Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The following morning, Frances was not there at breakfast, though Dominic made certain to be in the breakfast room early. Harriet was not there either, apparently using last night’s dinner party as a reason to revert to her old habits.
He waited, long after he had finished the eggs and toast that he had no appetite for. He waited until the servants began to look uneasy, no doubt wondering what he was doing. He waited until he had read through the newspaper thrice and had consumed far more coffee than was, perhaps, wise.
Frances did not appear… and he understood why.
“Could someone fetch Miss Bright here, please?” he asked, when he could wait no longer.
One of the footmen frowned. “Miss Bright?”
“The maid that Lady Frances brought with her,” Dominic replied. “I need to speak with her.”
The footman bowed his head. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll find her at once.”
He left the room with the haste of a man who was relieved to have something interesting to do, while the two other servants in the room stood awkwardly. There was nothing for them to do, probably eager to get on with the rest of their day, but they could do nothing while Dominic was still there.
“You are dismissed,” he said, to put them out of their misery. “The table can be cleared later.”
The two servants bowed and walked out quickly; they did not need to be told twice.
In the peace of their departure, Dominic turned in his chair and gazed out an overcast morning. Gray and gloomy, the new spring leaves rustled by an undoubtedly chilly breeze. He had meant to ride this morning, but he was no longer in the mood.
A few minutes later, the door to the breakfast room opened and Miss Bright stepped inside, her head bowed, her hands clasped in front of her, as if she were meeting the archbishop, not Dominic.
She did not speak.
“Miss Bright?” he said.
The maid did not raise her gaze. “Yes, Your Grace?”
She sounded awfully nervous, her voice tight.
“I wondered if you could tell me where Lady Frances is this morning?” he said. “Neither she nor my daughter have come down to breakfast.”
The maid cleared her throat. “Lady Frances has a terrible headache this morning, Your Grace. She means to spend the rest of the day recuperating. Harriet was informed, and decided to return to her bed.” She paused. “I do believe that Lady Harriet had breakfast in her chambers, though.”
So, Frances is avoiding me… I can hardly blame her.
Dominic nodded slowly. “Thank you, Miss Bright. That will be all.”
The maid finally lifted her head. She seemed surprised that that was all he wished to say. Perhaps she had thought he was going to cast her out, seeing as she was not one of his staff.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She dipped her head, so eager to leave the room that she had a brief battle with the door, pushing where she ought to pull.
Dominic thought about offering assistance. Before he could, she figured it out, muttered an apology, and scurried off into the hallway. Leaving him alone, as he likely deserved to be.
Why did you do it, you fool? He still did not know the answer. Dancing in front of guests was one thing but taking hold of her in private; that was quite another.
It would be a miracle if she did not pack what meager belongings she had and headed back to London, preferring to face the scandal rather than stay a moment longer with him.
Harriet will never forgive me.
The temptation to go directly to Frances’ chambers to try and remedy this without delay was a powerful thing. But, just as he had not chased her last night, he would not do anything to scare her today either. He would just have to be patient and wait for a moment where they could talk in private.
Whether that was today or tomorrow or a week from now, he would let her come to him, let her decide when she was ready to see him again.
“Will you be dining downstairs this evening, my lady?” Catherine asked with a knowing smile, barely raising her gaze from her embroidery.
The lady’s maid had to know that Frances was on the brink of losing her mind after being cooped up in one room all day.
When it came to relaxation and leisure, Frances was a complete novice: she did not know how to sit still, how to do nothing, how to occupy herself when she did not have other people to care for, nor a long list of things to get done.
It was maddening.
“I cannot understand how Juliet and Lucinda do this,” Frances groaned, somewhat embarrassed that Catherine had caught her out.
“Both of them would gladly stay in their chambers all day, and I have often wondered what it is they do. Lucinda has her books, but I am not certain Juliet does anything but laze about, daydreaming.”
Catherine chuckled. “Perhaps, you could learn something from them.” She hesitated. “Might I ask why you’ve spent all day in here? I know you had a headache this morning, but you seemed well by the afternoon.”
Frances quickly stared down at the embroidery she had been trying to complete, so as not to give herself away. “I did not want to risk it coming back.”
“So, it hasn’t got anything to do with His Grace?”
Frances swallowed. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you danced with him last night, you retired long after the guests had already departed, and you have not been yourself since,” Catherine replied, annoyingly sage.
It was easy to forget that there were eight years between them, and that those eight years, in Catherine’s case, counted for a great deal. Nothing ever escaped her notice.
“I thought I would give Harriet a day to herself,” Frances said, choosing a half-lie. “And I did not want to cross paths with the duke in the meantime.”
She had not been avoiding Dominic, not exactly.
It was more that she was too overwhelmed by the events of last night, unable to stop thinking of the way he had gently put his arm around her, how close they had been, how warm his chest had felt beneath her hands, how he had leaned in slowly and…
for a moment, she had not wanted him to stop.
It was a miracle that she had found the sense to leave the study before anything happened, though her departure meant she would never know what might have occurred next.
Part of her was certain that he had been about to kiss her, while the other part of her remembered keenly what he had said about never marrying again.
The conundrum of it all was something she had not been in any position to face. As such, she had not wanted to put herself in a situation where she might have to face it: namely, seeing Dominic.
“You can be honest with me, my lady,” Catherine said. “You know I won’t judge you.”
“I just did not want to see him today, that is all,” Frances replied, her tone cooler than she intended.
The lady’s maid offered a sympathetic smile. “Then I shan’t say any more about it.”
You see, this is exactly why it is a problem! Now, I am snapping at my friends. Frances glanced at her bed, tempted to climb right in and pull the covers over her head to hide herself for a while.
“I am sorry, Cathy,” she said. “I should not have spoken to you like that. I am… confused and under rather a lot of strain, but it is no excuse. Please, forgive me.”
Catherine gave a little nod. “You are forgiven, my lady. As I said, I can tell that you are not quite yourself, but if you want to speak of anything, just know that I’m here.” She paused, chuckling. “And, at present, I don’t have too much else to do.”
“I promise, when my mind is in some manner of order, and I am able to arrange my thoughts, I shall confide in you,” Frances urged. “For now, I think I might take a wander in the gardens, see if that cannot blow away some of this fog in my head.”
“Do you want company?”
Frances considered it, then shook her head. “No, solitude will serve me best.” She flashed her friend a grin. “Although, if you happen to hear a distant scream, please do not be alarmed. And tell the household that it must be foxes.”
“Of course, my lady,” Catherine agreed with a fond smile. “I’ll have some dinner waiting for you when you return.”
A great sigh emptied Frances’ lungs. “Cathy, what on earth would I do without you?”
“Go hungry, certainly. Scream a lot more. Have nothing to wear at short notice, and I fear your hair would be a catastrophe.” Catherine laughed. “Otherwise, you’d manage well enough.”
Frances smiled sadly. “No, Cathy, I do not think I would.”
There was so much more she wanted to say to her friend, to thank her for everything she had done, but the hour was getting late. If she did not take her walk now, she would be cooped up for the rest of the evening, too.
So, with a groan of sore muscles that had been stuck in one position for too long, she got to her feet, took her pelisse down from the hook by the door, and headed out.
The gardens were paradise in the burnished glow of sunset, the sandstone walls sparkling, the dew upon the buds and grass like a sea of diamonds. The air smelled wonderful after the afternoon’s shower of rain, so fresh and earthy that she wished she might bottle it.
The gravel crunched pleasantly underfoot as she wandered along at her leisure, passing from walled garden to walled garden, imagining what it would all look like in the summer.
“Oh!” she barked as her boot disappeared into a puddle, deeper than it appeared.
Cold water seeped through the laced front, soaking into her stocking and down to her bare foot.
Was I enjoying myself too much? she groused silently up at the sky, as if the heavens themselves were responsible. Although, in a way, they were, for that was where the day’s rain had sprung from.
Muttering under her breath, she hobbled over to a nearby bench and bent forward to unlace her boot.
“Frances?”
She froze, holding onto the laces, as if some creative sculptor had carved her that way. ‘Soon-to-be spinster in danger’ might have been a good title for it.
Though, it was not the London-alleyway-at-night sort of danger, but the danger of a bewildered mind and a wayward heart.
“Frances, I mean no harm,” Dominic said, his footfalls crunching down the path toward her. “I was taking a walk before dinner, and I happened to see you. I have not sought you out.”
She lifted her gaze to him… and wished he would have just one ugly day, where he did not look like the sort of windswept, rugged gentleman that Lucinda relished in reading about.
Even with stubble, wearing that old coat of his, his hair loosely tied back, with dark crescents beneath his eyes, he was still the most handsome man that Frances had ever seen.
It was quite unfair.
“Yet, you have approached me even though I am alone,” she remarked, her throat tight.
Why did I not allow Cathy to join me? I should have known this might happen.
“I know.” He put up his hands in a gesture of peace. “But only to tell you that I am sorry.”
“Sorry?” An odd sting jabbed her in the chest.
He nodded. “I apologize for my behavior last night. I was discourteous. I had no ill intentions, but I understand that I acted poorly.” He halted at a polite distance and did not attempt to come any closer. “It will never happen again, Frances. Lady Frances, rather.”
Subconsciously, her shoulders relaxed and her unease ebbed, as she let go of her laces and sat up properly. “Very well, then. There is no harm done.”
He is sorry he was so close to me. He regrets it.
The apology should have been a remedy to the thoughts that had plagued her since she left his study.
Instead, those thoughts seemed to twist and distort, asking questions that layered confusion upon confusion: Does he find me so displeasing?
Should I be glad that I am so… regretful to him?
This is what is best, so why does it feel so horrid?
What did I expect: that he would embrace me again and ask me to be his duchess? Do not be ridiculous.
“I am forgiven?” he pressed.
She put on a smile that strained her cheeks. “You are, Your Grace. Indeed, I am sorry that I disturbed you at such an hour, in the peace of your study.”
“You have no need to apologize,” he insisted.
“Nevertheless, I am sorry for it.”
A flicker of something passed across his face. Frances did not have the opportunity to decipher it as Dominic quickly bobbed his head and replied, “Well then, I shall leave you to your walk. I will be dining in half an hour if you wish to join me. If not, I shall bid you a good evening.”
“I mean to take dinner in my chambers,” she said, a note too quickly, before she could be tempted to accept.
He nodded. “Good evening, then.”
“Yes. Good evening,” she managed to choke.
He turned and made his way across that particular square of garden, passing through a gate into the next one.
Frances watched him leave, as her traitorous mind conjured the memories of his arm gently holding her, and how fast his heart had been beating against her palm when she had touched his chest. She remembered the shine of his beautiful eyes as he had leaned in, and how her feet had almost risen up on tiptoe…
An apology, unfortunately, could not help her forget.