Chapter Nineteen #2
which she’d always admired. Tonight, he had his window that looked out on the garden open, letting in the breeze. He sat in
his enormous desk chair with his boots propped up on the window ledge.
“Thought you might come find me,” he said without even looking at her. “Imagined your brother would revel in all of it, but
you’d tire of it soon enough.”
“Did you see what I found?”
The desk chair creaked as he turned to face her. He had a brandy snifter cupped in his hand, and his cheeks were bright enough
to tell her it wasn’t his first.
“Pour yourself one if you like,” he said, noting her attention on the glass.
Tess did, though only a small amount. The champagne was beginning to wear off, and now that she was with Fenbridge, the anger
burned fiercer.
She approached the front of his desk and sipped the brandy. It was smooth and its bite sharp in the back of her throat.
“Why did you deny me?” she asked when she thought she could do so without her voice breaking.
Fenbridge’s silver brows dove closer as he frowned. “What do you mean?”
Good God, had he forgotten? “I asked to explore that mound. Tristan and I came to you with a plan, and you refused us.”
“Ah,” he said and then lifted his glass for a drink.
“You sit in here as if you can’t bear the Americans, and yet you let this happen. You signed the agreement and took his money.”
He simply stared at her.
“Have you nothing to say?”
Tipping his head, he told her, “No, I’m waiting as I suspect you’re not finished.”
Tess narrowed her eyes. “Is it that you only care about the money?”
Fenbridge burst into laughter. A raucous yet bitter sound. “My dear Miss Hawthorne, you’re too clever for such a hypothesis.
Have I ever sought your rents on Foxdene?”
Dropping her gaze, Tess twisted the snifter in her hands. The overdue rent was yet another point of shame to add to her others,
but what he said was true. He’d not even sent a notice of eviction or mentioned the matter during her meetings with him each
morning since the start of the dig.
“Then why?” Her voice came out plaintive, full of all the frustration she felt.
“Your father.”
Tess snapped her head up, locked gazes with the old man. “What does that mean?”
“Did he never tell you that he wanted more for you?”
“More?” Her father had urged Tess and her brother to pursue their interests.
“He wanted you both to move beyond Wiggenstow, both literally and in terms of your ambitions. Though perhaps you were staying
for him, and he didn’t want that.”
“We were staying for him.” Tess had once considered going to a lady’s college in London, and Tristan had almost been convinced by their father to study mathematics at university. But as their father’s illness progressed and he grew weaker, leaving seemed unthinkable.
“So, he was right.”
“Yes, but when we came to you, it was because we wanted it. Father didn’t care if we dug up the mounds. He was content to
write his book.”
“There are six mounds on my land.” He took a swig of brandy and seemed to savor it a moment. “Now that you’ve found treasures
in one, the others will draw interest too. This is a project that will take years.”
Tess slumped into the chair in front of Fenbridge’s desk. “Are you saying our own father thwarted us?”
Fenbridge sat forward. “I hope you don’t see it as such. He mentioned it out of love, out of hope for your futures.” He lifted
his bearded chin. “But the decision was ultimately mine, so you may blame me if you please.”
“Oh, I do.”
The nobleman winced at that, then he settled back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “I denied you the dig because I thought
it might spare you a life’s obsession over this corner of Norfolk, and yet here you remain.”
“You made a mistake to deny us permission.” Tess would not waver on that point, even if she adored her father and his desire
for more for his children. “Do you regret it yet?”
He arched a brow at her. “Letting those bloody Americans trample over my land and home? What do you think?”
“Then renegotiate your agreement with Van Arsdale. Send him away.”
“And let you and Mr. Prince finish the job?”
“Yes, I’d much rather work for you than for them.”
Fenbridge groused and waved his hand. “You assume my coffers are as flush as the Americans’ and can easily fund so many salaries. Sadly, Miss Hawthorne, they are not.”
“I’d still rather be employed by you than them. Even if we had to take the project more slowly.”
“And would your gentleman friend feel the same?”
Tess stiffened at his tone. “You once said you did not judge me, my lord.”
“It’s not judgement. But I do wonder. Do you love him, Miss Hawthorne?”
“We’re talking about the dig and Van Arsdale,” she told him, her whole body tensed, defensive, at the change in topic.
“If you do, perhaps you should tell him.”
“I haven’t come here to discuss Mr. Prince.”
The old nobleman shook his head, hunched down in his seat as if defeated. When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy. Tess
didn’t know if it was the brandy or emotion that caused them to glitter.
“You remind me so much of your mother. And why we never would have suited.” A ghost of a smile softened his expression. “She
was stubborn, as you are. As I am.”
Tess stood again and crossed her arms. “Forgive me, Lord Fenbridge, but I don’t wish to hear about you and my mother.”
He nodded. “Then let me speak only of myself. Take me as your example, Miss Hawthorne . . . of what not to do.”
Tess blinked and frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve lacked courage, but you seem a braver sort.” He nodded again as if warming to his subject. “Love is always a risk. I
was a coward, but I trust you won’t be.”
“You could prove your courage now and challenge Van Arsdale.”
They stared at each other for several moments, then Fenbridge lifted his glass out to her as if in a toast. “Touché, Miss Hawthorne. I shall speak to the American. You go find your treasure hunter.”
Tess didn’t relish Fenbridge as a matchmaker, but she departed his study to find Dominic.
This dinner had been far worse than the one Dom had endured at the Walcotts’ party. Tonight, Tess wasn’t seated far away from
him. She wasn’t even in the bloody room.
After the first course was served, he excused himself. The Van Arsdales were so thoroughly in their element that he doubted
they’d notice his departure. And Tristan Hawthorne shot him a wink as he stood, as if fully aware of Dom’s intention to find
his sister.
He checked Fenbridge’s library first, as that’s where she found him at the Walcotts’ party. Then, since he wasn’t entirely
sure of the hall’s ground-floor layout, he checked inside every unlocked room. When he exited the third, he heard footsteps
and turned to see her striding toward him.
“Were you looking for me?” she asked as if there might be any other answer to explain him wandering the hall.
“Of course. There hasn’t been a moment to speak to you, not truly, all day.”
She cast her gaze back over her shoulder and then down the length of the hall behind him as if wary of others hearing them.
Dom didn’t give a damn if they did.
“Why don’t we step outside?” he asked her.
With a single nod, she stepped past him, and he let her lead the way. Toward the back of the house, she pushed open two French
doors that led toward a paved terrace. Someone had lit lanterns for the guests’ benefit, and Tess stopped near one.
“It feels as if days have passed since this morning.”
“An eventful stretch of hours for certain.” The smile she wore held no real amusement.
“Tess,” he told her softly, “I need to know what you’re thinking.”
He drew closer and it seemed a victory when she didn’t pull away. His breath caught in his throat when she reached out to
run her finger along the buttons of his shirt.
“I’m thinking that something I told myself could be simple is now very complicated.” Her eyes glowed in the lantern light,
but Dom could only see a stew of emotions he was afraid to interpret. “I was a fool to think it.”
“It needn’t be complicated.”
“Of course it is. My feelings for you are more than I wanted them to be.”
Dom smiled. “Forgive me if I’m quite happy to hear that.” He reached for her then, cupping her cheek. “Tess, you may believe
I’m the man that all of them believe I am—”
“You know I don’t. I’ve already told you as much. You’re more than that.” She smiled up at him. “A great deal more.”
“And you are the only woman who’s made me want to be more than some ridiculous caricature of my father.” He drew in a breath
because he felt suddenly at sea, unsure of how to say all that was weighing on his heart. “I hardly remember the man I was
before I met you.”
She looked into his eyes, studying his features as if weighing his words. “We said this would be temporary,” she whispered.
“I don’t want it to be. Do you?”
“No.” She shook her head, then looked away from him. “But I can’t fathom how it would work. You’ll leave. Go off on the next
adventure.”
“Not without you.” He cupped her face in both of his hands, bent until their lips were a breath apart. “You are my first thought when I wake and in my dreams all night. You say you cannot fathom how it would work. I cannot fathom my future without you in it.”
He kissed her, praying she’d respond as eagerly as she had every other time. Yet it was more than every other time—more hunger,
more passion, more need—as if both of them had been waiting to unleash the feelings they’d held at bay.
Dom clasped her nape, aware he’d dislodged pins, though neither of them seemed to care. She slipped a finger between the buttons
of his shirt, as if desperate to touch his bare skin, and he took full of advantage of the low neckline of her gown, licking,
tasting, nipping the softness of her neck.
“Dominic,” she moaned when he tugged at the edge of her gown so that he could kiss the swell of her breast.
Fingers sunk in his hair, she urged him closer.
“Ah, there you are,” Sofia Van Arsdale called from the terrace doors.
If it weren’t for the perfection of having Tess in his arms, he would have growled his irritation at the interruption. He
kept his back to the American, helping Tess to right her gown, then turned, sheltering her as well as he could from Miss Van
Arsdale’s view.
But the young woman was already striding right up to them.
“Ah, and Miss Hawthorne.” She glanced at each of them, and it was obvious the moment understanding dawned. She let out a little
chuckle. “I see. I’m not sure what my father will make of this.”
“If your father takes issue with how I conduct myself, then let him say as much to me,” Dom told her. What was between him
and Tess was none of the Americans’ business, and it had not impacted their work on the dig in any way.
“I have something I must say,” Tess said and then stepped out to face Miss Van Arsdale. “I’ll forestall any concern your father might have. I hereby leave my post as advisor to your father’s treasure hunt. Neither of you seems to care much about the history anyway.”
“Tess, you needn’t—” Dom started.
“No, I want to. If I can’t stomach their treatment of the artifacts, then I shouldn’t be taking their money.”
He wasn’t sure if she was saying he should do the same, but he understood how she felt.
“I’m going home,” she told him. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Tess flashed a soft smile, and he started toward her.
“But my father wants you back in the dining room, Mr. Prince,” Miss Van Arsdale called. “He sent me to find you.”
“I don’t have much of an appetite.” The only thing he needed was more time with Tess. “I’ll bid you good evening, Miss Van
Arsdale.”
“You can’t just walk out when my father’s asking for you,” Miss Van Arsdale said, her voice full of shock that he’d dare to
do other than Van Arsdale’s bidding. “Surely, you don’t mean to forfeit your position too.”
“Don’t,” Tess said softly, reaching out to clasp his hand. “Don’t make some hasty decision because of me. Go back and do what
you must. We can talk in the morning.”
“I can come tonight, or you could come to me,” he whispered.
“I’ve had too much to drink, and it’s been an eventful day. Let’s talk in the morning.” She arched up onto her toes, pressed
a hand to his chest, and kissed his cheek.
His heart thudded hard as he watched her walk away.