Chapter 3

Dominic placed his top hat and gloves on the hall table. It was unusual for the butler or even one of the footmen to not be there to open the door, but there was always the possibility of his grandmother raising hell from somewhere else inside the house.

"I don't care what you say Charleston, I said they could have the day off, and by God, they will. Have you never had a day off in all your life?" Elizabeth Harding's voice carried down the hall to the right, bringing a faint smirk to Dominic's lips.

The Wiltshire manor was as grand as any estate could be with high ceilings, a plethora of bedrooms, grand staircases, and marble flooring. Yet there was one thing, or rather a person, that always stood out to anyone that crossed the threshold.

Feeling some of his burdens being lifted from his shoulders, Dominic made his way toward the commotion, turning his head away from the portraits of his parents that lined the hallways before heading toward the downstairs parlor.

"Ah, there you are Dominic; you arrived just in time to settle an argument." His grandmother looked up from her chair and folded her hands over the green quilt covering her knees. Her silver hair still boasted a few streaks of charcoal black, and her skin was only just beginning to wrinkle around the edges of her mouth and eyes.

"What seems to be the problem, today?" Dominic nodded to the butler who bowed respectfully with one arm covering his waist.

Charleston had been the butler at the Wiltshire manor for as long as Dominic could recall. He had been a footman when Lady Elizabeth had gotten married to Dominic's grandfather. He was a tall man with just a touch of a bell and a strong spine that seemed to keep him as straight as a rod whenever he went.

"If I may, Your Grace, I was simply trying to reason with Her Grace." He twisted the ends of his grey mustache and lifted his eyebrows which were so long they often reminded Dominic of an owl.

"You mean you were arguing with me and telling me how to run the household like you always do." Elizabeth glared at the man and narrowed her ice-blue eyes that appeared more grey with age.

Dominic shut his eyes in exasperation as he waited for Charleston to continue. The constant quibbling between his grandmother and butler was something that he had become accustomed to over the years. It was a sort of play that the two performed, keeping each other company in their ways.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but if I may explain. There is a fair in Mayfair in a few days. Now while I understand that it is generous and even customary to allow the staff a half-day, it is not feasible to allow everyone to go. The house will be short-staffed, and I cannot guarantee the smooth running of the estate." Charleston spoke respectfully as he always did even when Dominic's grandmother was giving him uphill.

"Feasible, he speaks as if he were the sole guardian of the palace," Elizabeth huffed and turned her head away, disgruntled by the conversation.

Charleston lifted his head and clenched his jaw, placing both hands behind his back as he waited for Dominic to settle the argument.

Walking over to the tray of drinks that stood in the corner of the room, Dominic poured himself a glass of whiskey with his back to his grandmother and butler. "How long is this fair in town for?"

"Three days, Your Grace," Charleston spoke first, eliciting a glare from Elizabeth.

Dominic took a sip from the glass, allowing the amber liquid to burn his throat as he savored the taste. "It stands to reason then that the days could be divided. Can half the staff not have the entire day off and the other half may have the next day off? And if that is still too much of a hassle, then you may divide the outings into three and only have one-third of the staff out at the same time."

The corners of the butler's mouth curled into a smile as he cleared his throat and looked at his shoes.

"You may go now, Charleston. I'm sure there is an endless list of matters that need your interference." Elizabeth shot the man a scathing gaze and waited for him to leave before turning her scorn to her grandson.

Dominic already knew that he was in for a talking-to whenever his grandmother thought that he hadn't taken her side.

"You did that on purpose. You know how Charleston gloats when he gets his way," she practically barked at him as he took a seat opposite her in the parlor. The floral prints of the furnishings weren't exactly his taste, but at the least the chairs were comfortable.

"I did not take sides. I listened to the argument and came up with a logical conclusion. Even you have to admit that you would be less than pleased if your tea didn't arrive when you rang for it. Charleston is just trying to ensure the smooth running of the house, and we will not fault him for that." Dominic leaned his elbow on the armrest and massaged his temple.

"Why are you back so early in any case? Didn't you have a ball to attend?" Elizabeth changed the subject as she always did when anyone made logical points to any of her arguments.

"I went, I saw, and I came home. It was a ball much like all the others you've forced me to attend. I don't see why you don't have to attend these blasted events," he grumbled and set his jaw, thinking of the rejection that burned in his throat along with the whiskey.

Who did she think she was, rejecting him like that? He had refused to marry all the women she had thrust at him in the past months. He was doing her a favor by saving her from that wretched man. His blood boiled again as he recalled the man's hands on her wrists, groping and pawing at her like a wild animal. It had taken a great deal of restraint for him not to throw him over the railing.

Why did I react so strongly?

He thought back to the intense feelings of jealousy that flooded his body not only when he'd found her on the balcony but also when she had bumped into a man on her way back into the ball. The only reason he had known she was out there was because he had noticed her earlier in the evening and had subsequently noted her departure.

"I paid me dues already. I have a lifetime of socializing behind my name, and I even had a husband and children to prove it. It is your turn to take up the reins. And when you reach my age, you are more than welcome to send the rest of the ton to hell as I have done." She pursed her lips in disgust and reached for her cup of tea, gingerly sipping the liquid with a frown. "My tea is cold."

"It was probably warm when they brought it in. How long were you arguing with Charleston?" Dominic found little amusement in their conversation at present as he struggled to keep his mind off Marie and the seriousness in her gaze when she had rejected his proposal.

I can never marry a man like you.

"That is entirely beside the point. Charleston needs to be challenged from time to time. It brings him back down to earth and reminds him that he's human just like the rest of us. Now, stop changing the subject and give me an update on my future daughter-in-law. Have you made any progress in finding her, or must that poor matchmaker work herself to death for you?" She sighed heavily and looked at him expectantly.

It had not taken Dominic long after his first meeting with Marie to realize that his meddling grandmother had sent her his information. Numerous fights had made him realize that there was no hope in her ever allowing the matter to rest.

"You know how I feel about getting married, grandmamma. I wish you would stop pestering me to do so." She shook his head slowly in frustration, regretting his decision to come into the parlor.

"Well, there is a simple solution to that then, isn't there? You can find a wife, and I will do my part in not pestering you. Once a healthy baby is bouncing on my knee, I will never raise the subject again. Of course, this will need to occur before I die." She rolled her eyes dramatically and sighed.

Her logic was astounding to Dominic as he threw back the remainder of his whiskey and stood, readying himself to leave.

"You know that stuff will kill you." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him again with a disapproving scowl.

"Yes, Grandmamma, and so will that flask you keep tucked in the folds of your dress. We all have our little vices—allow me to have mine, and I will say nothing of the amount you sneak into your tea when you think I am not looking." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before meeting her gaze with lifted brows.

"Cheeky blighter, you stay away from the folds of my dresses. They have nothing to do with you, young man!" she called after him as he left the room, making his way down the hall and up the stairs that led to his chambers.

His grandmother was a dear old woman who had lived with him ever since that fateful night when his parents had perished so suddenly. He knew that it had affected her, although she always tried to remain strong for him. The ‘secret' flask had only made an appearance in the weeks following the accident. Dominic avoided storms, marriage, and anything that had to do with building a family while his grandmother avoided her feelings with a flask.

His chest felt heavy again as he entered his chambers and headed straight for the balcony that overlooked the larger portions of his estate. The night air was cool without so much as a hint of a cloud in the sky, just like he preferred it.

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, he looked up at the sky and focused on one star in particular that shone a little brighter than the rest.

Why did she need to be so stubborn?

Marie waltzed right back into his mind as if she had the right to be there. He had come so close to kissing her again, catching the delectable scent of freshly baked cookies that seemed to cling to her hair and skin. She wasn't even a baker; why did she always smell like that?

It stood to reason that she baked at her home, wherever that was. There was no telling what the woman did in her spare time. Visions of Marie in an apron and plain dress filled his mind, making his chest ache for things that he'd sworn off long before he even knew she existed.

Having a family was dangerous, you could lose them in the blink of an eye when they weren't even sick. He had vowed since that fateful night as a boy that he would never place himself, or a child, in the position of going through what he had endured.

He shook his head heavily again and focused back on the star. The edges shone brilliantly, giving it the appearance of a guiding beacon. Why could life not be simple where a person could simply follow a star and have all their problems resolved when they reached their destination?

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