Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

B y the time that Miss Dowding appeared in the open doorway, Frederick had managed to calm down considerably. It had been hard to do, but he had forced himself, sensing that calm was needed for what was about to happen… at least for now.

She smiled at the sight of him, her eyes flashing as she stepped into the study and closed the door behind her… and then locked it. The sound of that lock clicking had Frederick's chest tightening and his blood running hot for an entirely different reason to what one might think.

"Before supper?" Miss Dowding smirked as she walked into the study, a look in her eyes that he recognized only too well. "How scandalous. Not that I am complaining, of course…" She licked her lips suggestively.

Of course, that was the reason she thought that Frederick had sent for her. Why else would he do such a thing? This past week, the two had snuck around this manor like a couple of teenagers in the throes of their very first romance. Unable to keep their hands off each other, they had sought solace when they could, often finding excuses to be alone so that they might devour the other in ways they had both come to relish.

And every time they had been alone, literally every single time, it had been the same.

She stood back from the table, hands folded behind her back in a way that pushed her chest forward. She wore a simple gown, loose but easier to pull off quickly because of it. Just yesterday, in a similar circumstance, Frederick had pulled her into this very study, lifted an identical gown over her head, sat her on the edge of his desk, and buried his head between her thighs until he had her screaming.

His heart began to race as he thought of doing the same. His hands around her body. His lips over her heaving breasts. Perhaps a hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming as he slipped his fingers inside of her. So easy to do… to forget why he had asked her here… to live in ignorance… to taste her one final time?—

No! He gave his head a shake, set his expression to a more stern one, and ignored the way his member throbbed between his legs.

"I am sorry to pull you away from my daughter's lessons," he began simply.

"Oh…" She sighed. "That is quite all right. To be honest with you, they were not going so well today."

He frowned. "And why is that?"

She clicked her tongue. "Isabella was not happy to learn about the new governess starting in two days' time—she accused me of trying to leave her, as if it was my idea. Worse was when Esther came skipping into the room to announce that her estate would be ready to move back to sooner than we thought."

"Is that so?" he asked, studying her now for her response.

"I have just spent the last hour with Isabella assuring her that I was not leaving her, but…" She looked away sheepishly. "… I can only lie so much."

He almost scoffed at that—the irony of her not wishing to lie—but kept his cool for he saw an opportunity. "And is it a lie?"

Hey eyes went wide for a moment, clear surprise at the directness of the question, but as had been her way these last few days, she was quick to cover it. A sly smile, and she walked close to the table. "Let us not talk about that right now…" She reached the table and perched herself on the edge, tracing her fingers across the top. "Surely, there are other things on your mind?"

Again, Frederick felt that same pull that was so common when he was alone with Miss Dowding. To reach out and take her hand. To pull her onto his lap. To kiss and taste her and have her as he so wanted to do… A growl escaped his lips, but he forced himself to smother it.

"Answer the question," he said instead; his voice was sharp and commanding.

She blinked and pulled her hand back. "Excuse me?"

"You have avoided answering it for a week now." Slowly, he forced himself to stand, so he was looking down at her. "And I would like to know. When my grandmother leaves, will you be joining her?"

"Oh…" She leaned back, taken by surprise, her cheeks flushing and nerves growing. She looked away, half made to stand…

"I… I have not really thought about it." An obvious lie.

"Yes, you have," he said as he stepped around the table. "Do not say otherwise."

"Your Grace…" She leaned back further when she saw him coming. "What you ask is… it is not any easy question to answer."

"But you have thought about it." He stopped in front of her, careful not to get too close. "I know that you have."

Was that excitement behind her eyes? Eagerness? As if she had been waiting for this moment, for him to press her. She licked her soft lips, moisture forming on them. He yearned to reach out and run his finger along them, to slip that finger back in his mouth and taste her…

"I will admit I was upset when Isabella accused me of leaving her; I - I have grown very fond of her these last two weeks."

"I have noticed."

"And us," she continued. "When we first met, I admit that I did not like you very much." She was looking away, but a soft chuckle, and she looked up at him, meeting his eyes, letting him see what she thought looked like truth in her words. "But a lot has changed."

"It certainly has."

"And you…" She licked her lips again, reached out, and stroked his arm. He stiffened at her touch but did not pull away. Even he was not so strong as to do that. "What would you like?"

"That was not the question I asked."

She laughed softly, nervously. "But it is a relevant one."

"Still, not the one I asked." There was an angry growl in his voice, one she clearly took as arousal.

Her eyes flashed. "I do not want to leave Isabella…" She spoke carefully, as if choosing each word specifically. "I fear what it might do to her. And as for us…" She took his hand and held it. "I… I admit that I would like to see where…" She was shaking, struggling to control her breathing, breasts heaving beneath her dress. "Yes," she said finally. "If you wish it, when Esther leaves, I will stay."

And there it was. Now that Frederick was paying attention, he could not believe how obvious it all was.

She was playing with him. Using him. Using Isabella! She clearly had no intention of leaving, but she did not want to make that obvious. Rather, she had chosen to dance around the possibility, coaxing the answer out slowly, teasing him so that he would think that she was doing something she might not want, as if he was the one making the decision.

Everything George had told him was the truth, and it broke Frederick's heart. For how attracted he was to Miss Dowding—Miss Dunn as it was, there was more to this relationship than that. He had cared for her like no other. He had been open with her like never before. He had actually wanted her to stay because he thought there might be a chance that… that… that… honestly, it didn't matter now.

She was still sitting on the table before him. Still holding his hand. Legs spread open slightly as if inviting him. She was looking down at her lap, and he could see her working up the courage to speak, knowing that she was going to say something along the lines of being in love with him, pulling him further into her web.

"Before we agree to anything," she said softly, almost hesitant, "there is something else…" She swallowed. "One more thing I need to say."

"You know you can tell me anything, Miss Dunn," he said.

She nodded and looked up to meet his eyes; they were almost pleading which he did not understand. "I— wait. What did you just say?"

He pulled his hand free, his expression impassive. "I called you Miss Dunn. That is your name, is it not?"

Face stricken with panic, she leaned back, might have jumped from the table if there was room. "I—that is not—I do not know why you would?—"

"And your father is Lord Edgerton, yes?" He spoke firmly, little emotion, facts and nothing more. "You ran away from home two years ago. Home, not an altar where your betrothed left you."

"Your Grace…" She laughed nervously. "I do not know what you… that is not true. My name is Miss Dowding, and it is as I said…" Her eyes flicked about, unable to even look at him. "My father is Lord Scriven, and I was left at the altar?—"

"Liar!" he roared, his anger finally getting the better of him. She nearly fell back, face paling. "Do not insult us both with your lies," he snarled. "They are beneath you. They are beneath me!"

Eyes still flicking everywhere. Breathing ragged and harsh. Body shaking. She looked down at her lap, struggling to control herself, struggling to keep any semblance of calm. No doubt her mind was racing with thoughts of what to do next if there was even anything. And all through it, Frederick watched her, forcing the hate to rise even if he was not feeling it as he wanted.

Finally, she took a deep breath. Still looking at her lap, she spoke softly and into her chest. "When did you find out?"

"Lady Tattershell told me," he said coldly. "And I have just had it confirmed. Everything ."

"Ev - everything?" she stammered.

"Enough to know that you are not who you say you are. That you have been using me and my grandmother and my daughter to your own end. That nothing you have told us is real. That you are a liar. A fake. A fraud!" He took a deep breath, again forcing calm. "Am I missing anything?"

"It is not what you think," she said softly, still unable to look at him. "I never meant to… I never meant?—"

"For us to find out? I am sure you didn't."

"No!" Her head snapped up, and she looked right at him, her big eyes red, welling with tears. Chin trembling. Pain on her face like nothing he had ever seen. It was almost enough to break him… "It is not what you think. I swear, I did not mean to—you and Esther and Isabella! You were never meant to… this was not about…"

"If you wish to say something, Miss Dunn, say it," he hissed. "This is your last chance."

He almost wished that she might have an explanation. That she might laugh and tell him how silly he was being, that nothing he said was true. That somehow, in some way, she could prove him false and realign his fears, for this was not what he wanted. Not even a little bit.

And as she struggled to find the words, he begged silently, hoping…

"There is nothing to say…" She bowed her head again. "You are right. I am a liar and that…" She sniffed. "… that is the truth."

Frederick's heart broke in two. Strangely, as the anger surged, so did the despair. Oh, he wanted to hate her. He wanted fury and rancor and malice like nothing else. But he could not bring himself to find it. His legs shook. His stomach imploded. He might have collapsed if he did not want to look weak.

"But please!" She was on him now, looking back up, she reached out and took his face in her hands, holding it so he was forced to look at her. "You must know that I am sorry. I never wanted any of this—for you or anyone to be involved. I am so sorry."

"And yet we are," he said softly. Her hands on his face, still so soft and warm. He reached up and rested one hand on hers, held it there for it would be the last time he felt her. "You did this, Miss Dunn. You brought this on yourself."

"Please, tell Isabella that?—"

"You are not to see or speak with my daughter again." His voice cracked, and he could see her soul break at the words.

"Tell her I am sorry… and Esther too. Tell her… tell her… tell her…"

Frederick could not explain what came over him in that moment. Thoughts, memories of the last week flooded him, the realization that as happy as he had been, he would never feel that happiness again. Her hands on his face, her breath filling his nostrils, her body shaking mere inches away, and all he could think was that he needed to kiss her a final time, to know how that felt because he would never get to again.

And he did.

He leaned in and brought her face to his own. His lips touched hers softly. She sucked in as if breathing him in for the last time, body stiff, still shaking but calming slightly as their tongues lapped and their hands held one another. They kissed passionately and deeply. They kissed as if it was their first time, not their last. They kissed as if the world was about to end, and they were the only two in it.

And when Frederick pulled away, he knew that it would be the last time that he ever tasted Miss Dunn on his lips, and that, perhaps, hurt the most.

"I want you gone," he said, his voice a whisper, speaking past her because he could not bear to look at her.

"Your Grace…" she sobbed gently, body heaving.

"When I leave here, I will collect my grandmother and daughter for supper," he continued, forcing the words, each one like acid on his tongue. "Once we are in the dining room, you are to pack your things and leave."

"Please…"

"Take one of my carriages. Direct the driver to wherever you need to go, I do not care. But you are to leave here tonight. And do not dare come back."

He could see her trying to talk. Between the sobs. Between the moans of pain and agony. He could literally sense the words forming on her lips only to fade into nothingness before leaving them. Unable to look at him, head bowed, she wept and shuddered and withdrew in on herself—a sight that broke Frederick like nothing else.

In the end, all she could do was nod her understanding, for words and reason had left her.

And Frederick, knowing he had to leave now, for he was not strong enough to stay, turned and strode toward the door. He made sure to stand tall, to look in control and powerful as he unlocked the door, threw it open, and stormed out. But in control, powerful… these were as far from how he felt as was possible.

He had no doubt that Miss Dunn was hurting. Even if she had been lying, he sensed that her pain was real, that perhaps the lie had become lost in her reality, and there were feelings there that she did not expect. But it did not matter as Frederick was surely hurting even more than she was.

And for that, he would never forgive her.