He hadn't meant to charm her with his words. Why had he let himself tread into territory so precarious, so uncharted? He wasn't supposed to charm her...not Lavinia. Once, he had been a man who could control the narrative of every interaction. He had been deliberate, calculated, a rake with an arsenal of words and gestures that could bend any situation or any woman to his will.
But Lavinia wasn't just any woman.
And he wasn't that man anymore.
Yet, here he was, sitting in the aftermath of his own carelessness, wondering if he had unconsciously drawn from that same playbook. It had been instinct. But what terrified him was the fact that he had not rehearsed his words. Deep down, he knew all that he said to Lavinia was true. It was how he felt, and he hated keeping the truth from Lavinia.
But the one truth that mattered most was the one thing he could never tell her. She couldn't fall in love with him.
His secret, heavy and immutable, was his cross to bear. Lavinia didn't deserve to be charmed, to be pulled into the web of a man who couldn't give her everything.
"What are you drinking?" he heard Lavinia say as she pulled him out of his thoughts.
Andrew glanced at the tumbler on the table. He cleared his throat and sat up, thankful for the change in subject. "Whiskey," he replied in a casual tone. Picking up the glass, he swirled the liquid idly, watching it catch the light before lifting his gaze to her. "I'm not particularly fond of the drink, but at the same time, it has its moments. Sometimes, I like it, sometimes I don't. It's...grounding."
"Grounding?" Lavinia echoed, her brows drawing together in curiosity.
Andrew responded with a nod. "Sometimes. It used to be the late duke's favorite drink. He would often say it reminded him of his roots, of the strength it takes to carry the weight of responsibility that rested on his shoulders."
The words felt sour in his mouth, but he spoke them anyway, as though repeating a line from a play he had grown weary of performing.
"He said a lot of things like that," Andrew continued, his tone neutral...almost detached. "At the time, I thought he was just trying to sound wise." His lips twitched. "Anyway, I think this is one of the very few habits I picked up from him. Drinking whiskey."
"Do you miss him?" Lavinia asked and leaned forward.
Andrew stilled, the question striking a chord he wasn't prepared to face. His fingers brushed over the rim of the tumbler, and for a brief moment, he felt the emotions he had long buried start to crawl up to the surface.
But then, he smiled faintly. A practiced, polite curve of his lips that he wore to mask the rage that was starting to affect him. "Should I pour you a glass? It's good whiskey," he said instead, smoothly diverting the conversation.
She hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly. "I've never tried whiskey before."
Andrew raised his eyebrows, puzzled. "Never? Not even a sip?"
She shook her head, a hint of amusement softening her expression. "Wine, sherry, and the occasional champagne. But whiskey? No. My father isn't fond of whiskey, nor is my brother, so it was never a staple in our household."
Andrew leaned back, rapping his fingers on the table. "So, what does your father drink?"
Lavinia paused for a moment. "Brandy...ale," she answered. "He loves his brandy."
Andrew chuckled. "Typical."
"I would like to try some," Lavinia said, gesturing at the decanter on the table.
Andrew leaned back in his chair, an easy smile tugging at his lips. "You do realize I was joking when I suggested you try it, don't you?" he said, his tone light and teasing.
Lavinia raised an eyebrow. "I still would like to try some," she said with a shrug.
Andrew squinted his eyes before reluctantly reaching for the decanter. "All right. But fair warning, it is a strong drink. It might not be the most...pleasant."
"I should be able to enjoy it," she insisted, leaning forward.
Shaking his head with mock exasperation, Andrew poured a small measure into a fresh tumbler and set it before her. "Enjoy."
Lavinia's eyes twitched as she watched the expression on his face. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers tightening around the tumbler. It was almost as if she was reading his expression, and her confidence was dwindling the more he studied her.
With a soft exhale, she broke their gaze and lifted the tumbler to her lips. The effect was immediate. Her eyes widened, her nose wrinkled, and she coughed lightly as the drink traveled down her throat. Andrew could see the heat rise to her cheeks and they turned crimson in an instant. He swallowed a laugh, waiting for her to say something before he reacted.
Setting the glass down quickly, Lavinia pressed a hand to her chest and blinked rapidly. "Good heavens," she managed, hervoice slightly raspier than before. "I believe the word strong is accurate."
