Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Considering the late hour and the darkened roads, and the distraught condition of his daughter, Dominic decided that it would be better to stay where they were.
He did not say so, he merely walked into the inn and knew that Frances and Harriet would follow.
The Running Fox would suffice for the night and, as fortune would have it, Philip had already acquired two rooms.
“He will not be needing them anymore,” Dominic said to the innkeeper, with a warning look that brooked no argument.
“Of course, sir,” the man replied, as he came out from behind the long wooden bar, a set of keys clinking from his belt like a makeshift chatelaine.
There were not too many other patrons, as Dominic let his glance skim across the main parlor. Certainly, no one who looked like they might know him or his daughter, or Frances for that matter. All weary travelers who seemed content enough to mind their own business.
As they headed up a set of creaking, rickety stairs, Frances helping Harriet along, he could hear his daughter murmuring miserably, “I am sorry, Papa. Please, forgive me.”
He did not respond. He could not trust himself to, not yet. Until he had shed the lingering disgust from his encounter with Philip, he did not want to say a word to anyone.
“Here’s the larger of the two,” the innkeeper said, opening the nearest door that lined the somewhat crooked landing.
Dominic nodded. “The ladies will sleep here.”
With a frown at him, Frances escorted Harriet into the room, while he waited for the innkeeper to show him to the smaller room. It was at the very end of the landing, a tiny window offering a smeared view of the darkness beyond.
There, with the door closed, he walked to the narrow bed and sank down, his shoulders hunching as he held his head in his hands. His breaths came in slow, shaky gulps, his heart beating so hard he could feel it pulsing in his temples.
I almost lost her to that beast.
“Does he hate me?” Harriet mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
Frances fluffed the pillows and lit some lanterns, hoping to make the stark room a little cozier for the poor thing.
“Of course he does not hate you,” she replied softly.
“He loves you, Harriet. You mean everything to him. If you did not, he would not have ridden like a hellion all the way from London, and I would never know the feeling of truly fearing for my life.”
The faintest chuckle managed to rise from Harriet’s throat. “You have never ridden a horse before?”
“Never.” Frances paused. “Have you driven a curricle before?”
The girl nodded shyly. “Never so far, but certainly around the grounds at Alderwick.” Her face crumpled. “He will never forgive me for this… but I really thought Philip loved me. He must have sent me hundreds of letters, professing that he did. Was I really so mistaken, Frances?”
“There are sly men in this world, Harriet, and not all of them are easy to spot,” Frances replied, as she came to crouch in front of Harriet, who sat in a worn chair by the door.
“When we are young, we want to believe in magic and fantasy, we want to believe that wondrous things will happen to us. The viscount used that to his advantage, but you must never lose hope that wondrous things are in your future. And you will assuredly never be fooled again.”
Harriet let her chin drop to her chest. “This must be why Papa did not want me to be anywhere near society. I was safe at Alderwick, and I had no idea. I thought it was a prison.”
“Alderwick is where Philip began his deceit,” Frances reminded her. “And one should not isolate oneself in the name of safety. Indeed, that is too small a life. You deserve to experience society, and now you know to exercise more caution; that can only be a good thing.”
“What if Philip tells tales about me?” Harriet’s lip trembled.
Frances smiled. “If his face was anything to judge by, he will not be saying anything about you.”
“What do you think my father said to him?” the girl whispered, as, out of the corner of her eye, Frances saw the door open.
“I think he said how sorry he is,” Dominic’s voice drifted in, heavy with regret.
“I think he said he was sorry for not protecting you more, and for never telling you how adored you are, and how precious you are, and how much I love you. If you had known that, you would have known you could come to me, and none of this would have happened.”
Harriet gasped and shot up from her chair, whirling around. Fresh tears began to fall, her chest wracked with sobs as she threw her arms around her father. “I am so sorry, Papa. I have been such a fool.”
With a relieved smile, his eyes closing, Dominic put his arms around her in return, hugging her as if he had needed to for a very long time.
“There is nothing to be sorry about,” he murmured.
“All is well, sweet girl. The fault is mine. I should never have allowed you to essentially raise yourself, but I did not know what I was doing, and I was afraid you would resent me, as I resented my father.”
Harriet sniffed. “I could never resent you, Papa.”
“I felt such guilt that I had not done more, and so I thought distance was the answer. You had lost your mother, you were grieving, and you seemed to want nothing to do with me, so I just left you to it,” he continued, his voice thick.
“I shall regret that forever, but I hope that we shall continue to be better. That I will continue to be better, for you, because I cherish you, Harriet. Truly, I do. You are the best half-wild, spirited, wonderful daughter any father could ever want.”
Harriet clung tighter to him and buried her face in his shoulder as she mumbled, “I cherish you, Papa. The best grumpy, disheveled, protective father and daughter could want.”
Dominic smiled, his eyes twinkling with moisture, as father and daughter held one another in silence for a while. Frances stood back in fond admiration, her heart so very full as she observed the sweet moment, and wondered if there would ever be a day where her father embraced her like that.
Probably not. She smiled, realizing that she was content with that. He had almost said that he missed her once, and that was enough. And maybe, if what Dominic had said in the stable yard was true, her father might soon have a greater reason to miss her.
“We can leave for Bath in the morning, if you want to?” Dominic said, as he pulled back.
Harriet nodded weakly. “What about Frances?”
His eyes met hers, Frances smiling sadly in understanding.
“We shall have to take her home first, and then journey on to Bath in more suitable transport than a curricle,” he said.
Harriet’s brow furrowed. “She cannot come with us?”
“It would not be appropriate,” he replied, his voice quiet. “Now, the two of you should rest. I can have someone draw a bath if you would like?”
Frances gestured to the hallway. “Do not worry about us. I shall tend to all of that.”
It would not be appropriate. The words circled in her head like crows, for though he was entirely correct, she did not want it to be true. Nothing would have made her happier than spending the rest of the Season at Alderwick.
“Very well,” he replied. “Goodnight to you.”
With an awkward nod of his head, Dominic stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him, leaving the two women alone with their respective thoughts of what the future now held.
Frances could not sleep. She lay on the uncomfortable bed, Harriet sleeping soundly beside her, and stared up at the rafters of this unfamiliar place. She had tried everything to coax her mind into drifting off, to no avail: it was too full of Dominic and uncertainty for that.
He will take me back to London tomorrow, and then what? She hoped Harriet would eventually find the courage to return to society, but what if she did not? What if they returned to Bath and then… that was it? What if Frances and Dominic parted ways tomorrow, and never saw each other again?
She knew what she had heard in the stable yard. She could still hear it, echoing in her head. And, if nothing else, she deserved an explanation before she drove herself insane.
Carefully, she lifted the covers and slipped out of bed, pausing every couple of steps to ensure that Harriet was still fast asleep. At the door, Frances winced and grimaced as the hinges creaked as loudly as a pistol shot in the silence, but Harriet slept on.
At Dominic’s door, Frances hesitated, her knuckles resting against the wood. She almost laughed out loud at herself, wondering how she had gone from the dutiful, sensible eldest daughter to a woman who kept taking perilous risks that could ruin her reputation.
Why stop now, if everything is going to go back to the way it was tomorrow?
With a breath, she knocked lightly and walked right in.
She froze, a gasp whispering from her mouth as her eyes fell upon a broad, muscular back, rippling as if his entire body could sense her. Dominic sat on a stool in front of the window, bare from the waist up, a damp cloth thrown over one shoulder.
“Is there nothing in those etiquette books of yours that says you should wait for permission before entering a room?” he said, a note of amusement in his voice, his blurry reflection looking back at her through the windowpane.
Her breathing quickened as he stood up and turned around to face her, her eyes widening as she took in the sculpted form of his powerful body.
She folded her arms behind her back so the impulse to touch would not be able to get the better of her, her skin tingling with a feverish flush as she admired the ridges and contours and lines of a body that had been forged with hard toil.
A body that could mend barns, catch livestock, cleave wood, and, perhaps, warm her up of a winter’s night.
“What you said in the stable yard,” she blurted out. “Why did you say that?”
He began to move toward her. “Because I love you.”
There it was again, spoken so casually, as if he said it to her every day, as if it were not the most wonderful, astonishing thing anyone had ever said to her.
“I believe I have loved you since you stole my tailcoat and strutted around the gardens,” he added with a grin. “Or, perhaps, it was when you came to my daughter’s aid through a message sent a great distance away. A brave act that brought you to my door, as if you were always meant to be there.”
Her mouth opened, but his closeness stole the words from her lips.
“I have never been happier than when you were at Alderwick,” he continued.
“That manor has never felt more like home than when I knew you were within its walls. So, yes, I said it because it is true… and also because I needed you to step aside, as the thought of any harm coming to you is unbearable to me. I love you, Frances. Whether you are far from me or standing right in my path, I love you.”
“But… you said it would be inappropriate for me to come to Alderwick with you,” she croaked, overwhelmed.
He chuckled. “It would be. However, if you had waited until tomorrow, where I planned to speak with your father, you would have discovered that I mean to remedy that.”
“What?” she gasped, her head swimming, her heart pounding, her hope flaring.
“Will you marry me, Frances?” he said, as he took hold of her hands. “I will ask your father’s permission, of course, but it is yours I care about.”
“Yes!” she practically shouted, uncertain of whether to laugh or cry. “Yes, I will marry you. Yes… my goodness, yes.”
She had been so afraid that this was the end that she had not paused to think it might be the beginning of something wonderful, something ‘appropriate.’ Indeed, never in her adult life had she considered she would ever be married, much less a duchess.
“You will?” His eyes lit up.
“I will,” she replied, as she stepped closer to him, letting her hands slide up his muscular arms, relishing in the feel of his warm, bare skin. “I love you, Dominic. I love you so much that… I fear I must pinch myself, or I shall never believe that this is real!”
He chuckled. “Well, I will not pinch you, my love, but… how about this?”
With his hands gently cradling her face, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers in a kiss that would surely change the course of her life forever. She smiled and kissed him back, not so nervous this time, rising up on tiptoe so that she could feel the press of his mouth more keenly.
His hand traced a tingling line down her neck and along her arm, before settling in a protective curve around her waist, pulling her in closer.
And as she looped her arms around his neck and reveled in the warmth of his bare skin, radiating his heat through her dress, it was like she had finally allowed herself to breathe after so many years of holding her breath.
He would take care of her now, protecting her, loving her, in a marriage that would permit her to be free. A love match that she had never dared to dream of, right there in reality.
“I love you,” he murmured.
She continued to marvel at how he said it with such ease, without hesitation or doubt, as if he had been saying it and feeling it for years, as natural to him as breathing.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back, delighted to feel that same comfort, that same certainty that had been in such short supply in her twenty-five, almost twenty-six, years of life.
He kissed her again, slow and spellbinding, all of Frances’ worries melting away as her mouth moved with his, her arms holding him tighter, until they were swaying lightly together in the room in a private dance, all their own.
And as their kiss deepened, she had never been more grateful that she had slapped Lord Sherbourne so hard that it had sent ripples through fate itself, bringing her here, to Dominic’s arms.