In front of Harriet, Frances made a great show of bowing low, sweeping her hand across her hair as she stood back to the full five-foot-three of her height.
“I was taking my usual afternoon stroll through Hyde Park, as I like to do, and I could not help but notice you,” Frances said, putting on the smarmy voice of one particular gentleman who had tried to promenade with Lucinda during her first Season. “I found I could not take another step until I heard your name.”
Harriet blinked up at her, her mouth agape.
“Have I startled you?” Frances continued, channeling all of the gentlemen who had ever calledthemselvescharming. “Can you not speak? Oh, the tragedy—will you truly deny me your name?”
All of a sudden, the warm, rich sound of laughter struck Frances like a blow, knocking the wind out of her. For it was not coming from Harriet or Catherine, but from behind her.
She turned in surprise.
Sure enough, Dominic stood laughing by the garden gate, his hand on his chest as if to feel each rumble of his own amusement against his palm. As she had suspected it might, the sound of that laughter and the broad grin upon his face had transformed him, his handsomeness elevated to breathtaking levels, his blue eyes shining with mirth, everything that had been cold and rough about him now suddenly warm and inviting.
Just then, Harriet joined in, laughing so hard that she pitched forward, holding her chest in the same way as her father. Catherine could not seem to resist either, covering her mouth as a chuckle made her shoulders bounce.
“This is very serious, I shall have you know!” Frances tried to protest, aiming her complaint at Dominic.
But that only made it worse, Harriet howling as tears ran down her face, Dominic roaring with his eyes all twinkly and enchanting, his hand on his chest making Frances wonder how it felt, how his heart might be beating faster in all his amusement.
“Your Grace, please!” she urged, fighting to keep a smile from her face and laughter from rising up her throat. “It may have been a long while since you were in society, and this may seemlike pure exaggeration, but I assure you it is not. This is how the gentlemen these days attempt to woo.”
And though Dominic’s laughter slowly ebbed, his smile remained, and as his eyes held her gaze, it was almost as if he were seeing her in a different light.
Or, perhaps, she was just imagining things.
“Proceed,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I apologize.”
Feigning a harrumph, loathed to draw her attention away from those shining eyes and that beautiful smile, Frances turned back to Harriet.
“Now, where was I?” She hesitated. “Ah yes… Miss, I simply must know your name. I will not be able to walk another step until I hear it, for I know it will be like the music of the angels, and a man should not walk away from something so blessed.”
Harriet stifled a snort. “Do gentlemen really speak like that?”
“And worse,” Catherine whispered. “Milady here has heard it all.”
At that, Harriet adjusted her posture, tilting her chin downward as she had been taught, refusing to look Frances in the eye. When a few moments passed and nothing happened, the younger woman discreetly nudged Catherine in the arm, reminding her of her part in it.
“Oh, heavens… of course.” The lady’s maid cleared her throat. “You have not introduced yourself, sir.”
Frances performed a dramatic gasp, her hand flying to her heart. “My manners! Oh, you see, Miss, how you have dazzled me; I have forgotten myself.” She dipped into another low bow, not so subtly looking around for inspiration. “I am… Gerald Rose, eldest son to the Marquess of… um… Gardengate.”
A smirk lifted one corner of Harriet’s lips, but she held herself together as she gave a polite nod, still abstaining from looking Frances in the eye.
“And this is Lady Harriet Everhart, only daughter to the Duke of Alderwick,” Catherine jumped in rather abruptly, like a thespian who had almost missed their cue.
Frances held out her hand to Harriet, who lightly placed her gloved hand in Frances’ palm. For a moment, Frances pretended to kiss her hand, and very nearly set off another bout of hysterical laughter… that she would not have been able to avoid joining.
“Will you walk with me awhile, Lady Harriet?” she asked, hilarity like a sneeze that did not wish to be held back.
Concentrate, Frances. Concentrate. The lesson is almost done.
Harriet gave a slight dip of her head. “I should like that, Lord Gardengate.” She flattened her lips together, clearly holding back a guffaw of her own. “It is a lovely day for a promenade.”
“It is,” Frances agreed as she offered her arm to Harriet.
With that, they began to wander the white gravel avenues of the rose garden, the morning sunlight warm on their faces, making Frances forget all the woes in her life for a while. How could anyone think of bad tidings and mistakes and an uncertain future when the breeze was mild, there were new buds on every tree and shrub, and the birds were singing such happy songs?
She closed her eyes to that lovely warmth for just a moment… and forgot how to breathe entirely when she opened them to find Dominic staring at her. His smile had faded, but his stony demeanor had not quite returned, as if he were sculpted from a warm metal, like bronze, rather than hard, cold marble or granite.
