord Brennon loudly demanded to know what Lavinia thought she was about to do.

She ignored them all.

The steps had not been put down, of course, leaving Lavinia to jump down the three feet to the ground. She landed nimbly, and turned back to close the door behind her, shutting off her view of her family’s horrified and confused faces.

It was much quieter out here, away from the panicked chatter. She heard the coachman speak again.

“Get out of the way, sir. I won’t tell you again.”

“I can’t,” came the cool, clear, familiar voice. “I must speak to her.”

Lavinia walked around to the front of the carriage.

“And here I am,” she said, meeting his eye. “What do you want to say to me?”