Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

F rederick returned home to the sound of music. An enchanting melody being played on the pianoforte; it drifted through the foyer and swept over Frederick as if it was being played just for him.

"Hhmm, not bad," George noted. "Isabella?"

Frederick frowned as he took note of the song. A difficult piece, well above his daughter's skill level. "I… I do not think so. Although, she was supposed to be having lessons today."

George grinned and pumped his eyebrows. "It seems that this Miss Dowding knows her stuff. A good teacher as well as easy on the eyes…"

Frederick fixed his friend with an unamused expression. "Do not even say it."

"Ha!" He hurried through the foyer in the direction of the music. "Come on then! Let us see for ourselves."

"George!" Frederick shouted after him. "There is no need to—" George disappeared around the corner, leaving Frederick standing alone in the foyer.

He had spent three days avoiding Miss Dowding. Three days doing so because he did not wish to put himself in the same position as he had the first day they had met. Three days of convincing himself that he simply did not wish to see her because of how angry she made him, worried that if he saw her again, he might snap, snarl, and then she would quit as so many had done before her.

It was for his daughter that he did it! An easy lie to swallow. But left with no choice, knowing that he was going to have to speak with her again eventually, Frederick swallowed his pride and his worry and hurried after his friend.

He found him in the drawing room down the hall, standing in the doorway as he watched and listened. Coming in behind him, Frederick braced himself for the sight of his daughter sitting at the pianoforte, showing off skills that would have forced him to admit that maybe Miss Dowding wasn't so bad for his daughter as he wished.

Only, as he stepped around George, he was perhaps a little too pleased to see that it wasn't his daughter playing at all. Rather, it was his grandmother.

She was laughing as she played, seeming to have the time of her life. Isabella stood beside her, watching as she did so, while Miss Dowding stood back in the middle of the room, arms folded, grinning to herself as she nodded her head.

And Frederick breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ah, Frederick!" his grandmother cried when she saw him watching. "I still have it, do I not!"

"Very good, grandmother!"

"And you thought I was an old good-for-nothing crone. Admit it!" Her fingers moved effortlessly across the keys, and she winked at Isabella who giggled.

"I take back everything that I said…" He walked into the room, keeping a careful eye on Miss Dowding while careful not to get too close. "Although, forgive me for saying, but I was not aware that it was you who needed instruction?"

Miss Dowding's back stiffened at the clear jibe shot in her direction, but she did not turn around, as if purposefully ignoring him.

"Just showing your daughter how it is done," his grandmother chuckled. "But she was playing earlier, and I must say, she is quite the little musician."

"Is that right?"

"I am, father!" Isabella agreed excitedly. "Caroline has taught me so much!"

"I am sure that she has done her best…" he trailed off as he reached the pianoforte, eyes drifting to Miss Dowding who was still not looking at him… even if he could see the way her jaw clenched at his comment.

"And…" His grandmother hit the final key and spun about in the chair. "There! I told you these old fingers still have some tricks."

"Yay!" Isabella clapped.

"Well done," George clapped also as he walked into the room. "I must say, Your Grace, you are an expert. Far better than your son…" A grin. "… at most things, I would imagine."

"Ah, Lord Fernside, I see that you are even more charming than I remember…" She looked over the pianoforte at him. "And still as dashing too."

George beamed at the compliment, standing taller and prouder. Growing up, he had always been a strapping athletic specimen, known for his broad shoulders, large chest, and flat stomach. And while his chest was still thick, and his shoulders were still wide, his stomach had grown considerably. Not that this took away from his good looks in any way.

"You make me blush," George said with a wink. "I only wish your grandson was so complimentary." He then cast his gaze further, spotting Miss Dowding finally. "And who is this…" George fixed a most charming smile on his face as he approached Miss Dowding. "His Grace was speaking of his new governess, but not once did he mention her beauty."

Miss Dowding frowned at the comment, looking caught between shock and embarrassment.

"I am the Earl of Fernside…" He reached out for Miss Dowding's hand, and she offered it as if on instinct. "… and you are?"

"The Honorable Caroline Dowding," she said with tight lips, trying to keep herself from smiling. "A pleasure."

"Ah, Miss Dowding." George's eyes flashed as he kissed the back of her hand. "Her Grace must be furious with you."

Miss Dowding frowned. "Why would she be furious?"

"Well to put it simply…" The look he fixed her with was wicked. "… with you here, she is no longer the most beautiful woman in the manor. A close second, sure…" His eyes flashed again. "… but I am afraid that you have her beat."

"Oh, stop it, Lord Fernside!" Frederick's grandmother clucked. "You are embarrassing the poor girl."

"I did not mean to! And besides, the truth should not embarrass but be delighted in. Would you not agree, Miss Dowding?" He was still holding her hand, still looking into her eyes, still flirting with her in a way that Frederick found himself not at all enjoying.

He should not have cared. If anything, he should have been happy for it. At least, if George took Miss Dowding's fancy, it might distract him from his own wandering fantasies about the woman. What was more, it would nip in the bud any more comments about marriage and what have you.

But Frederick could not ignore the way his stomach clenched at the sight of Miss Dowding's flushed cheeks. He told himself he did not like her in the least. That she was wrong for him and his daughter in every way imaginable. Yet as it stood, he had to resist the urge to grab his friend by the scruff of the neck and throw him from the room.

"Isabella!" Frederick barked, cutting through the tension. "Why is it that I return home to find my grandmother playing in your stead?"

"I was doing so earlier," Isabella protested. "But grandmother wished to have a try. She told me that Caroline has been teaching her also and wanted to show off…" She nudged his grandmother.

"Is that right, grandmother?"

His grandmother shrugged. "She has been showing me a few things. She is an excellent musician."

Frederick snorted. "And if I wished for my daughter to join the theatre, I would be so very happy to hear it." He could not help but smile at the glare that Miss Dowding held him in.

"She has taught me much!" Isabella cried. "Not just the pianoforte but… but… but…"

"It is all right, Isabella; do not feel the need to defend Miss Dowding. I am sure she is doing her best."

Why did he enjoy poking at her like this? He could feel her glare fixed on him as if she expected to shoot fire from her eyes. And it wasn't that she was upset, for he did not think anything he said could upset her. It was more that she was rueful, a sort of fury that only he could bring out in her.

And, dammit, how he reveled in the sensation of it.

Even now, as she glowered, Frederick hoped that she might do as she was known to and respond with a scathing insult that he might rise to. A chance for him to bear down on her, to assert himself, to be reminded of how it had felt the last time the two had spoken. Just to think of it… he felt his pulse quicken, his mouth turn dry, and his eyes wander over her body which he wanted to reach out and grab and?—

His eyes went wide, and he looked away, careful not to let his mind wander to places it simply could not.

"It is quite all right, Isabella," Miss Dowding spoke evenly. She stepped around George and walked toward where Frederick was standing in front of the pianoforte. "You must remember, most men cannot do more than one or two things well, so do not expect your father to believe how quickly your education is coming along. Likely, I suspect that in a few weeks you will be smarter than he is."

Isabella's face dropped.

"I suppose that ruling the world is one of these things?" Frederick shot back. "Forgive me if my skills with the pianoforte leave something to be desired."

"That would make the other talent of yours riding your horse, yes?" Miss Dowding continued pleasantly, as if they were having a normal conversation. "So, now that we have that problem solved, if you need help putting your shoes on of the morning, do not hesitate to ask."

"Ha!" his grandmother cackled.

His daughter, however, could not have looked more shocked. And fearful. And confused. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. Her head swiveled between them as if she had no idea where to look… or if she wished to.

Frederick could feel that same sensation from before rising inside of him. Body running hot, shaking. Heat gathering between them. He found himself grateful that there were others in the room for all he wished to do right now was take a hold of Miss Dowding, pull her close, growl a warning in her ear, and then, if she insisted on badgering him, shut those lips of hers in a way that had already proven itself effective.

"And you are yet to demonstrate one thing that you do well," he responded somewhat coolly. "Forgive me if I do not take my daughter's word at your supposed talents."

She snorted. "A demonstration then?" She fixed him in a glare.

"I was just going to suggest it." He held that glare, refusing to break it.

Her eyes flashed rage, and she turned on her heel, face softening immediately as she looked at his daughter. "Isabella, would you like to show your father what I have spent all morning teaching you?"

"N - now?" Isabella squeaked.

"You do not have to," Frederick assured her. "The blame will not fall on you." A quick smirk at Miss Dowding. "That, I promise you."

"He is right," Miss Dowding said which surprised him. "You do not have to do anything that you do not wish. But…" A caring smile, and her voice became encouraging. "… I know you can. After how well you played for me this morning, surely you wish to show your father? I know he will be as proud of you as I was."

Isabella's face grew determined, and she nodded her head. Then she hurried to where his grandmother sat, who was already standing and moving away. She was shaking, clearly nervous, but she steeled herself as she flipped through the sheets of music, brow furrowed, eyes set.

Watching her, Frederick felt a conflict raging within that he had not expected.

On the one hand, he wanted Miss Dowding to fail. To see her fall and then hold it over her as a sign that he was right about her all along would be a victory so very sweet. Perhaps even use this as an excuse to dismiss her, find someone else to teach his daughter, remove himself from temptation once and for all.

And yet, on the other hand…

He desperately wanted his daughter to succeed. She had struggled for some time with the pianoforte, not a natural musician, confidence being what held her back. But it was an admirable skill to have, one that any lady of the ton would be glad for. And if she was to succeed here, showing how far she had come… a lump grew in his throat with pride at the mere thought.

She began to play soon after she had settled. Awkwardly at first, for she was clearly nervous, but she soon fell into rhythm, the melody flowing from her fingers as if she was born to it. And as she did, Frederick could see her confidence growing: she sat up straighter, she smiled to herself, she even laughed, such was her delight.

Watching her, Frederick could not believe he had even considered wanting her to fail. Dammit, he was so proud of her in that moment he could have cried.

"Told you…" Miss Dowding stood beside him, arms folded, a smug smile on her face as she watched Isabella.

He might have responded with a scathing remark. He might have defended himself. Heck, he might have scoffed and doubled down on his comment earlier about how learning the pianoforte was but one of many skills expected of her. But at that moment, none of that seemed important.

"You were right," he said simply, still watching his daughter, unable to keep himself from smiling. "She is wonderful."

Miss Dowding blinked back her surprise. "Excuse me?"

"And you have done a fine job. I should never have doubted you."

"I…" She could not have looked more shocked. "Ah… thank you?"

"Perhaps this time, I should be thanking you." He smiled quickly for her, an appreciative nod of the head, and then he went back to watching Isabella play.

"That is…" She hesitated as she studied Frederick, as if she was seeing him for the first time. "That is quite all right, Your Grace. And thank you for saying."

She turned back to finish watching Isabella, the smugness gone, the satisfaction faded. Rather, it was pride that he saw in her eyes.

"I did it!" Isabella cried with glee when she finished. "Did you see! Did you see!"

"Very well done," Frederick said, clapping along.

"Good show!" George agreed. "We have a generational talent on our hands!"

"Isabella, I am so proud of you," Frederick continued. He went to walk around the pianoforte and hug his daughter, only for Isabella to leap up and run for Miss Dowding instead.

She threw her arms around Miss Dowding and pulled her into a tight hug, and Miss Dowding returned it, laughing along as she did. "I told you that you could do it. Didn't I? I am so proud of you."

Frederick might have been envious of the sight. If it had been Miss Wanton or one of the other governesses, he certainly would have been. But watching Miss Dowding hug his daughter, and his daughter relishing it, it was not envy that he felt. Not even close.

"She is something, isn't she?" George whispered in his ear.

"Yes, she really is…"

"I was not speaking of your daughter…" He winked and nudged Frederick in the side. "But neither were you, I think."

To that, Frederick had no answer. Only this time, he didn't feel the same sense of shame or denial as he might have before. Confused, certainly. Unsure, most definitely. But it was beginning to look as if there was more to Miss Dowding than he had originally thought. Much, much more.