Lavinia rubbed her tongue over her teeth, drawing a deep breath. Her fingers absentmindedly picked at the upholstery on the chair. She exhaled in a sigh. Honestly, she wouldn't blame Ethan if he ignored her call completely, but Cassandra had begged her to speak to him—as was always the case when something went wrong with one of the many callers that vied for her sister's attention. She had almost refused Cassandra's request, she was tired of talking with men for her sister, she remembered all too pungently her last meeting with one of Cassandra's men. After stringing the poor fellow along for months, Cassandra had tired of his companionship and sent Lavinia—per usual—to tell him that his cause was hopeless.
This time, it was a whole lot worse. Cassandra had messed up, and she knew it. She had spent hours after Ethan had driven off in angry haste blubbering about how difficult her life was. Then had come the begging and pleading. Cassandra had called Lavinia cruel and heartless, she had implored her to speak to Ethan, but Lavinia had remained firm. She wasn't going to do it this time, it was Cassandra's duty because Ethan was her fiancé.
Early this morning, her father had come to her in the conservatory. Lord Ezra Antrucha was known for his quiet ways, he made the money, and his wife and elder daughter spent it. He was not expected to be the life of the party, he simply came and listened to the other lords talk about their lives, smiling when it was necessary and talking rarely. Lavinia was the only one who knew the way her father suffered, he sat quietly beneath his wife's sharp eyes, never daring to question her, and never brought attention to himself if he could help it.
"Lavinia, dearest," he'd said quietly, kissing her cheek. "I know you don't want to talk to Ethan, and that's fine. Heaven knows Cassandra will never go to him, and they will no doubt have a miserable marriage." That had confused her.
"Won't Ethan break off the engagement?"
"No, Lord Brodi would raise hell if he did." Her father had fallen quiet, his gaze drifting to the outdoors. "You understand what he feels, you've watched it for years, you know how to talk to him. Love, if you can find it in yourself to speak with him, do it, please. Give him comfort, and explain it to him." He'd paused for a moment, his gray eyes falling on her, sorrow in their depths. "You don't have to, but if you don't, no one will. You know how to talk to people, Livy, it's a rare gift, when you put your mind to it, I warrant you could charm the nose off a mule with only your voice." She smiled at him, her mother had long since forbidden him to call her 'Livy', and he had complied, but when they were alone, it resurfaced out of habit, and she loved it.
"I'll talk to him, Papa." She'd said slowly, closing her book with a sigh. "Heaven only knows how much I hate doing Cassandra's dirty work, but I see that it would be unkind of me to ignore the family for my own selfish reasons." Her father had laughed.
"There's not a selfish bone in your little body, Livy. I wish things could have been different," He said thoughtfully. "I wish—" He'd stopped suddenly, and without explaining, he'd left her to herself.
Now, here she sat, waiting for Ethan Brodi, ready to talk to him about her sister, not for Cassandra's sake but for her father's. She sighed again, wishing she could run away and hide. What must Ethan think of them? Of her? He had been too angry for her to explain things yesterday, was he still so angry that he would refuse to talk to her? She stared into space, knowing she had to talk to him no matter what.
"Lady Lavinia," his voice startled her, and she leapt to her feet so quickly that she was thrown off balance. She pitched forward, and her hip crashed into the table beside her chair. Then her body crashed into something solid. Her eyes widened with the force of the impact, and she realized then that the table beside her chair had had a large, beautiful vase atop it. The vase shook, tipped, and fell with a heavy crash to the floor.
Lavinia stared at the broken decoration, slowly becoming aware of a pair of arms wrapped around her. She looked up from the glass shards and straight into Ethan's piercing green eyes. She was clutching the muscles of his upper arms, she realized in surprised chagrin.
"Forgive me," She breathed. "I'm so sorry." With a sudden blush, she removed her hands from his arms.
"Don't worry about it." His voice had lost its usual lightness. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn't going to release her, he just stood their, his hands on her back, holding her and staring at her. Then, clearing his throat, he let go of her, and stepped away.
"I can clean it up," she said, moving to do as she had offered.
"I said don't worry about it, just forget it." He grabbed her arm almost harshly. "Now, did you need something from me?" His voice was cold.
"I wanted to talk to you." She said slowly, trying to recollect her thoughts, but her eyes refused to look away from the smashed vase. How could she have been so careless?
"Perhaps we should go out to the garden to talk?" Ethan took her arm, raising a questioning brow.
"Yes," she looked up at him. "That is, if you want to."
For answer, he led her out of the spacious room, down a short hall, and out a door where she found herself walking into the beautiful fresh air. The sun was shining brightly, and there wasn't a cloud in sight for the first time in what seemed to be weeks. Lavinia felt herself smile and drew a deep breath of the fragrant air, closing her eyes with pleasure. The garden atmosphere relaxed her, setting her at ease. When she finally opened her eyes and looked at Ethan, she discover he was staring at her.
"I'm sorry about yesterday." She heard herself say.
"You lied to me." His lip curled in disgust, and he released her arm.
"When?" She reeled back at the thought, trying to remember what falsehood had crossed her lips.
"You said Cassandra was out shopping with Kitty." He growled, a frown creasing his brow. He did look devilishly handsome when he was angry!
Lavinia sighed, understanding. "And I spoke the truth. The two of them left a little after noon, alone." He was staring at her silently, waiting for her to continue. Lavinia found herself fidgeting under his sharp gaze. Taking a deep breath, she looked away from him. "They usually leave together on shopping expeditions, but Cassandra never returns with Kitty unless they have something else planned for the day."
"She returns with a gentleman friend?" Lavinia's gaze returned to Ethan, a little of the harshness had left his voice, and he was looking at her with less anger, or, at least, his anger no longer seemed to be directed at her.
"Usually," Lavinia nodded. She was going to be brutally honest with him, he should know before he married Cassandra. Ethan sighed and looked away from her, his eyes drifting to the sky. "Ethan," she said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "I know you're angry, and you have every right to be, there's nothing I can say that can explain away her behavior."
"Why are you here instead of her?" He turned back to her with a look of burning curiosity. She swallowed. "Lavinia?" He said after a moment.
How could she tell him? How could she explain that whenever Cassandra wanted to be rid of a man or wanted a message sent to him, she sent Lavinia? How was she to convey to him the truth without putting her sister in a bad light? The questions bubbled up inside her, threatening to suffocate her.
"Walk with me." It wasn't a question, his hand took hers and she found herself following him, gripping his hand tightly in her own. "I'm not going to force you to tell me what I want to hear. It makes you uncomfortable, I can see that, and that's the last thing I want to do. You came here for a reason, talk to me, tell me what you want to tell me, and I won't interrupt once until you've come to the finish." He intwined their arms together, looking down at her with soft eyes. Lavinia sighed, where was she to begin?
"A long time ago," she began. "my father met my mother at a party. He was overcome with her beauty and contrived to marry her. There were many young men vying for her hand, she was a ravishing beauty, but in the end, his labor paid off, she agreed to take his hand in marriage. They were married within the twelvemonth. After they were married," she paused, drawing a deep breath, wondering if she were doing right. "He discovered that she had not stopped her flirtations and playfulness with other men even after her wedding vows." Lavinia swallowed. "He learned too late what kind of woman she was, there was no way to get out of it, so he bore it, he withdrew into himself, and bore it because he couldn't anything else.
"You have the advantage over my father, Ethan, you know what kind of woman you are marrying, you know what life will be like with her. My father says you cannot escape marriage to her, she will be your bride no matter what." She inhaled and exhaled quickly. "She won't change, and if you let it, it'll destroy you and make you miserable. You have an advantage over my father, you know what you're getting into. I didn't want you to," she admitted. "I wish you could have married her before the misery started, but it's better this way. It was wrong to try to keep it hidden." She looked up at him, pausing in her walk to face him completely. "Can you forgive me?"
He looked at her for a long moment. Then his other hand covered hers, sandwiching it between his flesh. He looked at their joined hands. "Yes," he whispered. Lavinia's heartbeat quickened, and a sad smile played on her lips. She was glad to be forgiven, but her happiness couldn't overshadow her sorrow for his future. Cassandra was her sister, but she knew the pain that Ethan would suffer, she had witnessed it too many times to think otherwise.
"May I drive you home?" He said after a moment.
"Yes." He gave a slow smile which melted her insides with its warmth, and she doubted she could have moved from the spot if wild horses had been charging toward her.
"Good," His gaze drifted to their linked hands. "I wouldn't want you taking any more spills when I'm not there to catch you." A twinkle appeared in the depths of his eyes. She glared at him, and he laughed, and she couldn't recall any sound that had been more pleasant to her hearing in a long time.