Lavinia hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh. "I don't even know if I'm ready to feel this way about him. It's all so fast, so overwhelming."
"Well," Emma said, tilting her head with a sly grin. "Maybe it's time you let yourself be overwhelmed. You've been trying to control everything for so long. Letting go could be exactly what you need."
Lavinia rolled her eyes. "So now you're turning into some sort of romantic sage?"
Emma winked. "Why not? You've got to trust me. I know the signs. And trust me, the signs are telling me that you are head over heels in love with him."
Lavinia laughed softly, despite herself. "You're absolutely impossible."
Emma smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I know. But I'm right, aren't I?"
Lavinia bit her lip, feeling a flutter in her chest. "Maybe. I have to think about it."
With Emma's words echoing in her mind, she realized that things weren't as simple as she had once believed. Her heart fluttered when he was near, and there were moments when his touch, his words, made her feel things she had never expected.
Was it love? She didn't know.
But there was something there, something undeniable. What she needed was time to sort through the storm of emotions...tounderstand the truth of her feelings. Lavinia wasn't ready to face it yet. Too many unanswered questions clouded her thoughts. All she knew for sure was that she had to think about it, to be certain of what was real.
And to decide if she could even afford to love a man like Andrew without getting hurt.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"You are certain the duke sent this dress himself?"
Lavinia stood, frozen in front of her bed. There, carefully laid out on the coverlet, was a gown unlike any she had ever owned. A gown she probably would have never dreamt of wearing. The tiny crystals used to adorn it caught the light and caused the dress to glisten like stars. There was sliver embroidery that traced elegant patterns along the bodice and hem, drawing her gaze to every exquisite detail of it. Lavinia was in awe.
Her breath hitched, and she hesitated before stepping closer.
"Yes, Your Grace," Paulina answered. "He dropped it off this morning while you were having breakfast."
Slowly, she reached out, letting her fingertips brushing over the gown. heart fluttered, and she pressed her lips into a firm line, willing it to stop. There was no reason to feel this...excited. It was only a dress, after all.
But her mind betrayed her. For some reason, she had a much different reaction to Andrew these days.
Instinctively, she bit her lower lip, as the thought of Andrew crossed her mind. No. She couldn't allow herself to think like this. Whatever Andrew's reasons were for giving her the gown, they were undoubtedly practical.
The ball!
They had received an invitation to the Grandburys' ball just last week. Andrew must have thought it necessary for her to have something appropriate to wear. They were the Duke and Duchess of Hargrove after all. It was paramount they dressed the part.
Her eyes trailed over the dress again, but the explanation didn't soothe the knot forming in her chest. It was too beautiful. Too bold. The gown seemed to go beyond mere appropriateness. It wasn't just fashionable or suitable. It was breathtaking. Almost...romantic.
Lavinia shook her head, dispelling the thought as quickly as it came. No, Andrew was nothing if not pragmatic. This was about image, about fulfilling their social obligations with the polish and sophistication required of their title. It wasn't romantic. Nothing about their marriage was romantic.
"It is a breathtaking dress, Your Grace," Paulina added.
"It is," Lavinia whispered in response.
The gown demanded attention, and attention was the last thing Lavinia had ever sought. It was the kind of gown she admired on others. Like the daring debutantes who floated through ballrooms with grace and confidence, with their heads held very high, knowing that they commanded the attention in the room. The kind of gown that made heads turn.
But on her? She shook her head, an almost bitter smile tugging at her lips.
She had always preferred quieter colors. Soft pastels, muted tones that allowed her to blend into the background. They made her feel safe, invisible in a world where she often felt she didn't belong. This gown was the antithesis of that. It was made to be noticed...to be admired. And she simply wasn't the kind of woman who wore gowns like this.
In her mind, the gown would cling in all the wrong places, drawing attention she wasn't ready to face.
She clasped her hands together, pressing them against her stomach as if to still the unease rising within her. It was a feeling she hated, and the last thing she wanted was for Andrew to see it too. She hated how exposed she felt at the thought of walking into a room and drawing attention. Not for the elegance of the gown but for how it would emphasize everything she wished it wouldn't.
