Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Frances clung onto Dominic as if her life depended on it—and, hurtling down increasingly dark country roads at a breakneck pace upon the back of a horse, with nothing to hold onto but him, her life certainly did.
About a hundred times already, she had gasped and gripped him tighter as she felt herself slipping.
Having been a woman of the city for the majority of her life, she had never bothered to learn how to ride a horse.
To her, they were fine, mysterious, grand creatures who pulled carriages, and were to be admired as other people rode them.
I should have taken the carriage. Why did I not insist upon it?
She squeezed her eyes tighter and held on until her arms burned and her knuckles throbbed, praying that the terror would soon come to an end.
After all, it felt as if they had been riding for an eternity, and London was already a long way behind them.
Still, she hoped fervently that the hectic ride would at least be enough to cool some of Dominic’s ire before he caught up to his daughter.
As if she had somehow manifested it, Dominic suddenly slowed the horse to a walk.
Struggling to catch her breath, Frances dared to peek out around the bulk of Dominic’s arm.
Her heart soared and sank at once as the glow of lanterns greeted her blurry eyes, spilling from the windows of a thatched roadside inn.
A wooden sign swinging above the doorway marked the spot: The Running Fox.
An apt name, if ever she had heard one, for Lord Ainsley had snatched a chick from the henhouse and was attempting to make off with it. A sly fox indeed.
“Do you see them?” Frances asked, though she did not loosen her grip on his waist. It felt rather nice to hold onto him for a while.
Dominic shook his head. “They will not be sitting near any windows.”
“Dominic?”
He glanced back at her as he urged his horse toward the stable yard. “Yes?”
“Do you think… I mean, is it possible that they might actually be in love?” she said, asking the question she had been suppressing since they left the townhouse.
Mostly because the wind had been sweeping by so fast that she could barely catch her breath, much less gasp out some words, but still… it needed to be asked.
His expression darkened. “I do not care if they are; he is older than I am. He is not marrying my daughter. He has clearly bewitched her and made promises to her, and she has fallen for it.” His breath hitched.
“She has fallen for it because she received no affection from me, because she was probably so starved of it that she clung to the first man who offered the slightest bit of kindness.”
“I do not think that can be true,” she urged. “She knows you adore her, in your own way.”
“Exactly, and it is my way that has led her into this mess,” he muttered, as the horse clopped across the cobbles of the yard, and came to a standstill.
With a stifled gasp, Frances’ gaze fell upon a curricle that two stable boys were in the midst of unhitching from the horse. A short distance from them, in the shadow of a stall, a couple were embracing.
Oh, no… The thought echoed in her head, a second before Dominic spotted them.
“Wait a moment,” Frances urged, gripping his sleeve. “Just wait. Gather yourself. Do not do anything—”
He was already leaping down from the saddle, his hands clenched in a manner that suggested someone was about to get punched. Cursing under her breath, and apologizing profusely to the horse, Frances scrambled down to the ground with no grace whatsoever, and lurched toward Dominic.
“Get away from her!” he bellowed, his voice startling the horses in their stalls.
The couple leaped apart as if they had been stung, Philip’s wide-eyed face rather pale in the moonlight, while Harriet’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling the cry of shock that escaped her lips.
“Now, Dominic, let us talk about this like civilized gentlemen,” Philip said, as he stepped out from the shadows of the stall with his hands up. “There is no need for violence.”
“Papa, stop it!” Harriet wailed, as Dominic continued his single-minded march toward Philip.
Urging her aching legs into something resembling a run, Frances threw herself between the two men, spreading her arms out as if that would be enough to stop a fight.
“Do not do anything foolish, Dominic,” she urged, breathless. “Remember that your daughter is watching. Protect her, yes, but not like this.”
Dominic halted, his eyes burning like hot coals in the darkness. “Frances, I love you, but stand aside.”
Those three words, spoken so casually, uttered with the razor edge of his anger, were startling enough that she let her hands fall. By the time she realized her mistake, he was already walking past her, his arm drawn back and ready to land a fierce blow.
As Dominic’s fist connected with Philip’s stomach, the latter grunted in pain, his body folding as if it would somehow lessen the impact.
“You are a disgrace,” Dominic spat. “If you cared anything for my daughter at all, you would not have conducted this… fraud in secrecy. If you truly loved her, you would have come to me and you would have asked for her hand in marriage. The fact you did not, and wrote to her for two years under my nose, tells me everything I need to know.”
“Papa, I love him!” Harriet cried out, prompting Frances to switch tactics.
She ran to her former student and put her arms around the girl, gently shushing her.
“I knew… you would refuse,” Philip wheezed, as he spat onto the cobbles.
“If you loved her, I would not,” Dominic snarled in reply. “There would have been a proper courtship, as she deserved, instead of this duplicity. You told her to keep it a secret, did you not? You told her to wait until her debut, then you would marry her? Is that right?”
Philip’s lip curled. “I had no choice.”
“She was no more than a child!” Dominic grabbed the man by the front of his shirt.
“You tricked her. You no doubt wanted to hear what her dowry might be before you made a commitment. Now that it is public knowledge, you decide to elope. That is not coincidence, Ainsley, that is planning! You had to ensure your investment would pay off, and even if you howl from the rooftops that you love her, I will not believe I word. And I certainly will not let you marry her!”
“Papa, please!” Harriet begged, as Frances held her, feeling so very sorry that the poor girl had caught herself in the middle of this.
Goodness, I hope that we are right, Frances pleaded silently. Otherwise, Harriet would never forgive either of them.
With a grim, wheezing laugh, Philip managed to unfold to his full height, his hand smearing something from his lip.
“Well, the plan is ruined now. You have made certain of that.” He shook his head.
“I would have made her happy enough, Duke, keeping her occupied with a few children, but now she will not be able to hope for anything more than spinsterhood in that gloomy old manor of yours.”
“And there it is,” Dominic said coldly, shaking his head. “The face you have kept hidden from my daughter. The weasel behind the mask.”
Philip grimaced, his hand clutching his stomach.
“I was somewhat fond of your daughter, despite the endless pages I had to read from her, so it pains me to have to drag her through the dirt because of you.” He sighed.
“Pay me what her dowry is worth if you do not want anyone to discover that she tried to elope tonight. Pay me that, and I stay silent, and she may stand a chance of finding a husband. Although, considering her character and her ill manners, she may yet be destined for spinsterhood.”
You wretched creature. Frances wrapped Harriet in a fierce embrace as the girl sagged, her legs threatening to buckle. Tears streamed down the younger woman’s face in shining rivulets, her eyes ringed with red, her mouth opening and closing with a protest or a plea that simply would not form.
“It is all right,” Frances murmured against the girl’s hair. “You are all right. I promise, dear girl. I promise that everything will be fine.”
Harriet grasped Frances in return, burying her face in her shoulder. “He lied… He does not… love me. He just wanted… the money.” Her breaths hiccupped from her chest. “I love him, Frances. I… love him. Why is he… saying such… cruel things?”
“Because he is a coward,” Frances whispered. “He is a coward and a rat, and he does not deserve you. Any man who loves you as you deserve to be loved would be proud to declare it in public; they would never swear you to secrecy. But you will survive this, sweet girl. You will.”
She hugged Harriet tighter, shielding the side of her face in case she cast a glance toward her father and Philip, as Dominic delivered a tooth-rattling punch to Philip’s jaw. Another followed, with a faint crack of bone, as Philip’s hands flew to his nose and he unleashed an ungodly wail of pain.
“You will not say a word,” Dominic growled, towering over the awful man.
“If I hear even a whisper of this, you will wish you were still here in this stable yard, receiving a thousand blows to the face, because that, I promise you, will be preferable to what I shall do if you say anything. I will make it so your life is not worth living.”
Philip glared at Dominic through pain-squinted eyes. “What can… a recluse do… to me?”
Slowly, Dominic leaned in and whispered something in Philip’s ear. The longer he spoke, the wider Philip’s watery eyes became, until they were as large as saucers and brimming with terror.
“My horse!” Philip yelled, backing away as Dominic released his shirt. “Someone, fetch my horse!”
A couple of confused stable boys who had been watching the entire altercation suddenly burst into action, retrieving a dun mare from a nearby stall.
“I trust we have an understanding?” Dominic asked coolly, while Philip retreated.
The viscount nodded effusively. “I will not breathe a word. I swear, I will not say anything.”
“And if anyone should ask about your nose?” Dominic said.
Philip gulped. “I will tell them that… I fell from my horse.”
“Very well.” Dominic waved a dismissive hand. “But, do remember, one single whisper and…”
Philip stumbled toward his mount and clawed his way up into the saddle, before wheeling his horse around and taking off at a clumsy lurch. The man did not look back, and as Frances noticed Dominic’s dark smirk, she had to wonder what on earth he had said.
But as he caught her eye and his smirk softened into a smile, it was an altogether more pleasant thought that crept into her mind, and it went something like: Frances, I love you…