She took a shaky step toward him, but he shook his head.
"You think I don't want you?" he asked, pacing the room. "You think I don't lie awake at night, haunted by the thought of what it would be like to have a life with you? A real life? I just cannot. The only thing my father ever cared about was his name. His legacy. The only punishment that I can give to him, even in death, is to make sure it dies with me."
Lavinia scoffed and began to pace too, digging her finger into her hair. "Oh, great heavens," she whispered. "Andrew, don't you see that by doing this, you are punishing yourself as well? You deserve to prove him wrong. What about what I want, Andrew? Do I not get a say in my own life?"
His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came.
She exhaled harshly, shaking her head. "You are so caught up in punishing a dead man that you're willing to punish me as well. And for what? A vow made in bitterness? A legacy you refuse to let live?"
He took a step toward her, desperation flashing in his gaze. "Lavinia, I love you. That is the one thing I am certain of. I have never loved the way that I love you. We do not need children to be happy. We can have a life together, agood life. Just the two of us."
Lavinia's breath caught.
Love.
He loved her.
She had not expected him to say it, hadn't dared to hope. It was the one thing she had longed to hear, the one thing that could have undone all pain he had caused her since their wedding. And yet...
Why did it feel like a knife to the chest?
Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them, her lips parting slightly, as though gasping for air, for understanding. He loved her, but apparently not enough. Not enough to let go of his pain, not enough to build a life with her the way she had always dreamed.
She shook her head, hating how much she wanted to believe him, how much she wanted to take the scraps of love he offered and pretend they were enough.
It felt as though the walls were closing in around her and it was making it difficult to breathe.
"I can't do this, Andrew," she said, her voice barely audible. "I can't be here. I just...I am too tired. I think...I think this is perfect time to pay my family a visit."
"Lavinia..." Andrew called her softly, with pleading eyes. "I don't want to let you go. But I will understand whatever decision you make."
Lavinia turned away, stepping toward the door as her heart shattered into pieces behind her. She couldn't look at him anymore. She couldn't bear the way he was looking at her now and she had to get away. She needed to breathe. Until she could figure out who she was without him, without the regret of what they could have been, she couldn't return.
Not yet.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Iam your father, and I will tell you what is right and wrong. You should not be here, in my house, when you have your own household to run."
From the moment her father had laid eyes on her when she’d arrived from Hargrove, she had seen the disappointment etched on his face. She had hoped he would understand, hoped that coming here would allow her a brief reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere that was her home. But her father showed no sympathy.
"I just wanted to come home for a short while," she said softly, her voice steady at first, though she could feel the tremor threatening beneath the calm exterior. She had only been in London for a day, but she had soon found that there was no solace here, no moment to breathe away from the tension of her marriage. Instead, her father's presence seemed to tighten around her like a noose.
Her father, sitting across from her in the drawing room with his cup in hand, didn't say anything at first. "What kind of example does this set? You have a duty, Lavinia. A duty to your husband, your family, and your name."
"I didn't leave him," she replied, her voice still calm. "I just needed time. To think. To breathe."
He let out a mocking chuckle. "Think about what? You should be grateful for the life you have, Lavinia. It's a miracle you married a man of such status."
He set his cup down with a sharp clink, and for a moment, there was only the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth. Then he looked at her, his eyes piercing. "This is not the time for you to go wandering off, Lavinia. You need to show gratitude for the life he has given you."
Lavinia's gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers absently twisting the lace of her sleeve. She had been running away from these thoughts for days, but now they had caught up with her, crashing into her mind all at once. All that she wanted was distraction from everything, but her father was refusing to let her have that.
"I'll go back," she said to him. "Soon, all right, papa? We can stop talking about the duke now."
"I don't understand why you are back here in the first place," he added, picking up a pamphlet. "And so soon. You should be busy trying to give him an heir. Sooner or later, you will have to prove your usefulness."
Lavinia squinted her eyes. "My usefulness?" she repeated. "My usefulness?" she repeated again and rose to her feet.
