Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

“ Y ou look lovely tonight, Lady Lavinia,” said Lord Hennington.

Lavinia looked up at him with a smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

She had dressed in one of the new gowns the duke had bought for her. She had agonized over whether or not to wear the gown, after what had happened between the two of them in the library—he would see her in it and know that she had thought of him while preparing for tonight’s ball. Lavinia didn’t want him to know that. She would have preferred him to see her and be forced to wonder whether she was thinking about him at all. She wanted to pretend that she had all but forgotten his existence.

It had been Edwina who had changed her mind, in the end. “If you refuse to wear the best gown you have, you’re going to show him that you’re thinking about him just as surely as if you did wear it,” she’d said. “I think the best thing you can do is wear the gown and ignore your worries about what he might think. Show him that his opinion doesn’t matter to you.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Lavinia had agreed. “After all, if he sees me in another gown, I’m sure his first thought will be that I was too timid to wear this one.”

“And this one does look better on you,” Edwina said. “What does it matter what he thinks? You should wear what looks best, and what makes you feel best.”

“You’re right,” Lavinia said with a smile. “Thank you, Edwina. You always help me to see things clearly.”

So now, thanks to her sister’s advice, Lavinia was walking into the ballroom in the blue gown the duke had purchased for her—and she was doing it on the arm of Lord Hennington.

The duke didn’t like Lord Hennington. At least, Lavinia didn’t think he did. He never seemed to have anything positive to say about him, and he had spent rather a long time trying to convince Lavinia that she felt nothing for him—that her lack of nervousness in Lord Hennington’s company meant something significant.

The trouble was that Lavinia couldn’t help feeling, now, that perhaps the duke was right. Perhaps that feeling—or lack of feeling— was something she ought to be paying attention to.

She looked up at Lord Hennington. She had never really taken a look at him before, she now realized. He was handsome enough—certainly there was nothing objectionable about his appearance. He had thick blonde hair with a bit of a wave in it and bright blue eyes that seemed to express warmth and pleasure at her company. The way he looked at her made her feel as if she mattered to him.

It should have made her feel good, but it didn’t. It made her feel guilty. He cared about her, and she felt next to nothing in return.

Perhaps her feelings would grow if she gave him a chance. Everyone told her that love was something that could develop if given time. Matthew was forever saying that she ought to just get married and allow the love to come as it would. That wasn’t a risk Lavinia was willing to take—not knowing if love would ever manifest. But there could be a middle ground.

The fact that she didn’t feel anything for Lord Hennington on the second day of knowing him didn’t mean that she never would. She could give it a little more time.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance?” Lord Hennington asked her. “I confess I’ve been looking forward to tonight for days now—ever since we had our picnic. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then, Lady Lavinia.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” Lavinia said, though it made her feel uncomfortable to say it. She knew that she hadn’t thought about him in the same way he had thought about her. She had analyzed their interactions, but she hadn’t daydreamed about having more. She hadn’t felt interested in him. Not like that.

Still, what was wrong with a dance? One dance couldn’t do any harm.

She allowed him to take her hand and lead her out onto the dance floor, and as the musicians began to play, they fell into the familiar steps of a dance.

“You’re a very good dancer,” Lord Hennington commented. “Better than most of the ladies here, to tell the truth.”

Lavinia smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s so kind of you to say so. And you’re a good dancer as well, Lord Hennington. I don’t believe I’ve enjoyed myself so much with anyone else at this party.”

That wasn’t what she had done when the duke had broached this subject, she realized. She had shared a story about teaching herself to dance with Edwina—a story that, no doubt, had made her look foolish and awkward. It certainly hadn’t increased his regard for her at all.

She was finding it much easier to behave the way she knew the duke would have told her to in Lord Hennington’s company. The duke would have told her to be confident, and she had done that by accepting the compliment Lord Hennington had paid her.

The duke would have warned her not to tell stories about irrelevant topics that would make people believe she was strange, or to make the conversation all about herself. She had managed that too, and she had done so with ease.

Was it better to be in the company of a gentleman who didn’t make her feel anything?

She looked at him again as they danced and tried to imagine spending her life with him. Being his wife. What would it be like? There was no question that it would be a very relaxing experience. But would it be one she could truly enjoy?

“I’m so glad you’re having a good time,” Lord Hennington said. “And I’m very grateful to have had the chance to meet you, Lady Lavinia. I had hoped I would meet a lady who caught my eye during this party, but you have exceeded what I hoped for.”

The music drew to a close.

“Thank you for the pleasure of your company,” Lord Hennington said, smiling at her. “Perhaps you’ll join me for a dance again later?”

“It would be a pleasure,” Lavinia said, meaning it. There was one thing she could say honestly about Lord Hennington—she liked him. Even if he didn’t make her heart beat faster, even if he didn’t make her trip over her words—she enjoyed his company.

If she hadn’t had to worry about finding herself a husband, she would have been more than happy to spend all her time with him during this party, just because it felt good to be around him. She could relax with him. She could be herself without having to worry about how she was perceived. She never had to doubt that he liked her in return.

If only that could have been enough! It sounded so perfect, all the things she was feeling. That should have been what it was like to fall in love. Feeling this degree of ease with another person should have meant that he was the one for her. And yet, looking at him now, she felt nothing but a flat, almost bored sensation. She liked him, but that was all it was. She suspected that was all it would ever be.

Lord Hennington walked her over to the side of the room, bowed over her hand, and smiled up at her. The whole thing made Lavinia feel rather sad. She was sure he felt something for her and wished she could have reciprocated—but she knew she couldn’t.

She stood with her back to the wall, determined to sit the next dance out. Even if her father was watching, he could hardly complain after seeing her dance with Lord Hennington. He couldn’t know that Lord Hennington meant nothing to her.

“Well, you didn’t look nervous,” said an all-too-familiar voice.

She looked up. Sure enough, there was the duke. He’d managed to approach without her noticing, and now he stood beside her, looking out at the dance floor.

“You were watching me, Your Grace?” she asked.

“I wasn’t watching . I saw him escort you back over to the wall.” He said it as if it was a vital distinction, as if he wanted to make sure Lavinia understood that he hadn’t been paying her any deliberate attention. Lavinia wasn’t sure whether to believe that or not. She also wasn’t sure whether or not it mattered.

“Well,” she said, “I’m glad to know that I didn’t appear nervous.”

“Because you weren’t nervous.”

She looked at him. “Not especially, no.”

“You look lovely tonight. That dress really is remarkable on you. I knew blue would be a good color for you.”

“Thank you again for providing it for me, Your Grace,” Lavinia said. Whatever else might have transpired between them, she knew that she did owe him a debt of gratitude for that much. “I was excited to wear it tonight, and if my sister is to be believed, it looks better than anything I brought to this party myself.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said.

They stood in silence for a moment. Lavinia wondered what he was thinking—why he had come over to speak with her in the first place. What could he possibly want?

He looked down at her. “Dance with me,” he said.

It wasn’t a request, exactly, and yet she sensed that if she had refused, he wouldn’t have pushed her. “Why?” she asked him. “I thought you didn’t want us to spend time together anymore. I thought you said we were going to be finished associating with one another.”

“One last dance,” he said. “One last time before we say our goodbyes.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I do,” he said quietly.

She hesitated. She wasn’t anywhere near as sure as he seemed to be. They might be getting themselves in over their heads. She still couldn’t forget what it had felt like to kiss him.

It was not a good idea to dance with him.

It was not a good idea to allow him to take her in his arms, even though there would be dozens of witnesses this time preventing things from going too far.

And yet, in spite of the fact that she knew she shouldn’t do it, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She nodded and took his hand, letting herself be led back out onto the floor.

He took her in his arms, just as Lord Hennington had—but with the duke, it felt entirely different. It felt as if every part of her body was awake and alive in a way it simply hadn’t been until this moment. She wouldn’t have stood a chance at walking away from him even if she had wanted to.

And she knew then that she would never have the strength it took. No matter how many times they managed to walk away from one another, every time he came back, she would turn back to him.

She had developed feelings for him, in a way she never would for Lord Hennington.

The duke held her at a respectful distance as they danced. Lavinia knew that no one would see anything odd or inappropriate about it. But to her, it felt as if their embrace was as intimate and tender as the kiss they had shared in the library.

Perhaps it was because that was all she could bring herself to think about.

She knew only one thing—she had allowed things with the duke to go much too far, and she had no way of knowing now if she would be able to get back. How could she hope to fall in love with someone else when she was so afraid that her heart now belonged to him?