Page 23 of Three Nights with the Beastly Duke

“Pack them up,” Lavinia agreed, holding out the plate in both of her hands to the housekeeper. “Even if the Duke has one hundred sets of dishes, I must still have something of my own.”

A week had flown past in the blink of an eye, and there was still much to do before Lavinia and Arthur’s wedding. Every morning since announcing their engagement, she’d woken up hopeful that Arthur would finally be willing to speak with her about the kiss—but it had never happened.

He had stopped by twice to ask her father a few questions regarding estate matters. And once to inform her that his mother and the Modiste were working together on her wedding dress. But that was all. And with each day that she hadn’t been able to clear the air with him, she had only grown more anxious.

“Pardon me, Miss Dennis, but you have a visitor,” a footman stated as he entered the kitchen.

“Is it the Duke of Whitekin?” Agnes asked excitedly.

Lavinia looked up immediately, her heartbeat pausing a moment as if waiting for the answer.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Agnes,” the footman apologized. “It is Lord Stonehames.”

Lavinia felt a sweep of disappointment before a small dusting of contentment settled over her. It was not the man she truly wanted to speak with, but she was thankful that Timothy called on her. Even though she presumed he was not here to congratulate her exactly, she still wanted to see him.

“Thank you, I shall be out momentarily,” Lavinia replied to the footman, then turned to Mrs. Smithe. “Do get a pot of tea and some biscuits ready for Lord Stonehames, please, Mrs. Smithe,” she instructed. “Perhaps something calming.”

“Of course, Miss,” Mrs. Smithe agreed, hurrying toward the kettle.

“Can we come greet him with you?” Agnes asked.

“We should let them speak privately,” Rebecca replied before Lavinia could. “Come, let us go upstairs and work on our going-away present.”

Lavinia gave Rebecca a look of appreciation and then left the kitchen to go meet Timothy in the sitting room. Any other time, she would have happily let her sisters visit with her dear friend, but today, she suspected that the visit wasnotgoing to be pleasant.

“Lavinia,” Timothy uttered, his tone full of worry when she entered the room. He shot up quickly from his seat, going to her with both hands held out. She gave him a soft smile and accepted them.

“There, there, no need to make a fuss,” she urged gently, wishing he’d drop the subject. “It may be rare for a spinster to get married, but it is not impossible,” she tried to joke.

“I’d rather you be a spinster than have you married off to that foul beast,” Timothy spat out, his voice suddenly so full of venom that Lavinia snatched her hands away from his.

“My dear friend,” she stated calmly as Mrs. Smithe hurried in with the tea and biscuits.

The older servant went to leave, but when Lavinia sent her a pleading look, she stopped and took a silent stance next to the wall.

“I know that the circumstances surrounding the marriage are less than ideal, but I promise you that it is indeed a blessing,” Lavinia stated, her tone soft but resolute.

“I would be against this even if he would have taken the proper steps to court you,” Timothy bit out, shaking his head. “He’s not good for you, Lavinia. Surely you must know that.”

Lavinia said nothing as she prepared him a cup of tea.

Have you ever thought that it could be I that is actually no good for him?

“You’ve never thought anyone was good enough for me,” she soothed as Timothy took the offered cup she held out. “Even after you married Emily. Do you remember when you tried to tell my father that you had to have a say in whom I married? So that you weresurethat I was being betrothed to someone you approved of?”

For the first time, a smile drew across Timothy’s lips, and he looked up at her as he held his teacup. “Your father thought I was ridiculous,” he admitted, recalling the memory.

“Youwereridiculous,” Lavinia teased, gripping his free hand. “You’ve always been overprotective.”

She looked over at him, smiling. “When I was younger, I always wished that I had an older sibling. A brother or sister that could take the brunt of the family weight for me. You were the closest thing I had. And I will always be grateful.”

Timothy looked back at her, his eyes full of pain and sorrow. “I will protect you now,” he swore, setting down his tea so that he could wrap both hands around her hand. “Just say the word. I will challenge him to a duel, and by tomorrow afternoon, we will be celebrating something else entirely.”

Timothy had never been a particularly vicious man. He was a fan of floral prints and games and outings. He picked flowers instead of going to boxing matches. And yet, here he was, threatening to spill a man’s blood just for her sake. She knew she should be touched, but instead, this new attitude frightened her and made her ill at ease.

Lavinia tried to pull her hand away, but Timothy’s grip only tightened.

“Just say the word, Vin,” he urged, his eyes growing with desperation.

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