Recently, the idea of Andrew seeing how insecure she was to stand in the light unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She didn't want him to think, even for a moment, that she wasn't fit to stand by his side. That she wasn't the duchess he needed her to be. That she did not command the presence, or carry herself with confidence and poise expected of a duchess...his duchess.
Lavinia wasn't sure she could be that woman, but she dreaded the thought of him realizing she might fall short.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she drew in a shuddery breath and forced a smile. Whatever her doubts, one thing was certain, Andrew had thought of her when he arranged for this gown, and the realization sent a strange flutter through her chest, one she wasn't quite ready to name.
She straightened her shoulders, brushing her palms down the front of her dinner dress. It was only right that she thank him for the gesture. Regardless of how uncertain she felt about the gown or what it represented, she couldn't ignore his thoughtfulness.
With that in mind, Lavinia stepped toward the door making her way to Andrew's study. Her mind churned with what she might say, rehearsing phrases that felt both too stiff and too revealing. A simple "thank you" seemed too small, but she wasn't sure what else she could say.
Lavinia paused outside the heavy oak door of the study to steady her breathing, her knuckles poised in mid-air. Drawing in a steadying breath, she knocked softly.
"Come in," came Andrew's deep, commanding voice.
She opened the door and stepped inside, finding him seated at the large mahogany desk with a ledger open before him. His head was bent in concentration as his fingers traced something across the pages. But as soon as he saw her, he straightened, and his eyes lit up, and...to her surprise, he closed the ledger and pushed it aside.
"Lavinia," he said in a low tone. "What brings you here?"
Her fingers twisted nervously in front of her as she took a hesitant step forward, holding a smile on her face. "I...I hope I'm not disturbing you. I only wanted to thank you...for the gown. It's beautiful."
His expression softened, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Nonsense, you're not disturbing me. And since you're here..." He gestured to one of the chairs opposite his desk. "We might as well have our hour of conversation."
Lavinia blinked, momentarily thrown by his words. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your work," she said, glancing at the ledger he had just set aside.
"Work will always be here," he replied and smiled. "But our agreement of one hour a day is not something I take lightly. Sit, Lavinia."
Lavinia felt a warmth rise in her chest just hearing the way his words carried a sense of purpose, as if the time he spent with her was important to him. It was almost annoying at this point how much he was affecting her these days with his words and his action. Sometimes even by doing nothing. Trying not to seem too eager, she settled into the chair and folded her hands nervously in her lap as her gaze flickered between him and the desk.
Andrew leaned forward slightly, his attention now fully on her. "So, the gown," he said, his voice softer. "Did it suit you?"
Lavinia shifted in her seat, unable to meet his eyes for more than a brief moment. "I...I haven't tried it on yet," she murmured. "But it's beautiful. You must think highly of me to give me such a gown."
Andrew raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.
Lavinia hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest as the words tumbled out before she could stop them. "It's breathtaking, Andrew," she said softly. "The gown...it's more than I would ever choose for myself. But I just don't think I could ever do it justice. Not the way it deserves."
Andrew fell silent at her words, his gaze darkening as he slowly sat back in his chair. The room seemed to grow still, as if even time itself was waiting for him to respond. Lavinia watched him, anxiety twisting in her stomach, wishing she could take back the vulnerability in her voice.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Andrew spoke. "You do know that you are a beautiful woman, right, Lavinia?” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it. "I am not a man to flatter unnecessarily. I say things as they are. Honestly. That gown will suit you excellently."
Lavinia froze at his words, her breath hitching. His gaze was steady, intense, and unwavering as it settled on her. She wanted to look away, unnerved by the weight of his stare, but she couldn't. There was something in his eyes, a depth that made her feel exposed yet inexplicably seen, as though he understood her in a way she hadn't dared to hope anyone ever could.
"I think you stand out without any help from a dress," he continued. "You always have. But you've spent too long hiding in the shadows, thinking you don't belong in the light. The truth is, you are an excellent conversationalist. You are thoughtful, compassionate, and have an elegance that naturally draws people in, whether you realize it or not. The light is where you belong, Lavinia. It's time you saw yourself the way others do."
Lavinia lowered her gaze, unsure how to respond. She raised her eyes slowly, meeting his gaze once more. This time, she didn't look away. She let his words settle, feeling a mixture of feelings. A balm, but at the same time, a sting. On one hand, she felt embarrassed...exposed in a way she had never allowed anyone to see before. How could he notice? How could he know?
But then, there was something in the way he spoke, in the steadiness of his gaze, that softened the edges of her discomfort. In that moment, it felt like her heartbeat changed. For the firsttime, she allowed herself to fully acknowledge the pull she felt toward him, the way his presence had shifted something inside her.
Andrew had charmed her, won her heart in ways she hadn't expected, and it was time she admitted it to herself. Her lips parted, but no words came out, only a silent acknowledgment. Perhaps, for once, she didn't need to say anything. Perhaps it was enough that she simply understood.
It was enough that she could admit to herself how deep her feelings for Andrew were.
I shouldn't have said that. I should not have said that.
Andrew watched Lavinia as she sat there, silent but visibly affected by his words. The faint glisten in her eyes and the way her lips trembled just slightly made something twist in his chest. He had said too much and it scared him.
Andrew leaned back in his chair, his fingers resting against his temple as the silence stretched between them. He watched Lavinia from the corner of his eye, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture stiff. She hadn't left, though he had half-expected her to make some polite excuse and retreat judging from how awkward he had made the situation.
He reckoned he should say something. Break the quiet. Redirect the moment before it unraveled further. Yet his mind was blank, and the only thing he could concentrate on the echo of his own words and the lingering unease of her reaction.
