Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
When Frances had asked Dominic if she could hold the charade of a dinner party at Alderwick, he had never expected it all to come rushing at him so quickly. He had assumed it would take place closer to the end of her tenure as tutor, not a mere two days after he had agreed.
“Hugo,” he said with a stiff nod as his cousin swept into the entrance hall, wearing the grin of a man who had just received a glorious gift.
“Cousin.” Hugo clapped him on the arm. “I had to ensure I was the first here, to be certain you had not been replaced by an impostor. Dominic Everhart, hosting a dinner party: I have a rider waiting to fetch a physician, just in case.”
Dominic sighed. “Yes, very amusing. It is not a real dinner party; it is part of Harriet’s education.”
“Oh, I know all that. The invitation was quite thorough.” Hugo slid a card from his pocket. “I am to play the disgruntled father of a potential suitor, and I know just who I shall use as inspiration for my performance.”
Dominic frowned at the card, the edges elegantly lined with ink and decorated with little stars, though he could not recall agreeing to have them made.
How much has all of this cost me? His fortune was considerable, among the largest in England, but it remained plentiful because he did not squander it on silly things. Like dinner parties and invitations.
“Who have you brought with you?” Dominic asked, somewhat perplexed by what he was about to face.
He could count on one hand the number of ‘outsiders’ he had seen in the past year, but if he had to welcome more into his home for his daughter’s sake, then so be it.
Although, he had to wonder how Frances had managed to get ahold of the addresses for the guests. He had not opened his study to her, and she had not sought him out since their awkward moment on the stairs, so unless she had won the housekeeper and Dominic’s valet over, he could not fathom it.
“A few friends,” Hugo replied. “I would have summoned more if there had been more notice, but they are eager to discover who they will be playing this evening.”
As if hearing their cue, the sound of carriages coming down the driveway rattled through Dominic’s skull, discomfort beetling down his spine as he braced himself.
For her, he told himself. This is for her.
But as he put on a polite smile and waited for the guests, he was not quite certain which ‘her’ he was talking about: the one this was all for, or the one who had made it happen.
“Whose idea was this?” crowed one of Hugo’s friends, Lord George, the youngest son of the Marquess of Knaresbury.
Hugo gestured across the table to where Frances sat, dressed in a gown of green muslin that matched the exact shade of her eyes. Dominic had been trying not to glance too often in her direction, but it was impossible not to follow the line of Hugo’s pointing.
“Lady Frances,” Hugo said, a note of pride in his voice. “She is my dear Harriet’s tutor, and with her dedication, I have every faith that Harriet will be the diamond of the Season.”
Lord George brought his hand to his brow.
“Then, I must salute you, Lady Frances, for I daresay I have not had this much fun at a dinner party in an age! This ought to be how all dinner parties are done: you are given a character at the door and must perform your way through the evening. It certainly eliminates the lulls in conversation.”
Dominic cleared his throat, loudly chiding, “You are supposed to remain in character for the duration, or so I believe.”
“Quite right, Cousin,” Hugo cheered, nudging Lord George in the arm. “Go on. Back to being Lord Lawton.”
Lord George grinned and turned back to Harriet, who sat to his left.
She was dressed in a gown of peach satin, her hair done in a style that Dominic had not seen her wear before, her cheeks colored a happy shade of pink.
In truth, she looked a little too grown up for Dominic’s liking, his head knowing this was good for her, his heart wondering if he ought to just send her to a convent and be done with worrying about her future in society.
I missed so much of her growing up; I should not miss this forward step in her life because I am nervous of what is to come.
As he picked up his glass of wine and took a sip, he watched his daughter closely. Harriet was politely picking her way through the fish course of baked sole with lemon and dill, using every lesson that Frances had taught her about dining etiquette.
When Lord George spoke to her, she covered her mouth with her hand and finished chewing before responding to him. Dominic could not hear what was being said, which irked him somewhat, but it appeared that his daughter was doing rather well.
Satisfied that, with Hugo so close by, Harriet was in relatively safe hands, Dominic allowed his gaze to slide over the rest of the guests.
There were twelve in all, including Frances, Harriet, Hugo, and Dominic, the other eight almost entirely unfamiliar to him: two young ladies around Harriet’s age, and six gentlemen of varying age.
One was somewhat familiar, though Dominic could not place him: older than the rest of the party, perhaps Dominic’s age, with thick fair hair, light blue eyes, and a lively demeanor that seemed to be pleasing the two other ladies in attendance.
Another friend of my cousin, no doubt. For they all seemed to have been dragged along by Hugo.
Dominic continued to observe the guests as he sipped his wine, until his gaze came to rest on Frances.
She appeared to be the quietest at the table, concentrating on her food rather than the conversation going on around her.
As if her part in it all was complete, and the rest was for everyone else to enjoy.
Does she not like these sorts of occasions?
He frowned, unable to figure out how a lady of her standing and her beauty and her character was not yet married at five-and-twenty. How could someone like her be on the verge of spinsterhood, on the brink of being unmarriageable in society’s eyes?
In that moment, he wished he might have been seated closer to her, so he could at least strike up a conversation. It did not seem right that the one who had orchestrated all of this should be the one sitting silently, ignored by the guests on either side of her.
“I refuse to permit it!” Hugo suddenly cried, his voice a melodramatic boom that would have carried all the way to the other side of the manor.
Dominic’s attention snapped back to his cousin.
“My son will be a marquess one day!” Hugo continued, as Dominic assessed the situation.
Another gentleman, seated on the other side of Harriet, had begun to talk to her: young, easily amused, likely incapable of growing a mustache, much less being capable of taking care of Dominic’s daughter.
“You may be a duke’s daughter, and unreasonably pretty, but I simply cannot let you steal away my heir with your charms. I saw you slurp your soup, I watched you flounder over which knife to use for your fish.
” Hugo clasped his chest, as stifled laughter began to ripple around the room. “No, it cannot be! I forbid it!”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed, his temper flaring, as he braced to scold his cousin… but then Harriet burst out laughing, throwing her napkin down as if in defeat.
“You saw no such thing, Uncle Hugo,” she protested as she laughed. “I have never given more concentration to anything in my life as I have given to each of these courses and each piece of cutlery. You were the one who did not even use a knife for your fish!”
Hugo’s face cracked into a grin. “Ah, you see—you are no fit bride for my son, if you would point out my failings! You should ignore an old man’s weaknesses.
If you see me drop some bread, as I did before, you say nothing!
And I am not your Uncle Hugo, I am…” he checked his card “… The Marquess of Haselden.”
“Never, Lord Haselden,” Harriet replied, her eyes glittering with mirth. “I shall become the tutor of etiquette, pointing out every mistake I see. For if I must learn, then so must you all.”
Dominic relaxed, permitting himself a chuckle. His daughter was not upset or insulted, taking it in her stride.
Meanwhile, Hugo leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.
“My apologies, dear Harriet, I have ruined the charade. It was selfish of me. I have no excuse; I simply could not continue playing the part of a fifty-year-old man with a son. It was too unsettling for a young gallant like me.” He gestured to Frances.
“I apologize to you, too, for disrupting the game. The lesson, rather.”
“Nonsense, Your Grace,” Frances replied politely. “I thought my student dealt with it rather well. Indeed, as Lady Harriet has done so well, perhaps we might be ourselves for a while. At least until after dinner.”
“A splendid idea,” Hugo cheered, while Harriet seemed to draw in a relieved breath.
Dominic did not see how the rest of the table responded, for he could not look away from Frances.
With the mechanism of the evening now relaxed, she brightened, a somewhat shy smile enhancing her beauty as she turned to speak to the gentleman on her right: the fair-haired fellow that Dominic had not been able to place.
Mesmerized, Dominic watched her mouth move, though he could not quite hear what she was saying. And when she chuckled at some jest or other, he found himself smiling as if he were the one seated beside her, telling her the joke.
And as he continued to admire her from afar, something stirred in him, like a jewel that had lain buried in river silt, emerging with an unexpected tide: a feeling he had never felt before. A feeling so foreign to him, that he had no name for it.
Just then, her laughter, rich and musical, drifted across the table.
Not a mere chuckle or a shy smile, but true, unbridled laughter, offered without shame or embarrassment.
It might have been the most beautiful sound Dominic had ever heard…
tarnished only by the fact that some other man had brought that laughter, that merriment, to her lips.
For the second time that evening, a new feeling caught him unawares, but this one had a name: Envy.