The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins

Chapter Five

Dinah slipped from her room and out into the corridor. She hadn’t left her room once in the past three days, not since that horrid night when she and Lord Stanton had been caught coming home together.

Of all the awful situations in which to find herself. Dinah had hoped, when she’d first come to London, that she might make a match. That was the whole purpose, after all. But what she’d truly longed for was love. The thrill of courtship. The bliss of finding that one person . . .

Now that would never happen for her.

Dinah looked about as she noiselessly made her way toward the stairs. She’d been informed by Charlotte that Lord Stanton had come to see Father, that a common license had been obtained, and that matters were settled. Tomorrow was the day.

Tomorrow, she would be Lady Stanton.

Dinah’s stomach churned. She wasn’t at all confident she could make it through the day. And if Lord Stanton was feeling even half so lousy over this as she was, she needed to speak to him. Waiting until the night before was foolish, she knew. But the feeling, the need to see him, had steadily been growing inside her all day. At first, she’d shoved the idea away. Her intuition had gotten her into this mess, why listen to it again now? And yet, listening to her intuition was the only thing Dinah knew how to do. So now, only an hour before midnight, Dinah was slipping through the house.

Voices came from the drawing room. Dinah paused beside the nearly closed door. The floor here didn’t often squeak, but she wasn’t about to rush by the partially open door and simply hope for the best.

Who was still up this late, anyway? She moved closer to the door, pushing it slightly more open, and peered inside.

Father was seated, facing the fire, a half-empty glass of brandy beside him. Just to his left sat Charlotte. She had her needlepoint in hand but didn’t seem to be making much progress.

“Am I doing the right thing?” Father asked.

“It’s the only thing,” Charlotte replied.

“This wasn’t what I envisioned for her.”

“I know.”

They both were silent for a moment. Her father continued to gaze into the fire while Charlotte stared at the needlepoint in her hands. Dinah pulled back, her head feeling light and her stomach sour. The fact that both Father and Charlotte—two people whom she could not respect more—had doubts about her upcoming marriage did nothing to ease her nerves.

Eventually, Charlotte sat up straighter and pulled the needle through the fabric. “I suppose it is a small blessing that we’ve been attending St. James’s these past several weeks. A common license is not nearly as expensive as a special license.”

“I don’t care about the money,” Father said, his voice somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “My daughter is marrying a man she hardly knows. How could I have allowed this to happen?”

Dinah dropped her gaze. It wasn’t his fault. She should have been more careful—should have insisted Lord Stanton allow her to return home alone. Insisted even more firmly than she had. She should have done . . . something.

“My marriage was arranged,” Charlotte said softly.

Dinah pressed harder against the door frame to better see.

Father was looking at Charlotte now. “I didn’t know.”

Charlotte offered him a small smile. “We came to respect one another, even care deeply for each other. It takes time and commitment, but such is possible.”

A new stirring, a new desire, took root inside of Dinah.

Could she find such happiness in marriage? Could she and Lord Stanton learn to care deeply for one another? Love one another?

She honestly didn’t know.

Father sighed loudly enough that Dinah could easily hear. “Even so, will she ever forgive me?”

Charlotte’s expression turned sad. “That will have to be up to her. Only,” she paused for a moment, then reached out and placed a hand on Father’s arm, “don’t give up.”

Dinah pursed her lips and pushed noiselessly away from the door frame. She needed to speak with Lord Stanton. She needed to ask him the same thing Father had just asked Charlotte—was this truly the best thing to do? She was glad Charlotte had found joy in her marriage to her late husband, but Dinah never would if Lord Stanton desired something different.

She’d learned from Eliza’s husband, Adam, where Lord Stanton lived. It wasn’t hard for her to saddle a horse and find her way there, middle of the night though it was. Ladies of the ton probably weren’t used to such independence, but Dinah had been raised the daughter of a tradesman. A very busy and often away from home tradesman, at that. This was hardly a fearsome feat.

Dinah reached Lord Stanton’s house. Though she was still well within London’s boundaries, this was no small townhome. Dinah had been quite surprised when they’d first removed to London to see the size of the place Father had let for them. And yet, it seemed everyone else lived in a house far larger than theirs. She both loved the opulence of London and couldn’t fully see past the waste of it all.

She shook her head and dismounted. She’d much rather have this conversation in private, without maids and manservants listening in. But how to get Lord Stanton out here? She secured her horse and then began walking about the grand building. It shared no walls with another residence and wasn’t fenced in, making it quite easy to circle the home. From the back lawn—a rarity for London—Dinah spotted two windows with candlelight spilling from them. As she watched, a tall figure, clearly a man, paced from one window to the next, turned, and paced back again.

It had to be Lord Stanton. Who else would be up pacing this time of night before tomorrow’s wedding?

Dinah searched about herself and found a few small pebbles. Backing up, she threw the first one at the window. This always seemed to work in love stories—which theirs was most decidedly not—but perhaps it might work now, all the same. Dinah threw a second and then a third and finally the silhouette paused his walking and neared the window.

When he didn’t open it right away, Dinah grumbled under her breath and then threw a fourth pebble. It hit directly below the window instead of the glass itself, but it must have made a loud enough noise for the window opened and Lord Stanton stuck his head out.

“It’s me,” Dinah called up. There was a good chance the grounds were too dark for him to see her. Would he recognize her voice? They had hardly said more than half a dozen sentences the night they were caught together and nothing at all since.

“Miss Dinah?”

Ah good, he did recognize her.

Then again, who else would she be?

“We need to speak,” she called up.

“What the blazes are you doing here? Suppose someone saw you.”

“What would they do? Force us to wed?” She didn’t even try to laugh at her own words.

The window shut and the form of Lord Stanton moved quickly away and deeper into the room until she could no longer see him.

Was he coming down to let her in? Or simply washing his hands of her and leaving her to the darkness of the night?

Several minutes passed, and finally, a back door not far from where Dinah stood opened.

“What were you thinking?” Lord Stanton’s characteristically deep, hard voice came from the shadow of the barely open door. “You cannot be out in the middle of the night alone.”

Dinah hurried toward him. “Let me in quickly, and no one will be the wiser.”

She heard him harrumph, but he stepped away from the door and let her pass. His hair was still long about his face, but he was clean-shaven now.

“I found I could not sleep until I spoke with you,” she said after the door was shut behind her. The space around her was too dark for her to see much of anything. Lord Stanton held a candle which lighted his face, a small bit of the wall behind him, and the floor beneath their feet, but that was it. They could be in a kitchen, a corridor, or even a fine parlor and she wouldn’t know.

“And that was reason enough to show up in the middle of the night? You have to think things through—one cannot simply act upon impulses.”

“Acting on my impulses is exactly what saved Adele’s life.”

“And forced us to become engaged.”

“No, I’m fairly sure we’re engaged because you insisted on seeing me all the way to the door. If you hadn’t been so bent on sticking to the plan and simply allowed me to walk the last dozen paces alone, we wouldn’t be in this situation at all.”

His jaw tightened, and Dinah was forced to again acknowledge that he did have fine features, even if those fine features were looking at her as though Lord Stanton wished her ill with every ounce of his being.

“You said I was good at kissing,” he spoke through clamped teeth.

Whether that statement was true or not was clearly something Dinah would never find out. “I had to throw him off the truth. It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“It certainly wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind.”

He didn’t have to make it sound as though kissing her would be that awful. “Nevertheless”—the sooner she spoke the words she hasd come to say, the better—“it is our current predicament I wish to speak to you about.”

“Oh?” Far from offering her a seat, he simply rested back, leaning against the wall behind him.

She, it seemed, would be left standing in the middle of whatever space they happened to be in.

“Yes.” Dinah lifted her chin. He didn’t intimidate her, and it would be well for him to realize as much. “I have come to tell you that you are free to cry off if you so wish it.”

Her words must have shocked him, for his head tilted forward quite as though it was about to roll right off his own shoulders. “Say that again?”

“You are free to cry off. I understand that you are only marrying me out of a sense of responsibility and honor, and I release you from said obligation.”

When he spoke next, his voice was a bit softer. “And what will become of you?” Not that his tone was overly soft, but it was not nearly so harsh. Indeed, it was the most tenderness she’d heard from him in their short acquaintance. Well, perhaps not quite as tender as when he’d sung to Adele.

Was he capable of the emotion, then? She had rather begun to wonder.

“I will return to the country with Father. After a time, the worst of the rumors will fade, and then I might be able to find a shopkeeper or farmer who will have me.” It was what she’d expected for herself ever since she was a little girl. Nevertheless, after seeing her sister and cousin make such respectable matches, the thought of returning to such expectations stung far worse than she had imagined it would.

He was watching her. Probably trying to decide if she’d come to play on his pity and convince him not to cry off.

Dinah met his gaze with one of her own. “You may believe me, sir. I speak in full honesty.”

He still remained silent.

What did he want? A signed and dated letter of intent? “A marriage of strict convenience was never what I wished for, and I’m confident it’s not what you want either. Therefore, if you would rather—”

“No,” he said, cutting her off.

Despite her arguing, a small bit of relief skittered down her at his refusal to end their engagement. “Are you certain?”

He pushed off the wall, standing straight once again. “I’ll not leave you to such a future as that.” Reaching past her, he pulled the door open. “Now, let me see you home.”

“That is not necessary, sir.” That’s what had caused all the problems in the first place.

“I’m not going to let my intended ride through London in the middle of the night alone.”

Dinah walked back outside. Part of her resented his insistence that she couldn’t see herself home. Part of her was relieved he at least cared for her on some level. It would be far harder to marry a man who didn’t even care for her basic safety. “I only brought one mare,” she warned.

“Then we shall have to share a single saddle.”

She led him to the horse, and he helped her up first, lifting her onto the horse’s back as easily as he had only a few nights ago. Taking hold of the reins, he hoisted himself up behind her. It required a bit of shifting about, but they finally managed to make it work.

“This would be a lot easier if you hadn’t used a lady’s saddle,” he muttered as he turned the mare down the street.

“Most things are easier without a lady’s saddle,” Dinah commented back.

He only grunted.

They rode in silence, his nearness upending her sense of equilibrium. Lord Stanton was quite like a hedgehog. All pricks and spines. And yet, she’d seen a softness to him as well. When he’d sung to Adele. Then again tonight, at his refusal to cry off and his insistence that he see her safely home.

Perhaps there was hope for them after all. Perhaps they would eventually find a way to care for one another, just as Charlotte and her late husband had.

They reached the townhouse quickly, and Lord Stanton dismounted, then held his hands up for her. She slid herself into them. Warmth spread through her at his touch. Her own hands rested atop his forearms. He stood quite near as her feet touched earth once more. She found herself leaning in ever so slightly toward him, her fingers twisting around the fabric of his sleeves. Was it her imagination, or did he lean in as well? The shrinking space between them heated. There was a small white scar just below his left eye. She hadn’t noticed it before now. She suddenly yearned to reach up and brush her finger over it, to ask how he’d gotten it, to hear all about his youth and childhood.

His eyes seemed to hold a sea of swirling emotions. Most she could only guess at, but something inside her begged to believe this was the beginning of something magical, something that would make every gothic novel ever written pale in comparison. Her heart gave a giddy sort of flip.

His lips turned down, and a scowl creased his forehead and eyes. He pulled his hands back suddenly, putting some space between them.

“Good night, miss,” he said with a proper bow. He turned to leave.

Dinah blinked a few times, the heated pull to be near him fading like mist in the sunlight.

“Wait,” she called after him. He paused, his back still toward her, his posture stiff and upright. He appeared wholly unaffected by the moment they had just shared. “Would you not prefer to take my horse and ride back?” She finally found words to speak.

He only shook his head. “Thank you, no.” His tone, like his posture, was rigid, emotionless.

Perhaps she’d been wrong in assuming he’d seen her home because he cared in some small regard. He’d just been doing his duty. Was that all she had to look forward to now? Dependability but no affection, reliability but no passion?

“Very well,” she said. “I bid you good night.”

He said not another word but strode into the night.

Dinah led the horse around to the back and saw her safely stabled. Then she hurried into the house. Would he ever give them a chance? As Charlotte had said, it took time to develop a connection. Dinah was willing to give them that time. But, if tonight was any indication, time alone might not be enough.

Regardless, tomorrow was her wedding day. Come this time tomorrow, she would be Lady Stanton.

And then . . . well, Dinah had no idea what then.