A flicker of doubt crossed the maid’s face, her eyes closing as if to help her remember. “She left through the garden doors in the music room and let herself out the garden gate to the alley behind. She took the curricle. I don’t know who prepared it for her, but I imagine she said it was for you, Your Grace.”
Oh, heavens.That would certainly cause a stir if any of thetonhappened to notice the duke’s only daughter roaring past at the helm of a curricle. Heading away from Mayfair. Alone.
“What time?” Frances pressed, feeling as if they were edging closer to something useful.
“His Grace had just gone into the drawing room, so it must have been sometime between four o’clock and five o’clock. Everyone else was busy in the kitchens or preparing the dining room.”
Frances nodded. “So, she has not been gone for more than two hours. That is good.” She paused. “And the rendezvous?”
“The Running Fox Inn,” the maid croaked, like the last bit of strength had been wrung from her. “An hour outside of the city, on the road to Coventry. Please, fetch her back. I thought I was doing right, I thought they were in love, but… I think I’ve made a rare old mistake.”
Dominic slid past Frances and the maid cowered, her arms coming up as if bracing for a strike. But he just rasped, “I shall deal with you later,” and thudded out of the room, radiating the kind of anger that spelled trouble.
He was not merely intimidating anymore; he was terrifying, and if Frances did not find a way to soothe the savage beast, he would surely tear Lord Ainsley to shreds.
Oh, Harriet. This is exactly what I was worried about.Only, Frances had feared the girl falling completely in love with the first man who feigned affectionafterher debut, not before. Certainly not when she was just sixteen years old and entirely sheltered from the world, alone and bored in a countryside manor, unable to spot a snake before it could bite.
With a breath, Frances ran out after Dominic, if only to prevent an elopement from becoming an execution.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Frances clung onto Dominic as if her life depended on it—and, hurtling down increasingly dark country roads at a breakneck pace upon the back of a horse, with nothing to hold onto but him, her life certainly did. About a hundred times already, she had gasped and gripped him tighter as she felt herself slipping. Having been a woman of the city for the majority of her life, she had never bothered to learn how to ride a horse. To her, they were fine, mysterious, grand creatures who pulled carriages, and were to be admired asother peoplerode them.
I should have taken the carriage. Why did I not insist upon it?She squeezed her eyes tighter and held on until her arms burned and her knuckles throbbed, praying that the terror would soon come to an end. After all, it felt as if they had been riding for an eternity, and London was already a long way behind them.
Still, she hoped fervently that the hectic ride would at least be enough to cool some of Dominic’s ire before he caught up to his daughter.
As if she had somehow manifested it, Dominic suddenly slowed the horse to a walk.
Struggling to catch her breath, Frances dared to peek out around the bulk of Dominic’s arm. Her heart soared and sank at once as the glow of lanterns greeted her blurry eyes, spilling from the windows of a thatched roadside inn. A wooden sign swinging above the doorway marked the spot:The Running Fox.
An apt name, if ever she had heard one, for Lord Ainsley had snatched a chick from the henhouse and was attempting to make off with it. A sly fox indeed.
“Do you see them?” Frances asked, though she did not loosen her grip on his waist. It felt rather nice to hold onto him for a while.
Dominic shook his head. “They will not be sitting near any windows.”
“Dominic?”
He glanced back at her as he urged his horse toward the stable yard. “Yes?”
“Do you think… I mean, is it possible that they might actually be in love?” she said, asking the question she had been suppressing since they left the townhouse. Mostly because the wind had been sweeping by so fast that she could barely catch her breath, much less gasp out some words, but still… it needed to be asked.
His expression darkened. “I do not care if they are; he is older than I am. He is not marrying my daughter. He has clearly bewitched her and made promises to her, and she has fallen for it.” His breath hitched. “She has fallen for it because she received no affection from me, because she was probably so starved of it that she clung to the first man who offered the slightest bit of kindness.”
“I do not think that can be true,” she urged. “She knows you adore her, in your own way.”
“Exactly, and it is my way that has led her into this mess,” he muttered, as the horse clopped across the cobbles of the yard, and came to a standstill.
With a stifled gasp, Frances’ gaze fell upon a curricle that two stable boys were in the midst of unhitching from the horse. A short distance from them, in the shadow of a stall, a couple were embracing.
Oh, no…The thought echoed in her head, a second before Dominic spotted them.
“Wait a moment,” Frances urged, gripping his sleeve. “Just wait. Gather yourself. Do not do anything?—”
He was already leaping down from the saddle, his hands clenched in a manner that suggested someone was about to get punched. Cursing under her breath, and apologizing profusely to the horse, Frances scrambled down to the ground with no grace whatsoever, and lurched toward Dominic.
“Get away from her!” he bellowed, his voice startling the horses in their stalls.
