“Yet, you have approached me even though I am alone,” she remarked, her throat tight.
Why did I not allow Cathy to join me? I should have known this might happen.
“I know.” He put up his hands in a gesture of peace. “But only to tell you that I am sorry.”
“Sorry?” An odd sting jabbed her in the chest.
He nodded. “I apologize for my behavior last night. I was discourteous. I had no ill intentions, but I understand that I acted poorly.” He halted at a polite distance and did not attempt to come any closer. “It will never happen again, Frances.LadyFrances, rather.”
Subconsciously, her shoulders relaxed and her unease ebbed, as she let go of her laces and sat up properly. “Very well, then. There is no harm done.”
He is sorry he was so close to me. He regrets it.
The apology should have been a remedy to the thoughts that had plagued her since she left his study. Instead, those thoughts seemed to twist and distort, asking questions that layered confusion upon confusion:Does he find me so displeasing? Should I be glad that I am so… regretful to him? This is what is best, so why does it feel so horrid? What did I expect: that he would embrace me again and ask me to be his duchess? Do not be ridiculous.
“I am forgiven?” he pressed.
She put on a smile that strained her cheeks. “You are, Your Grace. Indeed, I am sorry that I disturbed you at such an hour, in the peace of your study.”
“Youhave no need to apologize,” he insisted.
“Nevertheless, I am sorry for it.”
A flicker of something passed across his face. Frances did not have the opportunity to decipher it as Dominic quickly bobbed his head and replied, “Well then, I shall leave you to your walk. I will be dining in half an hour if you wish to join me. If not, I shall bid you a good evening.”
“I mean to take dinner in my chambers,” she said, a note too quickly, before she could be tempted to accept.
He nodded. “Good evening, then.”
“Yes. Good evening,” she managed to choke.
He turned and made his way across that particular square of garden, passing through a gate into the next one.
Frances watched him leave, as her traitorous mind conjured the memories of his arm gently holding her, and how fast his heart had been beating against her palm when she had touched his chest. She remembered the shine of his beautiful eyes as he had leaned in, and how her feet hadalmostrisen up on tiptoe…
An apology, unfortunately, could not help her forget.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Are you feeling better?” Harriet asked the following morning.
Frances had chosen the library for the first lesson of the day, but it seemed she had lost her talent for holding the girl’s attention. They had begun half an hour ago, and Harriet had been avoiding the tasks she had been set ever since.
“You have asked me that already,” Frances replied, drawing her attention away from the letter she had been writing. “I am much better, thank you. However, I may find myself with another headache if you do not start making notes.”
Harriet pulled a face. “I only ask out of concern, Frances. You look very pale this morning. Did you not sleep well?”
“I slept wonderfully.” Frances set down her quill. “Harriet, I understand that this is not as exciting as a dinner party or one ofmy more creative lessons, but it is equally essential. The sooner you make your notes, the sooner we can do something else.”
The task at handwasrather dull: Harriet sat at a writing desk with no fewer than five books of etiquette stacked in front of her, and a pile of paper upon which to write down the most important details. But Frances did not know another way to teach the dos and do nots that society expected from a lady.
“It is mostly things I have already told you,” Frances continued, “but I find that things…stickbetter in the mind if they are written down from a book. Besides, the people who wrote those books know far more than I do.”
Harriet groaned. “But the writing is so small, and the language is so boring. Can we not pretend to be at a ball? Or have another pretend promenade? Maybe, we could venture into Bath and do a lesson about fashion?”
“This is also about practicing your handwriting, Harriet,” Frances pointed out. “But, how about this: if you manage at least ten pages of notes, I shall ask your father about venturing into Bath.”
She had been considering it since the day of the dinner party, in truth, for a young lady of thetonwas nothing if she was not fashionable. It was an unfortunate truth, but at least Dominic had the sort of fortune that could accommodate a new wardrobe or two.
