Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Mercy on his soul, his head was pounding.

The throbbing ache nearly matched the chasm of pain quickly expanding inside of his chest. In his inebriated judgment, he could not recall the moments that had caused him to choose to invade Claire's bedroom, but he was beyond happy that he had.

Dorian had feared she must hate him for how things had ended, for all of the promises that he had not meant to break but had been forced to. The situation had been out of his control, and now perhaps he would finally have the chance to rectify the situation.

She clearly did not hate him. There was no doubt in his mind that if there was not still some manner of affection lingering for him within her heart, last night and this morning would not have happened. How easy it was to sink back into those old feelings.

They had never truly left him anyway. There had been and there never would be another woman for him. It was Claire, it would always be Claire. No matter what his family said.

He moved with a surprising spring in his step as he went to fetch his horse where he had left the mount the night before. Dorian was pleased beyond measure to find the mare still in the same place and condition. He would have to stop on the way back to the estate to properly feed and water her. Perhaps a nice apple would suit for being such a good companion to him in his hour of need last night.

Though, before he could get too close, the unfamiliar humming of a young girl came from behind the horse. Dorian paused, unsure if he wished to risk being discovered. His mind was already elsewhere, lingering up in that room he had just left and hoping against hope that all was going well.

Then, the young girl he had briefly met in the cemetery poked her head out from beside his horse.

"Does she belong to you, sir?" she asked with a pretty smile. "She's real pretty."

Dorian smiled and nodded. The young girl seemed perfectly content to carry on the conversation with herself—before he could get a single word in edgewise, she was already speaking again. She swung her hands as she spoke, as if standing still was an impossibility.

Her hair was done in two loose braids that draped over either of her shoulders, though the loosened strands implied that she had been out playing for quite some time already this morning. Her dress was a pale yellow color, tinged green in some spots that he supposed were likely grass stains.

An adventurous spirit, perhaps? It would make sense if she did take after her mother. Claire never could sit still. In their younger days, she was always keen to wake before the sun just to watch it rise and name each and every new color that she saw.

"I like horses very much. We only have two, to pull the carriages. Mother says I am too young yet for riding lessons, and that our horses are far too tired to wish to play with me all day long. Working horses, she says. But I do not truly know what that means." The girl shrugged. "But your horse is nice, and sweet, and I have given her sugar cubes. I do hope that is all right."

As she spoke, she ran her hand down the mare's nose, stroking her affectionately. Dorian had not seen his horse so quickly taken with a stranger before, much less a child. Interesting. She was certainly an outgoing young girl, which was not the impression he had gotten from her at the funeral.

"Of course, she loves sugar cubes." Dorian grinned.

"I do remember you now!" She smiled happily. "You were at the graveyard! How do you do!" She pulled her skirts out to either side of her body and dipped into an elegant curtsy.

"Yes, I remember you as well. Have you been well?" Dorian chuckled softly as he watched her glance over her shoulder back to the door she had likely escaped from.

"I have given my governess the slip, and she is bound to be most cross with me."

"Is that right?" Dorian ought to have encouraged her to go back inside, but she was charming and he did not wish to take the horse away from her just yet.

"Yes! Quite! In fact I—say, what are you doing here, anyway? Are you coming for tea? Do you have business here with Mother?" It seemed to have only just occurred to her that his presence might be a touch strange.

Dorian smiled. "I am an old friend of your mother's, actually. My business is all concluded, I am afraid."

"So the pretty horse shall be returning home with you then?"

"I am afraid so."

The girl looked nearly heartbroken by the very notion that her new friend would be leaving. "I hope that someday, when I am a bit bigger, I can convince my mother to let me go riding. I do love animals so. Father never liked them in the house. He said they were too much of a bother. I have brought home all manner of things. Frogs and kittens and lizards, but never a puppy. I hope someday to have a puppy and a pony both."

"Frogs and Lizards? You must be a very brave young lady indeed." Dorian hid his grin as he finished untethering his horse.

He could only imagine the look on Claire's face when her daughter had brought home a frog, the creature leaping all around the dining room and hallways while the servants chased after it. He could not imagine that happening in his own house. Dolores would have had a fit.

That notion alone might have made the whole process worth it.

For a moment, just a brief moment, he allowed himself to wonder what his life would have looked like should the young girl in front of him been his daughter. Had she been raised in the house with full access to the stables and grounds. She could have had all the animals she desired for they certainly had abundant amounts of space. She would keep both Claire and himself on their toes, there was no doubt about that.

He needed excitement like that in his life. Alas, he was destined to be on the outside looking in.

"You ought to go and find your governess then, before you get into trouble." Dorian smiled sadly and nodded his head back in the direction of the door.

The girl sighed and kicked at the grass by her feet. "She makes me write lines when she is cross."

"All the more reason to hurry back inside where it is safe."

She nodded and started to run back into the house, only to pause a few feet from the door. "Promise that you will bring your horse back soon, pretty please? I shall have more treats for her!"

He could not make such a promise, so he let his silence answer for him. Something in him would not allow himself to make a promise to her that he was not absolutely certain he could keep.

As she disappeared through the door, Dorian turned his wistful gaze up to the window he had just left. He hoped he would be able to return, and soon.

It was such a rare thing indeed that somebody could feel so very familiar to him after such a short time. No doubt it was because she was Claire's daughter. There had been a time where he had been so in love with that woman that he would have confidently said he could pluck just about any thought from her pretty head perfectly. He had thought she would have been able to do the same for him, as well.

It took all his self-control to keep from looking back over his shoulder to see if there was even the slightest glimpse of her in her window, but if he did then he would never continue his ride home.

The city felt different now than it had yesterday. He could not give a name to it. He did not know if it felt more drab and dreary the farther away from her window that he went, or if he was still clinging to some shred of foolish optimism that pushed him toward home.

The home that had likely not missed his absence whatsoever.

It was foolish of him to have come last night. It put both of them in a great amount of danger should his actions be discovered. She was a widower. She had moved on from him; at least that was what he had presumed. Yet, she had welcomed him with such open arms.

Something in his chest warmed at just the memory of lying in bed with her, feeling her warmth and her breath against the side of his face.

It was a dangerous game that he was playing. Only such a short time back in the city and he was already plotting the best ways to find her once again, to spend even more time with her than he had done before. He had not the right to call upon her, and yet he was already planning the days they might spend together and the afternoon picnic that he could take her and her daughter on. Would she want something like that?

Dorian would have to call upon her in a much more official capacity. He would have no choice going forward.

No matter what path forward he chose, a conversation needed to be had—an open conversation that would hopefully clear the air between them and allow them to discuss both of their points of view. Dorian knew no other way to move forward without first resolving the lingering pain from all of those years ago.

Perhaps all of this would just be another way for him to seek the closure he had never gotten. Would it be enough if last night was to serve as a proper goodbye? The one that was robbed from them? Or was it a new beginning?

He would never know if he did not come to call upon her in an official capacity. He would never know if he did not try.

Dorian resolved himself in his mind and spurred his mare forward, leaning into her graceful and strong neck as he quickened his leisurely trot to a gallop until his estate came into view. The best course of action would be to head inside and deal with whatever might await him there.

No doubt there was plenty of conversation to be had about his actions at the ball. Dolores would no doubt wish to give him a tongue lashing about his decorum or how he had messed up all of her carefully laid plans.

But he cared not for her plans. Not yet. He needed just a little while longer to let the memory of Claire in his arms once more fully settle over him. Just a few more moments, and then he would gather his wits about himself and do what was necessary.

Just as he always had. Whether he liked it or not.