“I think it will be a mistake, Melinda.” Her father spoke kindly, but Dahlia sensed the determination behind his words. His daughter would not win this standoff.
“Lady Melinda, might I suggest we take one room to start. Any room you’d like. Your mother’s touch is everywhere in this house. I think what your father is saying is that he’d also like to have a little of you here as well. Even if you decide to do nothing more than the one room, it is still something that he can look upon as a thing of pride as he thinks of you.”
Lady Melinda cast her a wry smile. “Very well, Miss Farthingale. You have convinced me. One room.” She put a finger to her lips as though seriously contemplating her options. “If I am to choose, then it must be my father’s study.”
The duke arched an eyebrow, not at all pleased. “Melinda, this is where Dawson and I conduct our work. Can you not choose another? It will be very disruptive.”
“No, Father. This is where you spend most of your time. I want you to think of me whenever you look up from your ledgers. You were the one who pushed for this. Will you not honor it now?”
He clenched his jaw in obvious displeasure. “No. My study it is. When do you plan to start? Dawson and I will have to move to another room while you are tearing this one apart.”
“Not at all,” Dahlia said. “In the first stages, we will only be sketching out a plan. Then it is a matter of choosing colors and patterns. There will be perhaps a week of upheaval as we paint and have the floors refreshed. But it does not have to be done immediately. We can take care of it whenever you are out of town.”
“Since Mr. Dawson practically lives in here, I shall ask for his opinion as well,” Melinda added. “We’ll show both of you the design and take your comments. However, the decision will ultimately be mine. Is that agreeable to you, Father?”
She was smiling at him, and Dahlia sensed that Lady Melinda had not smiled in a long time. Her father, as fierce and powerful a duke as he was, melted. “Yes, my dear. It is agreeable. Come, give your father a hug.”
Dahlia looked away a moment in order to lend them privacy. This was a special moment between father and daughter, and she did not wish to appear to be gawking at them. In truth, she was unsettled. Would these two remember their love for each other when the truth came out about Lady Melinda’s feelings for Mr. Dawson?
Not likely.
All hell would break loose.
And if the duke found out she had guessed the identity of Lady Melinda’s love and hadn’t told him?
The punishment would not fall on her so much as on Ronan.
Indeed, the duke would be a one-man destruction force in the House of Lords, ranting, shouting, condemning, as he pounded on his lectern. He would not stop until there was nothing left of the Royal Navy budget. And then he’d make it his life’s ambition to destroy Ronan.
She would not allow this to happen. There was only one thing to do, and that was to stall.
Yes, she had to come up with an excuse to delay the start of their project until after the vote. This way, if the duke went on a rampage, they’d have a year before the next budget came up to calm him down.
She was not married to Ronan. He had not asked her, merely hinted at it. And yet, they were already embroiled in problems that could tear them apart as a couple.
A sinking ship.
A secret love affair carried on under the duke’s nose that could very well turn into a current day tragedy to put the likes of Romeo and Juliet to shame.
Not to mention, Wainscott was still in London, creating problems.
What a jolly Yuletide season this was turning out to be.
The duke and his daughter had ended their sentimental moment. “Miss Farthingale, you seem to be contemplative. Is something amiss?”
“No, Your Grace. All is perfect. What could possibly be amiss?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dahlia had put off commencing work on the duke’s study for the week, stalling him by making up excuses about having to remain with Holly. It was not far from the truth. Although Holly was putting on a brave face to the world, she was dying inside. Joshua was still with Ronan in Tilbury, and all sorts of wild accounts were circulating in the newspapers, mostly gossip rags.
“Put down that paper,” Dahlia said, stealing it out of her hands and tossing it over to Heather. “Throw it into the fire.”
“No!” Holly shot out of her chair and tried to grab it back from their younger sister. But she was too late and could only watch in despair as the paper caught flame and quickly burned. “Why did you do that? You are being very cruel, Dahlia.”
“You shouldn’t be reading that rag. How can you believe their ridiculous rumors of sea monsters smashing up the ship and eating sailors?”
Holly sank back in her chair. “Because it is preferable to reading true accounts. All the legitimate newspapers are reporting there is an angry mob growing more restless and frustrated the longer The Invinctus remains run aground. It has been five days now, and I’ve received not a word from Joshua.”
“You know he and Ronan are busy,” Heather said, coming to her side. “Robbie’s come by every day to give us a report. He wouldn’t lie to us.”
Dahlia poured her sister a cup of hot cocoa. “Indeed, he’s done his best to keep us apprised. He’s probably revealed information that he wasn’t authorized to give out. No military secrets, of course. Just news that could be politically damaging to Lord Liverpool and his cabinet, especially Lord Peckham and his idiot brother, Viscount Hawley.”
She handed Holly the cup. “Heather, would you like some?”
“Oh, yes. Please.”
She poured two more, deciding to have one as well. “A four-year-old child would have known better than to sail that ship up the Thames. Surely, Hawley’s officers must have been pleading with him not to do it.”
“I will personally eviscerate Peckham and Hawley if any harm befalls Joshua.” Having said that, Holly then whipped out her handkerchief and began to cry into it.
Dahlia exchanged an exasperated glance with Heather. But they had no chance to distract their sister, for they suddenly heard a heavy pounding at the front door. Although Holly’s butler was there to answer, Heather immediately started for the door. “Let me see what this is about.”
Her young sister, too curious to contain herself, hurried out before Dahlia could stop her.
Dahlia considered following her, but Holly now appeared about to faint, and she dared not leave her. Dahlia grabbed her hand, trying not to show her own exasperation. “It is not a dangerous mission. There is no uprising. Just a group of jeering onlookers. Ronan is–”
Heather burst into the room with Robbie right behind her. “They’re back,” he said, looking remarkably glum for bearing such good news. Unless...
Dahlia rose, now clutching a hand over her heart. “What is it?”
Holly had turned ashen. “Joshua?”
“Och, no. Yer husband’s fine, Holly. He’s no more than a few minutes behind me.” He turned to stare at Dahlia.
The blood drained from her face. “What’s happened to Ronan?”
“He’s been hurt. Joshua is bringing him here to recover. I stopped by yer uncle’s infirmary and asked him to meet us here.”