He leaned back in his chair, studying her with an intensity that made her want to look away. "You downplayed yourself for their comfort," he said quietly. "That must have been lonely."
The words struck her in a way she hadn't expected. Lonely. She had never thought of it like that—at least not in a way she was willing to admit, even to herself. But the truth was there, undeniable, in the way she had tiptoed around her own abilities to avoid disrupting the fragile peace.
Lavinia shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, but her voice betrayed her. "It was just how things were. I didn't mind, really."
Andrew didn't respond immediately, and when she glanced up, his eyes were fixed on hers, steady and unyielding. "You shouldn't have had to shrink yourself for anyone, Lavinia."
Lavinia tried to force a smile, but it didn't come. Andrew's words stirred something deep within her, unraveling memories she had long since tucked away. She didn't like to think about the seemingly insignificant sacrifices she’d made growing up, or the things she had done because of how insecure she’d felt. The times she had held back her thoughts, her ambitions, her voice, just to keep the peace in the house. Always second-guessing, always making herself smaller, quieter, more agreeable. It had been easier that way, she’d convinced herself.
Her gaze fell to her hands in her lap, too aware of how vulnerable she was at this moment. Would he think less of her? Would he see her as weak?
"My father, the late duke, was an awful man," Andrew said to fill in the silence as he continued to play, his voice quieter now, tinged with something darker than the usual sharpness. He glanced at her, his expression distant for a moment, as if the words themselves were a weight he hadn't yet fully borne. "He was cruel, especially to me. Always pushing, demanding, punishing me when I didn't meet his expectations." He paused, dropping his gaze to the cards in his hands. "I was his heir, you see. His legacy. He made sure I never forgot that. Nothing I did was ever good enough."
Lavinia's breath caught in her throat as Andrew's words settled between them. She had never expected him to open up like this—not about his father, not about the pain that shaped him. A strange feeling enveloped her heart. She was surprised at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all she could do was sit there, her mind racing to process his words.
"I'm sorry, Andrew," she said and shook her head. "It must have been difficult."
“Oh, it was. My sister and I learned how to deal with it in our own way," he said. “We didn't have anyone else. My father's cruelty…it wasn't just toward me. It spread to her too. I think I was happiest when he passed away. I know it's a cruel thing to say, but?—"
"It's not," she chimed in.
Lavinia's heart ached for him. She had never imagined that the man before her, the one who carried himself with such control and grace, had once been so broken. She couldn't fathom the idea of him growing up under such harsh conditions. Yet here he was, not defeated, but rather shaped into something stronger, something capable of carrying the world on his shoulders.
"You should be proud of yourself, you know?" she said to him, setting her cards down on the table.
Andrew looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly as if her words surprised him. "Proud?" he repeated, his tone almost questioning. "Of what?"
"Of how far you've come," Lavinia said, her voice soft but sincere. "You've survived so much. It can't have been easy, but here you are, still standing, still moving forward. That takes strength."
Andrew merely smiled in response, but there was something unreadable in his expression, before he returned his focus to the cards in his hands.
"Where is your sister now?" she asked, her voice soft but curious. "You mentioned her earlier, but I have never heard of her. I haven't seen a portrait of her in the estate either.
Andrew remained quiet, staring blankly at the table. Lavinia, sensing that he didn't want to dwell further on the topic, shifted her gaze to the cards on the table, then glanced up at him.
She hesitated, then asked softly, "Do you not want to talk about it?"
He paused for a moment, his fingers stilling on the cards, before he gave a brief nod, his expression softening just slightly. "Not at the moment," he replied, his voice quieter now.
"That's all right," she answered.
They continued their game of cards, and after a while, Andrew eased up and started smiling again. They talked about everything—from the latest balls they had been invited to, to the renovations at the estate. The topics shifted seamlessly, and Lavinia found herself laughing, exchanging stories, and enjoying his company more than she had anticipated.
As the minutes passed, she realized they had spent over an hour together. Time seemed to slip away, and she didn't want to leave.The room, with its flickering fireplace and the quiet comfort of their companionship, felt almost like a sanctuary, one she hadn't known she needed.
She wasn't sure how to explain it, but she knew she was enjoying this, enjoying him, more than she cared to admit.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Emma, you came!" Lavinia exclaimed, a bright smile spreading across her face.
The honeymoon phase was over, but it had been nothing like Lavinia had heard a honeymoon should be. There had been no passionate embraces, no romantic exchanges under the moonlight. Instead, there had been an awkward quiet at first, the kind that left her unsure of how to behave around her new husband. But, somehow, as the days passed, the tension between them had begun to ease. They had found a comfortable silence, the kind of companionship that came with shared understanding—if not yet affection.
Lavinia had begun to appreciate the time she spent with Andrew. Their conversations had started to feel less strained ever since he told her the truth about his proposal. And while it wasn't the dreamlike honeymoon she had once envisioned, she couldn't deny that she felt closer to him than she had before. She realized that their marriage, though unexpected, might just have the potential to be something more than it currently was.
"I got your letter," Emma whispered after she practically sprinted down from the carriage towards Lavinia. "You need to tell me everything. Lord Grove truly had ill intentions? No wonder I haven't been seeing him at balls recently."
"Later," Lavinia shushed her, catching a glimpse of David alighting from the carriage too. "You came with David?"
