Chapter 15
“Thank you.”
Dominic turned from staring out the window on the carriage ride home from the party. It was an intentional move since Verity had kept her head down and mouth closed since they took their leave.
It was for the best, since a torrential rainstorm had just begun. Their journey home had slowed to a crawl. He could hardly see anything through the small round glass.
Her gaze met his for only a moment before turning to look down at her hands.
All he could think about was the way she had looked, pale and shivering and vulnerable, when the gossip had taken a turn. It had sent a lancing flame through his body. He couldn’t allow her to be unprotected, let alone hurt.
“You have no need to thank me,” he said at last. “The problem with gossip is that it too often is said to spite another party.”
Though she curled her lips downward like she might disagree, she didn’t argue his point. A short sound of frustration slipped through her lips. “They were talking about my uncle. I know it.”
Dominic stiffened, bracing himself. He knew plenty about her uncle. Too much, in fact. A sharp warning slipped through his body as he watched her brush her fingertips across her face before inhaling a deep breath. He began thinking of excuses and lies.
“My uncle was not a perfect man,” Verity said quietly instead. “I know this. No one is perfect. Not everyone liked him and his business, but… He was kind. He was kind and generous to my siblings and me. Especially when we needed it. And losing him… was difficult.”
His hands gripped his knees, glad to be wearing gloves that couldn’t reveal just how white his knuckles might be whilst listening. Though her words were clear and slow, they offered no questions. No accusations.
She doesn’t know anything.
After Dominic let out a long breath of relief, he gave a short nod though she had yet to look back up at him. “It is a difficult thing to lose loved ones. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Thunder stormed overhead. He blinked and remembered more than he cared to.
The second day of October. The Season had been in full swing, and gossip was aplenty. All of it had been easy to ignore until it suddenly wasn’t.
I should never have agreed to second the duel. To offer my carriage. I never should have seen a thing.
“My sincerest condolences.”
“Thank you. I am only glad to still have my siblings amongst me. Family is very important…” Her gaze shifted over to him as they were reminded that the two of them were family now.
The mood shifted from sober to awkward. Hastily glancing away, she cleared her throat.
“I don’t mean to distract you. I merely wanted to share my thanks. ”
He nodded, turning his attention back to the small window. There was little enough to say here. It wasn’t about receiving her gratitude for it never should have happened. Why people cared to speak cruelly like that, he didn’t understand.
It made him rethink his suspicions about Verity running her own gossip rag. Even for the worthwhile entertainment, she had to see how much it could hurt people. Did she do it on purpose? Did anyone else support her through this venture?
There are too many holes in my theory at this time. Although there are pieces that line up, I cannot understand how she learns everything, what printer she uses, and how she makes it all happen every week. I will need to study her more carefully.
With a creak, the carriage turned off the street over to their home. It drew further into the mews so they might have coverage over the rain that stormed above.
“Goodness me,” Verity murmured as they rolled to a stop. “What a storm we have today.”
“Just be glad we avoided getting wet. I’m certain anyone left lingering at the party was caught up in a swim,” he noted whilst climbing out first. Then he turned back to offer her a hand. “We were the lucky ones.”
Verity’s grip was warm. As she descended, she told him, “Do be careful or I fear you might ruin the luck.”
“How? I didn’t do anything.”
“By talking about it,” she pointed out, though he didn’t see how that could do any harm. “You could breathe it into existence, don’t you know?”
He shook his head as their butler and a footman opened the door. “I think that sounds more like witchcraft than prayer.”
“I don’t mean it as anything but a friendly warning,” she said with a slight smile. “Thank you, Mr. Timmons. What a rainy day we have! Are all the servants returned from their outside duties?”
“Nearly so. I don’t have expectations for anyone to return soon,” he noted as he took their cloaks and hats along with the footman. “We have our kitchen supplies for today; our stablemaster is out with a horse and two footmen are running messages. None of their work was too timely for today.”
They talked on house business as Dominic and Verity set aside their travel garments; Dominic mostly listened while reminding himself of the list of business items he needed to attend before the day was out.
But then he glimpsed the door of the sunroom.
Water was pooling beneath it, spilling into the hall.
Cursing loudly, Dominic diverted himself from the conversation to hurry to the room. He pushed the door open to find rain pouring through two places of the ceiling. Everything was wet. Ruined. Flooding.
This had been his mother’s favorite place in the house. It had been smaller and shabby during her lifetime. But the moment Dominic could control any finances, he had updated the room into what she always used to whisper was her dream.
Not that he went in here often, not lately. But he had for a time––with the intention of always returning. He liked the plants and sunshine even if he never made time for them.
And now…
Water sloshed around his shoes. He grimaced, running a hand through his hair as he looked about.
An absolute disaster. He had a lake in his house now. There were inches of water already. Something must have happened the moment the storm started, Dominic realized. Without anyone needing to enter the room, no one had noticed anything amiss.
“Oh goodness. We never…” Behind him, the butler muttered in surprise. “Luke, gather the household. We’ll need help from everyone to staunch the flow before it spreads across the rest of the house.”
Thunder rumbled overhead as though to remind them the storm was not stopping any time soon. Dread filled Dominic as he stared, frozen, in dismay.
The entire ground floor could flood.
“Very well. No time for shoes or gloves, I suppose,” Verity’s voice sounded behind him.
Something about her frank tone pulled him back into the moment. Inhaling deeply, Dominic jerked into attention.
“Save everything,” he ordered over his shoulders. “We need to move the furniture and plants out at once.”
He started over to the side table. It was bulky but light enough to lift, even with the vase and planter set on top.
The plant was dead. Only three purple petals remained of the orchid as it tickled his chin.
Turning to take it further into the house, Verity momentarily blocked his way as she went to look up at the ceiling.
“The glass isn’t broken,” she called. “We need to get the water out first. Somehow we need to stop it.”
“We will do that in a moment,” he told her before moving away to set aside the table. Water sloshed around his feet. Already he could feel the coldness squirming its way into his clothing.
He remembered being shorter than this table once. Peering over it whilst hiding from his mother. It was one of their days without the late duke around. A small pinch of the tightness forming in his chest loosened once it was out of the room.
“Is there anyone that can climb on the roof?” Verity asked him when he returned to the room, wildly looking around to see what he might salvage next.
Not the sofa. I’ll need at least one more man to help me carry it out. The chair, then.
Picking up her skirts as the bottom three inches were sticking to her ankles now from the puddles, she moved closer. “Dominic, do you have a ladder? A way up there?”
“Don’t you dare think of climbing up there yourself,” he ordered like he could read her mind. “Roger will have to do it for us, he’ll know what to look for when he returns home.”
“The stablemaster?”
“Yes, he helped build the panels. This room was rebuilt only a few years ago. There’s no reason for such leaks as this,” he added with a growl of frustration. He grabbed a pot and handed it to her. “Take it. I’ll grab the chair.”
Trailing after him, splashing about so the water was going everywhere up to his waist, Verity said, “We don’t know how long this has been going on and we don’t know how long the storm is going to last!”
“We can still salvage what we can. Once we clear out the room, we’ll have more space to sort out how to fix this.”
Dominic set the chair in the hall and, upon seeing servants coming their way in the hall, ushered them through. Then he took the pot from her and set it in the chair. “I care about this house, and I don’t want to see anything more get ruined.”
“I also care about this house,” she pointed out. “And we can’t protect it if we don’t think about the damage it can continue to cause right now.”
A huff of annoyance escaped him. “We don’t have time to plan.”
Her eyes widened before narrowing, crossing her arms like they had all the time in the world to debate this. Impatience sent a painful shiver down his spine. “We have to do something.”
“I agree.” Dominic walked around her so she wouldn’t see his annoyance. With four footmen coming through and three chambermaids following, he waved them around with instructions. “Start with the largest furniture, men. And the plants, if you please.”
Verity stole the attention of Mr. Timmons who had followed the servants through. “You said the Stablemaster is out?”
“Yes, Roger isn’t here.”
“Can anyone else find a ladder to climb to the ceiling? We need the water stopped as quickly as possible. I’ll do it myself if I must,” she resolved.
Dominic caught that. “You are not climbing a ladder.”
“I know how to climb a ladder,” she pointed out.