Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I t was later that same evening when Frederick found himself in his study, hiding, even if he had managed to convince himself that he was in fact working. But after the way he had shouted at his daughter, and insulted Miss Dowding, the mood in the manor was tense, and he figured it might be best to avoid them for the rest of the night.

A soft knock at the door, and Frederick groaned, certain it would be his grandmother come to scold him.

At least after today, she might finally desist in her incessant insistence that he and Miss Dowding were good together. Surely, after the way he had spoken to her, even his grandmother must admit that where the two of them were concerned, only trouble would follow. And not the good kind either.

"Yes," he called as a second knock followed the first. "Come in."

The door opened, and in stepped Miss Dowding… almost. She pushed the door open but stayed by the doorway, refusing to cross the threshold as if an invisible barrier was stopping her.

"Miss Dowding—" Frederick baulked at the sight of her, suddenly feeling his chest tighten and his breathing stagnate. "What are you…"

"We need to talk," she said simply, completely devoid of emotion.

She was dressed simply, nothing overtly scandalous or tempting. A loose-hanging garment, hair left flowing, face hidden in shadow. It made it easier to look at her without wanting to tempt fate for the reason she was here … well, no need to guess.

"Do we?" he responded coolly, feeling safe behind his desk.

"We do."

He nodded and indicated for her to come in. "And close the door behind you." He almost didn't say that, and as soon as he did, he regretted it. Dangerous, he knew. Another temptation that he needed to avoid?—

"No," she said, cutting through his thoughts. "I think it is best if I stay here."

He frowned. "Oh. And why is that?"

"What you said today," she began, ignoring him. Standing in the doorway, she looked right at him but kept her face free of emotion. No anger. No malice. It was as if he was a stranger who she had come to see. "You must know that it was completely uncalled for."

"I will not be told how to speak to my own daughter in my own home."

"And I am not telling you how to," she continued simply. "The reason for your … tantrum." A slight sneer on her lips, quickly masked as she went back to acting neutral. "It was unfounded."

He scoffed. "And again, I will remind you that how I speak with my daughter is none of your concern. You were hired to teach her, and that is all that is expected of you. Leave the parenting to me."

He was trying to goad her. He knew that he shouldn't be. He knew that it was foolish to do—dangerous. But he could not help it. In his study, all she had to do was close that door, and they would be alone once more. They could restart the argument, he could threaten more punishment, he could drag her to this table and?—

"What I mean is, the blood that was on your daughter's sheets," she cut through his imaginings once more. "The reason for it…" Hesitation as she bit into her lip, deciding something. "It had nothing to do with her playing."

"It … it didn't?"

She glanced nervously behind herself and then back on him. "Your daughter is becoming a woman."

"A woman?" He frowned, not sure what she meant.

"Yes." A raised eyebrow. "A woman."

"What are you…" It took him longer than it should have, but the look on Miss Dowding's face, the situation, and how subtle she was trying to be eventually hit him like a slap in the face. "You are joking."

"I most certainly am not."

"So, the blood?"

"That was the cause," she said.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Then why did you not just say that?"

"Because Isabella asked me not to. She made me promise."

"And why would she do such a thing?"

She scoffed and folded her arms. "After the way you behaved today, is it any wonder she does not trust you to have a reasonable reaction. She is scared of you is why."

Frederick flinched. "She is not scared of me."

"Is that what you think?" she snorted.

The truth was painful to hear, so Frederick decided to look past it. "And you? Why did you not tell me? Why did you… why did you lie?"

"Your daughter asked me to is why."

"That is hardly a reason."

She shrugged. "Unlike you, I do not wish to betray your daughter's trust. She asked me for a favor, and I was willing to give it. Even if it meant being spoken to you like…" Her lip curled. "… like that."

Again, he flinched as memories of what he had said and how he had said it came roaring back. He had shouted at his daughter and Miss Dowding. He had belittled them. He had acted like an enraged bully for reasons that at the time seemed right, but he now knew to be far from that. Even worse, he had upset his daughter.

But still, that did not mean Frederick was going to apologize. That simply wasn't who he was.

"You should have told me," he said. "Regardless of what my daughter might have asked, I have a right to know."

"And she had a right to tell you in her own time."

"You are not her mother."

"And you are hardly behaving like her father."

His hands clenched, and his body stiffened. A pulse ran through him, and he could feel that familiar sensation rising. "I would watch the way you?—"

"I did not come here to argue with you," she said quickly, making sure as she did that she was still out of the room. "I do not want that. I simply wished for you to know the true reason behind what happened and ask that even now you respect her wishes and allow her to tell you in her own time."

"And my daughter? I cannot very well take back the punishment. She would know that I know."

Miss Dowding sighed. "Sadly, that is true. But perhaps the next time you see her…" Her expression softened, a sense of sadness in her eyes. "You might try apologizing. Be mad at me if you must, but she does not deserve it. She is a sweet, wonderful little girl, and I would hope that you know it."

It was hard to fathom exactly how to respond to that. The way that Miss Dowding was speaking of his daughter, things that he knew already but could not believe to be coming from a near stranger. The look in her eyes, the worry on her face, she cared for Isabella, perhaps even loved her. So much so that she kept her secret and took the brunt of his anger and…

"Miss Dowding…" He clicked his teeth as the regret began to set in. "What I said today, about the governess. I am… I still think it is for the best."

She nodded once. "I suspected as much."

"You and I, what happened…" He tried to look at her, but for the first time, she refused to meet his eyes. "The role was only ever meant to be temporary," he pivoted. "My daughter needs a real teacher. And when my grandmother goes home, I suspect you will be returning with her."

A moment's pause. A beat passing between them. The near hope that maybe, just maybe, Miss Dowding might for once argue with him. She had come here with the obvious intention not to, clearly a desire not to repeat what had happened yesterday. And while he respected that, oh how he prayed she might change her mind.

"I could not agree more," she said eventually. And then, without another word, she turned and left, leaving the door open behind her.

This left Frederick alone in a state of confusion and despair, unable to convince himself that he had done the right thing. And not just where his daughter was concerned but Miss Dowding. Earlier today, he had known it was in his best interest to replace her as soon as could be. It was smart. It was right. Only now…

She was more than a governess for his daughter. She was Isabella's friend, she loved her it seemed, she was perfect in so many ways, and Frederick, the fool, refused to see that. Caught up in the games they played, he had failed to see the true nature of this woman from whom he was so desperate to escape yet so unable to.

Amongst it all, too, he felt a crushing sense of guilt. For what he had done. For how he had spoken to her. For his refusal to apologize. Sitting alone in his study, Frederick had never before felt as rotten as he did just now.