Page 42 of A Baron's Disguised Lady
“I’m far too charitable for my own good. Years off purgatory. I’ll ask the priest next time he comes. Luncheon with Lady Bingham is surely a plenary indulgence,” she said, glancing up to the ornate Spanish crucifix hanging over the mantelpiece.
Archie shook his head. His mother always complained about Lady Bingham’s ability to talk incessantly, and she was always foolish enough to accept her invitations, too.
“And what about the two of you? Have you had a nice afternoon?” Lavinia’s mother asked, smiling at them both.
Archie and Lavinia exchanged glances.
“Yes… we’ve not done a great deal,” Lavinia said, and her mother smiled.
“I’m glad to hear it. You don’t have to do a great deal, Lavinia—that’s what happens when you’re a lady of a certain class. You can enjoy doing nothing,” she said, as though such a thing was a virtue to aspire to.
Lavinia nodded. But Archie knew the truth—as did she—and glancing at her, he smiled, not able to forget how close their intimacy had come to something more, and wondering if the chance of it doing so would occur again.
Chapter 14
“They’re saying there’s some suspicion around it, Miss Stuart,” Daisy said, as she poured hot water into Lavinia’s wash bowl the next morning.
Lavinia had feared the rumor mill, knowing her questions to the servants would excite speculation.
“Well… it’s important to establish the facts, Daisy,” she said, glancing out of her bedroom window and seeing the baron return from his morning walk.
Since their encounter in the drawing room the previous afternoon, Lavinia had thought of little else but how close they had come to kissing. Archie had not been at dinner, and Lavinia had wondered if he was embarrassed at what had passed between them; his assumption as to what the letter “T” on her bracelet had meant, and his obvious relief at learning the truth.
“But… murdered? Miss Gwendolene? It can’t be true, Miss Stuart. She didn’t have a single enemy in all the world. I’d swear on it before the almighty,” she said, crossing herself hastily.
“I don’t think it’ll come to that, Daisy,” Lavinia replied, as she splashed the warm water on her face.
“But it gives you the shivers, Miss Stuart. The thought of someone in this house…” she said, her words trailing off.
Lavinia had to admit it was an unsettling thought; to think someone at Sarum Lacey House could be responsible for murder. But even so, Lavinia’s thoughts remained distracted by her thoughts of the baron, and having washed and dressed, she hurried out into the garden, hoping to catch him before he set off on another walk.
“Archie?” she called out, spotting him on the far side of the lawn.
Lavinia knew it was not proper to refer to the baron by his Christian name. But it was far easier to call him what she knew him to be called, rather than get his title wrong again. He paused, glancing across at her and smiling as she ran across the grass.
“Goodness me, you’re up early, and ever so energetic,” he said.
Lavinia blushed, realizing she was probably expected to walk sedately, rather than run with her skirts hitched up.
“I… I wanted to see you. I wasn’t sure if you were cross with me. You didn’t come to dinner,” she said, her words somewhat accusatory, and he shook his head.
“How could I be cross with you?” he asked, and Lavinia blushed.
She knew she was being foolish, but she was so used to getting things wrong and making mistakes. Archie smiled at her.
“I don’t know. I suppose I’m just being foolish,” she said, and he shook his head.
“Come along, let’s walk together. I was going to take a path down to the orchards—we’ve got over a hundred varieties of apples and pears. It’s quite a sight,” he said, offering her his arm.
Lavinia took it, pleased to accept his invitation, and glad to think she had been wrong in her assumptions about him. She did not know why she had not told him about Theodora, though it was rare for her to mention her sister’s name out loud, even to her mother. But she thought about her every day—on waking and before going to sleep, determined to keep her memory alive, if only for herself.
“Goodness, how delightful. There’s nothing nicer than a glass of apple juice, pressed through a cider mill,” Lavinia said, and Archie nodded.
“Yes, there’s an old press in one of the outbuildings. Once the fruit ripens, they’ll harvest it and press it. You can have some then. If you’re still here, that is,” he said.
Lavinia had not thought about the possibility of leaving Sarum Lacey House. Now, she felt as though she belonged there, as though the house was a part of her, and she was a part of it, too.
“Well, I suppose that rather depends on how long we’re welcome here,” she asked, and he smiled.
