Page 186 of The Scandal You Started
He hadn’t been clueless to the whispers behind fans and subtly probing questions. Everyone in attendance was wondering if his withdrawal from society the previous Season would extend to the new one too. But he didn’t let it bother him as he played the poised marquess and proud big brother to the hostess as he talked his way through the crowd of guests.
Right up until the entrance of Lady Claire Ermina and her father, the Earl of Greymond.
His heart and stomach had both tried to flee his body upon hearing her name, his feet wanting to move with them. But as if she’d known he’d try to escape at some point, Mother Penny held his arm in a surprisingly strong latch.
He’d been trapped, forced to watch the woman he’d married in another life walk through the crowd, greeting the stream of eligible gentlemen and judgy matrons that had flitted to her.
She was a handsome woman. Tall and pretty. Her coiffured hair a silvery-blonde, her skin porcelain, and her eyes a sharp, ruby-red. Her posture and gaze had a controlled politeness about them, but he caught glimpses of sass and mischief whenever a gentleman clearly said something that piqued her.
In those moments, Dominic had understood why that version of him had married Lady Claire.
She was like Rayna.
Too clever for the bird-witted men around her who thought women weren’t meant to have ideas beyond marriage and children. Too much of a challenge for them to manage. But she wasn’t meant to be managed. She was meant to be with someone who would nurture her spirit.
The nausea had returned with a vengeance after that, with an anchor of guilt descending through it. The second Mother Penny had made the mistake of letting go of him to greet an old friend of hers, he’d bolted from his sister’s ball.
He’d rushed out into the garden under the early March night’s sky, thrown up what little he’d eaten for lunch in a pot of small, white flowers, and then snuck over the back wall before jogging down two streets to get home.
Obviously, his absence at dinner hadn’t gone unnoticed by his family, or anyone really, and the next morning, Mary stormed into the Norland residence with child and husband in tow to demand answers.
“Mama angry,” Fredrick, the two-year-old Viscount Vincent and heir to the Flyntward Earldom, said to Art, cracking the tense silence in the cream and gold morning room.
Patricia snickered behind her fingers, sharing a sofa with a lounging Art, who held green-eyed Fredrick on his lap. Solomon, Patricia’s twin, grinned down at the floor, while sitting next to him, Flyn watched his wife pace with a mixture of concern and amusement. Candreas stood by the door, sneaking glances at Patricia, and Mother Penny sighed beside Dominic.
Art clamped his twitching lips together and leaned into the little viscount. “She is rather, isn’t she?” he muttered. “Uncle Evie is in big trouble.”
Mary suddenly stopped pacing and flashed a warning glare at Art. “You are in just as much trouble, Art. But I will get to that once I have dealt with him.”
Art pinkened as he gulped and slid back in his seat, and Mary whirled away.
Two years his junior, Art Louis Hussain Thorne had the same sharp, shadowed jaw as Dominic, but with their father’s brown eyes. Solomon Dylan Thorne, like Patricia, had dark hair and pale brown eyes. While Mary Alexandra Prince looked just likeMother Penny, with her light hair and gentle eyes. Except, there was nothing gentle about the way she was scowling at Dominic.
“Explain yourself, Evie,” his sister ordered. “Now.”
“I apologise, Mary,” he said earnestly. “I was feeling unbearably unwell and left for some fresh air. But by the time I realised it, I had walked home. I truly do not know what came over me.”
He didn’t think it’d do him any good to admit he’d vomited in her garden, so he kept that part to himself.
“Oh, is that so?” she said sarcastically, cocking a rounded hip. “Because Hattington was sure he saw you escape over the garden wall.”
Dominic clenched his teeth, his cheeks burning, as all eyes settled on him.
Damn you, Bentley.
“You did what?” Art asked, gaping, as Patricia threw her head back and laughed, clapping her hands joyfully.
“Evie,” Mother Penny uttered in disbelief.
“I did not wish to be seen,” Dominic said through gritted teeth.
Art hooted with Patricia, both of them tumbling into each other and grabbing a squealing Fredrick as he jostled on Art’s lap.
Mary crossed her arms over her chest and scrutinised Dominic through narrowed eyes. “So your escape had nothing to do with the woman you have fallen in love with?”
All laughter suddenly halted, and the room went silent.
Dominic rubbed his jaw from side to side and slid a glare towards his friend. But Flyn had become rather interested in the pattern decorating the fabric sofa.
