He had been shocked, angry, but deep down he now knew she was right. He hadn’t been thinking straight when he had kissed her. He hadn’t been thinking straight since he’d first met her. When he had seen her at the train station, all he wanted to do was hold her, to kiss her. He had not been thinking of Lady Cecily. He had not been thinking of his sisters and their chances of making good marriages. He had not been thinking of his family’s position in society. He had been thinking of nothing except his own needs, of having Nellie back in his arms. He had let his passions rule his head. But Nellie had a cooler head than him. She had been the one to act rationally.
But it had all been for nothing, anyway. After what had happened between himself and Nellie, he knew he could not marry Cecily. But before he had a chance to tell her and her father that the engagement was off, he discovered that she had run off with her footman.
He moved the uneaten breakfast around on his plate. It appeared he had never really known Cecily Hardgrave. Her reserve and coolness towards him were not due to her aristocratic bearing, nor was it because they had yet to get to know each other properly. It was because she was in love with another man. Yet she had been willing to marry him because that was what her father wanted, what society expected. In one way he and Cecily Hardgrave were alike. They had both been trying to do what was right, to do their duty by their family and conform to society’s expectations.
Before the Duke of Ashmore had told him that Cecily had gone to America with her footman, Dominic had tried to write to her, but had been unable to compose a letter to express or explain what had happened. He’d been unable to do that because he was still trying to make sense of it himself. All he could write was that he was profoundly sorry and that was true. Sorry for what she had seen, sorry that he no longer wanted to marry her, sorry for how he had treated her, sorry for the whole damn episode.
He had never sent the letter because a crestfallen Duke of Ashmore had arrived at his home. Dominic was sure that Cecily had told him everything she had seen in the library. He had been unsure how the Duke would have taken the news that the man he expected to be his future son-in-law had been caught with another woman. The Duke had suspected Nellie was Dominic’s mistress, even though it wasn’t the case. The Duke had even said he had no objection to Dominic having a mistress as long as he was discreet. But a lack of discretion was one of the many crimes Dominic had committed.
The Duke had been within his rights to call off the engagement—after all, such a marriage would be an insult to his daughter after what she had witnessed. Dominic was prepared to extend him the privilege of ending the engagement and of telling society whatever he liked about the reasons—it was no more than Dominic deserved.
But instead of reprimanding Dominic for his lack of discretion, he had come to apologise. The Duke had told him, with great shame, that Cecily had run off with her footman and no one knew where she had gone. She had left a note to say she loved the man, wanted to marry him and begged her father not to try to find her.
The Duke was deeply embarrassed by his daughter’s behaviour and kept apologising. Dominic had assured him, repeatedly, that there was nothing to be sorry for. Throughout their conversation Dominic had been forced to keep his face serious and suppress the smile that was threatening to reveal the happiness he was feeling. He was so pleased for Cecily. She had not been hurt by his behaviour. If anything, it had freed her. It might not make sense for the daughter of a duke to marry a footman, but who was Dominic to judge anyone? Particularly when Cecily had proven she had the courage to do what she wanted, rather than what society demanded. Once he would have scorned such behaviour, but now it brought him immense pleasure and he quietly wished Cecily every happiness with her footman. The pursuit of happiness—that was something else he would have scorned just a few months ago.
But even if he admired Cecily, it did not mean it was an example that he could follow. Unlike Cecily he had other people to consider. When he’d chased Nellie to the train station he had been prepared to throw in everything for her, his position, his sisters’ futures, everything. It was only her good sense that had stopped him from making a rash, regrettable mistake.
Unlike Cecily he had three sisters who needed to make good marriages. He could not subject them, or their children, to the scorn of being an outsider, someone who was looked down on because of their lowly position in society. He could not let history repeat itself by marrying someone from Nellie’s world.
His mother had caused a scandal when she had married an ex-stable boy. For that action she’d been ostracised from society, and so had her children. How much more damage would be caused if he married a former servant, someone in trade? His sisters’ chances of making good marriages would go from slim to non-existent.
That only left Dominic with one choice. He had to put all thoughts of Nellie Regan out of his mind. He had to still the tempest of thoughts that were storming around inside his head, had to banish memories of her eyes, her lips
