Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

" M iss, you have a guest," the butler announced the next morning.

"You don't have to announce me," Lavinia heard a familiar voice grumble before her best friend's red hair appeared at the door.

Ruben the butler sniffed at her with extreme disapproval before glancing at Lavinia, "Shall I fetch tea?"

"Oh you don't have to do that," she replied, "I'll just call for one of the maids."

An odd expression crossed his eyes, "I'm afraid that will be impossible, Miss. The maids are off to the market."

She blinked at him, "All of them?"

The corners of his mouth tightened, deep grooves appearing at the sides. "Not all of them. A few of them quit."

Her brows hooked up in surprise. Just last week two of the footmen and the cook had quit.

"Is there a problem?" she inquired, "we seem to be losing a lot of servants."

"Hmm. I can't say that I've noticed," his answer was evasive, "shall I get you that tea now?"

"Please," she smiled and he went off to do her bidding.

"You disappeared last night," Jenny began distractedly as she rifled through her reticule until she located the glasses she had had made behind her mother's back. She plopped them on her nose and a brilliant smile took over her face.

"You mustn't let yourself continue to walk around blind as a bat, Jenny. You ought to stand up to your mother."

The girl waved her hand in the air, "we are not talking about me right now. Anyway, she shall soon discover I'm hopeless in the marriage mart and leave me be."

"You are not hopeless," Lavinia snapped, "don't say such nonsense."

"It is the truth," then her eyes narrowed. "Do not try to distract me, Lavvie, it will not work. Where did you disappear to last night?"

She put a finger to her mouth as she caught sight of the butler approaching with the tea service.

"Shall I pour?" he asked.

"No, thank you, Ruben. You need not bother."

She waited until he was out of sight before she faced her friend, "I went out to the balcony to get some relief from the stiff air inside the ballroom. And then I ran into the Duke."

"Again?" Jenny screeched, "How unusual. Two run ins on one night."

"I assumed he had followed me out at first but then he cleared me of all my suspicion."

Jenny wasn't convinced. "Did you argue with him again?"

She sucked in a scandalized breath and played up her look of shock for the red head's benefit, "of course not, Jen. I was perfectly civil. It was an exchange that barely lasted two minutes and then he was gone."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I resent that," she grinned.

"You are impossible, Lavinia," she threw up her hands, "if you had played your cards right, perhaps I would have walked in on the Duke calling on you."

Lavinia's eyes went wide, "not so loud! The last thing I want is for my aunt to overhear and think that I have some entanglement with that man."

"Is she still pressuring you about finding a match?" Jen whispered.

Lavinia sighed and settled deeper into her settee. She had known that her guardians had sponsored her season so she could find an advantageous match. It was the whole reason for a season after all. But something was different this time.

Even though she still had a few years till she was on the shelf, it was almost as if her aunt thought this was her last good year.

She had been tempted to ask her if the world coming to an end.

If Lavinia was being honest, despite the fact that she mocked the social season and the whole dance of finding a match, she did want one. But not the soulless transactions that were rampant. She wanted the sort of burning passion she had so often read about in books.

"Yes. It's worse this season. She even had the modiste lower the neckline of my dresses," she informed her.

"Whatever for?"

She slanted the girl a look, "use your imagination, Jen."

Jenny looked thoughtful for a moment before realization hit her, "Oh Lord."

Oh Lord, indeed.

"Well, has it worked?"

Lavinia threw back her head and laughed at her friend's intense curiosity. She was so close to the edge of her chair, she had almost fallen out of it.

"It has not, if you must know. It has only gotten me the attention of lechers," she informed her. "You know what, I think it is a quite brilliant way to separate the lecherous gentlemen from the decent ones."

Had the Duke stared at her chest? She couldn't for the life of her recall if he had, which was strange. He was just the sort of ill-mannered man to do something of the sort.

"Would you like some tea?"

The red head made a face and adjusted the glasses seated on the bridge of her nose, "no, but I can go for some of those biscuits."

A glance at the tray revealed a marked absence of the biscuits. "The cook used to make them, but she quit," Lavinia explained.

"Alright," the bespectacled girl shrugged, "I guess I don't mind tea."

The Duke of Wyld stared out of the large window behind his desk unseeing. Outside, the day was a rare sunny day and he knew that the members of the ton would have taken advantage of it. Women with their parasols and practiced smiles and men pretending to be interested in whatever dull conversation they got roped into.

If it were up to the Dowager duchess, he would be out there with the rest of them.

The absence of the genteel folk was one of the major reasons he preferred country living. The lack of activity in London was galling. Well, there were the soirees, balls and dinner parties, none of which he enjoyed the slightest bit.

He missed Whisper and he only hoped his instructions for the horse to be taken out daily were being carried out.

"Victor."

He turned around at the sound of his mother's face and found her at the door, looking hesitant to walk into the room.

She still flinched whenever he sat at the head of the table during meals, and at the beginning, he had sat elsewhere, until the day he hadn't.

The Duke watched her steel her shoulders and then walk in.

"Mother," he greeted, hands clasped behind him, "is there something I can do for you?"

"I noticed you weren't at breakfast," she began.

"I broke my fast hours before you came down," he was still used to the way of things outside of London. In the country, he rose with the sun and began his days with a grueling ride.

The dowager duchess made a face at his words, "That's that, I suppose. It is not why I'm here in any case."

He had a sneaking suspicion about why she was there and she proved him right with her next words.

"Lady Hannah seemed to be interested in you."

He dropped down into his chair and clasped his hand over his stomach, "Did she now?"

"Yes," she replied sharply. "She was sad to see you leave so soon. She was really holding out for a second dance."

Which would have all but sealed his fate with the lady.

"Hmm."

His mother pursed her lips in irritation, "She's a wonderful girl. Beautiful and well mannered. I dare say she will make a most perfect wife."

"We are in agreement," he smiled, "Congratulations to the gentleman who wins her hand."

She threw up her hands in the air in dramatic annoyance, "Oh must you get on my nerves? You know exactly what I'm saying, but you are being obstinate on purpose."

"Mother, I have no interest in Lady Hannah or the other ladies you've mentioned in the past few days. I believe I have made my lack of interest very obvious."

"What is wrong with Lady Hannah? She's flawless."

And that was precisely the problem. He didn't want the flawless ladies of the ton with their bland personalities. He wanted...

His mind flashed to the brown haired lady from the previous night who had stared down at him like she wasn't aware he had the power to destroy her. A woman like that would keep him on his toes, give him the excitement only a hard ride through his estate and the brewery ever gave him.

Even as he had the thought, he knew he could never marry a woman like that. It would be too easy to fall in love with her and he had sworn off love.

"When I am good and ready, there will be another Lady Hannah for me," he told her.

"With that attitude, you'll be walking with a cane and sniffing after fresh faced debutantes."

His jaw clenched, "then so be it."

She advanced, waving her index finger at him, "not under my watch."

"Mother, for the love of God, I hardly think I should be the one being poked and prodded. Don't you have your hands full with Georgie?"

"I'm trying to do what's best for the title."

His lips thinned, "I know what's best for the title."

"If you did, you would have a duchess and an heir by now. You can afford to be careless about anything else, but securing the line is the one thing I won't let you ruin, like you did Georgie's upbringing."

Jumping to his feet, the duke slapped his palm down on the surface of the desk, "Enough!" he thundered.

His mother went still with shock. In all her years, he had never once raised a voice to her in such a way and the fury burning in his eyes made her shiver.

"Leave, now," the lowly delivered words carried as much authority as if he had roared the words.

The dowager duchess squared her shoulders, gave him one last glance full of absolute contempt and then marched off, as regal as ever.

He slumped into his chair after she had left and dragged a weary hand through his hair, mussing it up.

"Damn it all to hell," he sighed. He owed her an apology, but for now he couldn't find it in him to feel apologetic. She had been driving him insane with her less than subtle matchmaking and this explosion was bound to happen.

Somehow, Victor had to make it clear to her that he didn't need her butting into his affairs. He had never wanted any of this, but then again, neither had she.

If only his father was alive.

He needed to get his mother off his back without hurting her feelings and without also having to give in to her matchmaking schemes.

But how?