"Who is the viscount next to a duke?" her father interrupted, his tone firm and dismissive. "The duke is a man of far more consequence, Lavinia. A marriage to him will elevate our family. You should feel fortunate. I have made the decision because I know what is best for you, Lavinia."
Lavinia's heart sank as she tried to process the sudden shift. She had been certain of her path with Robert, but now she couldn't understand a thing. Andrew proposed?
Was Andrew doing this to spite her?
CHAPTER EIGHT
"I'm certain he's avoiding me."
How was it possible to feel so many emotions at once?
The frustration was an endless, simmering feeling that had been her constant companion since Andrew's infuriating proposal. It was a frustration born of uncertainty, of unanswered questions, and of the sheer audacity of the man who had upended her life and then disappeared without so much as a word.
Embarrassment was another feeling eating her up inside, one she couldn't quite understand. She was mortified by the proposal, of course. It had been delivered with the coldness of a business transaction. Nothing more, nothing less. But that wasn't the source of this deeper, gnawing shame. No, it was something far more personal.
Was it because she couldn't reconcile the man she had come to know—the flirty, impossible and indifferent Duke of Hargrave—with the vision of a husband she had once dreamed of?
Or was it because she knew, deep down, that she would never be the kind of bride a man like the Duke of Hargrave could ever truly want?
Emma sighed, setting her cup down with a soft clink. "Oh, Lavinia, must you always leap to the most dramatic conclusions? Andrew is not avoiding you?—"
"He is," Lavinia answered firmly. She was seated with Alice and Emma in the small, sunlit drawing room, the rays of sunlight filtering through the lace curtains and casting delicate patterns on the floor. But no amount of light could chase the heavy shadow that hung over her thoughts. "I'm meant to walk down the aisle in two weeks, pretending everything is fine. How am I supposed to act as if this is anything other than a punishment?"
"Why do you think he's punishing you?" Alice, seated across from her, asked.
"Because it feels like it," Lavinia answered. "I don't understand a thing. I mean, everything was going so well. I told you both about Lord Grove, didn't I?"
Emma and Alice both nodded. "Yes, you were very excited about the prospect of marrying him," Emma said.
"He is such a gentleman, Emma," she groaned, her voice thick with a mix of frustration and longing. "He is charming, and he listens. He let me talk as much as I wanted, even when I rambled on about nonsense. Things were going quite well with him."
"I agree. There were even rumors that he was going to propose to you," Alice added.
"Exactly!" Lavinia said, throwing her hands in the air, as her frustration bubbled over. "I cannot understand where it all went wrong. One minute, I am swooning over Lord Grove, and the next minute, the Duke of Hargrave asks for my hand in marriage. No matter how hard I try, I cannot wrap my head around it."
Perhaps, that was the worst of it—the unshakable knowledge that this marriage was an arrangement that Andrew had orchestrated all on his own. She couldn't shake off the idea that she was nothing more than a pawn in a grand scheme. Something only Andrew was aware of. What other reason could there be for his choice?
Emma and Alice exchanged a glance but said nothing, letting Lavinia continue her tirade.
"Perhaps, I should just abandon it all," she added with a dramatic sigh, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her thoughts. "Run away to some distant village where no one knows me. Start anew as a governess or —heaven forbid—a shopkeeper. Anything but this."
Emma leaned back in her chair, and raised an eyebrow. "A governess, Lavinia?"
"It sounds nice doesn't it?" Lavinia asked. "It works, too. I love children, and I'm almost a spinster. It's the perfect job for me."
Alice chuckled softly but then sobered. "What would your family do if you ran away? Your father would likely throw a fit. I mean, he has worked so hard for you to come this far. Your brother...well, he would probably find you and drag you back kicking and screaming."
Lavinia groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Must you always be so rational? Can't you let me bask in the hope of my imagination for a moment longer? I am miserable."
Emma reached over and patted her arm. "You're not miserable, Lavinia. You're confused, and you're upset because Andrew hasn't made his intentions clear to you. But running away won't solve a thing."
"He hasn't even written to me or visited!" Lavinia exclaimed, pulling her hands away from her face. "Not a single note, not a single word since the day of the hunt when we last spoke. It's as if he's decided that the act of proposing was enough and now he can just vanish until the wedding day without giving me any explanation."
Alice tilted her head and arched her eyebrows. "Maybe he's giving you space. Men aren't exactly known for their delicateness in these matters. Perhaps he thinks you need time to adjust."
"Adjust to what?" Lavinia shot back. "Adjust to being thrown into a marriage I didn't ask for? To spending the rest of my life with a man who I don't find...appealing?"
Emma shot her a knowing look, one eyebrow arching in a way that made Lavinia's cheeks heat. "You don't find him appealing? Really, Lavinia?"
