Page 5 of Hearts at Home

5

T he bustle of York had been startling to Chloe, whose entire life had been lived in the country. Since she’d left the Seahaven household eight years ago, her social circle had comprised her aunt and uncle, Martin, and the servants and tenants on Martin’s estate, Uncle Swithin having alienated all the neighbours by sermonizing against them.

In the past three years, she had been able to make several brief visits to the Seahaven ladies in their household in the village of Starbrook. But their lives were as constrained by their money woes as hers had been by her uncle’s peculiarities.

York’s size, its variety, the number of activities available to a gently born lady—all of these were a revelation. She had thought her life one of giddy pleasure before Lady Seahaven took over her social calendar. Now, it had become a whirlwind of calls, walks, rides, and entertainments.

Even the work for their ball and a couple of formal dinners—one at the Seahaven residence and one at her own—was sociable. So many women were involved that it couldn’t help but be a time for talking and laughter, and for cementing friendships.

Lord Dom added to the excitement. Every day, he managed to sequester a little of her time. One day a walk. The next day a visit to an art gallery she had mentioned. The day after ices with her half-sisters, who were delirious with joy at the attention their sisters’ suitors saw fit to bestow upon them.

Every day, he had a treat for Rosario, who—with a strong leash and a coat with no pockets—was frequently included in Chloe’s outings. Most days, he also had something for her. A flower. A book of poetry. An article about The Habeas Corpus Act.

Lord Dom was courting her. She was almost sure of it. Not that he spent his time in flowery flirtation, and a good thing, too. She much preferred his mix of sensible conversation and cheerful jests. Instead, he indicated his intentions by his diligent presence.

Every day, he asked about Lady Seahaven’s plans for her afternoon and evening, and he managed, somehow, to obtain invitations to most of them. If there was to be dancing, he asked for two of her sets. If the entertainment required them to be seated, he was so frequently to be found in the chair beside her that the Seahaven ladies took to saving it for him.

Other gentlemen showed an interest, too. She did not have enough hours in the day for the walks and rides to which she was invited. She only ever sat out a dance when her feet were sore, and then some gentleman usually begged the favour of sitting with her.

They were not just overflow admirers from the Seahaven daughters, and she could acquit them of being after her fortune, since she did not have one, only a modest dowry. Though many of their compliments struck her as insincere or just plain ridiculous, and flirtation made her uncomfortable, she was forced to conclude that at least some of the gentlemen who pursued her did so because they found something about her attractive, especially when two of them proposed marriage.

And Martin proved to be right. The way that men’s eyes gravitated to her décolletage and then heated suggested that many men did like curvy women. Lord Dom never stared at her chest. While she did not want him to be so offensive as to examine her figure in public, she could not help but wonder whether he found her curves attractive.

Of all the men who sought her attention, Lord Dom was the only one who had captured hers, but the Seahaven ball came and went, and he still said nothing to confirm that he wanted her for his bride.

* * *

Dom wasn’t sure of his next step. He had met Chloe just before she had burst forth on the York scene, where she was an immediate success. Of course, she was. Quite apart from her luscious figure, she was pretty, intelligent, charming, unassuming, and altogether delightful.

Dom was not the only one to be enchanted. Chloe had at least three or four other serious suitors, all taller, more handsome, and wealthier than Dom, and without a question-mark over their birth. So far, Dom seemed to be the favourite, but he lived in fear of being supplanted by a rival.

The bold courage that had won him his army nickname urged him to beg for her hand, to secure her as his bride before someone else could do so. He had known her for only a short time, but something in him had screamed ‘this one’ from the very first, and every meeting since had confirmed the instinct.

His rational self urged caution. It had, after all, been only sixteen days. Even if she did seem to prefer him as escort and dance partner, that didn’t mean she thought of marriage. Though she had come for the Season, which argued for a willingness to choose a husband. But she had told him herself she was only in York to spend time with her sisters, and because her brother had insisted.

He tossed the options back and forth as he walked to the livery stable to pick up the curricle and pair he had hired for an excursion a couple of days after the ball. Propose and risk rejection. Carry on as he was and allow someone else to gain the lady’s attention. He had to find a middle way.

As always, he was alert to his surroundings; a habit from a decade at war. He ducked his head to hide his face in the shadow of his hat brim as his brother Pevenwood came down the steps of a building on the other side of the street, and stopped on the pavement to address his companion, the man Dom was convinced was Gary.

Dom hadn’t seen them since avoiding them the day he had rescued Chloe in the alley. What were they doing in York? What would they say if he crossed the road and introduced himself? Would they deny the acquaintance? Embrace him as a long-lost brother? He snorted his disbelief. Not the latter, he was sure.

The pair of them strolled off together down the street in the opposite direction to Dom’s. Let them go. At least they were not participating in the York Season, for if they were, he would have seen them.

A man passed his brothers and walked towards him. Lord Tavistock, Chloe’s brother. Dom did want to see Tavistock. He might have some insight into his sister’s feelings, though whether he would share that insight with Dom remained to be seen.

Tavistock crossed the street, and Dom moved to intercept him. “Tavistock! Good afternoon! May I walk with you?”

Tavistock returned the greeting. “Good day, Finchley.” He moved obligingly to one side of the path to give Dom room to walk beside him. “I’m told you are escorting my sister to some sort of a garden party this afternoon.”

“Yes. We are meeting Lady Seahaven’s party, so Mrs. Swithin thought she might be excused.”

Tavistock sighed. “Aunt Swithin is… I’ll tell you, Finchley. I’m more grateful than I can say for Lady Seahaven. Do you have sisters?”

That was an awkward question to answer. “My mother had no daughters,” Dom replied, cautiously. How much did Tavistock know about Dom’s family history?

The young lord proved that he’d heard the rumours with his next remark. “Of course. I had forgotten the claim that you are Haverford’s get. I hope I do not offend by mentioning it?”

Tavistock obviously shared a family tendency to blurt socially questionable truths. Since Dom found it amusing in Mrs. Swithin and endearing in Chloe, he might as well accept it in Tavistock, too.

Better that than the usual nattering behind his back. Dom had walked in on many a conversation that turned mute then started up on another topic, and he was familiar with sly innuendos accompanied by smug glances. But few people referred matter-of-factly to his dubious parentage as if it was no more significant a detail than his eye colour or his taste in cravat knots.

Tavistock continued, oblivious to Dom’s reaction. “Haverford acknowledges three half-sisters, does he not? But they would be his responsibility rather than yours. Sisters are a worry, Finchley.”

“So says Haverford,” Dom agreed. “Being concerned about a sister’s wellbeing and her future happiness seems to go with being a brother.”

“Precisely. And now all these men want my permission to marry her, and most of them older and better connected than I am. How am I to know what is best for her? I have never understood Chloe.”

Dom took the news like a punch in the gut. “All these men?” he managed to choke out.

“Two,” Tavistock amended. “And you, I must suppose, since you are the most persistent of them all. You are courting my sister, are you not, Finchley?”

Dom nodded. “I am,” he admitted. “I came to York to run an errand for Haverford while I was in the area, but I am staying because I met Chl— Miss Tavistock. I have no idea how she feels about me, however.”

Tavistock shrugged. “No point in asking me,” he said. “She refused the other two, and both seemed eligible enough to me. I think she enjoys your company, but she has always been adamant she will not marry. She has not told me she has changed her mind.”

“Then you have no objection to my suit?” Dom persisted. They were nearly at the livery. Though he had not intended to have this conversation yet, it was good to know where he stood with Chloe’s brother.

“I will tell you what I’ve told the other two. I will investigate anyone who is serious about her, and I will tell Chloe what I find out. But Chloe is an adult. She will make the decision. Not me.”

That was fair. Dom spread his hands in a do as you please gesture. “Investigate anything you like about me. I can give you the names of my military commanders, and can instruct my solicitor and agents to provide you with information about my finances.”

Tavistock stopped to face him, regarding Dom with his head tipped thoughtfully to one side. “Once you know whether my sister is interested, we shall discuss the settlements,” he suggested. “Talk to her, Finchley. Tell her you want to court her. Aunt Swithin and I have both told her that you and others have marriage on your minds, but I don’t think she believes it. She hasn’t much confidence in her powers of attraction.”

Dom nodded. It was good advice. “Thank you,” he said. “I will tell her.” The corner that led to the livery was a few yards down the street. “I am picking up a curricle for our outing. May I give you a lift?”

Tavistock refused, citing another engagement, and they parted at the corner. It had been a fortuitous encounter. Dom now had his middle option, and how simple it was. Talk to Chloe about his hopes and intentions, and they had half an hour’s drive before them in which to begin.