Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Fine rain had begun to drizzle from the skies, cutting short Dominic’s pleasant afternoon ride. He had been riding a lot more in the past week, to give himself an excuse to be away from the manor, to be away from Frances.
In truth, he missed being around her.
Throughout the last few days, keeping to the solitude of his study, he had come to realize something: he had never been happier or more at ease than he had been since Frances came to Alderwick.
He had not smiled so much in decades. He had not laughed so freely in just as long.
All his life, he had never sought companionship, for his father had told him it was not necessary, but all he wanted was to be in her company: to converse, to wander, to jest, to express his sense of humor, to have a reason to give gifts, to feel… normal.
Not to mention, her presence seemed to smoothen the relationship between him and Harriet. He could speak to his daughter with greater ease, because Frances made it easy.
But what can I offer her? he mused as he handed his horse off to the stable groom and ran his fingertips through his rain-dampened hair.
She is the firstborn daughter of an earl; she is not some educated girl from Bath who would accept a lesser position than she is worth.
And if Harriet should find a love match in her debut Season, there would be no excuse at all to keep Frances around. He could not very well keep a tutor or a lady’s companion at Alderwick when there was no lady there anymore.
He took the long way around to the front of the manor and paused on the narrow stone terrace for a moment. The falling rain blurred the landscape, while the sound of the droplets hitting the leaves of the trees was surprisingly soothing.
I could just ask her to stay. An offer of a sanctuary. A hiding place, indefinitely.
That also presented its own array of difficulties.
If anyone were to find out that the Earl of Highbridge’s unwed eldest was living at Alderwick with him, then Frances would once again find her name splashed across the scandal sheets.
Harriet, too, might suffer for it. Frances’ sisters, in addition.
“Just for the Season,” he murmured to himself. “Just until Harriet no longer needs her… or I can figure something else out.”
Just until I no longer need her… He sighed wearily. By that standard, Frances would never leave.
For the greater truth was, he was beginning to feel like a better man with her around. Like a man who could be good, if he just put in the right effort, and she was not someone who would allow him to be lax in that regard.
Tempted by the notion of a hot bath, for nothing aided in clearing and arranging his thoughts quite so well, he headed into the manor.
“Your Grace?”
He blinked, momentarily uncertain whether Frances’ voice was coming from his mind or if he had actually heard it.
“Your Grace?” she repeated, drawing his attention to the hallway on the left.
Frances stood there, framed by the archway, her head bowed and her shoulders curved, her hands clasped in front of her stomach. The very picture of true contrition, not the overzealous performance that Harriet had used to gain herself a trip to Bath.
It worried him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, approaching.
I missed you.
To think he had wasted a week of her month by keeping his distance. Regret crackled in his veins as he paused in front of her, perhaps closer than he should have been, willing her to look at him with the enchanting eyes he had only imagined these past days.
“No… not wrong, exactly,” she replied, her head still bowed. “But it will be… um… inconvenient for you, and I apologize for that.”
His fingertips itched to tilt her chin up, so that he might see what harm he had done at the fair. Would she look at him differently now, after all he had told her about his wife and his mistakes? He supposed he had been avoiding that as much as avoiding Frances herself.
“Inconvenient? What do you mean?” he asked.
Oh… Oh, of course… The answer came to him a moment before she answered herself: she wanted to leave.
“My father has summoned me home,” she said. “The letter arrived not long ago. He needs me to return by the end of next week.”
His brow knitted, his arms folding behind his back so that he would not reach for her and implore her to stay.
He should have known that she would find a way to leave after hearing his story and seeing him for the wretch he truly was, though he had hoped that absenting himself might somehow be enough to make her forget.
And I was just trying to think of a way you could remain with us longer.
“Does this mean all is well with your scandal?” he asked, his tone cooler than he meant it to be.
Her shoulders shifted in a shrug. “My father seems to think so, and he would not ask me to return if it was untrue. Unless he is just completely desperate because Juliet is driving him mad…” She mustered the faintest, saddest little chuckle.
“Even then, I would have no choice but to heed his request.”
“There is always a choice,” Dominic said, almost involuntarily, as he took a half step closer.
At last, she raised her head, her breaths softly sawing in and out as if she had run there to the entrance hall.
Her eyes were fever-bright and gazing fearlessly up into his, her clasped hands relaxing to her sides, the apples of her cheeks turning rosy as his attention wandered from freckle to beautiful freckle.
“There is?” she whispered, her voice thick.
Swallowing down the regret that crept up his throat, he gently took her hands in his… and felt his heart quicken as those astonishing eyes widened in something like hope.
Was she asking him to help her? Was she asking him to fix this for her?
Could it be that she did not want to leave at all?
The questions were too loud in his mind, and not to be trusted.
Surely, they were just his own wants that he could not be so bold as to project onto her.
After all, what possible reason could she have to want to stay here?
If the scandal had died down, then there was no reason.
“Well, you know you are welcome to remain here until your four weeks are finished,” he said tightly, his gaze flitting to her plump, raspberry-pink lips.
“There was an agreement. But, of course, you are free to leave if you so choose. You are not a prisoner here. All I ask is that you break the news to Harriet gently; she has enjoyed your presence here.”
As I have. He urged himself to just speak the words aloud, but they were stuck in his throat, unable to get past the block of dismay that she wished to leave.
“I should not defy my father, though, should I?” Frances asked, her hands lightly squeezing his.
Old lessons furrowed his forehead. From his very first memory, he had been taught that a child should never defy their father.
Back then, in childhood, Dominic’s father had made it seem as if a great catastrophe would strike if he ever dared to defy him…
and it unnerved Dominic to think of how long he had believed that.
Yet, even his mother had constantly whispered, in that high and nervous voice of hers, “Just do as he says, darling. Always do as he says”.
So how was he supposed to know any different?
And though the grip of those old lessons had loosened with the years after his father’s death, and his mother’s too, there were still moments where the ghost took hold.
“No,” Dominic agreed, his jaw clenched as if his body were trying to fight against the rote he had been taught. “No son or daughter should ever defy their father.”
Frances’ face fell. “You are right, Your Grace. Of course, you are right.”
Dominic. Call me Dominic.
If she was going to abandon her post, then he wanted no formality between them. He did not want to spend her last week as a duke and an earl’s daughter. He did not want to spend it as an employer and a subordinate, either.
He just wanted to kiss her, as a man and a woman.
Compelled by the idea, he moved closer still, until there was barely a space between them.
Certainly, not the polite distance written in the dusty old books that Frances had been teaching from.
He could see every precious freckle, and the way her dark hair changed hue depending on the light, a whole palette of browns and golds that created her unique shade.
He could see how her lips were slightly parted, as if she wished to say something, but could not.
His hand came up to cradle her cheek, but he stopped himself before he could feel that smooth, soft skin against the roughness of his touch.
A kiss was too dangerous to even contemplate, for if he kissed her, then he could not promise that he would ever be able to let her leave.
He had been cold and unfeeling to the wife he had not felt anything but pity for, so absent that, even at the end, they did not know a thing about each other.
What harm could he inflict toward someone he actually cared about?
Your thought is of kissing her when it is obvious she wants to be away from you? You have not learned anything, Dominic. You are still a wretch.
“Indeed, if your father needs you, then you should go,” he said suddenly, dropping his hand. “Do not feel as if you have to stay until next week. If you leave lessons for Harriet, I will see to it that they are done.”
Frances’ eyes scrunched as if she did not understand, or the subconscious squeeze of his other hand, still holding hers, had caused her some pain. “If I left tomorrow, you would not mind?”
It would torment me…
“Not at all. You should be with your family instead of strengthening the weaknesses that I have created in mine,” he replied instead, schooling his expression into one of distant agreement. “I am just glad that what you fled from has gone away.”
A cold smile curved her lips. “Gentlemen like Lord Sherbourne never go away.”
“No, I suppose not.” He knew he should release her hand, but he could not do it yet. Just a moment more. “Tomorrow, then?”
She gave a slow, dazed nod. “If that is of no trouble to you, no trouble at all, then… why not. The sooner I return to my old life, the better it shall be.” Something like sadness glimmered in her eyes.
“But this has been a rather lovely holiday from that old life. I shall not forget the kindness you showed by allowing me in.”
How was he supposed to respond to that? It was all going to be over tomorrow, and he too would have to return to his old life: the quiet, reclusive existence that he used to favor so much.
Yet, if the past week had taught him anything, it was that the things that once brought him peace and joy were now just different ways to be lonely.
“You are welcome. I am glad you were able to find some respite,” he said awkwardly. “Perhaps, Harriet and I shall see you at the debutante ball.”
Frances slowly pulled her hand out of his and returned to her contrite posture, her chin to her chest. “Perhaps, Your Grace, though I likely should not tempt fate by being too visible in society.” She paused.
“Either way, I shall be championing Harriet’s success, and I shall ask Juliet to look out for her. ”
“Well then…” Dominic took a step backward. “If you require anything in the meantime, do let me know.”
“I would not bother you any more than I already have, Your Grace,” she replied, her tone strange. “If you will excuse me, I must inform Harriet… and then I suppose I ought to prepare for my departure.”
With a quick bob of her head, she skirted past him and hastened across the entrance hall, her slender hand gripping tight to the banister as she hurried up the stairs.
Dominic turned to watch her go, already wishing he could go back to the part where he had told her, “There is always a choice.” The trouble was, he did not have an alternative tempting enough to offer her, for he could not propose marriage, and he would not propose any other arrangement.
No matter how hard her life might be at home, life with him would be harder.
He had already destroyed Althea’s life, and had almost destroyed Harriet’s; he would not destroy Frances’ too.
Indeed, when she left tomorrow, maybe it would be in everyone’s best interest if they never crossed paths again, because if they did, he doubted he would have the strength to let her go a second time.