The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins

Chapter Thirteen

Henry followed the long length of numbers down to the bottom of the page. The early morning light coming from the office window was plenty bright enough for him to see by. Kingcup Estate had faced many costs in previous years, but this year, things seemed to be turning around once more. If the estate continued on its current path, it would soon be the most profitable Stanton holding. A memory of Steven Jacobsen, then an adult, looking out over his parcel of land, brought bittersweet pain to Henry’s chest. Steven would have been proud of all that Kingcup was becoming.

A knock at the door chased away the memory.

“Enter,” Henry called.

A manservant pushed his way in, carrying a large tray. “Your breakfast, my lord.”

“Thank you, George.”

The manservant sat the tray down on a side table near a wingback, bowed, and then turned to leave.

“Actually, George,” the words were out of Henry’s mouth almost before he realized what he was asking, “is my wife taking breakfast downstairs this morning?” He’d come to terms with needing to call her something other than ‘Dinah’ when speaking to anyone other than his family. He very well couldn’t address her by her Christian name when speaking of her to the staff or their neighbors. Even after hearing many visitors and the like call her Lady Stanton, Henry still could not shake the horrid feeling saying that name always dredged up. Not yet, at least. Perhaps given time. But for now, ‘my wife’ was much safer.

“I believe her abigail was preparing a tray to be taken to her room the same time I was preparing this one for you, my lord.”

“Very good.”

The manservant bowed a second time and turned to leave.

A tray in her room. That was a good plan. No doubt even the bright and happy Dinah needed a break from his family now and again. The softly wafting smell of ham and toast reached him, yet he didn’t stand and move over to it. Dinah had been yet more delightful yesterday after her family paid her a visit.

More delightful. More beautiful. More exquisite.

A yearning filled him. A sudden desire to see her again, to speak with her. Had not George said that her abigail was preparing her tray as well? That meant she was up, in her room, probably answering correspondences and reviewing the many invitations they’d been receiving ever since the wedding.

“George,” he called out again.

The manservant had already left the room but was apparently not too far down the hall, for he returned after only a moment. If he was put out at being summoned back a second time, he was wise enough not to show it.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Would you please ask my wife if she would have breakfast with me in our sitting room this morning?”

Again, the manservant was far too well-trained to show any emotion, including surprise. “As you wish, my lord.” After another bow—this one made three in almost as many minutes—he left the room.

The room was strangely still once the man had left. It was no more quiet now than it had been before the manservant had brought in breakfast. Yet, now Henry felt smothered by the silence. He placed a hand against the desktop, his fingers drumming out his impatience. The soft tap-tap-tap did little to fill the space.

Oh, hang this. Henry pushed to his feet, scooped up the tray himself, and marched toward the family wing. It felt strange to stray from his typical morning routine. At first light, he was in his office working through business. He had breakfast there and didn’t leave until nearly noon. He was a man of carefully thought-out plans, of order and drive.

And yet, his feet didn’t stop. He didn’t turn back around. He didn’t rescind his order to George.

He came across George speaking with Dinah’s abigail in the corridor.

“She says she’d be quite pleased to take breakfast with his lordship this morning,” she was saying.

“Thank you,” Henry said. He pushed past both servants and opened the door to his and Dinah’s shared sitting room then made his way inside.

His staff was well-trained, but at his erratic behavior, even they stared at him until the door to the sitting room closed between them. Henry could not deny that he was acting quite out of character this morning.

He placed the tray down between the settee and two chairs on the side of the room furthest from the fire. This would be a more comfortable place to eat—and it was rather too warm a morning to be near the hearth.

Taking one of the chairs, he sat back, placing an ankle over a knee. Dinah’s abigail hurried into the room with a tray similar to his own.

She placed it on the table by his and bobbed a curtsy. “Her ladyship will with you in just a minute.”

Henry inclined his head in her direction, and the abigail hurried back into Dinah’s room, no doubt helping her with the last bit of her morning toilette.

Now, there truly was nothing more he could do other than wait. Was he a fool for having asked her to breakfast with him? Probably. He’d never upended his life for another woman before.

Well, at least not since Emily.

It had been many years since he’d truly thought about that moment when things between him and Emily had come to an end.

* * *

Henry breathed in the crisp air. He loved Kingcup during autumn. Of course, he truly shouldn’t be here at all. His university professors would be quite upset with him when he was marked absent come Monday. But he’d thought through this plan enough times that, though the austere old men of Cambridge might be displeased, Henry felt confident that a few days’ visit home was in order.

He reached a small rise in the path, a particularly pleasant spot where several of the farms came into view. In the distance, Steven was atop his horse, probably traveling between one side of his field and the other. Henry waved, and Steven gave him a cheeky salute before riding off. Was he still courting that young woman he’d written Henry of month before last? Though he was away at university most of the time and Steven was here farming what used to be his father’s farm, they still remained in constant correspondence. Still, Steven hadn’t mentioned the young woman as of late.

Which probably meant not only was he still courting her, but things were growing serious. First of all, Steven would have told him if he had either changed his mind or if she had jilted him. Second, never was there a topic Henry heard men discuss less than a woman they sincerely cared for.

For example, Henry hadn’t yet told Steven the true reason he was back at Kingcup Estate, no matter that they’d stayed up until two in the morning, night before last, catching up and sharing news.

Steven disappeared behind a ridge and Henry faced the path he was on once more. It was better that he see to the details first, then he’d tell his friend. Henry moved forward, his stride lengthening. Emily was waiting for him at the turn in the road. They greeted one another politely and fell into step, her on his right side.

She had been well these past months while he’d been away. Her family was in fine health. He was finding his studies enthralling, and his classmates were likable chaps. As they talked, Henry couldn’t help but tick off in his mind, yet again, all the reasons Emily would make a fine wife.

She was poised and polite, almost to a fault.

She’d been a friend of the family for as long as he could remember—it wouldn’t surprise him if her parents fully expected a match between them.

She knew much about the Stanton holdings, due again to their families being close, so it wouldn’t take her long to grow comfortable as mistress of them all.

It was logical, easy, quite possibly a perfect plan.

He’d considered waiting until the Christmas holidays to speak with her; then, after she’d accepted him, he would speak with her father. But now that he’d decided on this course of action, he was restless to see it to fulfillment.

They took the small path which wound down through a wooded area. Emily always said she loved to hear the birds singing in the trees. This seemed a fine place to propose.

“My mother is particularly pleased with the new vicar,” Emily said, her tone and words proper.

“I am glad to hear it.” He’d had rather a devilish time finding a good vicar when Mr. Thompson had grown too old to continue delivering sermons. “I had hoped he would be good for the neighborhood.”

“I believe he is.”

The conversation lagged a bit; perhaps this was the right time to bring up . . .

A rustle came from off to their right and up the path a ways. Henry’s brow dropped, and an icy apprehension filled his stomach.

Which was unwarranted, certainly. He’d walked these woods many a time as a lad, even more as he’d grown into manhood. There was nothing here to be worried about.

A low growl came from the same spot as the rustling. Henry reached out, stopping Emily with a hand at her elbow. Unwarranted or not, Henry’s gut adamantly told him something dangerous was just around that bush.

“Turn around,” he instructed Emily in a low voice, “and slowly walk back the way we came.”

“Why?” she asked. “Can we not continue on a little long—”

“Emily.” His growing concern etched its way into his tone, turning it hard. “Turn around and go back—”

A beast leapt out from behind the bush. Every muscle in his body tensed, instantly ready for what might come next. Emily let out a scream. It took Henry a second to realize that the large thing on all fours before him was, in fact, the biggest dog he’d ever seen. What scared him most, though, was not the animal’s size, but its matted fur and the white foam coming from its mouth.

Henry stepped between it and Emily, hoping his large form would block her from the rabid animal’s view.

“Get back to the house, now,” he commanded.

Emily’s only response was to mumble something incoherent.

The animal moved forward on shaking legs, first one step, then a second. Henry maintained eye contact; he couldn’t show vulnerability by looking away. Slowly, he bent down, picked up a long branch resting on the forest floor, and stood once more.

“You have to run,” he told Emily again.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m too scared.”

Blast—he’d rather know she was safe before facing down the animal. There was nothing for it, though.

“I’m going to try and scare it off,” he explained. “As soon as I step forward, you have to run. Is that clear?”

“Scare it off? Can’t we just slowly walk away? If we don’t run, it won’t chase us, right?”

Once an animal contracted rabies, it became wildly unpredictable. He didn’t dare chance that the snarling dog would suddenly turn docile.

The dog took a few more unsteady steps in their direction. He looked nearly ready to collapse. Henry knew better, however. Just because a crazed animal appeared ready to drop didn’t mean it wouldn’t revive again just when you expected it to give in.

“Look at him, Emily,” Henry said. “He’s sick. He isn’t going to simply let us walk away.”

She let out a small sob.

“Don’t worry,” he added. “I won’t let him hurt you.” And he meant it. No one was getting bitten while he was around.

Lifting the branch high above his head, Henry leapt forward, yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs. He’d learned a year earlier at university that bears often bellow and stand on their hind legs to make themselves look bigger in an effort to scare off other dangerous animals instead of actually fighting them. With any luck, he could do just the same now.

Henry swung the branch, though he knew he wasn’t close enough to actually hit the dog. It did break off several branches of a nearby bush and throw up a bit of dirt as it skittered across the ground. With another scream, Henry stomped forward, puffing out his chest and hoping to make himself appear as large as possible.

The animal lowered its head and growled, but it also took a hesitant step backward.

His tactic appeared to be working. Henry yelled, lifting the branch above him, and bringing it straight down. It smacked against the forest floor and cracked loudly, bits of old bark flying off in every direction. Several pieces scratched against the animal’s face.

It howled and scraped a paw over its snout, leaving behind a small smear of red.

Henry pressed his advantage, stomping forward again and lifting the branch.

The dog tucked its tail, then spun about and scurried back into the forest.

Henry stood, watching where it had disappeared for several minutes. He wasn’t about to turn his back on the animal just yet, not until he knew for certain it was gone and they were safe.

All around them was still for several minutes. Finally, Henry breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Emily.

She still stood on the path, exactly where he’d left her, arms clutched around herself and her face pale as a ghost.

“He’s gone,” Henry said. “It’s all right now.”

It was at that moment that Henry realized she wasn’t looking in fear toward where the animal had disappeared, but straight at him.

He walked toward her, and she took a small step back.

Henry paused. “Emily?”

When she spoke, her voice was small. “I’ve never heard such horrible sounds . . . from a man before.”

What would she have preferred? That he ask the dog politely if it might leave them alone? “I did what was necessary to protect us.”

She blinked, then shook herself. “Yes . . . of course . . . I mean, thank you.”

But the words didn’t sound sincere. They didn’t sound like her concern was for letting him know she was grateful he’d scared the rabid dog off.

“I’d best see you home now,” he said.

She nodded and turned. As he drew side by side to her again, Emily pulled away slightly, keeping distance between them.

After that day, Emily never looked at him the same way. For over a year, he could tell that whenever she saw him, she relived that moment. To her, no doubt, he’d been terrifying, wild even. He didn’t regret his actions, but after that day, he knew, without a doubt, that he was not the type of man who could make her happy. His intense nature had saved them, but it had also ended their easy acquaintance.

He never did offer for her.

* * *

Dinah walked into the sitting room, that beautiful smile on her lips.

Emily had once encouraged his attentions, much as Dinah was now. But once Emily had gotten to know him—truly know him—that had all ended. How long would it take before Dinah turned away as well?

“This is a lovely idea,” Dinah said, taking the settee across from him.

Henry sat up straight, once more feeling the chair beneath him. “It’s nothing, really.”

“I’m glad you thought to invite me, all the same.”

They fell into comfortable conversation. They spoke about the letters she’d received recently and her family’s health; they spoke about estate business and which of the many invitations they ought to accept. Their conversation was eerily reminiscent of the one he and Emily had been having just before the mad dog had appeared. Though he knew no crazed animal was going to charge into the sitting room, his stomach still sent icy warnings through him all the same. He could not let his guard down. Not here. Not with Dinah. Other men were suited to easy relationships and comfortable marriages. But not him. Things may seem fine between him and Dinah for the time being, but once she truly came to see what he was capable of, it would end. She would look at him with fear, or annoyance, or even disinterest. Whatever it was, the result would be the same.

Henry picked up a mug of coffee—he might as well enjoy her smiles while he could.

They likely wouldn’t last long.