Frances chuckled, her beautiful face losing the tension of despair, her green eyes brightening. “It depends on the invitation and the host. Some have an inclination toward matchmaking, so they carefully choose who should sit where, but even if you are not seated beside an eligible gentleman, there is always after dinner to speak to anyone who has caught your?—”
She faltered as she finally noticed Dominic in the doorway.
“Forgive me,” she blurted out, dipping her head. “I did not see you there, Your Grace.”
She would not look him in the eye, a world away from the fierce, determined gaze of last night. This shy, almost submissive woman was not the same fanged vixen who had touched his arm and accepted the challenge of turning his half-wild daughter into a respectable young lady.
Hugo pushed past Dominic and flopped down onto the nearest chair, his hand raised to one of the footmen for tea. “Do not let us stop you,” he said cheerily. “But first, I must know who you are and what coven of witches you hail from, for clearly you are a sorceress if you have coaxed Harriet out of her bed before luncheon.”
“Uncle Hugo!” Harriet jumped up from her chair and ran to Hugo, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “When did you arrive? I did not know you were coming. Is Octavia with you?”
The man was not actually her uncle, of course, but her cousin once removed. However, as Dominic had no brothers, no siblings of his own, she had been calling Hugo “uncle” since she was old enough to speak. Her mother had had a brother and sister, but they were long gone. Even when they were alive, they had not shown much interest in their niece.
Hugo laughed and hugged Harriet in return. “I am in Bath for a few weeks, dear girl. Alas, Octavia could not be persuaded tojoin me. She is too busy enjoying London, causing all sorts of mischief with Victoria before the Season begins afresh.”
“Victoria?” Harriet frowned, retreating back to her chair.
“Joan’s sister.”
“Joan?” Harriet’s frown deepened.
Hugo rolled his eyes and shot a disapproving glance at Dominic. “Do you tell your daughter nothing, cousin? Or is it that you do not read my letters?”
“I tell her what is important,” Dominic replied dismissively, as he took his seat and reached for a pewter carafe of weak coffee.
“No, Uncle, you were right,” Harriet replied stiffly. “He does not tell me anything.”
A funny twinge of regret writhed in Dominic’s stomach, robbing him of his appetite. It was not that he did not tell her anything; he just did not like her reading those dire scandal sheets, learning of society through gossip and rumor. He did not like her interest in society at all.
Leaning forward, Hugo took hold of Harriet’s hand and offered an encouraging smile. “Then, it is fortunate that I am here for as long as I am, for I can tell you everything that you might have missed.” He paused for dramatic effect. “So, Joan is my dear friend Laurence’s wife; they were married just a few months ago.Victoria is Joan’s younger sister, and she is firm friends with our dear Octavia. Your fatherwasinvited to the wedding, and I am certain you would have been welcome, but he declined to attend.”
What did you say that for?Dominic shot his cousin a dark look. The relationship between father and daughter was fragile enough, an amalgamation of slowly healing scars, without Hugo tapping new cracks into it.
“I am certain they would not hesitate to take you under their wing,” Hugo continued with a grin. “I can introduce you when the pigs in your father’s fields begin to fly and he finally takes you to London.”
Rather than grouse or grumble, or flash one of her very best scowls at Dominic, Harriet wriggled with sudden excitement. “Actually, that is why Frances is here.”
“Ah, so we have a name.” Hugo sat back in his chair, staring at Frances with an intensity that made Dominic’s hackles rise.
She is here to work, not to find herself a duke.He held his tongue and focused on his coffee, the taste bitter on his tongue.
“This is my society tutor, Lady Frances Whitlock,” Harriet replied eagerly. “This morning, I am learning how to eat eggs politely, though I maintain that no one will see me eat breakfast until I am already married, and it is too late for judgment.”
Frances covered her mouth as a soft chuckle escaped her throat. “Lady Harriet, it is a lesson ineatingpolitely. It is not about the eggs. At luncheon, however, itwillbe about soup. A single slurp and you will never be invited to another dinner party again.”
“LadyFrances?” Hugo’s eyebrow rose up. “To whom do you belong?”
Dominic allowed himself a glance at her, curious to see how she would fare against such a question. The woman last night would have had fire in her eyes and a bite in her voice, but this morning’s Frances seemed altogether quieter, more withdrawn. At least since the gentlemen had entered.
“To what fine family, I mean?” Hugo added, as if realizing his question might have been too blunt.
“I would answer,” Frances said calmly, “but I am afraid I do not know you. As we have not been introduced, I should not be speaking to you at all.” She cast a pointed glance at Harriet. “Another lesson for you. You must not speak to any gentleman without a proper introduction, which should be mediated by your father, your chaperone, or a Master of Ceremonies.”
Putting the edge of his cup to his lips to hide a smirk, Dominic sipped. Hugo was not accustomed to ladies not falling at his feet, instantly charmed, and Dominic was rather pleased to discover that Frances appeared to be immune to the man’s charisma.
Harriet nodded, a serious expression upon her face. “I shall remember that.”
“My apologies,” Hugo interjected, amusement in his eyes. “I am Hugo St. Vincent, the Duke of Ravenvale. Cousin to Dominic here. Sorry, cousin to the Duke of Alderwick and first cousin once removed to Lady Harriet, though she calls me ‘Uncle’.”
