The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins

Chapter Nineteen

Dinah held him for a long time. Long enough that the sun started to slip down in the sky and the house cast a long shadow over the lawn.

Clearly, he still had a large hole in his heart over what his mother had done. She could only imagine the type of pain losing a parent in that way would cause. However, she also suspected that speaking of her may have helped, if only a little. Maybe if he spoke to others as well, broke through this silence everyone at Angleside insisted on, maybe he could find true healing.

“Have you told David?” she asked eventually.

“Told him what?”

“That your mother has passed.”

He tensed up at her words.

“He’s her son too. Doesn’t he have a right to know?”

Henry’s jaw tightened so much, Dinah could have sworn she heard his teeth grinding. “We don’t talk about her.”

No, they didn’t. It was as though the woman had never existed. How could they truly grieve the loss of someone they pretended had never existed? “I think you ought to tell him.”

Henry drew his arms away from her. Dinah continued to hug him until he gently took hold of her arms and pulled her away.

“You’re clearly still hurting over her decision to leave,” she said, now looking up at Henry, at his dark expression and gently wavy hair. “I think talking about it may help you. And David, too.”

“Nonsense. It’ll only open old wounds.”

But that feeling in her stomach disagreed. He needed to get things off his chest. He needed a safe place to voice his hurt.

Maybe she could convince David to open the conversation with Henry. “Then allow me to tell him,” she tried.

“Nothing doing,” he said, his voice growing hard. “I know just how much you enjoy talking about every detail of any pain or problem. But I am telling you, not a word to David or anyone.”

Was he giving her an order? Childish it may be, but she felt a small bit of stubbornness rise up inside of her. More still, couldn’t he understand that she was doing this for him? For them?

He must have seen some of what she was thinking on her face, for he pointed a finger directly at her. “I mean it, Dinah.”

She pushed the finger away, the calm heat of the closeness of before now more of an agitated fire. “I’m not one of the maids. Don’t start ordering me about.”

“This isn’t the time to run about like a chicken without a head, making snap decisions.”

“But this is eating you up, Henry. Can’t you see that? All these years of silence haven’t helped; I think it’s past time you tried talking.”

Henry threw his hands up. “And we’ve reached it at last.”

“Excuse me?”

With a hand on his hip and another rubbing his eyes, he spoke in terse tones. “The part of our relationship where you tell me all my shortcomings and all the reasons I couldn’t possibly be good enough for you.”

Had previous relationships made him feel that way? Had his mother made him feel that way? Dinah wasn’t even sure how to respond. “I’m not saying any of that. I’m saying you ought to talk to David.”

“You’re saying I should be more like you, willing to dash ahead without a plan, to act on every impulse. Now that I’ve told you about the late Lady Stanton, why not tell everyone?”

“Henry, that’s not fair. I do not rush forward at every whim.”

His tone was firm. “I won’t have you hurting my family.”

Dinah felt the words as though they left tiny cuts all along her chest. His family. One that he still didn’t consider her part of.

Dinah took a small step back, suddenly needing space between them. She swallowed hard, pushing the hurt down further. “I won’t say anything to them. But you still should.”

“Don’t press me on this, Dinah.”

“Or what?” What could he possibly do to her at this point? Withhold his love? Remind her every few days that she wasn’t family? Leave her feeling alone and without hope that life would ever improve?

Dinah slowly shook her head and shut her eyes. “If you will excuse me, I think I would like to lie down before dinner.”

Henry didn’t say anything, didn’t move to stop her or comfort her, as she slipped out of the nursery and away from him.

* * *

Dinah pursed her lips, her gaze moving between her plate of lamb and roasted vegetables and Henry, who sat at the head of the table. She had been excited for tonight’s dinner. After all, Chef Voss had talked on and on about his “famous” lamb recipe, so Dinah had quite been wanting to try it.

Only, that had been before she and Henry had spoken of his mother.

After resting in her room for the remainder of the afternoon, Dinah had joined the family in the drawing room before dinner. Henry hadn’t been there when she’d entered. David had been speaking with Oliver and Miles, something about the latest news from the continent. Emily was straightening Little Eddie’s light blue skeleton suit and redoing several of the buttons. So many had come undone, in fact, that his adorable trousers were beginning to fall. Altogether, the Thrup family showed perfect familial harmony.

Until Henry came into the room.

He walked in, glanced about the room, found her with his gaze, and scowled at her—and it had been quite the scowl indeed. One of the darkest looks she’d ever been on the receiving end of. Then he’d turned on his heel and chosen the seat furthest from her in the room.

Much as she would have wished it otherwise, no one was unaware that she’d landed herself in her husband’s black books.

Though no one approached her to ask what the matter was, something she was grateful for, she did catch every other family member glancing her way once or twice. Conversations had started up in the room after a moment of silence, but they were far more hushed, almost cautious.

Dinner had been blessedly called not long after Henry’s entrance, and they had all moved into the dining room.

But so far, dinner had been no better. Henry flatly refused to look at her. Instead of conversing with her husband as she usually did, Dinah took up a conversation with Oliver and Miles, who were very excited that they’d been granted permission to attend the ball in a few nights’ time.

“Lamb?” Aunt Beatrice cried out as the manservant placed a plate before her. “I know for a fact that I requested poultry tonight.”

Yes, Henry’s aunt was very fond of poultry, Dinah had learned.

“Where is the chef?” Aunt Beatrice said, her voice rising, “I will speak to him at once.”

“He is not to be blamed,” Dinah said, loudly enough that Aunt Beatrice could hear her from down the table. “I am the one who changed tonight’s meal.”

“This is not to be borne.” Aunt Beatrice stood, her chair scraping against the floor. “Henry, you must speak to her.” She whirled back around, facing Dinah yet again. “David has never cared for lamb. That is why I insist that it not be part of the menu. Where is the housekeeper? She ought to know better than to let anyone change the meals I request.”

Dinah opened her mouth to defend herself, but Henry stood. His tall form and his broad shoulders seemed to tower over the entire table, effectively silencing all.

“I will set this to rights.”

The housekeeper hurried into the room, and Henry called her over.

“It has come to my attention,” he said as though addressing her, but speaking loudly enough for all to hear, “that there is some confusion over who chooses the meals and such in this household.”

The housekeeper bobbed her head. “Yes, my lord.”

“Very well, let me explain so that there are no questions regarding roles in the future. My wife, Lady Stanton, is mistress of this house and every other house among the Stanton holdings.” Dinah warmed at his words. To hear his straightforward defense of her nearly brought tears to her eyes. Hang his perfectionism and aloofness. “You, and all the staff here, answer to myself and to her, and no one else. Now, do you have any other questions?”

“No, my lord. Thank you, my lord.”

“Very well. You may return to your responsibilities.”

Aunt Beatrice sat heavily back in her chair, and Henry took his as well.

Dinah waited until Henry finally glanced her way once more. Then she mouthed, “Thank you.” Far from the pleased acknowledgment she’d hoped for, Henry only scowled deeper and returned to his plate of food.

Clearly, she had not been forgiven for her words earlier today. She’d simply have to wait until tonight to talk it out with him.

Still, she would not ignore the fact that he had, yet again, proved that he put her first. Tonight, he had literally placed her first, above all other individuals at his table, in terms of status. And he’d already proven in so many other ways that she was first in his life. Between the drinking chocolate every morning and the tall mirror in her room, her new horse, as well as how he repeatedly kept her in the loop regarding Mr. Harding’s letters and all that was happening there.

Henry may, at the moment, be quite put out with her. But Dinah could no longer deny he was the very man she’d always hoped to find.

One she had, much to her own surprise, quite fully fallen in love with.