Chapter Six
Please let her talk to me.
“I am well,” Deborah replied in a voice as light and airy as a fairy.
So, this was Percival’s daughter. The child she’d never been allowed to meet for fear she might corrupt… by osmosis? It wasn’t as if she’d begin a relationship with this girl by instructing her in the finer points of pleasuring a man. Truly, if that’s what he thought, she would need to set him straight.
Shoving those musings from her mind, she smiled. “My name is Lavinia,” she told the gorgeous little girl. A tiny thing, really, with blonde, brown hair and brilliant blue eyes and delicate features that put her in mind of stories of the fay folk. No doubt she took after her mother, for only her lips, eyes, and forehead were her father’s. “Did you know that I married your papa a few days ago?” Surely, he would have told her by now.
Slowly, the child nodded, but she clung to her father’s hand. The trust between them sent a prickle of tears to her eyes. Quickly, Lavinia blinked them away. “You are the new Lady Laughton.” It wasn’t a question, so then at least Percival had talked with her… or the child’s governess had.
“I am.” She glanced at the earl, who wore a guarded expression. Did he truly not trust her around this precious young one? Her heart squeezed, not for any excess of emotion where Percival was concerned, but because for so long she’d dreamed of having a family of her own, but circumstances as well as life had prevented it. Dismissing him once more, she focused on Deborah. “Do you have questions for me? I imagine this must feel confusing and strange.”
The child renewed her grip on Percival’s hand, but she touched Lavinia’s face with her other one, and the fleeting dance of those tiny digits sent a ball of emotion into her throat. “You are pretty.” She tapped a silver, oval-shaped locket that hung about Lavinia’s neck. “So is this.”
“Thank you.” Hoping that sharing a bit about the piece might give them a tentative bond, Lavinia opened the locket and brought it forward. “This miniature painting is of my younger sister, Angela. She’s the beauty of the family.”
Deborah gasped as she gazed at the portrait. Her eyes widened with appreciation. “She’s a princess.”
“Not quite.” Lavinia forced herself to laugh, for their situation was hardly of royalty, though it might be in a bizarre, roundabout way. “However, Angela is ethereal with all that blonde hair, blue eyes, and the typical English roses and cream complexion. Much different than me.” She’d always been overprotective of the girl. Still was, in fact, and above everything, she didn’t want her sister to go down the same path that she had. She deserved much more from life than going from man to man, functioning as only their mistress, or getting herself with child from those careless actions. Being born on the wrong side of the blanket themselves, women like Lavinia clung to whatever livelihood they could find and being burdened with a child would cause more problems than it solved.
Regardless of whether the women wished for children or not. Life in London was not kind to women who had no means and no men to protect them.
That’s why I’ve made it a point to provide myself with a future. I won’t rely on a man ever again.
Deborah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I think your brown hair is pretty too.” The sound of the girl’s voice wrenched her from her musings. “And your eyes are a lovely shade of brown.”
“Thank you.” Lavinia smiled and shoved all of those thoughts to the side. Over the years, she’d been frugal enough that the contents of her bank account would see to Angela’s care as well as her own for the near future. “I’m glad I could share her with you.” And until the earl remembered that he’d let a townhouse for her—which wasn’t needed any longer—Angela would continue to live there.
They’d meet the next shift in the future when it came.
Percival softly cleared his throat, and she raised her gaze to his. Questions clouded those blue depths. Did he wish to know more about her life? “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
I’ll wager you don’t know many more things than that. Lavinia closed the silver locket with a snap as she stood. She was still out of sorts with him, and that had led to a certain unease brewing between them that had never been there before. “I had mentioned her,” she lowered her voice, “but you were undoubtedly inebriated.” One of her eyebrows rose. “Why are you here, Laughton? Is there something you need from me?”
Surely, he wouldn’t be so gauche as to ask for her attentions in the bedroom while in front of his child. Yet, stranger things had happened when he’d been drinking, and he had grown quite careless in recent months. Yet another reason that perhaps marriage would be good for him.
“Right.” Again, he cleared his throat. He shifted his weight, and she frowned. Was he as nervous as she about being in the same room together? How very interesting. With a quick glance at his daughter, who nodded, he sighed. “Deborah and I would like to take you on a drive through Hyde Park. If it might please you?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What would I need to do in return?” For there was always something. She’d learned that at an early age in not only her line of work but in life.
“Nothing.” Percival frowned as he glanced at his daughter. “Poppet, go ahead to the entry hall. I’m sure Stanton will help you pick out a bonnet. Lavinia and I will be there directly.”
Deborah’s huff of annoyance ruffled the few curls on her forehead. “You want to speak of things not fit for children’s ears.”
Oh, ho! The little miss had spirit! Lavinia bit back a smile. The child was intelligent and would probably become a handful if Percival wasn’t careful. That was a good start, for proper misses who’d had the personality bred out of them were rather dull. She winked at the girl. “I’ll make certain he doesn’t linger to converse on anything too exciting, but your father and I do need a few moments alone before we set out. I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
“He’s been sulking. He does that.”
Were there any more honest beings in the world than children?
A slow grin curved Lavinia’s lips as a flush rose up Percival’s neck. “I see.” She escorted Deborah to the door. “I promise we’ll be right down.”
“All right.” But the girl bounced her gaze between them. “Do you need privacy for kissing?”
Heat slapped at Lavinia’s cheeks. “Not exactly.” Clearly, he wasn’t of that mind. A thread of cold disappointment went through her chest, for she did miss the intimacy they’d previously enjoyed. He hadn’t tried to seek her out since their wreck of a wedding night.
“Oh.” Apparently crestfallen, Deborah left the room.