When the priest prompted her for her vows, Lavinia forced herself to snap out of her thoughts and participate in her own wedding. Surprisingly, she was able to follow along, sealing her destiny with only a few words.
Andrew's turn came, and his voice—usually so full of life—was low and measured, devoid of any warmth. Like he was reading from a book.
When the priest finally declared them husband and wife, Lavinia felt a wave of something close to dread wash over her. Andrew turned to her, and finally, their eyes met He leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek causing Lavinia to freeze. His gesture wasbrief and formal, and she knew then that whatever this marriage was to be, it would not be simple.
It was most definitely going to be awkward.
"You haven't even looked at me."
Lavinia had promised herself that she would not be the one to break the silence first after his display of coldness at the altar. She had been patient, hoping that things would settle once the vows were said and the ceremony was behind them. But as the hours passed in cold, oppressive silence, the intensity of everything that had gone unsaid between them had become unbearable.
At first, she had told herself that she would wait. Give him space, since he’d seemed quite miserable at the altar. Perhaps it was just nerves, or the gravity of the commitment pressing down on him. She had hoped, foolishly, that after the ceremony, things would settle. That he would warm up to her, that they could speak freely about the entire situation and why he had done what he did. But when they rode back to his estate in separate carriages, she couldn't ignore the message he was sending.
He did not want her near him.
"Not once," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.
They stood in the grand entryway of the estate, the towering columns on either side of them giving the room an almost suffocating feeling. The house was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of the servants as they moved in and out of sight, scuffling to welcome the new Duchess of Hargrave. The walls were lined with portraits of long-forgotten ancestors, who seemed to stare down at them, like silent witnesses to the tension between the new husband and wife.
Lavinia's fingers trembled at her sides as Andrew stopped walking on hearing her voice. Slowly, he turned around to look at her. The space between them felt enormous, and Lavinia couldn't help but compare it to the distance between their hearts.
"Not once have you even looked at me, or even attempted to explain what in the world is going on here. Not once have you acknowledged that this...this is a reality for both of us that you orchestrated. Why did you do it, Andrew?"
Andrew's eyes shifted toward her briefly before flicking back to the floor. His jaw tightened.
"This is your role now, Lavinia," he began, his voice flat but steady. "You are my wife. You will have a maid to see to your needs. The housekeeper will show you the estate, explain your duties here. Really, this is no different from what you had before, only now there's a title attached to it. You will oversee the household, make sure everything is in order. There will be events, gatherings to attend, people to meet..."
Lavinia stood frozen, unable to believe her ears. It wasn't the cold indifference that hurt the most, it was the emptiness of it all, the utter lack of connection. She had foolishly hoped that perhaps there was more to this, a deeper reason he had to infringe on her life like this, knowing what she truly wanted, but it didn't seem like it.
"Andrew, that isn't an explanation," she managed to say.
Andrew took a step toward her, his voice softer now, though no more compassionate. "You will be expected to fulfill your duties as a wife," he continued, as though this were all a matter of fact. "I do not expect you to understand now, but you will learn. This is how things must be."
He took a step back, distancing himself again, as if the very proximity to her was suffocating. "It's done," he said flatly, his voice devoid of the emotion she had hoped to hear. "What's important now is that you understand your role, Lavinia."
"My role?" she questioned. "Do you truly think that I want to talk about my role right now?"
"You'll find that the housekeeper, Mrs. Fortescue, is exceptionally capable," he said and cleared his throat. "She will introduce you to the staff and explain your responsibilities as Duchess. If you have questions, address them to her."
Lavinia's eyes widened and she scoffed. "Mrs. Fortescue? Is she the one I should ask why my husband cannot bear to look at me? Or perhaps she can explain why you went back on your word?"
Andrew stiffened. "This is not the time, Lavinia. We’ve had a long day. I am exhausted."
"Oh, but it is," Lavinia shot back, her voice trembling with anger. "You gave me your word, Andrew. You promised me a chance to secure a love match, a real marriage, built on something more than...this. And then, without so much as a conversation, you went to my father, proposed, and dragged me into this sham of a union. What is this, Andrew? Tell me what is going on.”
“Lavinia—"
"Just tell me why," she pressed on.
"I did what had to be done," he said, turning to face her. "There were circumstances?—"
"Circumstances?" she interrupted, stepping closer. "You don't think I deserve to know what those are? Or why you made this choice for both of us without giving me a say?"
His gaze flickered, revealing a momentary crack in his composure. "This conversation is pointless."
"Because you have decided it is?" she pressed, her voice rising. "You won't even dignify me with answers, yet you'll stand there and lecture me about my duties? How very noble of you, Your Grace."
"You have stepped into a world where every action is scrutinized. Do you think I can afford to have my wife unprepared for that?"
