Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Something is very wrong here…
Dominic Everhart thudded down the stairs with bleary eyes and a pounding head, while a knot in his neck refused to be unraveled. His manor, ever his sanctuary, felt strange to him in the soft morning light, as if someone had crept in during the night and moved everything around.
Yet nothing seemed to be out of place.
His eyes scrunched into a squint as the front door burst open, a lively maelstrom of a man breezing in with a grin. “Well, it would seem I arrived just in time. I worried you might have been up since dawn, tired of waiting, and gone riding without me.”
The man was Hugo St. Vincent, Dominic’s maternal cousin and just about the only person he permitted to visit with any regularity. Hugo’s sister, and Dominic’s other cousin, Octavia, occasionally made the journey, but she quickly grew bored of the countryside and did not much favor Bath society.
“I was in the fields until late,” Dominic grumbled, as he continued down to the entrance hall. “A tree came down, broke through one of the barns. Twenty sheep and a donkey ran off and needed to be brought back, not to mention the damage to the barn.”
It was something that still needed tending to, but he had already agreed to spend the day with his cousin before the tree came down… and that surprising woman came to his door. As such, he could not change his plans: duty commanded that he keep his engagement.
Frances suddenly flashed into his mind: green eyes like late summer leaves, dark brown hair that had spilled loose from her bonnet, which he had briefly wanted to brush out of her face.
A beautiful face, though surprising for a lady of the ton: her complexion was not the sunless, porcelain pale that he knew society held in such bafflingly high regard, but pleasantly freckled, as if she were not terrified of the outdoors.
Small in stature, with pleasing curves that some might have considered ‘plump’ but he considered to be healthy and vastly preferable to a slender waif who looked like they might be blown over by a mild wind, she had made a considerably powerful impression last night.
When I moved toward her, why did she not step away? It perplexed him even now, for he was accustomed to people avoiding him. Preferred it, in truth. But she had stood firm, not only unafraid of standing in his path but reaching out to touch him, too.
He could still feel where she had touched him, like a bruise on his arm.
“I can come back tomorrow, if you like?” Hugo leaned against the newel post, his face flushed, blue eyes bright from the ride over.
“What?” Dominic snapped out of his thoughts, troubled by the fact he was thinking of her at all.
“I said, I can come back tomorrow, if you like? You seem occupied.”
Dominic mustered a dry laugh. “I notice you did not offer to help with the barn.”
“I know my talents, cousin. Hard labor is not one of them.” Hugo smirked with the ease of a man who reveled in humor and being around others. “I could offer moral support?”
Dominic shook his head. “It can wait.” He paused. “I do not understand why you do not stay here when you visit Bath, instead of riding from the city.”
“Because you do not actually want me to stay,” Hugo replied with a chuckle. “I do not mind, cousin. I know your nature. Besides, I prefer to come and go as I please, and I would feel as if I had to inform you of my every movement if I were to reside here.”
“Why on earth would you feel like that?”
Hugo shrugged. “Memories of my uncle, I suppose.” He feigned a shudder. “Goodness, he was strict. I shall never know how you endured it.”
“He was not strict, he just had high expectations,” Dominic replied gruffly, as he headed toward the breakfast room. “You might not be coming and going as you please at thirty years old if my uncle had had higher expectations. You are the Duke of Ravenvale, not an heir at his leisure.”
Groaning, Hugo traipsed after him. “Do not start with that, cousin. I hear it enough from my mother.”
“Maybe, you should listen.”
“It is not as if you have remarried, though you have no sons at eight-and-thirty,” Hugo pointed out, drawing level with Dominic. “I do not pester you to find a new wife.”
Dominic sighed, a weary smirk lifting his lips. “No, I suppose you do not. So, perhaps we should speak of something else.”
He pushed open the door to the breakfast room and froze. It was not yet eight o’clock in the morning, yet there was already someone in there. Two people, in fact. One of whom had not seen eight o’clock in the morning since she was ten years old.
“Lady Harriet, please. You cannot… shovel food into your mouth like that,” Frances groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“But I am hungry,” Harriet protested.
“I realize that, but you must be dainty. You must pretend as if you are not so famished. Remember, you lightly stab the eggs,” Frances demonstrated, skewering a piece of egg on her fork, “then carefully pop it into your mouth. Never too much.”
Dominic found his lips parting unconsciously as she slipped the food into her mouth; he had never seen anyone eat more gracefully, though it was her lips themselves that held his attention a moment longer. Full and pleasingly pink, the shade of fresh raspberries.
What are you doing? He looked away, realizing at last why his manor felt so wrong today. It was because of her. A guest in his house who should not have been there, for she was never supposed to actually accept the challenge he had put before her.
Harriet chewed unhappily. “But who is going to see me eat breakfast?”
“Lady Harriet, not with your mouth full,” Frances urged. “Swallow first, demurely dab the corners of your mouth, then speak. And it is not about breakfast, it is about dinner parties, of which there will be many if you debut well.”
Dominic realized he had not blinked in some time, so astounded by the scene before him. Not only was his daughter awake and eating breakfast at a reasonable hour, but she was dressed for the day, her hair neatly pinned into a braided bun.
“Dinner parties?” Harriet gasped, almost choking on her mouthful. “Are they as wonderful as everyone says they are? Will I be seated next to an eligible gentleman? Will there be twelve courses?”
Eligible gentlemen? Discomfort shifted like a slipped rib in Dominic’s chest. Of course, he knew his daughter could not stay in his household forever, but he did not like the idea of her marrying so soon.
Considering his position as a duke, he reasoned she could have a few Seasons out in society before she even had to think about a husband.
It was precisely why he did not care if Harriet’s debut was a roaring success. Indeed, he would prefer it if it was not.
Frances chuckled, her beautiful face losing the tension of despair, her green eyes brightening.
“It depends on the invitation and the host. Some have an inclination toward matchmaking, so they carefully choose who should sit where, but even if you are not seated beside an eligible gentleman, there is always after dinner to speak to anyone who has caught your—”
She faltered as she finally noticed Dominic in the doorway.
“Forgive me,” she blurted out, dipping her head. “I did not see you there, Your Grace.”
She would not look him in the eye, a world away from the fierce, determined gaze of last night. This shy, almost submissive woman was not the same fanged vixen who had touched his arm and accepted the challenge of turning his half-wild daughter into a respectable young lady.
Hugo pushed past Dominic and flopped down onto the nearest chair, his hand raised to one of the footmen for tea.
“Do not let us stop you,” he said cheerily.
“But first, I must know who you are and what coven of witches you hail from, for clearly you are a sorceress if you have coaxed Harriet out of her bed before luncheon.”
“Uncle Hugo!” Harriet jumped up from her chair and ran to Hugo, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “When did you arrive? I did not know you were coming. Is Octavia with you?”
The man was not actually her uncle, of course, but her cousin once removed.
However, as Dominic had no brothers, no siblings of his own, she had been calling Hugo “uncle” since she was old enough to speak.
Her mother had had a brother and sister, but they were long gone.
Even when they were alive, they had not shown much interest in their niece.
Hugo laughed and hugged Harriet in return. “I am in Bath for a few weeks, dear girl. Alas, Octavia could not be persuaded to join me. She is too busy enjoying London, causing all sorts of mischief with Victoria before the Season begins afresh.”
“Victoria?” Harriet frowned, retreating back to her chair.
“Joan’s sister.”
“Joan?” Harriet’s frown deepened.
Hugo rolled his eyes and shot a disapproving glance at Dominic. “Do you tell your daughter nothing, cousin? Or is it that you do not read my letters?”
“I tell her what is important,” Dominic replied dismissively, as he took his seat and reached for a pewter carafe of weak coffee.
“No, Uncle, you were right,” Harriet replied stiffly. “He does not tell me anything.”
A funny twinge of regret writhed in Dominic’s stomach, robbing him of his appetite. It was not that he did not tell her anything; he just did not like her reading those dire scandal sheets, learning of society through gossip and rumor. He did not like her interest in society at all.