Lady of Mischief: Historical Regency Romance Page 2

  He nodded. "So..."

  The Duke sat up, cleared his throat and spoke.

  "Colin, we are well pleased that you have returned home, and there is something that I shall request of you."

  He nodded once, reluctantly, urging his father on.

  "Lavinia, your stepsister. She is not quite what is expected of her as a Lady. As you are her elder and sophisticated, I would like for you to tutor her on mannerisms. How to act as a Lady suitable to be wed. I want her married off before the end of the season."

  Colin could not believe what he was hearing. He had only just returned and his father was placing Lavinia as his responsibility. He stared at them, he had not been expecting any form of welcome, but he felt slighted that this responsibility that was being saddled on him almost immediately. He could not believe his ears.

  The Duchess spoke up. "Lavinia just needs the right tutor, so she can learn to act like a proper lady. I suggested the idea to your father, and he thought it was perfect."

  "You are the right person for this, Colin." His father continued.

  His father was not even asking him if he would, he was assuming that he would. Colin was not sure what hurt him more. The fact that his absence for five years had not helped their relationship in the least, or the fact that his father did not seem to care for him and his plans, only what he could do for him.

  He rubbed his eyes and sighed.

  "That is not all," the Duke said.

  Colin looked up.

  "You should also start considering being wed. You have returned just at the right time. You need to start knowing the ways of the Duchy, preparing for responsibility, and that includes being wed, so that you may produce an heir."

  Colin wished he had stayed in Scotland. His father was once again trying to push him too hard. Colin did not want to be wed to anyone that he didn't love. No matter how his father pressured him, he would never be wed to just anyone, he needed to be certain that she would be the right person.

  Seeing as he had no say in it all, according to his father, all Colin did was nod once. The Duchess smiled warmly, and his father nodded proudly. He stood up. "I will retire for the night."

  He pulled open the door and was about to walk out when he was bumped into. When he looked up, he was stunned.

  Standing before him was a Lady, in a grey dress, her blonde hair was packed roughly in a bun, the side of her face was smudged with dirt. Her hazel eyes stared back at him, her smile was apologetic.

  "Pardon me, My Lord. I had been coming in, I hadn't even thought that perhaps you'd be on your way out as well. I had hoped to welcome you home properly..."

  She was still talking, but he had lost the sound of her voice in his ears while he stared at her. Lady Lavinia. It had been so long. She had changed in the time that he was away. He could not help being stunned. She was all grown now, into a proper lady.

  And she was still speaking, perhaps lost in her own thoughts and was saying them all out loud. The way her brows rose as she spoke, the way her hands moved in the air, the way her hazel eyes held apology, he was tempted to laugh. She was hilarious. It was perhaps a good thing that she had bumped into him and began speaking endlessly. He had been in a sour mood, but now, because he was amused by her, his spirits were lifted.

  "Lavinia, be quiet," the Duchess said.

  Lavinia was still looking at him, but she had stopped talking. Her eyes were wide. "Was I going on too much?"

  He chuckled lowly, and nodded.

  "Thank you, for the warm welcome, My Lady," he said kindly.

  She smiled.

  "Lavinia!" the Duchess snapped. "Where were you? I sent for you long ago."

  Colin had a feeling that if he left her alone with them, the wrath of their parents would be on her. She didn't look as though she needed his help in facing them, but somehow, he felt obliged to save her from them. He understood what it was like to be under the scrutinizing gaze of his father.

  "I was busy, Mother."

  "Doing what, exactly? And what is that on your face, Lavinia? Where were you?" The Duchess sat up now.

  "I was in my bedchamber, Mother."

  "Oh dear Lord." The Duchess rubbed her forehead. His father did the same.

  Colin found it amusing, that Lavinia rattled them so much.

  She looked at him, he looked away quickly and tried to hide his growing smile. He was reconsidering his sentiments about being her tutor. Perhaps it would not be so bad. Perhaps she would not trouble him so much.

  Chapter Three

  Lavinia had not expected Lord Grandview to be so grown now. She had almost not recognized him. His shoulders were broader, he seemed taller now, and his dark hair was longer that she had remembered. She must have embarrassed herself before him. He seemed startled by her. The way he had gazed at her. She must have scared him with all her talking.

  "My Lady?" Rebecca called, signaling for her to take a seat on the small cushion stool before the mirror.

  Lavinia did as asked. It was a new day, and she was supposed to be properly dressed for breakfast. She sighed.

  Rebecca began to comb her hair, until it shone. Her mother had reprimanded her again, in the drawing room, after she had bumped into Colin. The Duke had told her that if she remained disobedient, he would reduce his support, he could cut her off financially.

  "All done, My Lady," Rebecca said, as she tucked in the final pin.

  Lavinia stared into the mirror. She looked proper, just like her mother would want. She stood up and smiled at Rebecca before making her way out of the bed chamber and heading down for breakfast.

  Everyone was seated when she walked in, including Lord Grandview. She nearly groaned. She had wanted to arrive early.

  "A Lady should arrive on time, Lavinia," the Duke said.

  She said nothing in return, rather she took a seat by her mother and smiled at everyone. Her smile wavered when her eyes met with the Duke's. The words she had seen scribbled on the paper, filled her mind. What had he done to Allen Bredon, Lord Fitzwilliam, her true father? And why?

  She looked away quickly, she was certain that until she got answers regarding that note, her spirits would never be at rest.

  They began their meal.

  The Duchess spoke up, before they all rose at the end of service.

  "Lord Grandview, you would begin the lessons with Lady Lavinia today?"

  They all looked at him.

  Lord Grandview nodded. "Of course, if Lady Lavinia is ready, that is."

  "She is ready," the Duchess said.

  Lavinia tried to stop herself from rolling her eyes. That would have been unladylike, and it certainly would not help her case.

  "Splendid," Lord Grandview said.

  "Of course, and dear," the Duchess turned to her. "I was thinking that it would be a good idea to throw a debut ball for you. It is high time we did."

  Lavinia could only nod. She had avoided a debut ball for the past two years. She saw no need of being introduced to the ton. She hated the idea of a debut ball surrounded by gossips, and how they would come to look at her, and wonder why her debut was so late. She was certain no one had forgotten who her father was. She expected that they would recall that before she became Lady Lavinia Crawford, she was Lavinia Bredon, the daughter of the Earl of Fitzwilliam.

  "The ball will be thrown in a fortnight’s time. We shall begin preparations immediately."

  Lavinia barely acknowledged her words. She simply stared at the empty plate before her. She was most uncomfortable with the idea, but of course she had no say in any matter at all. Her mother made decisions for her.

  She stood up, curtsied without looking anyone in the eye, and walked out of the dining room, heading to the garden. She heard footsteps behind her, hurried footsteps, but she did not turn to see who it was.

  Once she was outside, she turned abruptly, expecting to face her mother, but was surprised when she saw Colin facing her, his hands up in apology. She scoffed. Of course, it was him. Her mother would n
ever notice her distress. "You seem prepared to attack."

  "And you seem ready for it," she said in return.

  "You left abruptly."

  "I was unaware it was that obvious," she retorted.

  He put his hands down and pressed his lips in a thin line. Her features softened. She was being hard on him and this was no fault of his.

  "I do not like the idea of a debut ball," she said, and hoped he understood that her confession was her way of apologizing for snapping at him.

  He stuck his hands in the pocket of his breeches and said, "Ah... I see. But why would an eligible young lady resent her debut?"

  She shrugged. "Because I do not want it. What really is the use of a coming out ball?"

  "Your mother wants you to find a suitor, of course."

  Lavinia sighed.

  "Do you not want a suitor?"

  Lavinia looked at him for a moment, then she turned and walked off. "Why were you away for five years?"

  "I was traveling the world."

  She turned to him. "What were you doing while you traveled the world?"

  He smiled. "Painting."

  Lavinia remembered that he had had some interest in painting. She took off her shoes and walked into the garden.

  "Now that is inappropriate," he said.

  She ignored him and signaled to a maid. "Get me a quilt,” she called loudly.

  "It is improper for you to shout in such manner. You should have waited for her to come to you to receive instructions. I am surprised your mother never taught you any of this."

  Lavinia placed her hands on her waist and said to him. "I think you should practice your painting while we have these lessons."

  He folded his arms and stared at her head on. "Lavinia, that would be... unacceptable. Shall we sit and begin our lessons?”

  "Rebecca is getting a quilt."

  "It matters not. Put your shoes back on."

  Lavinia stared at him, he stared at her in return. She sighed. She did not need to be so hard on him. It was not his fault that her mother had made him her tutor. The best thing for her to do was to accept it. Perhaps the sooner they began, the sooner it would all be over.

  Lavinia put on her shoes, while she did this, she thought she saw Colin smile. When she was done, he nodded towards the courtyard beyond.

  They walked quietly.

  "A proper Lady of the ton should never slouch when she walks, Lavinia. You should be more aware of how you walk. Chin up, shoulders straight."

  Then he smiled. "Perhaps you will try it now?"

  Lavinia sighed. It was not as if she had a choice. She stood up from the bench where she was seated and began to walk. Just as she did this, the Duchess made her way over to them, her eyes squinted. She smiled as she approached them. Lavinia clenched her teeth and looked away.

  "No. Your shoulders, Lavinia," Colin said, still seated.

  “I’ve already been taught all of this,” she griped.

  “So then why aren’t you using any of it?” he shot back. “A gentleman looking for a bride will not be impressed by slouching.”

  Lavinia stopped, she raised her shoulders and resumed her walk.

  "And your chin."

  She tilted her chin up and looked straight ahead.

  The Duchess finally approached them. "Lavinia darling, I am very happy to see you both out here, these lessons will be so good for you," she said, and then turned to Colin. "Thank you for accepting to do this, dear."

  Colin nodded and returned his attention to Lavinia. The Duchess sighed. "Well, I have my own matters to attend to. I shall see you when you are done."

  Not waiting for a response, the Duchess walked away. Lavinia sighed. She tilted her head and stared at Colin. "So, how well did I do?"

  "You must learn to look away or look down when a gentleman looks at you. It is not proper to keep eye contact so much," Colin said, rising.

  Lavinia creased her brows. "Why can I not look at you?"

  "You are a Lady. You are the chased. You must let the suitor come after you. By looking away, you are doing that." He stood opposite her. "Here, let us try."

  Lavinia did as asked. When she looked up, she saw that he was staring at her. She was suddenly lost in his blue eyes, too lost, she could not look away.

  Colin, amused, began to chuckle. He shook his head and rubbed the sides of his face. "Lavinia, you are supposed to look away."

  She blushed. "Oh. I forgot,"

  He was still chuckling. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

  "Alright, perhaps you would like to try again?"

  Lavinia was getting tired with these lessons, but she agreed. After two more trials, she managed to not look at him for too long.

  He nodded in satisfaction when she finally got the hand of it. Lavinia took a seat.

  "I am quite exhausted. It takes some much concentration to control myself like this. My movements, even where I can and cannot look!" She sighed.

  Colin smiled, but he said nothing. Lavinia turned to him, she was curious about him. What he had done in the past five years? She wanted him to tell her his tales of what the world was like.

  Colin signaled to a maid who stood by them. He waited until she walked over to where they were seated before he gave out the instruction. "Please bring us tea and some biscuits." He was still trying to show her how to behave. She hoped he would not always be her teacher, and perhaps sometime they could simply talk.

  The maid nodded and headed off.

  Colin turned to Lavinia. "After tea, we should continue with some lessons before we retire for today."

  Lavinia relaxed in her seat. "Tell me about France, I’d love to hear about Paris."

  "Why are you interested in Paris?"

  "I recall that you were very interested in it, that it was the first place you wanted to go to."

  His brows raised, as though he could not believe what he was hearing. Then he said, "You remember what I had dreamt of?"

  She was quiet. He sighed. "I dreamt of life in Paris too much perhaps, made wishes for myself. My dreams made the real Paris sour when I arrived and while I stayed there."

  Lavinia narrowed her eyes at him. "You gave up on your dreams there?"

  "No, I tried. I took my lessons and tried to sell my paintings, tried to make a name for myself, as I had planned. But perhaps the dream I dreamt for myself was not what was meant for me."

  "Dreams do not come so easily, Colin. You have to be persistent. You should have waited a bit more, tried a bit harder, rather than give up."

  "I did not give up. I moved on, to try somewhere else."

  "Why?" she asked in a soft tone. "You love France."

  "And when it did not give me what I wanted, Lavinia, I had to move on."

  Her eyes searched his. France had hurt him. He did not say what it was that had hurt him in France, but she knew. She knew that something in France had broken him. So he became one who traveled the world just to find his place in it. One who hated who he had become. Perhaps it was why he had returned home, in order to find himself again.

  The maid arrived with the tray of tea and biscuits. She placed it before them and left.

  "Tell me about Scotland or Spain." Lavinia took up the teapot and poured them both a cup. She mixed in the correct amount of cream and sugar for him, which he accepted.

  He sighed. "The Spanish are liberal. I liked Spain. I liked how they danced. With their hands in the air, their feet tapping endlessly on the floor. They dance so fast."

  Lavinia had heard of that. She imagined dancing like that at her debutante ball. Not only would her mother not be pleased, she would shake her head at her, so would everyone who attended the ball.

  "What about Scotland?"

  "I did not stay in Scotland for very long."

  "You did not like it?"

  He smiled. "Aye lass."

  She found herself chuckling. He laughed too.

  When the laughter died, she said, "Tell me, did something happen in France?"
>
  He smiled. "Nothing of relevance, Lavinia."

  "Ah… I see."

  "I do recall some places I had been to, let me tell you..."

  She had taken the risk to ask him such a question, so he relented and began to tell her about his travels. As he spoke, she realized that not only did he speak about the countries, he spoke about the places he had painted, or would have, for she was almost certain that Colin had not painted again since he left Paris. He was sad about it, she was sure, and so she made a promise to herself, that she would make him paint again, for he had always loved it so much. Whatever happened in Paris was not worth him giving it up.