Page 18 of A Baron's Disguised Lady
“You don’t need to call me that. It’s Archie to you, or Archibald, if you insist,” he said.
He liked the idea of her calling him Archie, just as Gwendolene used to do. His mother called him Archibald, and the servants would not have dared call him anything other than “My Lord.” But to hear Lavinia say his name would surely bring back memories. Memories of happier times in the past… memories he wanted to return to.
“Archie, I’m sure my mother would object. She’d tell me I wasn’t being proper,” Lavinia said, but Archie shook his head.
“It’s all right when the person you’re speaking to allows it. I hope you’ll be happy here for the time you spend with us. And please, let’s forget the wrong foot we got off on,” he said.
Lavinia laughed.
“I certainly did, falling flat on my face in front of you,” she said, and Archie laughed, too.
“I found it quite amusing,” he said, and for a moment, they looked at one another, smiling in the fading light coming through the drawing room window.
Just then, the sound of his mother’s voice came from the hallway, and it seemed dinner was at an end. There were still so many questions Archie had, but they could wait, and hardly thinking about what he was doing, he raised Lavinia’s hand tohis lips, kissing the back, as he glanced down at the bracelet with the letter “T” embossed there.
“I’m sure we’ll… laugh about it,” Lavinia said, as Archie withdrew his hand from hers.
“I’m sure we will… well, goodnight,” he said, and with a slight bow, he left the room, closing the door behind him with a sigh of relief.
He had not known what to expect in going after her, but he was only too glad he had done so, and despite his earlier misgivings, Archie could not help but feel hopeful as to the coming days and weeks. Having Lavinia at Sarum Lacy House would serve as a welcome distraction from his sorrows. As he went to bed that night, Archie actually found himself looking forward to their next encounter, and what their coming time together would bring.
***
Lavinia had been pleasantly surprised by Archie’s unexpected appearance in the drawing room after their argument at dinner. She had not expected him to seek her out, and she had certainly not expected him to apologize. But having done both, Lavinia had come to realize her first impression—and even her second and third impression—had been wrong.
She had not realized what the taking of the baron’s hand would signify, but she was glad to have done so, eager to show him she empathized with his sorrow and wanted to help. When he had kissed the back of her hand, a shiver had run through her, and as he left the drawing room, she could think of nothing else but the look in his eyes as she had held his gaze with hers.
“Lavinia? Are you feeling better? Did Archie bring you something to eat?” the dowager asked, as she and Lavinia’s mother entered the drawing room a moment later.
Lavinia looked up and nodded.
“He did, yes. We had a… delightful conversation,” she said.
Ithadbeen a delightful conversation, one Lavinia would not forget. But it had also been a serious one, too, and Lavinia now realized the baron had trusted her with some of his most private thoughts and feelings. The dowager looked surprised, though pleasantly so.
“Oh,I amglad to hear it. Archie can be… well, since Gwendolene died,” she said, her words trailing off, and Lavinia nodded.
She did not want to upset the dowager. To lose a daughter was surely one of the worst things imaginable. Her mother looked at her, but she did not say anything, rather, the dowager thensuggested a game of cards—Loo—and the three of them sat down to play at a small table by the window, where the last of the evening light had turned the sky a deep red, the gardens shadowy and mysterious.
Lavinia wondered what her next encounter with the baron would bring, and she felt curious as to the change that had come over him. There had been guilt, of course—guilt at the manner in which he had spoken to her earlier, but something else, too. A longing for a connection previously lost. Did she remind him of his sister?
“It’s your hand, Lavinia?” her mother said, and Lavinia looked up at her in surprise, returned from her musings by the words addressed to her.
“Oh… yes, I keep getting lost. When I was a maid, we…” she began, but to her surprise, her mother now spoke harshly to her.
“You’re no longer a maid, Lavinia. Stop reminding yourself of the past,” she exclaimed, and Lavinia felt suddenly embarrassed, glancing at the dowager, who smiled.
“I’m sure it’s taking some getting used to, Lavinia, isn’t it?” she said, and Lavinia nodded.
She did not want to upset her mother, or make her angry. But unlike her mother, Lavinia had never known a world like this. She missed much of what had been before, even as she knewmany servants would be envious of her. Her situation had been the talk of the whole house when her grandfather had come to speak to her former mistress.
Lavinia had been summoned to the drawing room, but instead of standing meekly before her employer with her hands clasped, she had been invited to sit and take tea. The impulse to serve it had been too much, and when one of her fellow maids had come to do so, Lavinia had insisted on pouring her own cup. It was then she had realized the difficulty she would find in bridging these two worlds, a difficulty she was still experiencing.
“It is, yes,” Lavinia said, glancing at her mother, who raised her eyebrows.
It was all so new, but Lavinia had noticed the ease with which her mother had settled back into aristocratic life. It came naturally to her, and her behavior and comportment were just as any other woman of her rank and class. Her mother did not make mistakes with cutlery and glasses. She knew how to sit and what to say when addressing this or that person. Lavinia still had so much to learn, even as she was determined to do so.
“But you’ll get there, Lavinia, little by little,” the dowager said.
