He shook his head and she feared another rejection, uncertain of how she might urge him to do this when she had already tried everything she could think of. It was not as if she could physically drag him to the music room.
“Very well,” he grumbled.
For a moment, she was not sure she had heard him correctly, her eyes widening. “You will dance?”
“I might not understand my daughter’s determination to enter into an institution that, by its very nature, is fickle and judgmental and not at all kind to women, but… as you say, it is what she wants,” he replied, speaking as if he had to force the words out. “I will assist you, just this once. Do not ask me again.”
Frances clapped her hands together, a grin spreading across her face. “I shall not, Your Grace. I promise. This is the only thing I shall ask for.” Relieved laughter spilled from her lips. “Oh, thank you! Thank you for this, Your Grace!”
He tilted his head to one side, his eyes softer as they observed her.
Evidently, she had taken complete leave of her senses tonight, laughing and smiling and making demands of a duke. She had forgotten herself, forgotten that she was there to fulfill a duty, not get all fluttery and giddy in Dominic’s presence. She was certainly not doing her reputation any favors by standing there alone with him, unchaperoned, even if there was no one to witness it.
She took a quick step backward, putting a more appropriate distance between them. “Hopefully, she has not fled while I was trying to find you.”
With a courteous dip of her head, she turned and hurried back to the music room, confident enough that Dominic would follow. All too conscious, in fact, of him walking a short distance behind her, each thud of his footsteps adding an extra beat to her racing heart.
Nearing the music room, Frances frowned as stirring music greeted her ears: the emotional, haunting rise and fall of a flute, playing something so very sad, but also strangely hopeful. Bittersweet.
She approached slowly, and when she tentatively peeked into the room, a smile graced her lips as she saw Harriet. The girl was utterly lost in the music, her eyes closed, her fingertips dancing across the instrument with all the finesse she lacked in heractualdancing. And she was not alone, the power of her music having drawn an audience.
Hugo stood just inside the door with Lord Ainsley and Lord George, all three utterly entranced. Whether Harriet knew they were there or not, Frances was not certain.
But as Dominic stepped into the room, it was as if his daughter sensed his presence, her eyes opening. Slowly, she brought the song to a quiet end, her gaze flitting briefly toward the other three gentlemen, her face reddening as if she had been caught in a mischief.
“More!” Hugo cheered, smacking his hands together in vigorous applause. “Encore! Encore!”
Harriet lowered her gaze, holding onto her flute as if it were a raft in a turbulent ocean. “I… was just waiting for Lady Frances to return.” Her head snapped up suddenly, her eyes flickering with surprise as she looked at her father again. “You agreed to dance?”
Dominic nodded. “I was persuaded.”
“But… but… I cannot,” Harriet floundered. “Not with an audience.”
“We can leave, if that would make you more comfortable?” Hugo offered.
Lord Ainsley nodded. “We would not wish to cause you any distress, Lady Harriet.”
The young woman blushed more furiously, dropping her gaze from the viscount, her stress showing in the bulging cords of her neck and the clench of her jaw. Guilt pinched Frances’ chest, for she had not wanted to panic Harriet or put her in an uncomfortable situation.
“We shall demonstrate,” Frances blurted out, compelled to give her student a reprieve. “Your Grace?”
Dominic stared at her, looking somewhat stressed himself. “Dance? With you?”
“As part of Harriet’s education,” Frances replied, her heart beating out of her chest.
Shewasfond of dancing, but after her last experience with Lord Sherbourne, she was struck with sudden nerves. Or, perhaps, that had more to do withthisdance partner.
“That settles it,” Hugo said with a smirk. “I am not going anywhere. I cannot recall the last time I saw my cousin dance.”
Dominic shot him a dark look and, for what felt like forever, Frances waited for the refusal that would surely come. The duke had agreed to dance with his daughter; he hadnotagreed to dance with the disgraced daughter of an earl, who had disrupted his peace at Alderwick.
“Shall I begin playing?” the redheaded girl at the pianoforte asked shyly.
Frances was about to answer that there was no need, that she had spoken out of turn to Dominic, that they would all convene in the drawing room and do something else, that she had gone too far… when Dominic appeared in front of her with his hand out.
“Count us in,” he instructed their impromptu accompanist. “Eight beats and then begin. Something that befits a country dance, but half the usual pace.”
The pianist nodded eagerly and began to count out the beats so that the couple could get into position. But Frances could not move, too astounded by Dominic’s assertiveness to realize that she was quickly running out of time.
