“It would help,” Harriet agreed, a note too eagerly. “And it would be such a shame to just… return home.”
Hugo chuckled, his arms folded. “You cannot win this one, cousin. Let the ladies enjoy themselves. Who knows, perhaps you might enjoy yourself too.”
“One hour,” Dominic muttered, expelling a frustrated sigh. “No protests when I say that we must leave.”
He caught Frances’ eye for a moment and shook his head as if he could not believe what had just happened. Meanwhile, Frances could not take the smile from her face, for though she had attended such carnivals with her sisters, it had been years since she had just been able to enjoy one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The noise and bright colors were a bombardment to Dominic’s hermit-like inclinations, his eardrums shivering, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, alert to a danger that did not exist. Even when he was younger, he had never favored busy places and excessive company, always quiet, always solitary, shaped by his father.
“Nine pins!” Harriet shrieked, Dominic’s eye twitching at the shrill sound. “Frances, come and play!”
His daughter seized Frances by the arm and all but dragged her toward the game, the young man in charge grinning in delight as Harriet opened her pin money purse and handed over a farthing.
“Let us do three rounds!” Harriet said gleefully. “Whoever knocks down the most in the least amount of tries, wins.”
Frances chuckled, her hand resting on her hip as she watched Harriet pick up the first ball. “I know the rules, Harriet.”
“Are you any good?” Harriet asked.
“You shall have to find out.”
Almost against his will, Dominic was drawn to the scene, enchanted by the serenity in Frances’ posture, the soft smile on her face, the roses blooming in her cheeks. Like spotting a rare bird that did not know it was being observed, free and unafraid in its own environment. Preening, chirping, completely at ease.
Harriet rolled the ball with too much vigor, and it went bouncing down the wooden alley, hitting just three of the nine pins. The next ball took out two more, while the last ball knocked out the final four.
“Very well done,” Frances said, as Dominic drew closer.
Harriet puffed her chest. “I am surprised I hit anything at all, when I have not had the opportunity to play in so long.”
The young man overseeing the game diligently restored the nine pins to their previous spots and picked up the balls to hand to Frances. Catherine and Hugo had moved closer, too, watching with the same curiosity.
For a moment, a perfect calm fell across Frances’ face. She crouched a little, eyeing the markings on the wooden alley… and with a sharp intake of breath, she let the ball roll. A measured movement, not too much force, not too little.
Dominic found that he was holding his breath as the ball hurtled toward the pins.
It struck dead center, the ball careening straight through the middle of the diamond formation, and as the pins fell, they knocked down their neighbors. The last pin, off to the left, wobbled precariously as if it had some fight left in it and was not ready to concede defeat yet, when it, too, surrendered.
There was no cry of victory, no boasting, no great display of satisfaction. Frances just gave a small, pleased nod and handed the unused balls over to an astonished Harriet.
“Seems we have someone who knows what they’re doing,” the steward said with a chuckle, before he rushed to set the pins back up.
“And, to think, I almost suggested a wager,” Harriet said, her eyes alight with fresh admiration for the capable, intriguing woman who had turned up at their door.
Dominic cleared his throat. “I hope that was a jest, Harriet. Respectable ladies do not gamble.”
“All debutantes do,” Harriet protested with a sly smile. “Is that not right, Frances?”
Laughing as if she had forgotten that Dominic was there, Frances gave a reluctant nod. “Onemightconsider entering society a gamble, though I do not find it nearly as entertainingas this. I would be a much greater success in London if it was all about nine-pins.” She nudged Harriet. “It is your turn again.”
The ladies returned their attention to their game, while Dominic stood there with a frown, feeling as if he had somehow been trounced when he was not even playing.
How is it possible that she hasnotbeen a success in society?
It was a question he had asked himself several times throughout the course of Frances’ tenure at Alderwick. Truly, he could not fathom it, for she was everything he assumed a society lady was supposed to be: witty, capable, demure, full of character, intelligent, generous, kind, and possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered.
His mind returned to the modiste’s shop, and what he had accidentally overheard between Frances and her maid. Was that the reason? Sacrifice? Had she deliberately avoided the possibility of marriage, even in her debut Season, in order to take care of her sisters? Was that what her father had commanded, for her to seem to be out in society for appearances’ sake, while still being very much chained to her family?
