Page 27 of A Baron's Disguised Lady
“I know they’ll be looking at me,” Lavinia said, as she and the others rode in the baron’s carriage toward Salisbury.
“Oh, nonsense, Lavinia,” her mother said, looking up at her and tutting.
But Lavinia felt certain her reputation proceeded her. Her “rescue” at the hands of her grandfather had been the talk of the ton. It was a fairytale—like the story of a rags to riches maid—and yet there was also considerable amusement to be derived by those less charitable, who found the appearance of a woman unused to social graces a source of humor.
But that was not the only thing she worried about. Lord Bath’s rumors dogged her; rumors of her past conduct, her apparent misdemeanors, and the whisper of scandal.
“I can feel them looking at me already,” Lavinia said, but the dowager reached across the compartment and patted her hand.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Lavinia. We’ll be here with you, won’t we, Archie?” she said, turning to the baron, who had remained silent they had left Sarum Lacy House.
Lavinia and the baron had barely exchanged two words since their encounter in the woods that morning. As she had walkedback to the house, Lavinia had feared she had upset him, even as she had had no intention of doing so. She had merely said what she felt, just as she had always been used to doing.
Lavinia did not think she would ever grow used to the bizarre practice among aristocrats of feeling one thing and saying something completely opposite. She could not tell what the baron was thinking, though the brooding look on his face suggested she had struck a nerve.
“Yes,” he said, not bothering to even look up at Lavinia, who sighed.
It took them almost two hours in the carriage to arrive at the outskirts of the city, where the cathedral spire rose majestically in the pastel pink sky of the early evening. It was beautiful, and Lavinia gazed out of the window, marveling at the goth splendor before her.
“And all built for the glory of God. It’s quite remarkable, isn’t it?” she said, and Horatia nodded.
“An ancestor of my late husband was one of the chief benefactors of the cathedral, and in pre-reformation days, a number of others rose through the ranks of the Church—one was Bishop of Salisbury. Alas, all gone now… a Protestant church,” the dowager said, shaking her head sadly.
A dozen or so carriages were parked outside the assembly rooms, an imposing, neo-classical building on the main square, not far from the cathedral’s west door. Steps led up to open doors leading into a vestibule, where footmen stood stiffly at either side, and a master of ceremonies, dressed in the livery of the Lord Mayor stood greeting the guests. Lavinia felt nervous.
“As soon as they hear our names called…” she said, but Horatia was insistent.
“You’ve got every right to be here, Lavinia. Come along, Archie’s going to escort you,” she said, as they climbed down from the carriage.
Lavinia was surprised to hear these words, and she could only assume it was not the baron’s choice to do so, but his mother’s. She glanced at him, fearing he would be angry, but his look was more akin to trepidation, as though he feared it was she who would be angry with him.
“I’m not sure…” she began, even as the baron offered her his arm.
“It’ll be all right, I’m sure,” he said, as they followed Horatia and Lavinia’s mother inside.
“The Baron Sarum, the Dowager Baroness Sarum, Mrs. Octavia Stuart, and Miss Lavinia Stuart,” the master of ceremonies announced, as they entered the assembly rooms.
Lavinia knew immediately her reputation had arrived in Salisbury. Heads turned, fans opened, whispers were exchanged. Lavinia’s stomach was twisted in knots. She wanted nothing more than to flee, fearing she would be a laughingstock as soon as she set foot among the other dancers.
“Come along,” Archie whispered, and she looked at him in surprise.
“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you angry with me?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“I’m not angry with you, no. You can trust me,” he replied.
“But you don’t like me, I can tell. It’s the way you look at me,” Lavinia said.
She saw no reason to hold back her words. If the baron already thought ill of her, his opinion would not change. She was tired of not saying what she thought, but to her surprise, Archie shook his head.
“I don’t think anything of the sort. You don’t like other people judging you. I understand that. But don’t judge me, either,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her, even as around them, the whispers continued.
Lavinia was somewhat taken aback. She had thought she had upset him in the woods… that mentioning Gwendolene had been the last straw in an already strained encounter. But it seemed she had misjudged him, or that he was making a supreme effort at being polite.
“I… well… we’ve hardly got off on the right footing, have we?” she said, and Archie smiled.
“No… but perhaps we can leave first impressions in the past,” he said.
A waltz was now beginning, and Lavinia knew she would have no choice but to dance. Her mother was expecting her to, and despite her failings at mastering anything resembling decorum it seemed she would be forced to take to the floor.
