by Lynn Messina
“But you’re home now and on the road to recovery. There’s no reason to tease ourselves about something that’s over and done with,” she said so reasonably that her brother got suspicious.
“We mustn’t?” he asked.
“No, we must instead devote our energies to stopping an evil before it happens. Now, what will you do about this awful Sir Windbag?”
Roger looked at her in surprise. “He’s our sister’s fiancé. There’s nothing I can do about him.”
“Very well,” she said, standing up.
Her easy acceptance worried him. It wasn’t like Emma. “Very well,” he repeated.
“I’ll just send Sir Waldo up to keep you company,” she offered on her way out. “He has no one to talk to in the breakfast room and you did say you were bored.”
“I’m not that bored,” he called after her.
She stopped in the doorway and turned around. “I think this is just what you need. Fifteen minutes of Sir Windbag’s restorative conversation and you’ll be begging me to let you help break them up.” As she waved good-bye to Nurse, she realized that Sir Windbag had very little chance of getting past the militant caretaker. It’s not fair, she thought, going to her room, that we don’t all have trolls stationed outside our doors to protect us from that awful little man.
Lavinia was enjoying her flirtation with the Duke of Trent very much. When he’d first come to the house asking her to join him for a ride in the park, she’d hastened to inform him that she wasn’t her sister. He’d smiled pleasantly, assured her he knew that very well, thank you, and offered her his arm. She’d stared at it for several seconds, unsure how to proceed—surely Sir Waldo wouldn’t like for her to be seen in the park with another man—before accepting it graciously. She would never learn what game was afoot if she didn’t play along.
The ride in the park had been extremely enlightening. Though she’d been out for five seasons, she had never actually felt like a member of the ton. She’d always seen herself as something of an outsider, a flower-growing misfit among beautiful people who wore flowers in their lapels and hair. She never made much of an effort to be included and had no one who encouraged her to. Sarah was usually buried with Roger in their estate in Derbyshire, and Emma never courted the good opinion of anyone.
She’d been quite surprised when Sir Waldo Windbourne started paying attention to her. There was not much to recommend him—his features were irregular and his conversation a little dull—but she couldn’t not help but think that he was a kindred spirit. She herself was considered dull by the many people who had never made the effort to draw her out. Surely Sir Windbourne had an equally sparkling inner self. That he had political ambitions only made him more appealing. Here was a man who had purpose, a desire to do something with his life more important than resting his elbow on the mantelpiece as if posing for a Gainsborough portrait. Lavinia, who had ambitions of her own, believed she could be of use to such a man. And they could have children. How Lavinia longed to have children.
But going about with the Duke of Trent was much different than going about with Sarah or Emma or even her fiancé. He was well known and admired, everyone they passed greeted him or stopped for conversation. He knew who everyone was and what they were up to and gladly regaled her with tales of their ridiculous exploits and indiscretions. And he always knew exactly what to say and to whom. When Lord Redkin had come tumbling down the hill in his tight gray outfit, Trent had assured him that it was an excellent day for a safari. Redkin reached up to tip his hat, only then realizing he’d lost it during his travels, and scurried back up the hill to retrieve it. Vinnie could not recall the scene without breaking into hysterics.
Despite this, Lavinia didn’t count herself susceptible to his charms. She was an engaged lady—as good as married—and not at all a silly miss to have her head turned by the first charming man to pay attention to her. Besides, she had seen the languishing glances Trent sent her sister’s way. Nor was she oblivious to Emma’s very odd behavior. She’d realized she’d done something wrong that very first day. When she’d sat down with her in the front parlor, Vinnie had every intention of telling her sister everything, including the story of Lord Redkin. But somehow the memory got away with her, and she couldn’t control her laughter. That was the point when Emma walked out of the room, which was very strange indeed. Emma had never walked out on her before.
In the days that followed, Vinnie sought Emma out and tried to discover the problem. Although Emma insisted with increasing vehemence that there wasn’t anything amiss, Lavinia began to suspect jealousy. That Emma was jealous was an odd notion and one her sister had a very hard time accepting. Emma was never the sort to stand by and seethe. She always vented her emotions, and she always pursued that which she wanted. If she wanted the Duke of Trent, why wasn’t she going after him? Surely she didn’t think that Lavinia’s interest was anything but platonic. How could it be, when she was engaged to another?
No, the whole thing was a very strange and consuming puzzle, and Lavinia might have never figured it out if she hadn’t overhead a conversation between the duke and Emma’s dearest friend, Kate Kennington.
“Miss Kennington,” the duke said at Lady Worth’s route, unaware that Miss Lavinia Harlow was standing on the other side of the blue velvet curtain that separated the music room from the drawing room, “although we have never met, I believe we have much to talk about.”
“Really, your grace,” the woman answered, “you intrigue me. What is it that we have in common?”
“A certain young scapegrace who would see us all ruined if we let her have her way,” he said with fondness, though that was not his intention.
Kate laughed. “I should have anticipated this. It’s like her to be so indiscreet.”
Lavinia knew right away that they were talking about Emma. To whom else would the words scapegrace and indiscreet apply as fittingly?
“No, not so indiscreet,” he said, in the lady’s defense. “She let only your first name slip and I had to root around for the rest of the information.”
“How tedious for you,” she said, amused by the notion of the elegant Duke of Trent rooting around for anything.
“Not at all. It only required a few days’ careful observation. Miss Harlow doesn’t speak with many Kates,” he explained. “In fact, you’re the only one.”
By now Lavinia was intensely interested in the conversation. It came as no surprise that Emma was up to something. Indeed, the real surprise was how well behaved she had been since coming to town.
“I want to thank you,” he said, abruptly. “For keeping Miss Harlow out of a scrape.”
“One cannot keep her out of scrapes; one can only delay them,” she said, sharing the wisdom of many years. Lavinia smiled, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment.
“Perhaps, but this last one could have led to her ruin.”
Kate laughed. “Your grace, they all could have let to her ruin.”
From the way he said, “I see,” Lavinia could tell that the duke was not amused by the information.
“Still, I’d like to thank you for not providing her with the list.”
Miss Kennington pooh-poohed his gratitude. “I am not so hen-witted, your grace,” she said lowering her voice to such a low level that Lavinia had to lean into the curtain to hear her, “as to hand the Harlow Hoyden a list of possible libertines to seduce her sister.”
“Of course not,” he agreed.
“But it was very good of you to step in and lend a hand,” continued Kate. “Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t. She probably would’ve approached someone completely unsuitable who would have done her bidding and then published the whole deplorable episode in the dailies. Emma is like a dog with a bone when she gets an idea, and while I cannot help but feel she’s irrational as far as her sister’s fiancé is concerned, it’s best for all concerned that she believe she’s doing something to end the relationship. Nothing distresses her more than inaction.
Of course, I do hope Lavinia won’t get hurt in the process. She hardly seems the sort to jilt a man for anyone, no matter how eligible the parti.”
“Yes, Miss Harlow is a sensible girl, and although I have been everything that is attentive and kind, she doesn’t treat me like a lover at all. She treats me like a friend, which is very nice indeed, since she is so easy to talk with. But I do begin to fear for the success of the hoyden’s scheme. Perhaps that’s just as well. I hardly relish the role of cad, and the ton knows that I never chase after unmarried misses. The sooner Miss Harlow is shackled to her Sir Windbourne, the better for us all.”
“You think so?” asked Miss Kennington in a sly tone.
“Of course,” answered the duke.
“Hmm. You don’t suppose that the man in question might find himself in a large crate with holes in it on his way to the West Indies?”
“Good lord,” said Trent.
Lavinia smiled. It was awful of her, she knew, but the image of Waldo crushed in a box with his ankles over his ears was too much to resist. She removed herself from the blue velvet curtain and walked to the other side of the room. There, she started laughing. All of it—the whole thing, from Emma’s ridiculous plan to hire a libertine to seduce her to the duke’s unlikely compliance—was thoroughly preposterous. It was, she admitted when her giggles subsided, precisely the sort of scheme Emma would concoct: irresponsible, thoughtless, potentially disastrous, creative. There’d been many schemes like this when they were young and Emma didn’t like the way the curate’s son treated her sister or when their mama said something particularly cruel. Emma had always stood up for her when she thought she wasn’t being treated well, and if Vinnie had given it any thought, she would’ve realized that now was one of those times.
Vinnie knew very well Emma’s unfavorable opinion of her fiancé, but she, like everyone else in the family, believed it would pass once she got to know him better. But she also knew that Emma was stubborn and that her feelings stemmed from something more than simple unfamiliarity. At the root of it was an irrational fear of losing her sister. Marriage was a new phase in the life of the Harlow girls, and although they’d always done everything together, this they would do apart. Worse than that, they would do it with someone else. Lavinia knew that marriage changed one’s life, but it didn’t effect how one felt about one’s sister. She had tried to explain this to Emma, but there was no way of getting through to her. After several failed attempts to make her understand, Lavinia gave up. She knew that Emma would soon realize that her sister’s marriage wasn’t the end of their relationship, but Lavinia had to get married first to prove it.
Well, at least she knew now what was going on. Her suspicions had been well justified, and although her vanity was a little piqued to discover that the Duke of Trent was only courting her as a favor to her sister, she was much gratified by the compliment he had unknowingly paid her. No gentleman of her acquaintance had ever found her easy to talk with, since, unless he had a passion for orchids, she had never talked easily. Indeed, that was the lovely thing about Sir Windbourne: He could do enough talking for the both of them.
Lavinia found a vacant chair in a quiet corner at Lord Worth’s very crowded route and sat down. She needed to think about this information and develop a plan. Her first instinct was to confront Emma right away and put an end to this madness. But she controlled herself—the last thing Miss Lavinia Harlow wanted was to cause a scene—and puzzled over the situation. She knew what Emma was thinking, but it was the Duke of Trent’s behavior that had her at a loss. Why would he even engaged in such a prank? He was not connected to her family at all and could not feel any responsibility toward their good name. No, the only possible explanation was that he had taken an interest in Emma. But the Duke of Trent didn’t chase unmarried girls; he himself had just said it not more than ten minutes before. Perhaps the duke is chasing Emma but doesn’t know it, she thought. Can that possibly be? Recalling the scowl on his face when he saw Emma waltzing with Sir Everett Carson, Vinnie decided this conclusion was accurate.
But how did Emma feel about the duke? That indeed was the question. She hasn’t been herself of late and she stopped asking questions about my outings with the duke. Can she be jealous? The idea of Emma being envious was so novel and delightful that Lavinia formed a plan to feed the jealousy. She would get a little bit of her own back, she would teach her sister a much-needed lesson, and she would perhaps arrange an excellent match in the process.
When the duke came by the following day to take her for a drive through the park, Lavinia wasted no time in putting her plan into action. She had given thought to every detail, and while the lion’s share of her revenge was to be meted out to her sister, she had a little something in store for the duke.
“Your grace,” she said, batting her eyelashes as she’d seen other ladies do, “these last few days have been wonderful.”
The duke spared her a glance and a smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Truly, they have been some of the most wonderful in my life.”
His smile dimmed a little, and he gave her a perplexed look. Lavinia wasn’t surprised. The words sounded very odd coming from her.
“They have been so wonderful that it’s my dearest wish that they never end.” She was amazed by how relaxed she felt in his company. She couldn’t imagine teasing Sir Windbourne like this. “Perhaps it is time for you to speak with my father?” She batted her eyelashes again.
The smile disappeared completely.
“I know you are thinking that I’m already an engaged woman, but I still have feelings, feelings that have been swayed by your marked attentions and I don’t think my father would mind the change of heart. We girls are known for our flightiness, and no one will blame me for jilting Windbourne for a duke. Why don’t we—”
By now the color had been completely removed from his face and Lavinia could not go on. He believed her! The poor, stricken man believed her!
She started to laugh, but it was more out of nervousness than delight. Perhaps she had gone to far. And with a duke!
“I beg your pardon,” he said, his dark brows in a straight menacing line. “I cannot see what the amusement is.”
“I’m sorry, your grace,” she gasped, trying to contained her giggles. “I’m truly sorry. It was just a joke.”
“A joke?” He stopped the carriage and looked at her. “What sort of joke?”
“I’m truly, truly sorry, your grace. Really I am. You do not have to marry me,” she assured him, laying a hand over his gloved one to give comfort. However, it did quite the opposite and she removed it. “I was just playing a joke, you see, to repay you for the one you’re playing on me. You should never have agreed to my sister’s scheme.”
Looking much more relaxed and a fair amount embarrassed, he asked, “What would you have me do? Let her approach someone like Carson, who would’ve relished the opportunity to seduce you and disgrace your family?”
“No, I wouldn’t have liked that. But someone could have told me what she was up to.”
“How did you find out?” he asked.
“A word of warning to you and Miss Kennington: The blue velvet curtains have ears.”
He laughed. “I’m afraid we were indiscreet. I hope no one else was listening.”
“Rest assured, the only ears the blue velvet curtain had were mine. It was a most intriguing conversation. Did Emma really ask Miss Kennington to draw up a list of libertines?”
With a smile he said, “Well, what do you think?”
“Tell me, what exactly was the plan? From your stricken expression earlier, I can assume we weren’t to go all the way to the altar.”
“No, it was just to be a mild flirtation. Miss Harlow was hoping that you’d fall in love with me and then jilt your fiancé. It wasn’t the most logical plan, but then I begin to suspect your sister isn’t a very logical person.”
“Begin to suspect? What have you been about, your grace, that suspicion of her logic
did not set in the second you saw her stealing an orchid in your conservatory?”
They were in the park now, and Trent nodded in greeting to an acquaintance. “You are right, of course. I’m afraid I haven’t been thinking very clearly since meeting your sister. She defies logic. Her thoughts were only of getting Sir Windbourne out of the picture. What happened next was scarcely worth considering.”
“Of course not. She wouldn’t care if I went into a decline and wasted away as long as I didn’t do it in Sir Waldo’s presence.” She said this with a smile, but Trent detected bitterness beneath. He hated the thought of Emma’s ill-considered plan coming between the two sisters.
“If Miss Harlow behaved thoughtlessly—good lord, how can I say if? Although Miss Harlow behaved thoughtlessly, she only did it out of fear of losing you. She’s somewhat worried about how your marriage will affect your relationship.”
“I’m well aware of her irrational fear, but it is no excuse to use me—and you—so shabbily.”
The duke wondered what to say next. The Harlows weren’t his family and it was exceedingly improper of him to get further embroiled in their affairs, but he hated the thought of anyone being angry—no matter how justifiably—with Emma. “Her fears are not entirely irrational. I don’t think I’m breaking a confidence if I tell you that your fiancé, upon mistaking Miss Harlow for you, told her that getting away from your sister should do you a world of good.”
As she digested this new information, Lavinia tried to recall if Sir Waldo had ever said such a thing in her presence. Nothing came to mind, but she knew that didn’t signify anything. Oftentimes when Sir Waldo talked for more than ten minutes her mind would start to wander. It was different when they were conversing—then she would focus her attention on the matter at hand and think him a very agreeable partner. But when he started to expound on a topic as though addressing Parliament, she would woolgather or ruminate on drainage systems. Had he really said that?