Dominic (Books We Love historical romance)

by Hazel Statham

  Still, it may prove entertaining, he thought and so made up his mind to go, much may it be against his better judgment, reasoning that he need not stay the whole evening if it proved not to be to his liking.

  Indeed, such was his mind as he stepped from his coach at the hallowed portals the following week, and it took only a cursory glance at the other notables arriving for an evening’s entertainment to confirm him in the belief that it would prove a thoroughly dull affair.

  He had intended on a late arrival but instead found that others had had that selfsame thought. In honor of the occasion he had chosen to wear his second best evening attire of burgundy satin. The choice of which his valet had seen fit to lament, believing it only right that his master should appear at his most regal and thus create the impression due to his rank and fortune. However, my lord had overridden his protestations, deeming the affair not worthy of so grand an effort. Even so, he presented an imposing enough figure as he paused momentarily before mounting the steps to the rooms.

  Entering the outer chamber, he lifted his quizzing glass the better to survey the gathering throng, becoming only too aware that he in turn became the object of scrutiny. Several of the ladies showed a keen interest in him but there were dark mutterings amongst their escorts who were more aware of the extent of his reputation. Retreating into aloofness, Vale returned their cursory bows with a mocking inclination of his head. To the ladies he made a profound leg and smiled sweetly, noting with considerable amusement their differing reactions to his presence from those of their escorts. He was ever conscious of the effect he had on the fairer sex and was not wholly displeased by it.

  Allowing the press to precede him, his lordship languidly followed into the ballroom, standing just to the side of the door as the quintet struck up a quadrille. Once more he raised his quizzing glass to scrutinize those in attendance, realizing how few faces were familiar to him, still only too aware of the comments his mere presence evoked. He watched the couples going down the movement of the dance and felt no desire to join their numbers, indeed it took but a short while for him to decide that he had seen enough of country society and prepared to make his retreat.

  However, much to his chagrin, his departure was forestalled. As he turned toward the door, Mrs. Lewis, a matron of uncertain years who was the self-imposed leader of the community, hurried toward him, the purple feathers in her head dress nodding as she approached.

  “My lord, you must allow me to welcome you to our happy gathering,” she enthused. “We have heard so much about you. Indeed the promise of your company excited much interest amongst our numbers,” and she held her hand out toward him not even noticing that he took it in only a perfunctory clasp, letting it go almost immediately when their fingers touched.

  “I thank you, madam, but I was just on the point of departure,” he replied in a tone that anyone who knew him would have recognized as a set down, discouraging any further discourse from this presumptuous matron.

  “You cannot possibly depart this early in the evening,” she reproved, completely oblivious of his manner. “There are so many who would wish to make your acquaintance. Will you not at least take some refreshment and then allow me to make introductions? As you can see there are many young ladies sadly in need of a partner. Will you not join the sets?”

  Casting her an almost pitying glance and drawing slightly apart, Vale became at his most haughty. “Madam, I see not the need to dance. There seems a surfeit of partners for the young ladies and I would not wish to add to their numbers.”

  Undaunted, Mrs. Lewis continued to press her point, totally unaware of his obvious dislike of the situation. “If it is not your desire to dance, sir, then perhaps a game of Silver Loo or Whist? We have card tables set up in one of the anti-rooms and several of the gentlemen have already found their way there.”

  Recognizing that she would not be easily swayed from her purpose and seeing that apart from appearing unacceptably crass, this was his only line of retreat, he turned away from the door. “An excellent idea, madam, perhaps a game of cards.”

  “Then I shall send my husband to you and he will make the introductions in the card room. There is no need for you to feel uncomfortable; we are a very friendly crowd I assure you.”

  “There is no necessity for your husband to trouble himself on my account,” drawled Vale, moving away. “I am quite able to make my own introductions.” So saying he retreated in the general direction of where he assumed the card rooms to be situated, relieved to have finally rid himself of her attentions. However, it was not the card room in which he found himself but the supper hall, which was now milling with couples freshly arrived from the ballroom as the supper interval began.

  As he made his way through the room, several daring young blades attempted to attract his attention and engage him in conversation, even proffering seats at their tables. But Vale passed through, showing a bored indifference to their society, finding their attentions decidedly irritating. In preference, he seated himself at a vacant table and sent a lackey in search of refreshment, whilst showing not even a fleeting interest in his surroundings. He wished only to make his exit at the appropriate moment and made mental note to avoid like gatherings at all cost in the future. Such entertainment suffered lamentably in comparison with London’s superior attractions and it pleased him not at all to be the center of attention. Cursing himself for being foolish enough to have come, he wondered what possible diversion could he have hoped to find here?

  After what appeared to him an eternity, he heard the orchestra strike the first chords that heralded the recommencement of the dancing and decided that, once the set was well under way, he would make good his escape.

  It was then with great annoyance that he espied Mrs. Lewis once more bearing down upon him. Am I never to be free of this damn woman? he swore forcibly to himself. It was not however until she stood at his side that he noticed that she brought a young girl in her wake and his irritation deepened.

  “Sir, our problem is solved,” she hailed gaily, completely ignoring his frown.

  “I was not aware that we had a problem,” replied Vale, standing and facing her haughtily. “However madam, whether the problem is solved or not, I must again make known my intention of leaving.”

  “Fie on you, my lord,” she trilled, oblivious of his disdain. “You shall not leave until I have introduced Miss Sophie Thornton to you. She too finds herself out of sorts with the gathering and I have promised to find her a suitable partner. Could I not prevail upon you, sir, to render this service? I promise you she will prove a most worthy dancing companion.” Waiting for no reply Mrs. Lewis turned on her heel and hurried away, quite confirmed in the belief that she had succeeded in her quest and secured the interest of this haughty young earl. For who is he to show such contempt for our company, she thought petulantly. Now, if it had been his father, well, that would be a candle of a different color. He is both a nobleman and a gentleman.

  Oblivious of these thoughts, the newly introduced couple stood in silence, both feeling a degree of unease. Throughout the discourse the young girl had stood with head bowed, not even raising it when Mrs. Lewis took her leave, until, after what felt an eternity, she raised her eyes to his lordship’s face. “Sir, I am mortified,” she whispered. “I cannot tell you how dreadful that woman is.”

  Seeing her obvious discomfiture Vale relented and in a much more civilized tone said, “There is no need to tell me, Miss Thornton, she treated me in much the same cavalier manner. Shall we be seated until she is well away and then we can make good our retreat?”

  Seated once more at the table, he took the time to study his companion’s countenance and was pleasantly surprised. Although not aspiring to the incomparable, it was a very charming face and he perceived the humor in her eyes as they returned his scrutiny. “Will you allow me to order you some refreshment, Miss Thornton?” he asked politely, his attention diverted momentarily from leaving, and at her agreement ordered ratafia from the attendin
g lackey.

  “What a pair we are, sir,” she smiled. “We have allowed ourselves to be brow beaten into submission. I assure you, it was not my desire to be forced upon you but I find the woman so hard to withstand without outright incivility. I came to the assembly rooms simply to please my aunt who now finds herself engaged with her cronies, leaving me very much to my own devices, and as I know no one, I felt very much out of company.” Then as if imparting a confidence, “You see, I am not used to such social gatherings.”

  For a brief moment her voice arrested him, as if evoking some long lost memory but, impatient at his imaginings, he brushed it aside. “Do you not live in the area that you know no one?” he asked with polite, but idle curiosity.

  “I have but just come to live with my Aunt Lydia whose boundaries lie alongside your own, I believe, my lord.”

  “From where do you come?”

  “London, sir.”

  “And you saw naught of London society?” he asked with raised brows.

  “I have never had a season,” she smiled, and then added ruefully, “and now I think it highly unlikely. My aunt has not the means to bring me out, she has her own family to consider and I have no fortune of my own.”

  “Then that is a pity,” he countered, his eye appreciating her face and form. “It is society’s loss that it is denied your acquaintance.”

  “There is no need to flatter me, sir,” she chuckled softly, coloring at the compliment. “I know well enough my limitations. My entrée into society would cause no comment.”

  “That, Miss Thornton, is where you are quite wrong,” he began and would have said more but his sentence was cut short by the caustic tones behind him as Mrs. Lewis once again approached.

  “Fie on you, sir, and still you do not join the dancing,” she reproved, standing with hands folded primly before her. “You will excite too much comment sitting alone with Miss Thornton. Indeed, heads turn already.”

  “Madam, I have made known my intention of not dancing,” snapped Vale, standing to face her.

  “Then at least come into the ballroom and watch the dancers,” she suggested forcibly.

  “There is nothing more tedious than watching other people dance,” he stated flatly. He turned to face Miss Thornton and took her fingers to his lips in a brief salute. “I hope you will excuse me if I take my leave,” he said with a curtness he tried to suppress. Returning his gaze to Mrs. Lewis, he favored her with a terse nod, his countenance as stone, and inwardly seething, made his leisurely departure from the hall. His leaving causing as much comment as had his arrival.

  “Well!” expostulated Mrs. Lewis full of righteous indignation. “So much for his lordship and his insufferable manners! Come my, dear, we will find you a more amiable companion.”

  “Thank you, but no,” replied Miss Thornton with quiet dignity. “I have suffered enough this evening. I wish no more than to be left alone.”

  “As you wish,” replied Mrs. Lewis haughtily, shrugging her shoulders. “I am sure that I am not the one to push myself forward. I saw the need for assistance and attempted to offer it. However, trouble not, I leave you to your own devices, make what best you can of the evening,” and with this, she marched away leaving Miss Thornton to her own reflections.

  It would have surprised her greatly to have seen the small smile that played over Sophie’s lips and the gleam that came to her eye.

  *****

  Rising just before noon the following day, the earl attacked a hearty breakfast before finally making his way toward the stables. Here he stood in shirtsleeves, leaning over the loosebox door, admiring Sonnet who stood in the shadows of the interior. She was a bight bay thoroughbred, her breeding showing in every line. She had a sweet enough nature, yet a fire lay beneath the surface and she promised much. Over the previous weeks Vale had broken her to head collar and lunge rein and two days earlier had introduced her to bridle and bit. Today he would add the saddle. But no rider yet, he thought to himself. He would not break her spirit by attempting too much too soon; he had hopes for her future.

  Ordering the groom to fit her head collar and to lead her into the yard, he attached the lunge rein to the noseband. Coiling it around his arm, he took up the lunge whip and led her toward the south paddock. Speaking over his shoulder, he sent the groom in search of a lightweight saddle.

  If anything was designed to revive his flagging spirits, it was his horses for which he held an unrivalled passion and he jealously guarded his right to their schooling. As a young boy he had watched his father bringing on the youngsters and he had learned much. The duke was well known for his equine skills, he too holding a passion in that direction. Over the years he had established a well-respected bloodline, the founder stallion of which had been brought from France at the time of his wedding.

  Vale would send for Wroxham, but not until he had established the groundwork of her schooling and standing now in the center of the paddock he started to lunge her at a steady, even, pace.

  Becoming impatient of the groom’s delay he looked in the direction of the stables and in so doing became aware that he was the object of scrutiny. Turning, he espied a lone horseman sitting on the rise some distance away, however he paid no heed, his mind being occupied with the groom’s tardiness. After only a short while, the groom eventually arrived, red faced and full of apologies, explaining that the reason for the delay was that the saddle had been in the process of being cleaned.

  Sonnet accepted the saddle after an initial show of reluctance when she sidled and attempted to kick at her stomach to rid herself of the girth, bucking occasionally to add weight to her protest, but his lordship was patient and worked with her until she calmed and went forward well on the lunge. It was not until he had decided that she had worked long enough and turned toward the gate that he remembered his spectator and caught sight of him just as he was riding away from the rise. Giving his presence no more than a moment’s thought, Vale returned to more pressing matters and returned Sonnet to her stable.

  However, on several occasions over the next few days he became aware of the onlooker’s presence as he schooled the filly, usually at the same time of day, his mornings being occupied with either shooting or fishing on the estate. Finally, he decided on finding out whom his watcher may be and instead of going to the paddock with Sonnet, he sent a groom of like height and weight in his place, hoping to engage the spectator’s attention long enough for him to be intercepted.

  Taking a circular route so as not to be observed, he rode to the further end of the rise and attempted to ride its length in the cover of the trees that lined it. It was not long before he perceived the horseman sitting with his gaze riveted on the paddock, watching Sonnet being led around by the groom. Leaving the cover of the trees, he began his approach. As he neared, the rider turned in the saddle at some sound. Why, ‘tis only a boy, thought Vale to himself and would have hailed him good-naturedly if the boy had not become aware of his approach and swinging his horse about, urged it to a gallop and sped away.

  Amused by the incident Vale returned to Stovely, confirmed that the boy was but showing an interest in the schooling of the horses, for had he not done the self-same thing when he was of such an age? Indeed, he would have no objections to the boy coming down to the stables if he so wished and he decided on sending a groom to tell him so when next he appeared.

  *****

  The opportunity to speak to the boy arose earlier than Vale had anticipated. Whilst out shooting early the next morning, his three spaniels bounding before him, he espied the boy riding on the boundaries of his land and attempted to attract his attention by raising his arm in salute. Unfortunately the boy, appearing deep in thought, did not immediately perceive him and instead allowed his horse to amble along, the reins hanging slack on its neck, its head hanging low.

  The dogs raced before him toward the rider, putting up two pheasants in their haste. Seeing the birds rise from the corner of its eye, the horse took exception and reared in protest of th
eir flight, depositing its rider none too gently onto the turf. Seeing the accident, Vale threw aside the brace of birds which were strung over his shoulder and started forward at a run, reaching the boy just as he sat up. However, he was brought to an abrupt, uncomprehending halt. The face was familiar but he was confused, almost not believing what his eyes told him.

  The crumpled form sitting on the ground returned his gaze with a gurgle of laughter at the perplexity only too apparent on his face. “As you see sir, Sophie is Jack and Jack is Sophie,” she smiled.

  “That much I had already perceived,” he snapped, pulling her roughly to her feet, all manner of questions chasing through his mind. “When I met you the other evening you struck a vague chord in my memory, though at the time I made no connection. How could I? When last we met, you were so badly beaten that I could not fully discern your features. It was the voice that struck a chord. But then,” he chuckled, “I have heard so many female voices; it is not surprising that I could not place it.”

  “You were also somewhat in your cups when previously we met,” she smiled, brushing the dust from her clothes and straightening her crumpled cravat. “It was no wonder that you should not recognize me.”

  “But why the disguise now?” he asked, confounded. “Do not your petticoats satisfy you? How come you here? Why did you leave when you knew you had my protection? Where did you go?”

  She smiled at his onslaught of questions. “If you would but give me the chance, I will explain all, sir.”

  “You most definitely will,” he replied, “but should we not first make some attempt to catch that stupid horse of yours before you are forced to walk home, or more correctly to your aunt’s house?”

  “Oh, he will be in the stables by now in all probability. I don’t mind walking in the least, sir. Perhaps I could accompany you to the south pastures, for it is there that our boundaries meet, and whilst we walk, I will tell you all.”