“And here I was, thinking you were riding over to beg me to stay,” she said, barking out an awkward laugh. “I should warn you, my father only survived a fortnight without me.”
Something flickered across his face, like cloud shadows sweeping over the hills; there one moment, gone the next. “We shall do our best to survive without you,” he said flatly, his expression unreadable. “Journey well, Lady Frances.”
“And you,” she replied, “when the time comes for you to leave this place for London.”
He sniffed. “Do not remind me.” A faint smile lifted his lips. “I am almost tempted to offer Alderwick for the debutante ball, so I do not have to leave. But then my house would be full of strangers, and that is a far worse thought.”
They stared at one another for what felt like an eternity, each slow second stoking Frances’ impulse to ask if everythinghadbeen in her head, until she thought she might explode.
“Well,” he said. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” she blurted out.
The driver seemed to take that as permission to continue, as he snapped the reins and the carriage rolled forward, passing through the gates. This time, Dominic did not follow, and she did not dare to look back, lest he see the silly tears that were beginning to blur her eyes.
Riding slowly back to the manor, Dominic braced for his daughter’s fury; he could feel it all the way from the gates and was in no mood for it. If she could see into his overwrought brain, hear the clamoring thoughts that had besieged him all night, she would have known that nothing she said was worse than what his mind had already punished him with.
“You should have stopped her,” Harriet began immediately, before he had even dismounted.
“It was not my place to stop her, Harriet.”
His daughter narrowed her eyes. “You should have written to her father and insisted that she was needed here. I am supposed to have two more weeks of her lessons, and I am afraid I do not have the patience or discipline to do the lessons she has left for me.”
“She is needed there,” he said simply, as he slid down from the saddle.
He could not let her see how affected he was, not even a little bit, for then she would never cease. It would be intolerable enough here, but if she continued to harass him about this while they were in London, with Frances so close, it would be unbearable.
“You do not see it, do you?” Harriet shot back, with all the authority of a woman much older. Perhaps, she had learned that from her tutor.
“See what?”
She jabbed a finger toward the gates, though the carriage was long gone. “She was waiting for you to ask her to stay. She came here with one single bag, yet it took her hours to ‘pack’ her belongings. And she walked so slowly to the carriage, like she was hoping for a reprieve.” She puffed out a frustrated breath. “Icould not very well insist on her staying, for I am not the one who can give that sort of permission.”
“Nonsense, Harriet,” he replied, hoping she could not hear the note of uncertainty in his voice. “You are angry becauseyouwanted her to stay, but she has a life and a family to return to. Do not fabricate things that simply are not true.”
Harriet rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, stalking back into the manor. There, her voice echoed back, “You are a fool, Papa! A lonely old fool! And you always will be!”
Dominic sucked in a breath to shout back that his own daughter would not talk to him like that, and that she ought to display greater manners if she wanted her new gowns, but instead he blew out the breath and said nothing. After all, how could he argue with the truth?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Do not dare run away from us again!” a sweet, familiar voice cried, as a figure in a pretty yellow dress shot down the townhouse stairs and almost knocked Frances clean off her feet. “Never, ever!”
Juliet clung on like a limpet, crushing Frances with her desperate hug of relief and affection.
“I did not run,” Frances protested as she hugged her youngest sister back with equal vigor. “I traveled by coach.”
Juliet pulled back, putting on a frown. “It is not funny, Franny. We have been beside ourselves without you. Not one of us has known what to do. It has been like losing a limb, not having you here with us.” She lowered her voice. “I very nearly scolded Father for not defending you, but I am ashamed to say that I lost my nerve.”
“That is quite all right,” Frances insisted. “I would not have wanted you to get in trouble on my behalf, especially not so close to your debut.”
“Well, that is the other thing,” Juliet exclaimed. “What on earth were you doing, leaving us so close to the most important day of my life? Father said you were staying with friends in the countryside until everyone stopped talking about you, but Father does not have any friends. Wherewereyou?”
The letters that Frances had left for her sisters had not detailed where she was going or what she was doing; they had been simpler, filled with apologies and farewells. She supposed she should not have been surprised that her father had altered the story, to make it more ‘palatable,’ as if her sisters were judgmental members of thetonand not family.
Juliet peeked out of the open townhouse door. “I do not know that crest. Where is that carriage from? If you were really staying with friends, why did you travel there by coach? A friend would have sent a carriage.”
“Juliet, my darling, darling, Juliet,” Frances gasped, uncertain of whether to laugh or wither. “Do you think I might settle myself in my chambers and have a bath to wash away the two days of traveling before you bombard me?”
