She watched him intently, but he gave nothing away. His gaze remained on his plate, unmoving.
"And, of course, the garden," she added. "I think it could be something extraordinary. A small garden maze, fountains, exotic flowers. Imagine the scent of fresh blooms filling the air every morning. It would be magnificent."
She paused, giving him a moment to absorb her words. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "I'm thinking of spending a rather generous sum on it all. I believe it's important to make the house feel more...alive."
Lavinia watched him carefully, but there was no reaction. His demeanor didn't change. It was as though she hadn't spoken atall. She bit back the urge to sigh, but her words were far from over.
"I think it's only fair that I make this place my own," she continued. "You wouldn't want it to feel cold and lifeless, would you? I can't imagine that would reflect well on our legacy and how the people will see us."
Her eyes narrowed subtly. He didn't seem to care. Not one bit.
Andrew cleared his throat. "You also need to pay the tenants a visit. Introduce yourself, ensure they know who you are now. If you need help, you can ask."
"Sure," was all she could say in response, giving up on her attempts to rouse him.
"About the estate," he said, studying her face. "You can do whatever you think is necessary. Just...don't let it distract you from other matters."
"Is there anything you would like to preserve, so I know not to touch anything of uttermost importance to you?" she questioned.
"As long as it doesn't interfere with my work or the running of the estate, you have free rein."
Lavinia blinked, surprised at how flat his response was. Deep down, she had hoped for something more, maybe even thesmallest sign that he still cared about her opinion, but it was clear that wasn't coming. He sounded so detached, so uninterested, as if she was just another task to manage.
She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to show how disappointed she was. She hadn't expected him to be warm and eager, but surely there should be some reaction, some acknowledgement of their situation. Instead, he sat there, distant and cold, as if he didn't care at all.
She looked down at her hands, clenching them briefly before relaxing. A dozen questions swirled in her mind, but one rose above the rest, burning on her tongue until it spilled out before she could stop herself.
"Why did you marry me, Andrew?"
The words hung in the air, heavy and unavoidable. She hadn't meant to ask...not again. But the need to know gnawed at her relentlessly, refusing to let her find peace.
Andrew stilled, his knife pausing mid-cut through his eggs. For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. Then, slowly, he set his utensils down and looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher.
"I don't want to discuss this, Lavinia," he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "Please."
"But—"
Without warning, he stood up from where he sat. The scrape of his chair against the floor made Lavinia flinch. "I have things to attend to. I'll see you later."
"Later, when? She questioned. "In another week maybe? You look utterly miserable, Andrew. What do you suppose I make of that? If you didn't want to marry me, then why did you? Why did you ruin my chances with Lord Grove?"
"Please don't make me argue with you about this," Andrew said. "I know you are dissatisfied, but perhaps you can direct your energy toward managing the household. Picking fights over matters that cannot change is not going to be productive for anyone."
"Even the way you speak is different," she said and rose to her feet.
"I have matters to tend to," he reiterated. "Enjoy your breakfast."
And just like that, he was gone.
Lavinia sat there, staring at the half-empty dining table, frustration and confusion warring within her. Perhaps she shouldn't have joined him for breakfast. She could have just gone back to her room after seeing him and avoided all of this. Andrew had built a wall around himself, leaving her on the other side, desperate for answers she might never receive.
"Tell her then! Why is it a secret, again?"
"Because it's not that simple, Solomon," he replied.
Andrew had faced his share of challenges before. Obstacles that tested his patience and resolve, moments so dark he feared they might consume him. Yet, he had always found a way forward, had always maintained control. But this...this arrangement with Lavinia was unraveling him in ways he hadn't anticipated.
It wasn't a battle he could fight or a storm he could weather. It was a slow, gnawing madness that crept into his thoughts and unsettled everything he thought he knew about himself. He couldn't stand the idea of Lavinia losing the confidence she had fought so hard to find, especially knowing it had been a scoundrel who had almost stolen it all from her. He'd been the one to help her see her worth, to show her the strength she didn't even know she had, and he couldn't bear the thought of anyone or anything ever taking that from her again.
