Chapter Fifty
Over the next week, Frances made every attempt to resign herself to a polite companionship with Nathaniel, as the rest of their lives would be, but it was so much easier to avoid him.
Not just emotionally, but Grace and Rebecca had social engagements, favorite activities, and routines that could take up all of one’s time.
There were even balls where, now that she was out in society as Lady Lark, she could attend with James, or occasionally Theodore, while Nathaniel kept Rebecca safe from anyone he deemed unworthy, usually his very own friends.
And, if she truly felt unable to breathe in his presence, as occurred sometimes, especially when he did something particularly endearing for her, she stayed home with Grace.
Sometimes, Theodore stayed with them, so Frances could either go to bed early without anyone noticing, or they could convince Sarah to be their fourth for card games.
It was not easy giving up on her dreams, but as long as she was never alone with her husband, she didn’t have to actively resist the urge to kiss him. Or hit him.
It seemed to be working, as Nathaniel had been going to his clubs, or spending more time at Parliament, and hadn’t approached her chambers once since that night.
Not that she did anything to imply he’d be welcome there.
As much as she missed him and often stayed up late wishing every sound was him creeping over to plead to come in, she wouldn’t want to let him in.
He wasn’t going to change, and she couldn’t take the agony of having him one minute, then being unceremoniously discarded the next. Even when he did it so kindly.
No, it was best if Nathaniel stayed far away from her.
At the next ball she attended, Frances found herself alone at the refreshments table when a voice whispered in her ear.
“I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, Lady Lark.”
Even if she hadn’t recognized his voice, Frances would have known it was Dorset coming up behind her in the ballroom from the way the hairs stood up on the back of her neck, urging her to run.
Or hide, as she had that afternoon when he’d called upon Rebecca at Sutton House and she’d feigned a megrim.
“How so?” she asked, spotting Nathaniel with Rebecca and Elizabeth across the room, their backs to her.
“Nothing official yet, but your husband has given me permission to ask, and we both know that little minx won’t refuse.”
She watched him search the room for Rebecca as she had, and hated the way his smile changed when he found her. As if Frances was someone he could torture, but he might truly cherish Rebecca.
“You don’t deserve her.” Frances fought the rage boiling inside her, and the tears that threatened to fall.
“I believe most would assume she didn’t deserve me.”
“Most haven’t heard the way you speak when you think no one is listening,” she said with disgust.
“Not anyone that matters,” he agreed with a grin, as if he knew that this glimpse of a backbone would disappear the moment anyone came close. “You may have the title, and the fancy clothes, but deep down you’re still nothing more than poor little Miss Plimpton.”
It might have been the way he said her father’s last name, or the dread she felt at the idea of having to be on guard from Dorset for the rest of her life.
Maybe it was the sudden knowledge that no matter what Rebecca felt for Dorset, she would never be happy with someone who enjoyed hurting others.
But most of all, it was Frances realizing, for maybe the first time, that she was not nothing, and she deserved better.
Than Nathaniel’s hot one minute and cold the next, than her parents inadvertently pitting her and her sisters against each other, than always putting her wants and needs aside in order to make others comfortable.
Frances deserved to be treated with at least a modicum of respect, even as nothing more than Miss Plimpton.
“It’s Lady Lark,” she said pointedly. “And you’re right, I was terrified of telling anyone about you, of repeating what you’ve said, in case they took your side.
But unluckily for you, I don’t care anymore.
Protecting Rebecca is worth whatever you throw at me, because I know who I am, and I know that Rebecca will never marry you once she knows. ”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he sneered, his eyes threatening rather than amused.
“You’re not the first to underestimate me, Lord Dorset, and you probably won’t be the last, but I am telling Rebecca everything, and if you dare go near her again, my husband will—”
Rage filled Dorset’s eyes as his hand moved towards her with such force that Frances didn’t know if he was going to grab her or hit her. Without thinking, she threw the contents of her own glass straight into his face.
Her heart was pounding against her chest, and she felt like she might faint, but the couples around them were taking notice, so she forced herself to say loudly, “I can’t believe I tripped, how clumsy of me.”
She backed away, as if embarrassed, but didn’t take her eyes off Dorset until she was certain he wouldn’t follow her.
Frances kept walking until she found the garden, empty at this time of night, except for the moon coating the leaves in a silver glow.
Her mother had often warned her sisters not to follow a gentleman outside during a ball, no matter what he wanted to show them, but Frances had never received such warnings, even though she was most likely to be swayed by the promise of a rare bloom.
Tonight, she was more worried about being followed, so she sat on a bench with a view of the doors, though she herself was hidden by a statue, and focused on slowing her breathing and calming her heart.
As terrified as she’d been when she’d seen the look in Dorset’s eyes, seen him coming for her, she’d protected herself.
And it felt good to stand up for herself for once.
“Frances?”
She jumped, but it was Rebecca’s voice coming from the doorway.
“Just needed a touch of fresh air,” she said as brightly as she could manage.
“It’s freezing.” Rebecca didn’t even ask before removing her shawl and wrapping it around Frances’ shoulders, her arm lingering like a warm hug. “Are you well?”
“Of course.”
Frances knew they should return to the dance, that Nathaniel would eventually worry, but the thought of encountering Dorset again stopped her before she realized Rebecca wasn’t moving.
“Lord Dorset was supposed to bring me lemonade, but he seems to have left.”
“I’m sorry.” Frances swallowed. “I know how much you liked him.”
“I did,” she agreed. “He was quite lovely, actually. Asked about my family and seemed genuinely interested in me.”
“That’s nice.”
“But you never liked him. You saw him in that ballroom and froze. Every time he’s around…you’re never unaffected by him.”
“Remind me to hide better in your presence.”
“That would be a terrible idea, to make things harder for myself. At first, I thought you had fancied him from afar, or that he knew something about you, but I saw the way you watched us tonight. It was like he hurt you, and you worried for me.”
“I was,” she agreed. “I’m sure I shouldn’t have been. You are surrounded by family who would never let him—”
“Never let him do what?” Rebecca pressed.
As much as she needed to warn Rebecca, she didn’t want to tell her.
But she had to.
“I first encountered him at the Sampson ball, before I was Lady Lark. His friend was interested in Daisy, and I accidentally overheard a conversation I shouldn’t have.”
Rebecca took Frances’ hand in hers. “What did he say?”
“I’m sure it’s things many others have said before, or still do, but he ridiculed his friend for having any interest in a member of my family, even more for taking pity on me and asking me to dance.
Not only was I so terribly beneath them, but there was nothing redeemable about me.
That he should forget about Daisy and find a lady of gentle breeding. ”
Rebecca sighed. “You and I are quite similar, you know. We both gain our standing from the Suttons, but some will never consider us equals, even if they pretend to. And I abhor people who treat others differently based on their station. I would never condescend to entertain someone who spoke such of anyone, let alone someone I care deeply for, and consider a sister.”
“That’s kind, but at the time, I was only—”
“Frances.” She said it so simply, like it would never be okay for anyone, not even someone like Dorset, to treat anyone in such a way, not even the her she was before she married an earl.
“I assume he wasn’t seeking you out to apologize tonight?
To claim he was so drunk he didn’t know what he was saying? ”
“No, he knew exactly what he was saying. Both that night, when he winked, and our encounters since then, where he entertains himself by hurting me.” Frances wiped away a tear, but she was relieved to find she was more angry than sad.
“We have to tell Nathaniel.”
There was anger in Rebecca. While she appeared sweet and calm most of the time, there was a fighter in her.
“Dorset was relying on the fact that I wouldn’t tell anyone, but tonight I realized that men who act like that probably don’t treat their wives kindly, and I couldn’t spend the rest of my life afraid of him, so I told him I would tell you.
And possibly threatened to set Nathaniel on him if he dared go near you again. ”
“I’m impressed,” Rebecca said. “That’s why he left?”
“No, I assume the lemonade I threw in his face after he tried to scare me out of it is why he left.”
Rebecca’s jaw dropped, which she quickly covered, but the disbelief remained. For a second, Frances was worried Rebecca was disappointed in her when her shoulders sagged, but then she giggled.
“Thank you.” Rebecca pulled her in for an embrace. “For looking out for me. I can’t imagine how terrified you must have been, how much courage it takes to stand up to a bully who thinks they’re untouchable because everyone else likes them…it means a lot.”
“You’re not upset I turned him down for you?”
“My only regret is that the entire ballroom didn’t witness it.”
“I don’t want Nathaniel worrying or being upset I didn’t tell him sooner.”
“I can avoid Dorset and make up excuses as to why I’m no longer interested, but you shouldn’t be afraid to let the world—especially Nathaniel—see how brilliant you are.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she argued.
“I would,” Rebecca said firmly.