by Sara Bennett
“Dominic …”
“I fooled myself into thinking it did not matter, that I was trapped in a loveless marriage.”
“Though you enjoyed giving other people happy endings,” she reminded him.
“Yes, I suppose I did. Maybe that was part of the longing to find my own happy ending. And then you came along and I saw how much I had been wronged all those years ago. I was forced into marrying someone I did not love and who would never make me happy. And now I have found the woman I love and want to marry, and I cannot.”
He was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes, in his expression. And if he kissed her then she would kiss him back, and she doubted she would have the strength to deny him anything after that.
Margaret stood up, releasing his hand. “I need to think,” she said in as practical a voice as she could manage. “You have given me much to consider.”
“Of course.” He withdrew from her, as if building a wall between them. “Of course you do.” He wouldn’t look at her now and she sensed his determination to give her time to come to her decision. “I will see you in the morning?”
“I doubt I will be setting out to walk back to Denwick,” she said, meaning to tease, but the way his head jerked up he must have thought her serious. She reached out her hand, as if to touch his face, but stopped herself in time. “Yes, Dominic,” she said gently, “you will see me in the morning.”
His story explained so much about this complicated man. His longing for a happy ending, for others if not himself, and his solitude. She had thought him proud and arrogant and so he was, but he was also hurt and lonely. And wronged. So very wronged.
Walking away from him was very difficult, especially when he seemed so defeated, but Margaret knew that was what she must do.
15
Monkstead Abbey, Leicestershire, England
Fifteen years earlier.
The church was almost empty, the number of guests sparse. No one spoke above a whisper and no one smiled.
His father stood tall and straight. He looked as grim as death, as if this were a funeral rather than a wedding. The sweet smell of flowers all around made Dominic feel sick, although that could be partly because of the amount of brandy he’d put away the night before. He and his father had sat in perfect silence in the library, downing glass after glass. When Dominic was almost too drunk to stand his father had placed a hand on his shoulder.
“This is the right thing to do, son,” he’d said.
Dominic hadn’t looked at him, but he’d known he had tears in his eyes. They both did.
Now he knew his bride was moving down the aisle toward him. Slowly, barely able to walk. When she reached him he didn’t turn to look at her. He stared straight ahead and listened as the words were spoken that would bind them together for eternity.
At the end, when he pushed the ring onto her finger, he did look at her. Her face behind the veil was not unattractive, but pasty and of ill health, and her eyes were large. They were fixed on his, unblinking, and for a long moment they stared at each other. They were two strangers being forced into this union by circumstances beyond their control. And for each, in their own way, it was a matter of survival.
He felt sorry for her, almost as sorry as he felt for himself.
“Are we married now?” she asked him in a soft voice that held a strange sweetness in it. “We are, aren’t we? Just like Prince Charming and Cinderella.”
“My dear,” her father murmured anxiously. “Hush now.”
“But, Father, I am married. You cannot tell me to hush. Only my husband can do that.”
She had beamed at Dominic as she said it, as if she was the happiest creature in the world.
Confused, Dominic turned to his new father-in-law, seeing the raw love and anguish on the man’s face. “She is a child,” he explained. “She does not understand. In her mind, this marriage is like a fairytale in a children’s storybook.”
Dominic turned back to his new wife and saw that it was the truth. She was still smiling, still happy, gazing up at him as if he was a hero rather than a young man forced into this dire situation and miserable about it. He tried to remove his hand from hers but she clung on.
“Will you tell me stories?” she asked him eagerly. “You have been out in the world and I have not. Will you tell me what you have seen?”
“I don’t think … I am not …”
She looked disappointed, as if she might argue, but her father led her away. There would be no wedding night, Dominic already knew that, and he was relieved. His bride was more child than woman, and the idea of consummating their marriage in the normal way made him feel ill.
Afterwards he got drunk again, and kept getting drunk for a whole week. After that, he decided he would put it all behind him, and he went out and found a willing woman and used her to blot out his misery. There were other women after that. Those he could use to fulfil his needs without concerning himself about emotions or expectations.
He earned himself quite a reputation for a while. He could pretend he was without encumbrance, a young gentleman like any other. And then his house of cards would all come crashing down.
It usually happened at a society event. He would be introduced to an unmarried lady. Pretty, smiling, obviously admiring of his looks and manners. And then he would overhear the mother saying to her debutante daughter, “That’s Monkstead, my love. Yes, I know he is very handsome, but you cannot have him. You must set your sights elsewhere. He is married already.”
It took him almost a year before he visited his wife. She had been writing to him, or at least it was her nurse who wrote the letters but the wording was hers. The main gist of her communications was for him to perform some task for her. Her life revolved around fairytales and she believed in witches and giants and princesses and handsome princes who would ride into danger to save the women they loved. Dominic soon discovered he had been allotted the role of the handsome prince.
Happy endings were something else his wife revelled in. Despite her ill health she was the most optimistic person he knew. Perhaps it was because of her childlike nature, but she saw the best in people. She saw the best in Dominic.
He found himself writing to her more and more often. He found himself smiling as he penned fantastical adventures. Unicorns galloping outside his house in Mockingbird Square, and dragons flying overhead. Never before had he been required to delve into his imagination quite like this and he found it stimulating. Pleasing his poor wife alleviated some of the misery of their marriage. Once, when he visited, he brought a pair of embroidered slippers that he claimed were magic and if she wore them when she slept they would carry her up to the stars.
Did they? She claimed they did. She wrote of her dreams of dancing among the stars and playing ball with the moon. She said she liked it so much that one day she may not return to her bed, but would remain in the sky and gaze down upon the earth. She said she would watch over him.
Her health worsened. They still exchanged letters but not as often, and then not at all. He missed her in a way he had never expected to when they were forced to marry. He carried on making happy endings even though he could no longer tell her about them. He liked to think that if she could talk to him as adult to adult, she would advise him, in her generous and cheerful way, to find his own happy ending.
The Hunting Lodge
Winter 1816
Dominic woke early, before dawn. He liked to sleep with his curtains open, so that he could see the lightening of the sky as the sun began to rise. Or tried to, because today it was trapped behind the snow clouds that covered the horizon.
He’d been dreaming of his wedding, and he supposed that was understandable. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to anyone of it, but Margaret needed to know. They could not go forward with their lives until she did.
Only now he was worrying how she would feel about that knowledge. How she would think about him. He did not want her pity, although sometimes he thought
he deserved to be pitied. He wanted her to accept his situation and accept him.
He had less than five days to win her heart.
Once upon a time, he would have been arrogant enough to believe he could do it with ease, but he could not be cavalier with Margaret, she was too important to him. He had staked everything on his strategy. The dash into the north, his uncle’s invitation as an excuse, and his secret letters to Sir Peter Grey. Everything had been prepared and made ready for this moment.
The only thing lacking was Margaret’s answer.
As frustrating as it was, Dominic knew there was nothing he could do to hurry her up. She had to be sure she wanted him. All of him. He needed to give her time.
And if she said no? Then he knew he must carry through with his promises, and let her go.
By the time he had risen, washed and dressed, the sky was as light as it was likely going to be. He made his way down the stairs and found Mrs MacLeod waiting for him in the same room as before.
“I’ve laid out the breakfast for you both,” she informed him with a cheery smile. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early, sir.”
He’d noticed last night she didn’t know his name—just as he’d requested of Sir Peter. This visit was to be clandestine.
“Is there more snow on the way?”
“It may look like it now, but the weather should clear in a little while,” she replied. “There is a walk up to the hill behind the lodge, if you are feeling hearty. It gives a fine view of the surrounding countryside.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded and left him alone.
Dominic poured himself coffee and sat down. A moment later he heard Margaret’s step at the door.
She was dressed in one of the gowns he’d requested, a moss green to match her eyes, and her hair was neatly coiled at her nape. Her creamy skin was faintly flushed and he thought she looked more rested than she had since he’d seen her again in her father’s study. Any remaining doubts he may have had about taking her away from Denwick disappeared.
He poured another cup of coffee and set it down opposite his own. After a moment of hesitation she joined him.
“We are both early risers,” he said. “Does that bode well, do you think?”
She smiled but didn’t answer him, adding cream to her coffee and watching as he served them from the silver dishes warming on the sideboard.
“There is enough here for an army.” She was trying to be cheerful but he heard the tremor in her voice. “I wonder what is happening at home?” she asked, when he turned back to her. “They must know by now, mustn’t they?”
“Everything will be all right,” he assured her. “My sister will see to it. She is used to bossing people around.”
He set her plate down and she stared at the contents. “It feels wrong to please myself instead of other people,” she said softly.
“Then please me,” he said, and he heard the note of desperation in his voice.
She looked up at him, startled. For several seconds they simply looked at one another, before she broke the spell by sipping her coffee.
“Mrs MacLeod told me there is a fine view from the hill behind the lodge,” he said calmly, sitting back in his place. “Will you come with me?”
She looked over at the window. “If you wish. There isn’t anything else to do.”
“Oh Margaret, Margaret.” He shook his head at her. “There are a great many things I would like to do to you, if you would only let me.”
She went still, her gaze flying to his and away again. He could see the colour in her cheeks and the trembling of her hands. “I’m considering your proposal,” she said at last, her voice stern despite her obvious agitation. “You must give me time.”
“I am giving you time,” he replied mildly.
“You are trying to bully me.” But there was a smile lurking in her eyes as if she wasn’t too upset with him.
“I promise not another word about it, so long as you promise not to mention Denwick.”
After that they ate their breakfast in companionable silence.
16
The walk was bracing and the climb not as steep as she had feared, and luckily Margaret had been wearing her sturdy boots when Dominic kidnapped her. It was good to do something physical. Margaret found it clarified her thoughts. Even when Dominic took her hand in his, to help her over some of the more difficult patches, she let herself enjoy his warm, strong grasp.
There had been a time not so long ago when she would have pulled away, or tried to. When she would have told herself she must not allow herself any sort of intimacy with this man.
But she could see now what her life could be like if she was with a man she loved and who loved her in return, so how could she go back to her life before? And yet at the same time she wondered how she could go forward.
Despite what Dominic had promised, she knew her father would wash his hands of her once he learned of this. She would be poison to him and his aspirations. And, if he had anything to say about it, she would never see her mother again. Olivia would not turn away from her—at least she didn’t think so—but she would not be able to be seen in public with her without raising the hackles of those who thought it their duty to police scandalous behaviour. And few things were more scandalous than running off with a married man.
Was she strong enough to bear such a weight? Did she want to? Lavinia Richmond had been faced with a dilemma, and although it was different, she had decided to stake everything on her happiness. But it was not without a price. Lavinia and her new husband were leaving for America, to make a new life far away from the gossip and disapproval they would face here in England.
Dominic could not go to America. His life, his wealth and estates, were here in England. They would have to stay.
She had told him she would consider his proposal, but the truth was she wasn’t sure how close she was to an answer.
“There!”
His voice startled her into looking up. She had been staring at the ground, deep in thought as she trudged ever upwards through the thin coating of snow. She blinked, because they were at the top now and there before her was an endless view of green hills and valleys.
“Oh.” She drew in a deep breath. “How wonderful.”
She felt his warm body at her back. His arms slipped about her waist and drew her against him. His breath stirred the curls at her cheek. “That is the world, Margaret. You said you wanted to see the world, and now I lay it out before you.”
“This is all your doing, then?” she asked, trying to sound matter of fact when in her heart she wanted to lean back and snuggle against him.
He turned her ninety degrees. “And there is Monkstead Abbey, where you and I will live.”
A myriad concerns filled her head. She opened her mouth to voice them, but he was already speaking again.
“But most of the time we will be travelling. Where would you like to go first?”
“I—I don’t know. Dominic—”
“Sorry. Too soon?”
She nodded.
He rested his chin on top of her head and held her close, and she felt him sigh. “I won’t kiss you again,” he said, “although I am sorely tempted. I want to convince you of the honesty of my intentions.”
Margaret swallowed her disappointment, knowing he was right. If he kissed her she would not be able to think clearly, and she needed to. She needed to know her decision was made without any coercion, not matter how pleasurable, from him.
“How can you travel?” she asked him breathlessly, when he let her go. “Everything you own, your whole life, is here in England.”
He smiled, taking her hands in his. “That doesn’t mean I need to stay here. I have the means to do whatever I like, and if you will come with me, then I shall.”
He’d answered the very question she’d been asking herself on the way up here. As if understanding that he had pushed her enough for now, Dominic let her go, and after a moment more at the top of the
hill, they set off down again in silence.
Dominic realised the two of them had never spent a full day together before. It surprised him because he was beginning to feel as if they had always been together. They held many of the same interests, and her personality was the perfect balance to his.
After luncheon they found the small library, and he sat and read an old copy of The Times while she perused the shelves for a book she said she had hoped to reread. When he asked her what it was she smiled over her shoulder at him, and he was fairly sure she was teasing him. He thought about walking over to her, perhaps tasting the smile on her lips, but he had said he wouldn’t kiss her and he would not break his word. Dominic was being remarkably patient for an impatient man, and he knew he couldn’t wait much longer. One way or the other, she would have to give him her answer soon.
“I have an extensive library at the Abbey,” he said, turning back to his newspaper. The news was very old. He was fairly sure the groom in the wedding notice he was reading had already found a new lover and had left his bride languishing at his country estate.
Dominic had no intention of leaving Margaret languishing.
“Are you trying to bribe me?” she asked.
“Do you enjoy libraries?”
“Of course.”
“Then I am trying to bribe you.”
She giggled. It was a carefree sound, a joyful sound, and he couldn’t remember hearing it from her before. His heart lightened at the thought that he could do that to her.
She wandered a bit further along the bookshelves, examining the titles, and then said, “Are there romances in your library?”
“What sort of romances? Do you mean like Clarissa?”
“Good heavens no! Well, not exactly. I mean novels where the main characters fall in love and sometimes do rather racy things.”
He closed the newspaper. “What sort of racy things?”
“When I was in Mockingbird Square I once read a book where the heroine, who was rather silly I must admit, ran off with a rake, and—”