Despite their differences in class he, too, had found himself somewhat fascinated by the young lady. More than somewhat, if he was being completely honest. It wasn’t just her beauty, although there was no denying that she was strikingly attractive. It was her energy and vitality that were particularly captivating. And despite his best efforts he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those green eyes all night, their striking jade intensity invading his dreams.
The coachman continued to cast glances in her direction as he went about his work, although there seemed to be more laughter and chatter than work taking place. Dominic even suspected the coachman was drawing out his task so he could continue to talk to Nellie Regan. They were fortunate it was such an early hour and most occupants of the house would either be still in bed or dining in the breakfast room. Dominic was sure such public revelry among the servants would be frowned upon by the Duke and Duchess of Ashmore and most of their guests. But at this hour the only people about were the household servants and the troop of gardeners, who were busy trimming the topiaries in the formal gardens that surrounded the house.
Miss Regan clapped her hands together and laughed louder at something the footman had said, the musical tinkling of her laughter reaching Dominic high up in his hidden eyrie. As she laughed, she placed her hand on the footman’s arm and the man smiled down at her, as pleased as Punch that his joke had elicited such a reaction.
Burning bile ripped up Dominic’s throat as if the coffee were too bitter. What could the man have said that had caused her so much delight? What was there between them that meant she could be so familiar as to touch him? Was she involved with the footman? Was he her beau?
She released her hand and said something to the coachman. Standing up on the carriage, he grinned down at Miss Regan, his face flushed with pleasure. It seemed the footman was not someone special in her life. The little minx was flirting with both men and both men were thoroughly enjoying it.
Dominic scowled at the coffee cup and placed it on the side table beside the window. It hit the saucer with an angry clink. Was the coachman the sort of man who could capture Miss Regan’s heart? Or would she prefer the footman? Whoever did have that honour would be a lucky man. She really was a rare beauty that any man would be proud to call his wife.
Although he would have his work cut out for him. A demure, subservient woman Miss Regan most definitely was not. He could hardly imagine her becoming someone’s obedient wife.
The contrast between Nellie Regan and Lady Cecily couldn’t be more striking and he didn’t just mean in terms of the class into which they’d been born. Miss Regan was chatting and laughing with these two men as if she had known them all her life. Even though he and Lady Cecily were now engaged to be married, there was still not that easy familiarity that Miss Regan had already established with these two men. Cecily had never looked at him with laughter in her eyes or touched his arm affectionately as they shared a joke. In fact, conversation between them still remained the polite, strained exchanges of people who barely knew each other and had little common ground.
He looked away from Nellie Regan and the laughing servants, out at the horizon, over the rolling parklands of Hardgrave Estate to the distant horizon, where the summer sun was shining in a clear blue sky.
He should not be thinking like that. He was engaged to Lady Cecily and she deserved his respect. She did not deserve to be compared to other women. In fact, he should not even be thinking about any other woman and certainly not someone who was only one step above a servant. If his parents had taught him anything, it was the devastating outcomes that eventuated when people of different classes mixed.
Not that he had any interest in Miss Regan. None whatsoever. He wished the coachman luck, or the footman, or whoever. If Miss Regan was involved with the coachman, the footman, or any other servant, it would be entirely appropriate. Just as his engagement to Cecily Hardgrave was entirely appropriate. The classes mixing only caused heartache.
He looked back down at the scene taking place before him. The coachman had finally finished his work and was now sitting on top of the carriage, the reins in his hands. Presumably he was going to park the carriage and wait for his passengers. The Somerfelds had a surprisingly small amount of luggage. Only one case was strapped to the back of the carriage.
Still chatting and laughing, the footman held out his hand and Miss Regan climbed into the carriage. The coachman flicked the reins and with a snort of compliance the two black horses trotted off down the drive, the wheels crunching on the gravel.
What was happening? Was Nellie Regan leaving? All by herself in the Duke’s private carriage? She couldn’t be. He still hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to her. He couldn’t disappoint his sister. Grabbing his jacket, Dominic rushed towards the bedroom door. Pulling it on, he raced down the long corridor, sped down the three flights of stairs, out through the entrance hall and down the outside stairs.
The footman looked at him in surprise and then stood to attention.
The carriage was now at the end of the long, tree-lined drive and about to turn on to the country road that led away from the estate. He had missed her.
‘Miss Regan, I must speak to you.’ His loud shout broke the silence of the quiet morning air, causing a nearby peacock to squawk and the gardeners to look
