Chapter Sixteen
O nce again, Sander was on the wrong end of the continuum when it came to preserving his usually tranquil temperament. Miss Docia Hale, the viscount’s daughter, as she so blithely informed them, huddled beneath a blanket near the fire. He wanted to shake her for putting Verda in danger—herself as well. He had a few words for the absent viscount.
Damien strolled into the library. “Miss Bash has been turned over to—” He stopped, having caught sight of Docia. His head tilted to one side, then he shot Sander a look, his brows raised.
“ Lady Docia fell off her horse and twisted her ankle,” Sander said without an ounce of inflection in his voice.
“I see.” Damien strolled to the hearth. “And what were you doing riding on such a day, my dear?”
She didn’t meet his gaze. “I wanted to see Lucius.”
“Lucius is at school,” Damien returned. “You knew that. He left months ago. Does your father know where you are?”
“Papa’s in London.”
“And your sister? Apologies, I’ve forgotten her name.”
“Eleanor. She’s dead.”
“ Dead .” Sander hadn’t heard that.
Damien winced. “Ah, I’d forgotten that as well. Well, you aren’t staying at Chaston all alone. Who is in charge of looking after you?”
“My lady’s maid, Olive. I was hiding from her. She hit me and I ran away.”
“What of your governess? Surely, Chaston didn’t fail on that duty?”
Funny question from Damien when Sander was constantly forced in reminding him of his duty to his own sons.
“That’s why he left for London,” she said. Her feet didn’t touch the floor—they gently swung crossed at the ankles. Ankle . He peered closer. The right was crossed over the left, the one she’d supposedly twisted.
With a glance out the windows, Damien let out a sigh. “You’ll stay here tonight,” he told her. “The weather’s too dangerous to return you to Chaston.” He addressed Sander. “Send Fletcher over with a note that Miss Hale will return tomorrow.”
Sander noted the little miss hadn’t bothered correcting Damien, though her face tightened expressing her displeasure. For as long as Sander could recall, the entirety of Alnmouth had indulged Docia as a child who appeared to have a father who, upon the death of his wife, had forgotten his children. A tragic situation all the way round. He strolled to a small escritoire and penned the missive then pulled a chord for the footman. After dispatching the note, he moved to the seating area and took the wingback chair. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he told her.
Eyes downcast, she lifted one shoulder. A second later, a lone tear splashed on her leather kid glove.
He rose from his chair and held out his hand. “Come along, Lady Docia. Let’s find you a chamber and get you warmed up before dinner.”
She raised her gaze, taking his hand to stand, and gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, sir.”
Sander led her from the library, leaving his brother, who rose and went straight to the brandy. He pulled the door closed behind them and indicated she precede him on the stairs. “What made you believe Lucius was home?”
“Oh, he didn’t want anything to do with school,” she said emphatically. “I believe it’s due to talk of Lady Pender’s having a child and then her death. I was certain Lucius would be back for that.”
“The earl opted not to bring him home. The weather is too erratic this time of year.”
Her composure was impressive. “I thought it certain he would run away from school. We’re to marry, you see.”
Sander choked out a cough. “Pardon?” He narrowed his gaze on her, but hers was on her feet, her skirts in a dainty hold between her fingers. “He is only thirteen, Docia. This is not the Middle Ages, where women of nobility marry at the age of twelve.” Not to mention the little matter of that contract Damien had signed with Rathbourne regarding the duke’s daughter. A fact Sander chose not to voice.
She came to a stop, frowning. “It’s Lady Docia, and I’m eleven.”
Hiding a grin, Sander nudged her into motion. “Well, you’ve plenty of time to work things out. I expect Lucius will return home in a few months. Noah is in residence. He is looking after his new brother. Perhaps he can keep you company.”
“I don’t much care for Noah,” she said.
Sander managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “This way, my lady.”