Chapter 4
Miss Briarwood wanted to save him. It was the sweetest thing Dominic had ever experienced, and so he was going to let her.
Dominic held her hand, escorted her across the room, and headed to that group of people that she thought he’d be so intimidated by.
It made him want to laugh, and yet he played along as splendidly as he could, because there was one thing that she did not understand about him: The world that he had seen, well, it was wild.
And London was wild, it was true, but nothing like the madness he had grown up with.
He had traveled the United States up and down.
Then, in a last-ditch hope of his mother’s to turn their lives around, Dominic had visited his bitter old grandfather in the cold north of England, and he had seen people die as their dreams were crushed.
His mother’s dreams had certainly died when she realized just how unkind the old duke was.
And she’d lost her life. Yes, any dreams she’d had had been crushed, after an unrelenting hope, by the ever-increasing sense that she had failed to save her husband from despair.
And then, in her mind, she’d failed to find a good place for her son.
Dominic had seen the light leave people’s eyes on both sides of the Atlantic.
He knew the world in a way Miss Briarwood and her family never could! And yet he could not stop himself from feeling incredibly endeared by her desire to save him, to help him.
And so, how could he tell her no? Because he did like her immensely.
She was the first person in all of England who had seemed worthwhile, at least in the ton.
He liked the regular English people as best as he could.
Many of them were good. It was why he far preferred living in the East End than the West. It’s why he would not go to his home, though there were other reasons too.
Reasons he would not think of at present. Otherwise, he would feel ill.
Dominic ignored the looks of the people attending this ball, people he’d have to win over, and he stopped before a rather stunning group of men and women, who peered at him as if he had grown a second or third head.
He had not.
So, he bowed slightly. “I do believe introductions are necessary,” he drawled.
Miss Briarwood smiled at her gaping relatives, turned back to him, and said, “My darling family, this is the Duke of Roseford. Roseford, this is my uncle, the Duke of Westleigh.”
And then she fired off a quick succession of names, indicating several tall, formidable men who looked like they were either going to murder him or ask him to make merry. It was rather hard to tell.
Perhaps they had yet to decide.
“There are too many of us to be introduced properly at present, my dear,” said the Duke of Westleigh, a towering dark-haired man with wild eyes and a fierce jaw. “We are also all dumbstruck. What are you doing in the ballroom? We thought you were reading in some nook.”
“It is time for me to relieve Emilia,” she said easily.
Emilia pushed her way through the family and nodded. “Thank God. I thought you were never going to arrive. Another question about lace or ascots and I would have perished.”
Dominic gaped from one sister to the next. “You two look virtually identical.”
“Oh, well done,” Emilia said, applauding. “He can see.”
“He’s not so very terrible,” Celia said in his defense. “He’s actually quite better than most.”
Emilia stared at her sister for a long moment. “Oh, dear. Oh, good God in heaven. Don’t tell me it’s happened to you.”
“It hasn’t!” Celia protested swiftly.
Dominic swung his gaze back and forth, wondering what the devil Emilia might mean. “Would someone like to elucidate? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“A common set of affairs for people who first come into the Briarwoods’ presence,” the Duke of Westleigh assured. “Now, who would you like to ask to dance first?”
“Why, of course, Miss Celia Briarwood,” he said.
Celia narrowed her gaze. “I brought you here to know my family, not to know more of me.”
“And yet,” Dominic said, “I should like to ask you to dance.”
Her mouth dropped open ever so slightly. “This was not my plan.”
“Well, my dear, I suppose you better decide if you’re going to leave him flat, or if you’re going to agree,” her uncle, the duke, said, clearly amused.
“Fine, fine,” Celia begrudged. “Though I do not favor it, I suppose one dance won’t hurt anything.”
Roseford smiled slowly. “I’m so glad to know that it will not be a terrible sacrifice to join me on the floor.”
“You have no idea,” she retorted. “Emilia, will you be all right?”
Emilia winked. “I suppose I can last for another few minutes.”
“Thank you, Miss Emilia,” he said with a bow “For making your truly noteworthy sacrifice so that I might have a few moments to dance with your sister.”
Emilia arched a brow. “I have not decided if I approve of you or not.”
He sucked in a breath. “I beg your pardon?”
Emilia folded her arms across her beribboned gown. “I see what you’re up to.”
“Do you?” he asked, amazed at the boldness of the family and quite enjoying it.
“Yes. You’re too charming,” Emilia declared.
“Am I?” he asked.
“Yes,” Emilia said, “but we might forgive you if you prove worthy.”
“I feel the judgment most intensely,” Dominic declared seriously. “But since Miss Celia is such a splendid person, who insists I am in need of the Briarwoods, I shall endeavor to do all I can to win favor.”
Emilia gave him a surprised look, as if he had just won several points.
The Duke of Westleigh gave him a most interesting look. “Oh, we shall be judging you,” he said. “Most severely. So have your dance, and then we shall see what happens next. But the fact that Celia likes you? That is most helpful.”
He looked forward to what came next. Indeed, he did. For finally, after days of feeling adrift in London, he was finally feeling rather alive, surrounded by people who were interesting and had not fawned over him. In fact, they were doing quite the opposite, and he adored it.
He took Celia’s hand again, led her out onto the polished floor, and was most pleased when a waltz began. It was as if the heavens were smiling upon him.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“What?” he asked.
“Asked me to dance.”
“Why?” he asked, surprised.
“Now the entire room is looking at us,” she said.
“They were already looking at us,” he said. “Hadn’t you noticed?”
She frowned before she coughed slightly and prevaricated, “I thought they were staring at you.”
“You did not.”
“They must’ve been staring at you,” she insisted, as if she was determined to gain no notice. “You are a novelty.”
“Ah,” he said. “Yes, I already thought I was a bit like an animal in a menagerie here. Is that correct?”
“Indeed. And no one quite knows yet if you have stripes or spots,” she warned as she adjusted her skirts in her grasp so she would not trip over them.
“Ah. If I am a carnivore or an herbivore?” he queried.
She nodded. “No one here quite has the lay of your land.”
“And if I dance with you, what will they think?”
“That you, Your Grace, are barking up the wrong tree.”
He laughed. “Oh, but that is my favorite pastime,” he said. “Why pursue anything that is easily got? Hardship is where the good stuff is.”
“Are you saying that dancing with me is hard?” she said playfully.
He smiled slowly as he took her in his arms and rocked them to the first notes of the music so that they could find their rhythm. “You want to make it hard for me, don’t you?”
“I don’t want to make it hard!” she protested, as he easily led her about the floor in great turning arcs.
With their long legs, they ate up the floor and turned circles about the other couples.
“No?” he said.
“I am not trying to make it hard for you,” she assured quite firmly. “You see, I simply have no desire to dance with men.”
“And yet here we are.”
She gave him a merry look. “I could have left you in the dust, but that would have been rather rude, and then you would have asked me again. So now you will have had your one dance, and you can leave me be.”
“That is what you wish?” he asked, shocked. “For me to leave you be?”
She stared up at him for a long moment. “I want us to understand each other.”
“All right then. Let us understand each other.”
“I have done my good deed. My family will help you.”
“Indeed. The heavens shall sing your praises for it,” he said.
“I’ve introduced you to my family,” she continued on, ignoring him, “and that is enough.”
“And you shall forget our kiss so quickly,” he whispered. “And our conversation?”
“Of course,” she said, though her cheeks suddenly glowed with color that had little to do with the exertion of dancing. “Gentlemen do it all the time.”
He nearly tripped at that, then pulled her tightly into his arms at her bold but accurate statement.
“I say,” she said, “keep enough distance between us for our holy thoughts and all that?”
He laughed. “I have a funny feeling you’re not that obsessed with holy thoughts.”
She smiled. “And what makes you think that?”
“You’re too well-read.”
She guffawed. “And that means that I’m not worried about what others think of me? Best be careful making assumptions about what sort of person I am. You don’t even know the work I do or what I’m obsessed with.”
“Then tell me,” he said.
Her brow furrowed. “Do you actually wish to know? You’re the first gentleman in quite a long time who’s bothered to ask me about anything, besides my family.”
“I really want to know,” he said.
“I teach Shakespeare. And I’m obsessed with that.”
“You’re a teacher!” he blurted. “But you’re a member of a very wealthy family. You are related to a duke.”
“Yes,” she said. “And I—”
“A teacher,” he said. “How splendid.”
She shook her head. “You’re not listening.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said contritely. “It is my being overwhelmed at my good luck at getting to dance with you.”
“Don’t mock me,” she said.
“I’m not,” he replied.
“You are,” she said.
“Well, maybe just a little,” he teased. “Tell me more.”
“I teach children who are disadvantaged.”
“How very good of you.”
“You are mocking me!” she exclaimed.
“Well, you were mocking me earlier, were you not?” he said softly. “Perhaps a little mocking will do just the thing. You are taking yourself very seriously.”
She looked at him. “You are strange.”
“Indeed I am, and so are you.” He frowned. “Why did you assume that I wish to marry you?”
“Forgive me, that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to make clear that I have no intention of marrying…anyone.”
“Thank you. I am warned,” he said, even as his eyes warmed. “But what about the rest? What about a kiss? What about a dance? What about a good conversation? Are all of those off the table in our negotiations?”
“Are we negotiating?” she asked.
“Oh, certainly. Life is a negotiation. You tried to pawn me off on your family. And if you wish to do so, I shall not protest. But I am not a dog who will beg for a bone.”
“Are you comparing me to a bone?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” he said with a wink. “A very juicy one.”
He knew he was being a bit terrible, but he couldn’t help himself. She wanted to help him, and suddenly he found he wanted to help her. Help her see how much she should be admired, and how life could be more fun than she seemed to let it be. But then again, perhaps he was mistaken.
She tripped now, tumbling against him. “You need better metaphors, Your Grace.”
“We’re going to look terribly clumsy to everyone,” he said.
“Yes, we are,” she said. “Stop saying ridiculous things.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s something that you do to me. You make the oddest things come out of my mouth.”
And it was true. She did.
By God, he loved every bit of it. It was the first time he had been happy in months.
That thought struck him hard. It truly was the first time he had been happy since his father died.
Maybe even since his mother died. His life had always been full of melancholy.
It was true. But he’d known how to make merry, how to live large and have the best possible life.
To be in defiance of the sorrows in this world.
But when his father died, that merriment?
It had all been sucked out of and away from him.
And for the first time, here with Miss Briarwood in his arms, he felt…
Oh, God. He felt that thing that she admired.
He felt hope. It was ridiculous, of course.
He knew the dangers of hope, and he would not allow himself to feel it for long.
But if he was going to feel it for a little while, he might as well enjoy it.