Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

" H ow about this one, Miss?"

"I look like an overripe tomato in that dress," Lavinia discarded the fourth gown she had tried on that afternoon with an irritated groan.

None of the dresses felt right and she didn't know why she was over thinking it anyway.

It wasn't like she was dressing to impress a man who was courting her.

The Duke didn't care for her in any way. He wouldn't see her in a pretty dress and suddenly realize that he was a fool for ever thinking he could be able to keep his hands off of her.

She sighed. The books she read were beginning to rot her mind.

"This one?" The maid waved a lilac dress at her and she ignored it, tempted to fish out the green dress she had worn two nights ago when the Duke had come over to see her uncle.

She had felt like a princess when his eyes had swept over hers from the bottom of the stairs. Like she could walk on the clouds and float through life.

That was what she wanted to recreate.

Why she wanted it, she had no idea. She wasn't trying to impress the Duke. That would be absurd. There was no reason to anyways. They were already engaged.

Moreover, it was a business relationship. He didn't plan on giving her more of those burning kisses so she could as well wear a sack cloth to meet him.

"The lilac dress, please," she finally conceded. She liked the dress and if he didn't, then it was too bad for him.

She tied her hat into a jaunty angle on her head then grabbed her parasol and made her way down to the living room to wait for the arrival of her husband to be.

To Lavinia's surprise, her aunt was already seated there, waiting for her when she stepped in. She had been expecting and somehow dreading this meeting.

Lady Hartfield had been shooting her accessing glances since she had been informed of her engagement to the Duke.

Lavinia had been doing her best to pretend that she couldn't notice her aunt's querying looks.

"Lavvie dear, I'm glad I caught you before you left," the woman said with a strained smile. "Do sit down, dear," she patted the cushion beside her.

From the tone of her voice, it was obvious her aunt wouldn't tolerate any excuse for her to escape the conversation so she obediently dropped down into the chair.

The woman stared at her thoughtfully for a moment and Lavinia kept her expression open and placid as if her stomach wasn't getting twisted into knots and she wasn't a second away from confessing the entire scheme.

"The Duke of Wyld, eh?" she began.

"You introduced us at the Livingston ball," she smiled, "remember?"

"You never mentioned anything about an interest in him."

She lowered her gaze, trying to act demure, "may I be honest with you, Aunt?"

"Please."

"I saw him for the first time at the Carlton ball. He ran into me and spilled lemonade on my dress."

Lady Hartfield gasped, "he was the one?"

She nodded, "yes. At the time I didn't know who he was. He apologized and acted so cordial," oh Lord, of all the lies she had told in her life, this one hurt her the most to say. "He offered to replace my dress but I told him it was unnecessary. After that, Jenny told me who he was and I was shocked that such a man would be so kind and humble."

Her aunt's eyes went soft and Lavinia knew she had won.

"I was elated when you introduced us."

"But I remember you being hesitant," the older woman accused, her eyes narrowing.

"To be honest, I was a bit hesitant," she chuckled. "I didn't know if he would even remember me. I was nervous about not having made an impression. But to my surprise, he remembered everything. Oh, Aunt Felicity, he was so dashing and wonderful. When I'm around him, I do not even recall that he's a duke. He's just a man to me. An admirable man."

Later, she was going to have to kneel on the hard floor of the chapel and ask the Lord for forgiveness for all these lies.

"I'm so happy for you," her aunt exclaimed, and threw her arms around her. "I knew you would find exactly what you were looking for and I was right. I am so glad we insisted on a season for you. The duke will protect and provide for you and your children."

Immense sorrow washed through her at once and it was a battle to keep her smile in place, but she did her absolute best.

There weren't going to be any children, because he had told her quite clearly that he wasn't going to touch her again and this was a business arrangement.

She almost felt sick at the knowledge that she was throwing away the rest of her life for the good of her family.

Lavinia reminded herself that they have were worth it.

They had done so much for her. She could give them this little. Victor could change his mind later. He was a Duke after all, he needed the required heir and a spare.

But it didn't manage to push the choking feeling away.

Lord Dillon walked into the Duke's residence with a delighted smile on his face. It was a beautiful, sunny day and he was about to be thoroughly entertained by the newest couple in the city.

The Duke glanced up from his pocket watch as the doorway darkened with the figure of his smirking friend.

"You're late," he chastised.

"By two minutes."

Victor was already too on edge to deal with Patrick, "Let's go."

He just had to get today done and over with. In fact, he planned to get the whole marriage business with over as soon as possible so he could go back to the country and be on hand to manage the brewery.

He trusted that Georgie and his mother could fend for themselves out here without him.

Speaking of his mother, she had taken to her bed since he had informed her of his relationship with Lavinia. He knew she would soon be up and about and wailing like he had done something worse than choose a duchess she didn't approve of.

"You look like you need a drink before we leave. You're tense," Patrick raised an eyebrow.

"I need several drinks. Two glasses each for the women in my life," he countered and then went to grab his hat.

"Wait for me!" His sister barked, flying down the stairs, eyes gleaming.

"No," Victor said without sparing her a glance, "You're not coming."

"Says who?" She put her hands to her hip, a scowl marring her face.

"Says me, go back to your room."

"But I want to meet her," the girl whined then turned big, puppy eyes and a pout at Patrick, "Tell him to let me come."

"You should let her come, chap," the viscount said.

The look he shot his friend was rife with betrayal, "You'll just be a bother."

"No, I shall not. I shan't even say a word. I just want to leave the house. Mama is about to drive me into the madhouse with her attitude and I cannot stand it a second longer, brother."

He pressed a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and made a mental note to speak to the dowager Duchess as soon as he returned home.

"Fine," he conceded, "But you better behave."

He was too distracted by thoughts of seeing Lavinia again to notice the glance his companions shared.

The three set out for Hartfield house, with the Duke coiled as tight as a spring, Patrick trying to bite back his amusement and Georgie staring at the viscount with adoration.

"You two, wait here," Victor said as he climbed down from the carriage and went to knock on the front door.

The butler opened the door and ushered him into the sitting room where he came upon Lavinia and Lady Hartfield.

"Your Grace," the older woman rose up and dropped into a deep curtsy while the green eyed woman shot him a look before curtsying.

All the tension he had felt on the way over immediately melted away at Lavinia's display. It never ceased to amuse him how she acted like it was such a chore to her. She was in a lilac dress with a neckline that scooped low enough to reveal smooth, milky skin dotted with a few freckles. He idly wondered how far the freckles went on her body. He wanted to find them all and put his mouth on them.

Damn it, this was the wrong time to be thinking of debauching his new fiancée. There was really no good time to be thinking such thoughts since she was off limits to him.

"Lady Hartfield, Miss Lavinia," he nodded in greeting.

"Take care of her," Lavinia's aunt said with a serious look in her eyes. He nodded and then held out his arm for the brown haired woman.

She placed her small hands on his sleeve and they made their way out to the waiting carriage, "My sister, Georgianna insisted on coming along."

"Oh," she said, "That's eh- good."

He couldn't make out her reaction because she had turned her face in the opposite direction and he had the inane urge to order her to look at him.

He helped her up into the carriage and then slipped in beside her. He occupied too much space on the narrow bench and they ended up pressed side by side against each other.

"This is Georgianna, my sister and Lord Dillon," he said, "They will be escorting us today."

"Miss Proctor," the viscount nodded, "It's a pleasure."

"Nice to meet you too," then she turned to Georgie who was giving her an accessing look, "And you."

The carriage rambled on towards the ice house and the interior was plunged into awkward silence.

From the corner of his eye, Victor could see his sister shooting Lavinia wary glances and Patrick studying her intently. He narrowed his eyes at his friend as he got the sudden urge to toss him out of the carriage. The viscount was a good looking man, and many women were known to throw themselves at him. He turned sharply to Lavinia, oddly relieved to see that she had her gaze intently fixed outside the window.

It was one big disaster and he suddenly wished he hadn't brought the other two along. He would take his and Lavinia's bickering any day to the stilted silence of the cab.

It was while they were ordering ice flavors that he realized he didn't know anything about the woman he was to wed. All the times they had met, they had either been taunting each other or he had been kissing the sense out of her.

"Vanilla please," she told the server.

"Vanilla?" Georgie made a face, "There are hundreds of flavors and you choose nothing?"

Lavinia's mouth quirked up, "Vanilla is a flavor. I have had them all and while some are wonderful and some are honestly too disgusting for words, my favorite remains vanilla."

"I shall make you a lover of strawberry yet."

"I find myself unsurprised by your horrid choice," Patrick said, "Banana flavor is superior."

The three jumped into an argument about the merits and demerits of all their favorites, an argument which ended when the server arrived with the Duke's mint flavor and they all agreed that he the crown needed to strip him of his title and lands.

He let them eviscerate him as they wished, just relieved that they had found a common interest.

"Do you want a big wedding?" he asked out of nowhere as they sat there in silence while Patrick and Georgie discussed something.

She glanced at him, eyes wide, "no. It's not a marriage, Your Grace. We barely even need a wedding."

Something inside of him hardened at her words, and he tried to keep his tone even. "My mother will not let us get away with a small one and also, it will cause the gossip mongers to run amok."

Lavinia laughed, but it lacked humor. "My aunt will never forgive me if I did not let her get involved in planning me an extravagant occasion. I believe we should toss them together and elope."

Her smile slipped away, "But it does not matter if she's upset with me now. When she finds out I have signed my right to have children away just to..." she trailed off and pressed her lips together as if she had said too much, "Your sister is delightful."

The Duke narrowed his eyes at her obvious evasiveness, but he had been the one who had made it clear this was not a marriage, so what right did he have now to insist that she be honest with him.

It was just barely two days since he had set up a fence between them and he already wanted to break it and burn it down to nothing.