The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins

Chapter Twenty

Dinah sat on the side of the courting bench that faced the hearth. With an elbow against the curved back of the bench, she rested her chin in her upturned hand. Henry was late. The family normally retired to the drawing room after dinner for a time. But no one stayed up very late, despite them currently residing in London. Perhaps it was because over half the occupants of Angleside Court were elderly, and a good portion of the rest had not yet reached adulthood.

Whatever the reason, Dinah had expected everyone to be in bed by now. Which meant that Henry ought to be next to her, speaking with her of his day.

He’d been clearly upset with her when she’d left him in the nursery, and he apparently hadn’t cooled between then and when they’d sat down to dinner. He’d also been glorious in his defense of her. But she knew him well enough to know he could be her champion while simultaneously being frustrated or even mad at her.

Small, beady eyes appeared beside the fireplace.

Dinah gave a small cry. But just as quickly as the golden eyes appeared, they were gone.

Gripping the courting bench tightly, Dinah focused on breathing easily. Her mind was playing tricks again.

She’d been upset last time she thought she’d seen a rat. It had turned out to be nothing. Not a single rodent had been seen in all of Angleside Court her entire time living there. She blamed it on Aunt Beatrice getting under her skin. Last time Henry’s aunt had said something horrid, Dinah had thought she’d seen a rat as well. What was it about Aunt Beatrice that made Dinah think she was seeing rats?

Why couldn’t the woman make her mad enough to see something pleasant? Like a cat, or a puppy? Dinah shuddered; she could not stand rats.

The soft sound of a door closing brought Dinah’s attention back to what she was doing here. Dinah turned around in the seat, looking back toward the door on the far side of the room which led to the corridor beyond. But it was still closed, Henry still nowhere to be seen. It must have been another door somewhere else, though nearby, that she had heard. More sounds reached her. The sounds of boots against the floor. Of someone shuffling about.

It sounded as though the noise was coming from Henry’s room. Dinah stood and hurried over to the door that connected their sitting room to his personal bedchamber. She pressed her ear against the door. Yes, someone was inside. A man spoke, and a second replied. That was Henry and his valet, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Of all the nerve. He was planning to retire for the night without speaking to her first? Without even sending her a note to explain he wouldn’t be joining her at the courting bench?

Oh, no. She wasn’t letting him go to bed before they had this out.

Dinah crossed before the hearth and entered her private bedchamber, then rang for her abigail. The young woman appeared almost immediately.

“I need you to go out into the corridor,” Dinah explained, “knock on Lord Stanton’s door and get him to come out into the corridor with you.”

“Excuse me, my lady?”

“Tell him you need to discuss . . .” Dinah looked about, hoping to stumble upon something that would work. “My hair brush.” Dinah picked up the brush from her dressing table and snapped it clean in two. It had only been a very inexpensive one she’d bought herself many years ago. “Tell him someone broke it, you have no idea who, but are scared to show it to me.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but I think I am rather more scared to tell his lordship than I ever would be to tell you.”

Dinah held the two pieces of hairbrush out to her. “Well, don’t be. I know him quite well at this point, and I can assure you he may scowl a great deal and he might stare at you with that dark expression, but he will be fair and reasonable despite all his bluster.”

Her abigail slowly took the pieces. “Must I?”

Dinah placed a hand on either of her abigail’s arms. “Yes. I need you to do this for me.”

The young woman lifted her chin. “Very well, my lady. If you need it of me.” A moment later, the abigail was gone and Dinah was hurrying back through the sitting room. She pressed an ear against Henry’s door. She only had to wait a few minutes before the room grew still—Henry must have walked out into the corridor to speak with her abigail, as she’d hoped he would.

Dinah opened the door slowly and tiptoed into the bedchamber. She’d only been in here once before, and on that occasion, she’d been too distracted by the sight of a dripping wet Henry covered in no more than a sopping wet robe to notice anything else. Gracious, but he’d looked incredibly handsome, even disheveled and wet.

The room about her was quite similar to his office. Heavy curtains hung over the windows, and a dark blue spread covered the bed. The rug on the floor was not so thick as the one in the office but revealed a much more detailed design. The ornateness made her wonder if it wasn’t from the East Indies.

The door between Henry’s room and the corridor was slightly ajar. Dinah hurried toward it. She’d been right in guessing that it would swing inward, same as the door in her room. Dinah could barely hear her abigail’s soft voice coming from just outside.

Dinah softly shut the door, making sure it latched fully in place. Then she took hold of a nearby chair and angled it beneath the handle.

With all set the way she wanted, Dinah hurried back into the sitting room and took up her place on the bench, this time with her back toward the hearth and facing the door which led to the corridor.

Henry truly was a bit touched in the head if he thought he could avoid her simply because he wished it.

* * *

Henry listened as Dinah’s abigail said, yet again, that she had no idea who broke the brush. He turned the two pieces over in his hand. It wasn’t a particularly pretty brush. He’d seen much finer ones. No doubt, this one had been purchased during a time when Dinah had very little. Thinking of what her life must have been like not many years ago did strange things to Henry’s heart. Mostly, though, it steeled his resolve that she need never know want again.

“Was she particularly fond of this brush?” he asked the maid.

“I doubt it,” the abigail said quickly. “I mean considerin’ how quickly she—”

Suddenly, the maid froze as if having caught herself before saying something she had not intended to say. Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I mean, just considerin’ is all.”

Clearly, there was more the abigail was not telling him. Such as, why she would come to him and not the housekeeper, and at this time of night? Someone had set her up to it, of that he had little doubt.

“Very well,” he said, pocketing the two pieces of hairbrush. “Tell the housekeeper to have a new one ordered tomorrow morning and brought around to the house straightaway.”

The maid looked quite relieved, and she bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.” The young woman turned and hurried down the corridor.

“That was odd,” Henry muttered.

“I agree,” his valet said beside him.

Henry shook his head. Normally, such would probably drive him to distraction until he’d learned all that was truly afoot in his own household. Tonight, however, he was too tired to care. The emotions that had not stopped churning inside him since his conversation with Dinah many hours prior had worn on him all evening. He’d found comfort, even calm, as she’d hugged him. It was an emotion he’d never before been able to feel when thinking of the late Lady Stanton. However, when she’d decided, quite highhandedly, Henry felt, that he had to tell David . . . well, all his calm had erupted into an unsettling storm.

Now, all he wanted was to lie down, close his eyes, and enjoy unconsciousness for a time.

Henry’s hand took hold of the doorknob, and he twisted it. Only, the door wouldn’t open. He could turn the handle easily enough, but when he pushed against the door, it only moved a finger’s width before refusing to go any further. Something on the other side was preventing the door from opening.

“Go through the sitting room,” he instructed his valet. “See what the problem is.”

“Yes, my lord.” His valet bowed and then hurried into the sitting room.

Henry waited a few moments, then tried the door again. Surely by now, his valet would have cleared whatever was blocking the door’s path. And how the blazes had something even landed behind the door? He’d only been in there less than five minutes ago.

His valet walked back out the sitting room door. He tugged his jacket down, smoothing it with a hand, and then approached Henry. His mouth was set in a firm line, but he looked nearly pale in the low candlelight of the corridor.

“I believe, my lord, it would be best if you see to this matter yourself.”

Henry lifted a brow; never once had his valet spoken to him thusly. “Come again?”

His valet let out a nervous cough. “It has been requested that you see to this yourself.”

Been requested? There was but one person in this whole household who would ever dare such a thing. “The blazes she did.” Henry marched past his valet and tore open the sitting room door.

Dinah sat on the courting bench, all prim and poised, staring directly at him.

Henry shut the door firmly behind him and strode toward her.

“You, sir, are angry at me,” she said, unruffled and fully collected.

“So you locked me out of my own bedchamber?”

She lifted a single shoulder.

He had not noticed until that moment how very close her sleeves were to being completely off the shoulder. Indeed, the bit of skin that was showing was suddenly very tempting. He could hardly look away. What would she do if he took her in his arms, trailed kisses over her shoulder and up her neck?

After what she’d just done, he felt she probably deserved the shock.

Only, what if she pushed him away? What if she looked at him in horror?

That, he could not stand.

“Well?” she asked, bringing him back to the room. Back to the fact that there were still several paces of space between them. Back to the fact that he had never once taken her in his arms, other than the friendly hug of that afternoon. That hadn’t ended well. What might she begin demanding of him if he actually kissed her?

“You know why I’m upset,” he mumbled, turning toward his bedchamber door. “Now if you will excuse me.”

Dinah leapt from her seat and barred the door to his room. “Is all this”—she waved a finger in a large circle that seemed to encompass not only his scowl and stiff shoulders, but also his frustration and dark mood—“is all this because I said you should talk to David?”

He held her gaze and enunciated his next word clearly. “Yes.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she eyed him carefully, a hand going to her hip, her head listing to the side, and her pink lips puckering.

Henry stopped himself before he drew too near her. Had she any idea how tempting she was? Standing there, a petite barricade, as though daring him to try to move her aside. Only, if he did try, he was certain the moment his hands found her, he wouldn’t be letting go. Far from pulling her out of his way, he was far more likely to pull her near him. Nuzzle his nose up close to her hair and neck. Kiss her soundly.

Nonetheless, he wasn’t about to explain to her that, while he was quite angry at her insistence that he talk to David about their mother, he was also wrestling with an ever-growing sense of foreboding. Dinah would leave him eventually. He was certain of it. Even more so after all the memories he’d relived that afternoon. And the thought of losing her was nearly more than he could bear.

Tired though he was, he righted himself, clasping his hands behind his back and forcing his shoulders to relax. His mighty temptress clearly wasn’t going to yield.

“Very well. Since you clearly wish to talk, how was your day?”

“I added the last bit of trim to my dress for the ball. Thank you for asking.” Her tone remained tight. “How was your day?”

“Fine. I am pleased to hear your dress is . . .”

Except, Dinah wasn’t watching him anymore. Her gaze had moved toward the hearth, and she’d gone decidedly pale.

“Dinah?” he asked, moving closer despite his better judgment.

Her gaze didn’t waver as she lifted a finger and pointed toward the fire. “Do you see that?”

He glanced over his shoulder. Two golden dots could be seen on the other side of the hearth. “Is that a rat?” He couldn’t remember ever seeing a rat inside Angleside Court before.

Dinah let out a shriek and darted past him toward the far side of the room. She was standing atop the settee before he could so much as blink.

“Get it out of here,” she cried. “Get rid of it.”

Wait a minute. He strode over toward her. “You aren’t scared of it, are you?”

She scowled down at him; since she was standing atop the settee, she was quite a bit taller than he. Being looked down on like that was not something he’d ever experienced before. He would have rather guessed it would be a frustrating experience. But it was Dinah, and she was charming even when she scowled; he found he rather liked her looking down at him.

“Don’t tell me,” he said, moving still closer, “that my Dinah—the fearless woman who cowers at nothing—is afraid of a little rodent?”

Dinah’s brow dropped lower, and her whole mouth squeezed in anger. Picking up one of the pillows atop the settee, she hit him over the head with it. “This isn’t funny, Henry.” She hit him again. “You get that rat out of here this instant.”

“Very well.” He truly didn’t enjoy her displeasure, even if he did enjoy seeing the fire in her eyes.

He turned and moved toward the hearth. The rat must have sensed that his time beside the warm fire was limited, and he darted away. Unfortunately, the small creature chose the worst of all places to go.

“Did he just slip under the door to my bedchamber?” Dinah asked from the settee.

Henry grimaced. “It appears so.”

“I’m never sleeping in there again,” she declared.

“I’ll get him. Don’t worry.” Now if he could only manage it without laughing. He didn’t think less of Dinah for being scared of a rat, far from it. But it was rather diverting to see her—the woman who shied away from nothing—atop the settee, her skirts clutched tightly around herself.

“I don’t care,” she said, her tone shaking despite her conviction. “I’m commandeering your room. You can have that one.”

Henry moved toward the ropes hanging beside the hearth and pulled one, summoning a manservant. Rats never bothered him, but he knew them enough to acknowledge how slippery they could be. It would undoubtedly take a few of them to catch the thing.

“Never you fear,” he said to Dinah, “we will apprehend him and see he is removed from the house.”

“I don’t care,” she continued, emphatic. “I’m not sleeping in there again. It’s your room now. I’m heading into this one”—she pointed toward Henry’s room—“and I’m shutting the door. Then I’m shoving blankets beneath the doors so that nothing can slip inside behind me.”

With that, she leapt off the settee and hurried into his room. The door shut behind her with force and, true to her word, not ten seconds later, he could see blankets being shoved beneath the door, blocking any rodent’s path inside.

Henry simply watched, silent. Who would have guessed it? His dear Dinah was afraid of something after all.