The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins

Chapter Twenty-Four

Henry strode across the back of the ballroom. The event was a veritable crush. How his brother and Emily had found so many people to attend a London ball during the very hottest month in all of summer, Henry could not fathom.

And why he’d agreed to be one of the party was even less understandable.

Gads, it was positively stifling in here. Henry moved toward the refreshments table and downed two glasses of lemonade, one right after the other. The lukewarm liquid did little to cool him off.

At least, no matter what else happened tonight—no matter who fainted from the heat, or who left early to find reprieve—tonight would be a success in his family’s eyes. Emily’s parents had greeted her and David with large smiles. Though Henry hadn’t heard much of what was said, it seemed to him that they were as eager to renew their relationship with their daughter and her family as she was. He was happy for it. After all, he strongly suspected that him not offering for her was part of the reason they’d grown apart.

Henry didn’t like to see families drift apart. A distance like that did not come without some deep wounds.

He would know.

And yet . . .

After all these years, it seemed as though Emily and her parents might breach the chasm that had separated them. Even now, Emily swirled across the dance floor, partnering with her father. He seemed pleased, if a touch nervous. She seemed happy, if a touch unsure.

They had been close when Emily was young. He could remember many occasions when she, in pigtails and ribbons, had told him, who was many years her senior, to behave or she would tell her father. Hopefully, they would once again find that closeness between them.

Emily turned and faced her father, curtsying as he bowed, and the dance came to an end. She looked quite well tonight; her dress was not what he’d expected. It was far bolder in both color and style than anything he’d ever seen Emily wear. He had to admit that he found the dress quite to his liking, even if he didn’t think it truly suited Emily. It fit her well enough, only it stood out when Emily was the type to always wish to blend in. Unexpected, it certainly was.

But perhaps Emily had decided that tonight called for a bit more gumption.

A soft laugh came from across the room.

It was a sound he’d know anywhere.

Dinah.

Without turning away from the dancers, who were now returning to the outer edges of the room, Henry watched his wife out of the corner of his eye. She was standing in the center of a small gathering of gentlemen. His jaw tightened. Anger and jealousy burned against his stomach.

These past several days of nothing but impersonal exchanges between them were beginning to burn him up inside. Dinah rarely met his eye and usually looked away almost immediately. In the past several days, she hadn’t said anything more personal than that she hoped it wouldn’t rain during Emily’s ball.

Henry pursed his lips and focused on keeping his breath even. Hadn’t he wanted her to stop enticing him? Hadn’t he purposely done all he could to keep her at arm’s length? Wasn’t this precisely the outcome he’d hoped for?

Somehow, the knowledge was far from comforting.

She laughed again, and Henry’s fist squeezed so tightly that his nails bit through his silk gloves and into his palm.

And what of Dinah’s gown? He knew upon first seeing her, that the dress she’d been wearing tonight was not the one she’d designed. He knew because he’d seen her wear that dress before she’d even begun talking about making herself a dress. Had the one she designed been ghastly in the end? Could he convince her to show it to him, regardless? He was rather curious to see it, surprisingly eager, even, to see her creation. But that would require them to speak to one another about more than the weather.

A gentleman led Dinah to the dance floor as the next set began. He was quite tall and a stranger to Henry. Well, this was just delightful. Henry clasped his hands behind his back and focused on keeping his feet planted. The man was probably a popinjay, an imbecile. Dinah would no doubt see through any of the man’s fake charm and flattering lies. She didn’t need him to punch the man in the face—though he desperately wished she did. He could use a good fight just now.

Henry turned and walked purposefully away from the dancing couples. But no matter where he stood in the grand room, he never truly lost track of Dinah. She danced nearly every dance. She spoke with ever so many guests. He could not deny that he’d married a perfect hostess . . . albeit one who never wandered his direction or even glanced his way.

As the midnight hour sounded, Henry spotted Dinah walking with a gentleman toward a distant door. He could only see them both from the back; while he could pick out Dinah from any angle, Henry couldn’t tell who the man was, though he seemed familiar. Dinah and the man slipped from the room entirely, and Henry’s stomach leapt up into his throat.

It was probably foolish, but he followed.

Only a love-struck fool chased his wife from a ballroom.

Yet, here he was.

The corridor was nearly as full as the ballroom, and it took Henry several minutes before he spotted Dinah, still accompanied by the gentleman, stepping into his own office, of all places. Henry pushed through the crush and made his way to the decidedly secluded room.

The door wasn’t shut fully, and Henry—he’d probably never again be able to respect himself after this—peeked through the opening. Dinah stood near his desk, a single hand gently resting against the wooden surface. The man was to her right, standing where Henry couldn’t see him.

“Already?” Dinah asked. “I had thought they might enjoy a few more weeks of London’s diversions.”

“They promised Lord Fitzwilliam they’d check in on his grandmother frequently, so they’re leaving early and stopping by Curio Manor on their way back home.” Henry didn’t recognize the voice, though somehow he felt he ought to.

When Dinah spoke next, her voice was soft, and Henry had to strain to make out the words. “Are you saying . . . you’re leaving London with them?”

The man stepped closer to Dinah and finally came into view.

Henry could have punched himself. It was Sir Mulgrave. Only Dinah’s father.

Well, now he did feel like a fool. He’d been jealous of Dinah spending time with her own father. Devil hang him.

Sir Mulgrave placed a hand on Dinah’s arm. “I’m saying maybe you should come with us.”

Henry’s breath froze in his chest. Dinah . . . go with her father?

Leave Angleside Court? Leave him?

Henry rested against the door frame. Would she do it? Then again, why wouldn’t she? It wasn’t as though he’d provided a warm and caring home for her. Yes, he’d seen to her needs. Every need he was ever made aware of. But he wasn’t so blind as to think that that would be enough for someone as filled with life as Dinah. She wanted love. She wanted passion. And those were two things Henry had flatly refused her.

“I didn’t even realize until I saw you tonight how much I have missed seeing you all.” Dinah leaned into her father who wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a sideways hug. “It was all just silly pride that made me ask you to give me space.” Sir Mulgrave remained silent as Dinah brushed a hand over her cheek. “I suppose Charlotte will still be nearby.”

“Actually . . .”

Dinah pulled back and faced her father. “Don’t tell me she’s leaving, too.”

“She has expressed a desire to see her friend, the Dowager Fitzwilliam, again. She’ll be traveling with us to Curio Manor and will probably stay there for a few weeks. But after that, I believe she plans to return to London.”

“Then I really will be alone.”

Those simple words from Dinah bit hard into Henry.

Alone. She was living in a house full of people, yet she felt alone.

And it was all his fault.

Pushing off the door frame, Henry turned to leave, but not before hearing Sir Mulgrave’s next sentence.

“Are you truly so unhappy here?”

Henry didn’t wish to know how his wife would respond. He spun about, startling a few women who cried out in surprise, and quickly made his way back toward the ballroom. Dinah was finally leaving.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He’d always known this would happen.

He shouldn’t be hurt. Hadn’t he purposely kept her at arms’ length to avoid this very thing?

He shouldn’t be leaving the ball, stomping his way upstairs and toward his bedchamber where he could be alone. Yet he was. He was all of it—surprised, hurt, and certainly not returning to the ball tonight.

* * *

“Are you truly so unhappy here?” her father asked Dinah.

What could she say? She wasn’t unhappy precisely, but neither was she happy. It was more complicated than either of those options. But how to explain all that she’d experienced at Angleside Court? How to express the contradicting emotions that pulled for her attention every day?

A surprised cry came from just outside. Dinah turned toward the slightly open door, but no one was there.

She could only pray it hadn’t been a rat that had caused the cry. Dinah hadn’t seen another trace of a rodent since that night. She couldn’t stop the warmth that filled her at the memory, especially when she remembered the way Henry had slept on the bench across the foot of his own bed so that she didn’t have to be alone. It had to have been terribly uncomfortable. Yet, he’d done it. Without complaining and without making her feel guilty.

Then again, the very next day he’d declared them a mistake. So, perhaps he hadn’t slept on the bench out of affection, but out of platonic responsibility.

“I cannot help but think I made a mistake in forcing you two to wed,” Father said, leaning back against the desk.

Henry’s desk. Even now she could so easily imagine him working behind it, quill in hand, deep creases across his brow as he concentrated.

Dinah leaned back against the desk as well and rested her head against her father’s shoulder. “I would not have fared any better if you hadn’t. We have been accepted among good society, even if begrudgingly. Without this marriage, word would have gotten out, and I would have been ostracized entirely. This was the right decision.”

“It may have been the right decision, but your tone makes me think it wasn’t a good decision.”

There was no point in lying anymore. He’d seen too much of the truth with his own eyes. But she didn’t want him worrying overly for her either. “All of Henry’s family is quite kind to me.” Well, except Aunt Beatrice, but Dinah could handle her. “I am content here.”

“You, my dear, deserve far more than mere contentment.”

Dinah found she had to blink several times. “Are you at least relieved that your last daughter is married off?” she asked lightly, hoping some levity would stop the threatening tears. “The last one on your list.” She clapped each hand across the other as though brushing the dirt from them. “Done and over with.” She smiled up at him.

But he wasn’t smiling back. “You have never been the last on my list. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way so often.”

There was no stopping the tears after that. They fell one after the other. Dinah rocked forward, planting her head against his chest. Father wrapped both arms around her. He held her for several minutes in silence. Being there, surrounded by him, Dinah felt a calm she’d been lacking for weeks now. An abiding reassurance.

“Come to Curio Manor,” Father said after a while. “Get out of the muggy London air. Then, after a week or so, I’ll bring you back. Some time apart might be exactly what you and Lord Stanton need.”

Time with her family sounded exactly like what Dinah needed. Time apart from Henry, though . . . that didn’t sit well with her. Would he understand? He’d been so cold toward her lately, she didn’t know what to expect.

“We are leaving day after tomorrow,” Father added.

“So soon?”

“Rachel is anxious to be on our way.”

Dinah was tempted to laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Father rubbed her back. “Speak to your husband and then write and let me know if we can expect you or not.”

“I will.” Dinah nodded, still wholly unsure what she was going to do.