Page 82 of The Duke of Seduction
He froze for a moment. It wasn’t the word love, but it was close. Did she love him? Did he love her? He hadn’t loved anyone since Priscilla. He hadn’t thought the emotion would find him again.
“Trust me,” she said, drawing him back to the present. “I will make sure we have plenty of time for things we want to do before the wedding. We’ll just need to be…creative.” Her lips curled into a seductive smile, and he began to grow hard.
He took a step back from her. “I’d better go before I try to be…creative here and now.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Tonight—at the Morecott Ball?”
He hadn’t thought about his evening plans, but he supposed he must. And he’d take any chance he could get to see his soon-to-be wife. “Yes. I think it’s past time I danced with you.”
Her eyes glowed with anticipation. “Most definitely.”
“And wear your spectacles.” He went back to the hall, where he bid farewell to her parents who were still loitering, as he expected them to be. He and Lavinia might be afforded a modicum of privacy, but it wasn’t as if he could seduce their daughter in their sitting room.
Not today anyway.
* * *
After Beck left, Lavinia had to spend an excruciating hour with her mother planning the wedding breakfast. When she was finally free, she dashed off notes to Sarah and Fanny telling them her news and a third note to Jane Pemberton informing her of Miss Lennox’s aborted wedding. Then Lavinia dressed in a more appropriate costume for paying calls and went downstairs to tell her mother she planned to visit Miss Lennox.
“Oh, I’ll go with you,” Mother declared. “I must learn what happened.”
Lavinia gritted her teeth. “Mother, I’m not going to cull gossip. I want Miss Lennox to know she has support and friends during this difficult time.” While Lavinia didn’t know her very well, she thought it was important for Miss Lennox to understand she wasn’t alone. And not everyone would be as thoughtless as Lavinia’s mother.
A groom drove them to Albemarle Street where it looked as though there were several callers at the Lennox residence. As Lavinia and her mother made their way to the front door, two women nodded in their direction as they departed.
As much as Lavinia wanted to offer support, she also didn’t want to overwhelm Miss Lennox.
The butler admitted them into the house and showed them to the drawing room on the first floor. Mrs. Lennox greeted them with a weak smile. “Good afternoon, Lady Balcombe, Lady Lavinia. How kind of you to call.”
The countess pressed her lips into a sympathetic line—not a frown, not a smile, but something meant to convey wordless support. Or pity. “We just wanted to make sure you know you have friends and support during this difficult time.”
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her mother, Lavinia instead looked about for Miss Lennox, but she wasn’t present. Lavinia turned to Mrs. Lennox. “Would Miss Lennox care for a visitor?”
“I think not,” Mrs. Lennox said sadly. “She’s been through quite an ordeal. She’s not seeing anyone.”
A young maid came into the room and went to whisper in Mrs. Lennox’s ear. The older woman blinked in surprise, then turned her attention back to Lavinia. “It seems my daughter would like to see you. Her maid will show you upstairs.”
Lavinia turned and followed the maid out and up the stairs. The maid led her to a sitting room at the front of the house, where Miss Lennox stood near the window looking down at the street. She glanced over at the maid and Lavinia as they entered. “Thank you, Hobbs.”
The maid nodded and left them alone, closing the door behind her.
Lavinia wasn’t sure what to say. Why had Miss Lennox chosen to see her and no one else?
Miss Lennox exhaled as she turned from the window and walked to a chair near the hearth. “Good afternoon, Lady Lavinia. Would you care to sit?” She gestured to the settee in front of the fire as she sank into the chair.
“Please call me Lavinia.” She went to the settee and perched on the edge, waiting for Miss Lennox to guide the conversation.
“Then you must call me Phoebe.” She stared into the fire for a moment. “I’m quite glad not to be Mrs. Sainsbury.”
“I’m glad you’re glad,” Lavinia said, not wanting to be intrusive as to what had happened to make her that way. “It’s better than being sorry or having regret.”
Phoebe turned her head toward Lavinia and smiled. “Yes. You understand. You don’t feel sorry for me, do you?”
“I feel…bad that you apparently suffered an unpleasant situation. I can’t imagine it’s easy to call off a wedding.” Lavinia couldn’t even conceive of it, and she was planning one. “Particularly under the intense scrutiny of a London Season.”
“Precisely. Youdounderstand.” She looked back to the fire and narrowed her eyes. “I expect most people will fault me for crying off, but I had exceptional reason.”
“I don’t wish to pry or make you speak of something you’d rather not.” Lavinia wanted to be clear about her purpose in coming.
