The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins

Chapter Seven

Henry slouched down in the large wingback chair in the drawing room. He hadn’t had high expectations for the day—it being his wedding day notwithstanding—yet having one’s bride pass out while in the church house only to come to a few minutes later in tears and hysterics . . .

Well, it didn’t do much for a man’s confidence.

Henry looked down at the glass of brandy in his hand. He tipped the liquid, swirling it around and around. He’d tried to tell David. He wasn’t the sort of man who was built for marriage or love or any of that drivel.

Was Miss Dinah all right? No doubt, she’d been clear that a marriage of convenience hadn’t been the union she’d grown up envisioning for herself.

Actually, she wasn’t Miss Dinah Mulgrave any longer. She was Lady Stanton. Henry took a long swallow. Heaven help him, she was his wife.

Henry shut his eyes, leaning his head back against the cushioned chair. Angleside Court—his residence in Town—was calm at the moment. Uncle and his friend who’d been “visiting” them for nearly three years must now be on one of the upper floors. Aunt was away—the largest reason the house was so quiet. Henry cringed slightly. There hadn’t been time to wait for her return. No doubt, she would be furious when she learned Henry had wed without her there to approve of his bride or see to every detail. David’s boys were outside, the soft echoes of their play coming from the direction of the back lawn.

The door to the drawing room creaked. Henry’s eyes snapped open. The door was agape no more than a few inches, yet he could still make out the form of his wife peeking in.

His wife . . . Lady Stanton . . . what was he to call her? Neither of those options felt right.

“Enter,” he called.

She pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting it behind herself noiselessly. She was no longer attired in her wedding dress but instead was in a light blue morning gown. Her hair was mostly down, long blonde curls resting against her shoulders and well down her back. Without a word, she made her way toward him, sitting in the wingback across from Henry.

“I’m sorry for this morning,” she said in a softer voice than he’d heard her use before.

He lifted an eyebrow. Sorry for passing out, or sorry they’d had to wed at all? She probably felt sorry for both but was referring specifically to passing out.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked.

Her eyes darted to him, then immediately returned to the empty hearth. “Mostly, yes.”

It would probably take some time before either of them truly felt well again.

“I hope you are not too disappointed to have missed your own wedding breakfast,” he continued.

She gave him a single shoulder shrug. “It is only food—I am sure there are many more breakfasts in my future which I shall enjoy.”

“Are you hungry now? Dinner will be served soon. Or, if you prefer not to eat with the rest of my family tonight, I can have a tray sent to your room.”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze still on the hearth, and Henry watched her closely. No doubt, the idea of sitting down to dinner with all his family was intimidating. She hadn’t had the luxury of meeting his family during a courtship and growing to know them before becoming mistress of the house. He wouldn’t think any less of her for excusing herself and taking a tray in her room.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wanted her to take dinner with him. Some of that same unnamable heat that he’d felt last night after helping her dismount spread through him once again.

Henry forced his gaze away from her. He wished she would dine with them, surely that’s what he was feeling. A desire for her to come to know the family she was now a part of and would be living with. It was simply that he wanted her to find her footing, so to speak, among the household.

“Before anything else,” she began, “I felt we ought to speak on . . . a few subjects.”

Ah. He had wondered if she would require that they set boundaries. Well, speaking of such things—laying out expectations and deciding beforehand what was and wasn’t acceptable—was always a good idea.

He looked her way once more. She was still pale. And looked a bit nervous, too. Suddenly, he felt quite bad for her. Henry, at least, had resigned himself to bachelorhood years ago. Most likely, this young woman before him had fully expected a love match to be in her future—she was pretty enough it wouldn’t have been hard to secure one. Now, that would never be.

Henry set his glass of brandy down on the side table, then rested back in his seat and intertwined his fingers. “Very well, but before we begin, I have a question to ask you.” One that would hopefully allow them to ease a bit into what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable conversation for them both. “What would you like me to call you?”

Her eyes met his at this. “Pardon me?”

“Do you prefer Lady Stanton”—gads, saying that out loud was difficult—“my ladyship? Countess? What would you prefer?”

The corner of her lips ticked up for the briefest of moments. “You didn’t add Goddess Divine to the list of options.”

Henry froze, his gaze moving to her. She was teasing? At a time like this? And yet, so long as she was teasing, she must not be horribly overwrought. It was a good sign, wasn’t it? “A terrible oversight on my part,” he said, “and I beg your forgiveness.”

“That’s all right. I don’t think I could ever answer to Goddess Divine anyways. I don’t think many goddesses sneak about their homes in the middle of the night. Just call me Dinah.”

Dinah—that he could do. It was simple and straightforward and wouldn’t emphasize their undesirable situation every time he said it.

“Then you must call me Henry.”

“Henry,” she repeated, almost to herself, a small smile coming to her face. “I like the name.”

“It is serviceable enough, I suppose.” He’d never really thought about whether he liked it. It was his name, and it got the job done.

Dinah shifted about in her seat, facing him more fully. “Well then, Henry, perhaps we ought to discuss . . .”

Yes, boundaries. “I trust you found your bedchamber to your liking?”

“I did,” she said slowly.

“Good. Then I don’t see any reason why you need spend a night elsewhere. And as I find my own bedchamber quite to my liking, I don’t see myself spending the night anywhere else either.” It was the most genteel way he could think to say it. With any luck, she’d leave the conversation at that.

Instead, her eyes widened. “You mean . . . not ever?”

A prickling unease forced Henry to his feet. He moved over to a sidebar and poured himself more brandy, speaking with his back toward her. “My brother has three sons, any one of which I am confident would make a fine heir. I don’t see any reason to change that.” Would she push back on him? He’d thought for sure she’d at least feel a bit relieved he had no intentions of forcing himself upon her. Still, even with his back to her, he could swear he felt her unease, her disappointment. Well, if love was what she’d wanted, she shouldn’t have been caught with him. She shouldn’t have played it off as a lover’s tryst.

Slowly, Henry turned toward her. She needed to understand. He would make sure all and any questions were put to rest now and that she understood what the future held for both of them. Because the sooner she understood, the sooner she could accept it; the sooner she accepted, the sooner they could move on with this situation and find some sort of comfortable life together.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you,” he said. “Don’t expect me to. If you do, you’ll only end up making us both miserable.”

She held his gaze without flinching. She watched him, silent, but he could see the various thoughts moving through her head. He wasn’t sure what she thought exactly about his declaration, but he could see her turning it over, contemplating one angle and then another. Finally, she tipped her head to the side. “I don’t believe you.”

“You believe in your feminine wiles that much, do you?” She had been the one who’d insisted they had been kissing when her father found them. The thought of him and Dinah in such an embrace sent an unexpected yet powerful shock through him. It was simultaneously unwanted and . . . strangely desired, and he found himself unwilling to let go of the notion completely.

“I don’t believe that anyone can avoid falling in love just because they wish not to.”

Henry shook himself, hiding his sudden upheaval by spreading his arms wide and bowing slightly. “Meet the exception.”

“Oh, come now.” She waved him off and sat back in her chair.

“I am in earnest. As I am now two and thirty, I am certain I can safely assume I have lived a few years longer than you.”

She only shrugged, but it hardly mattered what she would agree to. He could tell just looking at her she wasn’t a day over twenty.

“As that is the case, I have come to realize in my old age that I am not built for love.” He leaned back against the table and took a sip of brandy. “Not the romantic, nonsensical type, anyway. I love my family. My brother and his wife and children, my aunt, my uncle, my cousins. But that type of love is not what we are discussing. Romance is simply not my way nor in my nature.”

“Very well,” Dinah said, standing and smoothing her skirt. “I suppose that simplifies things between us.”

“Indeed.” He shook his head subtly, disentangling himself from the last strands of heat he still felt at the stray thought of him and Dinah kissing. That would never happen. One only had to look at her calm demeanor to see she was coming around to his side of things, and he was glad for it.

* * *

He seemed to think she was coming around to his side of things.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Still, for now, Dinah felt it best to let the matter lie. She didn’t care to have him demanding to enter her bedchamber any time soon, and until she knew him better, this arrangement would suit.

But she was equally sure that this would not suit forever, as Henry seemed to think it would. What kind of life was that? Living with a man who acted more like a friend than a true spouse? Who was more brotherly concern than passion and love?

Good heavens, such would never do.

Nonetheless, now was not the time to press the point. It was as Charlotte had said. An abiding connection would take time. They’d only said their vows that morning; to declare anything close to love at this point would be a mockery. Nothing but pretend.

But the time would come.

And when the time was right, she’d know it. And she’d do something about it.

Dinah walked slowly toward Henry. She reached the side table and placed a hand on it. The wood was smooth beneath her gloved hand. Even the table seemed to declare she was now living in far more luxury than she had ever known before. And doing so with a man who was no more than a stranger.

But what would it be like if they were not strangers?

His dark eyes and hair, his intense expression—surely to be loved by a man such as him would be to know passion. Heat filled her chest, sending waves of sparks running down her arms. Dinah forced her gaze away.

Time, she reminded herself. She needed to grant them both time.

But her heart knew the truth. She wouldn’t be satisfied until they both found the love they deserved.

She’d been silent for far too long. She ought to say something. And the first words which came to mind, “And why, pray tell, are you so confident you wouldn’t enjoy falling for me?” certainly weren’t the right ones.

Instead, she said, “I believe you mentioned your family will be joining us for dinner?”

Henry put his brandy down. “Yes, tonight and every night, as they live here with me.”

She wished he had said “with us,” but again, there would be a better time to correct such things. A better time to show him that platonic association was dreadfully boring when compared to what they might have. Dinah certainly wasn’t bound to the same rules and plans Henry seemed intent on forcing upon himself. But when had she ever bowed to another’s rules?

“Tell me about them,” she said.

He seemed ready, almost relieved, to drop their previous conversation as he placed his glass on the table. “My brother, Mr. David Thrup, and his wife reside here along with their three boys.” He motioned toward one of the windows, and they moved that way. Henry pulled back a lacy curtain. “David Jr. is the oldest, that’s him in the blue jacket.” Henry pointed as he spoke. “Second is Edward, though we mostly just call him Little Eddie.” He pointed toward a boy toddling around on stubby legs.

The two boys were running in a small circle around a woman with a little baby on her lap. “Is that your sister-in-law then?” Dinah asked. Though she knew not many women of high society tended to their own children, the woman looked dressed in far too much finery to be the nursemaid.

“Yes, that’s David’s wife, Emily. She takes the boys outside every afternoon, rain or shine. In her arms is their youngest, Baby John.”

At least the house wasn’t all men. Dinah had rather begun to wonder. Having another woman around would be a much-appreciated blessing.

“What sort of woman is she?” Dinah asked, also watching the happy scene from the window.

“Quiet,” Henry said. “Not at all inclined to emotional outbursts.”

She couldn’t tell from his tone if he preferred that sort of woman or not. He’d said it rather like he was making a list. Gracious, she hoped he didn’t prefer a quiet woman. Perhaps she ought to kindly put him on his guard.

“In other words,” she said, giving him her sauciest smile, “quite my opposite?”

He turned toward her, his eyes suddenly taking on the same intensity she’d witnessed the night they’d saved Adele. It was as though his dark eyes could peer directly into her very soul. It was unsettling . . . and unexpectedly exhilarating.

“I couldn’t say.” His deep voice rumbled. “I don’t know you at all.”

Well, that put a damper on anything she may or may not have been feeling. Henry moved away from the window and back toward the two large chairs. Dinah took a moment, drawing in a deep breath, and calmed herself. She had rather begun to feel a connection to the dark man who was now her husband, and then he’d gone and ruined it all by reminding her they were little more than strangers. Dinah’s eyes drifted back to the small family outside. The young mother was standing now, beckoning to the boys to follow her into the house. That was how Dinah had always pictured her own future. It was a pity her husband was so set against it.

Dinah shrugged off the sudden and poignant dismay.

There was plenty of time to change his mind, and Dinah didn’t fear the effort it would involve.

“Then there’s also my aunt and uncle,” Henry called from behind her.

Dinah turned and moved toward the hearth, sitting across from Henry. “Are they relatives of your mother or father?”

“My father.” His voice suddenly dropped in volume. “Most decidedly my father.” He drew himself up and turned toward her. “They are my father’s brother and sister.”

Oh, so not married then, but two siblings of the late Earl of Stanton. “And they live here as well?”

He nodded. “My aunt, Lady Beatrice Thrup, first came to live with us nearly two decades ago when Father, David, and I were still in residence at Kingcup Estate, the family seat nearest the Southern coast. She never married and has no children of her own. My uncle, Mr. Jeffrey Thrup, was married for a time, but he was living abroad, and his wife passed away before any of us had the privilege of meeting her. He does have two sons from that marriage and they—”

“Also live here.” Dinah was starting to sense a pattern. It seemed anyone with any relation whatsoever to Henry now lived under one roof. Was that because Henry preferred it that way? All his family close enough he could keep a careful eye on them?

“And then . . .” Henry said.

“Good heavens, there’s more?” Dinah never would have guessed there were so many people living here.

“Only one. Uncle Jeffrey’s wartime friend.”

Now Henry was taking in people who weren’t even related?

“Mr. Wilson fell on hard times a few years back, and Uncle Jeffrey asked if he could come and stay a while, just until he got his affairs straightened out once more.”

“I take it his affairs are still in ruins?”

Henry shrugged. “Uncle Jeffrey is happier with another old, war-experienced man about.”

That was a lot of family under one roof. Dinah quickly ran through the list again in her mind; the better handle she had on this before she actually met the people Henry spoke of, the better. As she began to list them off in her head, she realized there was one important person Henry had not yet mentioned.

“And what of your mother?” Dinah asked.

The words had an instant effect. Henry’s shoulder’s tightened, the muscles along the side of his jaw growing more prominent. He sat perfectly still, one ankle resting atop a knee. His eyes, though, revealed the biggest change. It was as though a light had been extinguished inside them. The burning turmoil she’d witnessed there more than once was suddenly gone, leaving an empty void in its wake.

He turned away, placing his brandy on a small table nearby. The glass hit with a heavy clink.

“She is no longer with us.”

Oh. So, she’d died then?

And yet, there seemed to be more just hiding behind his words. But what he was not saying she could only guess at. What was clear, however, was that he still felt much pain in regard to his mother, whatever the nature of her passing had been. Dinah’s own mother had passed on many years ago. It created a hole in one’s heart—one that even time and the comfort of loved ones had struggled to fill.

Her heart went out to him. She understood that emptiness.

Dinah leaned back with a loud sigh. “Let me get this straight.” She spoke in an upbeat voice, wishing, for his sake, to dispel the gloom her question had brought. “There’s you, your brother, his wife, and three children.”

Henry glanced back her way. Though it was fleeting, she was certain she saw a hint of gratitude for her effort to change the subject. Still, he didn’t speak, only nodded at her words.

“Then your father’s two siblings, your aunt and uncle.”

Another nod.

“Your two cousins and then a friend of the family. That’s eleven people.”

“You make it an even dozen.”

“Gracious,” she muttered more to herself than anyone. Half of her didn’t wonder that he’d decided not to have an heir simply because it would be yet another individual in a house that was already bursting at the seams.

Henry leaned forward, the hollowed-out emptiness of before completely gone now. “They can be a bit overwhelming. So, as I said before, if you prefer to take a tray in your room . . .”

Her head snapped up. “Oh no, now that I’ve heard about your family, nothing would please me more than to meet them.”

“Are you certain?”

She met his gaze and lifted a brow. “I’m not afraid to meet your family, Henry.”

He looked at her for a minute, silent. Then, the corner of his mouth turned up. It was the first smile she’d ever seen on him. Though it was small, it filled her with quite a lot of happiness to know she’d put it there. That, and a burning desire to see it again many times over.

“What if I told you they have quite mixed feelings about our new situation?”

Who didn’t? But Dinah only smiled all the brighter. “You could invite royalty to Angleside Court for dinner, Henry, and I wouldn’t shirk.”

His own smile also grew. Not to the point where it was a grin or even very large at all. But it was there all the same. He stood and offered her his hand. “Well then, Dinah,” his tone lighter than before, “it’s into the fray we go.”