Page 3 of Her Honorable Viscount (Noble Pursuits #3)

CHAPTER 3

D espite her duties, Dot was always happy to accompany her sisters to the social engagements her mother had placed before them.

Lady Fitzroy had quite the calendar, for she was determined to marry them off as quickly as possible.

So far, she had failed, although she blamed it on Fitz. Her brother, however, didn’t particularly care whether they married or not, which didn’t help a woman with seven daughters.

Then again, Fitz had married, which no one had ever anticipated, giving Dot’s mother a fair bit of hope. Now, Eliza was part of their family and had promised to help them in their endeavors.

Even if her promise had come with a wink.

For Eliza had been the least likely woman to ever be married, and look where she was now.

“I have yet to see Lord Mandrake,” Eliza murmured in Dot’s ear as they stood on the edge of the ballroom. It was a smaller gathering, but one which was likely to attract many of the eligible young men and women searching for partners that season.

Dot was well aware that Fitz had been itching to take his wife in his arms to the dance floor, but Eliza had told him they had already danced twice and they could continue their dance at home.

Dot didn’t want to think about precisely what that would mean, but Eliza had only laughed at her horrified expression.

“It does not matter if we see Lord Mandrake or not,” Dot said, holding her head high.

“I thought you fancied him!”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Eliza said. “I’ve seen how you look at him and brighten when he enters the room. You know that he wants you just as much in return.”

“He has made it clear that he would like to court me, yes,” Dot said, although even now, she could not stop herself from searching the room to see if he had arrived. “But that doesn’t mean he has feelings toward me – I’m not sure that he has feelings at all, to be honest with you. He believes I would make an appropriate wife.”

She tilted her head toward her sister-in-law. “But the two of us will not work, Eliza. You know that.”

“Because of what you do.”

“Yes.” Dot turned toward her fully now, appreciating Eliza’s beauty, especially in her deep purple gown. Dot was envious of Eliza’s ability to dress however she wanted now that she was married. To do whatever she’d like. To not have to worry about the requirement of a chaperone.

Not that Dot had ever paid much attention to that.

Eliza’s eyes suddenly brightened, and Dot followed her gaze. “What is it?”

“He’s here.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?” Eliza rolled her eyes. “Lord Mandrake.”

She pointed across the room, and Dot reached out and pushed down her finger. “Don’t point or he will notice.”

“Does it truly matter?”

“I do not want him to think that I am looking for him.”

“But you are.”

“I am not.”

Eliza lifted her hands at her sides and then flapped them down in exasperation. “I am so confused. I have no idea what you want.”

Dot looked at her and said sadly. “That is entirely the problem. Nor do I.”

Eliza began laughing, and Dot couldn’t help but chuckle with her – which was how two of Dot’s sisters, Henrietta and Sloane, found them a few moments later.

“What is so humorous?” Henrietta asked, looking from one of them to the other with wide eyes.

“Your sister,” Eliza said. “She is quite complicated.”

Henrietta nodded. “Yes, that is very true.” She looked at Dot. “Lord Mandrake is here.”

“Why is everyone so preoccupied with Lord Mandrake?” Dot asked in frustration.

“Because you are,” Henrietta said simply. “I do not understand it myself as he is so stuffy, but he does seem to like you, Dot.”

“He wouldn’t if he knew I was a midwife,” she muttered.

“That is true,” Henrietta agreed. “But you do not have to be one if you marry him.”

Dot lifted her eyes to her sister, unable to comprehend how she couldn’t understand. “But I want to be a midwife.”

“Why?”

“Because… because I love it.”

It was a silly, simple answer. But it was the truth.

Henrietta shrugged. “It makes no difference to me. But it might to Lord Mandrake.”

Suddenly, Dot could take no more of this conversation. She knew that her family only wanted what was best for her and had correctly assumed Lord Mandrake had taken up residence in her mind — if not her heart. Not yet.

But even though they had reluctantly accepted her wishes, they didn’t comprehend who she truly was and what she wanted out of life, no more than Lord Mandrake did.

She had no one she could speak to about this, for no one else understood.

She pushed through the ballroom, ignoring those who called out their greetings to her. She knew she was being rude, but she was also afraid that if she stopped, she might make some cutting remark that would be taken even worse.

She pushed through the doors to the terrace, ignoring the couples hiding in the shadows and continuing to the small gardens at the back of the house.

This evening’s event was at a manor in Hampstead Heath, with more extensive gardens and expansive grounds, which she appreciated tonight, for it gave her room to walk.

She knew better than to wander too far from the house. The truth was, sometimes, the lords from her class were just as dangerous as those found in the shadows of Shoreditch.

She walked far enough that she couldn’t be seen from the manor’s windows and sank down on a bench, shivering just slightly from the cold that radiated from the stone through her layers of dress, as the weather was starting to turn and she really should be wearing a cloak.

Still, this was better than the suffocating heat and expectations held within the ballroom.

“Is this seat taken?”

She wasn’t cold anymore as warmth flooded her at the low timbre of the voice behind her.

“Lord Mandrake.”

“Is that a yes?”

She waved her hand toward the bench beside her. The light from the distant house and the glow of the three-quarter moon cast just enough shadow that she could admire his profile, grateful for the dimness that allowed them to avoid fully facing each other—and the reality of their situation.

He sat beside her, saying nothing momentarily, and she appreciated his calmness.

“Are you well?” he finally asked, although rather stiffly as though he wasn’t sure if he should be showing his concern. “I saw you exit the ballroom, and you appeared rather peaked.”

“I am fine,” she said. It wasn’t as though she could explain her sisters’ remarks to him. “I just need some air.”

Which had helped, although she wasn’t sure if this conversation would.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No,” she said, but then couldn’t help the shiver that followed and proved her to be a liar. Wordlessly, he slipped his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. An earthy, warm scent reminiscent of bergamot and sage immediately surrounded her.

She snuggled into the jacket, which still held the warmth of his body, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Thank you.”

He looked off into the distance, over the hedgerows surrounding the gardens, and drew an audible inhale. “I know that most see me as rigid. Stuck in my ways,” he said. “And, for the most part, I am. There is reason for that, however. I have seen what happens when people try to be someone they are not.”

“Oh?” she said, curious but not wanting to push. He looked over at her quickly before returning his gaze to the gardens, rocking back and forth as he ran his hands over his thighs, his discomfort apparent as though he was preparing himself for something, although she would never have guessed what was to come next.

“My mother was a dreamer. She married my father because she was told to. They were no love match, but at least he was true to the person he needed to be. On the other hand, she eventually tired of this world and ran away with an artist to the continent. She left behind my father, me, and my brother. She never looked back.”

Dot’s mouth dropped open at his confession. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“But… I have never heard of such a story. Surely that would have caused great scandal, and all in the ton would be aware of it.”

“Which is why my father covered it up. He told everyone that my mother had passed away.”

Dot did faintly recall that story.

“And you never saw her again?”

“No.”

Her heart broke at that confession. To have lost a parent was one thing, but to have one who didn’t want you was quite another.

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“Before my father passed, he told me that my mother had been lost at sea with her artist while they were out exploring. She loved to travel, apparently.”

“I see,” Dot murmured. “I am so sorry, Lord Mandrake.”

“It matters not,” he said, his face as emotionless as ever. “I prefer not to share this story, but I needed you to understand.” He turned to her now, providing her his full attention. “My intention is not to change anyone or anything. But I do want to be able to solve any problems that you might have. I do it for myself and my own family. I can do the same for you. I will not judge you.”

He might not judge her, but would he accept her? And besides that, she was not a problem that needed fixing, although he would have no way of knowing that.

However, this conversation had obviously been difficult for him, so she didn’t want to dismiss his sharing and his vulnerability.

“I appreciate that, Lord Mandrake, truly I do, but please know that I am facing no problems that require solving.” A realization washed over her, and she straightened. “Is that what you were doing in Shoreditch – solving a problem?”

“Yes.”

Interesting. She was sorely curious as to just what this problem of his might have been, but how could she ask him when she had no intention of volunteering her own information?

“Tell me this, Lord Mandrake,” she said, turning to fully face him, her knees resting against his. She couldn’t help but absorb their warmth. “You fought against Napoleon, did you not?”

“I did.” A shadow crossed over his face as though he didn’t want to talk about that, but she forged ahead.

“I cannot imagine that everything you saw in the war was a problem to be fixed. I am sure you saw many horrors.”

His jaw tightened, and his lips pressed together, answer enough for her.

“Yes.”

“Could you fix them all?”

“No.”

“You see? Sometimes, we have to accept that things are how they are.”

“Except for the times I can fix them,” he insisted. “Then I do everything I can.”

It occurred to her that he had probably seen horror enough, in addition to his own traumas, and that this was how he coped with it all – by fixing what he could.

“I can appreciate that,” she said softly. “But I can also assure you that I have no problem that needs solving. That I am not a problem that needs solving. I am happy with who I am and with what I am doing. Which is the entire issue in itself.”

As she had been speaking, she had been leaning in toward him, as he was to her. She hadn’t realized that they were now only inches apart. If they each moved a whisper more, they would be touching.

His lips would be on hers.

A thought that caused an ache deep in her chest. Why did she want this frustrating, ornery man? He was classically handsome, his brown hair cut short, his nose straight and narrow, his lips thin, yet she supposed that was mainly because he kept them tightly pressed together. His cheekbones were high, and his eyes were perfectly placed.

He was exactly what every man would strive to be, yet he lacked the emotion that would cause him to be extraordinarily beautiful.

All that gave him away were his eyes, a stormy gray that held all the emotion he couldn’t hide.

Not from her.

He wanted her, that was clear, and yet perhaps it was for more reasons than the list of perfection he offered her. Could he feel something for her? Did he even know her well enough?

Dot yearned to know, and yet the thought also scared her, for she was a woman who could not separate emotion from anything she did in life. She was level-headed, yes. Practical. Efficient. But everything she did was also infused with passion for her actions, which she was unwilling to give up.

Something he would never understand.

“I should be going inside,” she whispered, and he closed his eyes at that, hooding even his thoughts from her.

She stood, reluctantly unwinding herself from his jacket.

“Thank you for the company. And for keeping me warm.”

She looked over her shoulder as she walked away, leaving him sitting there, silent and alone.

“Goodnight again, Lord Mandrake.”

And then she turned, leaving him behind.

Again.