“His Grace is in the drawing room, if you would care to join him?” he heard Mrs. Farrow say.
“I am here for dinner,” Frances’ lovely voice replied, her tone firm but polite. “I amonlyhere for dinner.”
“Of course, my lady,” the housekeeper said, that same note of barely suppressed amusement in her voice. “In that case, allow me to show you to the dining room. His Grace will be along in a moment.”
“And Harriet?” Frances asked, as footsteps drew closer to the drawing room door.
“She is… unwell,” Mrs. Farrow replied. “She may yet come down to dinner, but we’re not sure.”
“Oh.” Frances stopped just shy of the partially open door. “Shall I go and tend to her? I do not mind. My own sister, Juliet, has the beginnings of a cold today, so it must be something catching among the debutantes.”
Those words soothed Dominic slightly, more satisfied that his daughter was not the victim of laced lemonade or a worse affliction, but the common cold.
“It’s to be expected, I suppose,” the housekeeper said. “Among so many people. But don’t worry yourself, my lady. I’ll tend to her in due course, while you enjoy your dinner with His Grace.”
Frances seemed to falter. “It will just be… the two of us?”
“And a couple of servants,” Mrs. Farrow assured.
She is going to bolt.Dominic could feel it in his bones. Harriet was meant to be the bulwark between them, so if she was not there, perhaps Frances would not feel comfortable enough to stay.
He stepped out and bowed his head to her. “Lady Frances, I am pleased you could spare the time.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
Frances blinked at him. “I… Well, I… I mean, I should really…” She briefly closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Very well. Lead the way.”
She took his arm with some reluctance, her posture stiff as she walked the short distance down the hallway at his side. Indeed, she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when they parted ways to take their seats at the dining table.
“You should have sent word to me that Harriet was unwell,” she said, as she whipped out her napkin with a violent flourish and lay it across her lap.
“If I had done that, you would not have come,” he replied.
She stared at him. “No, I would not. That is the point.” A strained breath heaved her chest. “I really would urge you to read some of the books I left for Harriet, since it appears you have averyloose grasp on what is appropriate and what is not.”
“On the contrary, I likely have a greater knowledge of society’s rules and expectations than you do,” he said with a smirk. “It was disciplined into me from childhood. Then, two years ago, I decided that I would no longer be bound by the strictures of a dead man, for I realized, certainly too late, that I did not want to be anything like him.”
Her jaw dropped, any retort she might have had interrupted by the arrival of the soup course: watercress, though he could not stand the taste. But he had been informed that it was quite the favorite among current society.
As the servants retreated to the periphery and Frances lightly scooped her spoon into the lurid green soup, she paused to stare at him, her brow creased in consternation.
“I would not have known that your father was strict,” she remarked.
“Exceptionally strict,” Dominic said, as he tasted his first mouthful of the soup and swallowed. “It is part of the reason Althea could not bear to be at Alderwick. My father was alive when we were first married, and he was not kind to her. She was too spirited, too ‘disobedient’ for his taste, and he threatened to have Harriet sent away to some aunt or other when she was very young, so she would not become unruly. It was not long after that Althea absconded to London.”
Frances ate a few spoonfuls of soup before replying. “You did not challenge his unkindness?”
“No, and I am sorry for it,” he replied. “I believed that his was the only command and opinion that mattered. I know different, now. In truth, it is because of Harriet that I finally realized what a despicable man he was. She was spirited, she was unruly, she was half-wild, and I remember thinking to myself… what a pleasant thing that must be. Why would anyone want to stampthat out of her? Why would anyone try? And I wondered what I might be like if my father had not been so cruel and strict.”
“But… she was in your care for years before that,” Frances said. “Why did it take until two years ago?”
Dominic shrugged. “She decided she wanted to spend more time with me. Before that, she kept her distance, and I kept mine. At first, when her mother died, I thought it would be easier for her not to have to share space with a father she barely knew, who did not know how to make her grief any better. That extended for far longer than I intended it to, as we both sort of… got used to it being that way. But then, one day, she came to find me and asked if she could sit with me. We have been building a new relationship ever since, where we are not so distant anymore.”
“That is why she had no lessons and no manners.” Frances nodded as if that made perfect sense.
A chuckle bubbled up from Dominic’s throat. “Indeed, that is why. Her mother left her in my care half-wild, and that is how she remained, with no one to temper her behavior.” He paused, smiling. “Until you.”
“She was an excellent student,” Frances said shyly, returning her attention to her soup. “The scandal sheets were favorable this morning.”
He nodded as he swallowed a grim mouthful. “I saw.”
