#thread: frederic

Dominic couldn’t take another mindless dance partner or be accosted by an eager parent in their attempts to match their child with a marquess. He knew his title and family fortune would make him a good match, but Dominic just wanted a moment’s peace. He’d made an excuse to retire to the refreshment table, mindlessly watching the dancing as he poured himself a cup. Mary Barnett was here; that couldn’t be avoided. It was her sister’s event, but it wasn’t something Dominic was happy about. She’d clearly chosen a garnet, or some cheaper imitation, as her stone. Dominic looked around the room and saw Frederic talking with another gentleman his age, which hit Dominic. Frederic was also dressed in honour of a garnet. Irritation courses coldly beneath his ribs, and then Dominic crosses the room. He offered Frederic’s friends a quick nod before he took Frederic by the arm, guiding him out of the room. “Tell me", Dominic said, his voice low and dangerously measured, "was it intentional?” 

Before Frederic could answer, a servant hurried past, and Dominic released his grip. Between Edgar and Frederic, it was like Dominic was the only one who cared about the family. They didn’t care that the fate of their family was on all of them, not just Dominic. They were happy to spend his money and test his patience. “Do you understand what this could mean for our family?” Dominic asked, his anger and irritation almost getting the best of him.

The social season was still occurring, but this year Dominic couldn’t stay for the entire thing. He’d made his excuses to return to Ireland, back to the comforts of Hillsborough Castle. His mother, Lady Daniella, stayed in London to filter out any prospects. She’d chastised him enough for having his title for eleven years and still no wife, but it wasn’t Dominic’s priority. Back home, the castle was silent. It would’ve been insufferable to most, but Dominic enjoyed it. He liked hearing the rain beat against the windows and the fire crackling in his study. Tonight, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t concentrate. Instead of Dominic’s eyes finding the ledgers and letters, they wandered up to the portraits. There was one from his grandfather's, but the one that got his attention was one from his mother’s. Their official wedding portrait with Lady Edith’s gaze looking out from her gilded stillness. Both of his mother’s expressions were composed; it didn’t capture the love they’d had for each other. Dominic forgot he had a glass of brandy in his hand when he’d heard footsteps outside. They weren’t the servant’s light feet, but Dominic knew who they’d belong to just by the sound. Dominic didn’t turn to greet Frederic when the door opened. “Shut the door, Frederic,” Dominic said without turning to greet his brother. “I can’t tolerate the draft.” He could feel the cold coming through the door the moment he’d opened it. All it did was bring Dominic back to reality and not the warm distraction of his work. When the door shut, Dominic finally turned to face his youngest brother. He should’ve been in school, but instead he was here. Dominic poured a drink for him and extended the glass without meeting his brother’s eyes. “I didn’t think the term ended early; if you’re struggling there, you’ll need to let me know.”

The O’Connor house was unusually quiet. Frederic hadn’t long returned, and Dominic just assumed Edgar was passed out drunk at some club. It wasn’t even ten o'clock, and the majority of his duties were completed. His valet had set Whistledown on his desk along with some other papers, but Whistledown was the priority. Dominic didn’t wait. He’d sat down and began reading, but one passage held his attention. He’d re-read it three times. Mary Barnett was the diamond of the season. His jaw tightened out of annoyance, and then he took a slow, measured breath. Frederic was newly returned, still unmarried, but the Barnetts hadn’t changed much. They were still ruined financially, and it’d be a point of pride now that they don’t unite their families. Dominic didn’t hesitate. With an abrupt precision, he’d folded the sheet and strode into Frederic’s study without calling for a servant. He didn’t even greet his brother. Instead, Dominic slammed the paper on the desk, right in front of Frederic. “You’ll not court her,” he said, his voice filled with authority. “If there’s any fondness that remains, you’ll have the good sense to squash it down, but you’ll be ruined, just like her.” It wasn’t a subtle warning. Dominic straightened his shoulders, his hand lingering on the paper. All three of the O’Connor sons were unmarried. All of them needed a match, and Mary wasn’t to be considered. “Am I clear?” He asked, his voice almost thundering in the room. He didn’t stop staring at Frederic as he waited for his answer.

Dominic only ever attended a handful of fairs in his life. His mum, Lady Edith, had insisted on taking her boys a few times back home. He remembered eating the candied sweets and watching people shoot at the archery games. As a boy, it was all a wonder. Now, Dominic had grown. He saw the faces of those who worked these stalls, the cheating and the low chances of winning. It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. It was part of the thrill. Everyone knew the games were rigged, and still they paid. He’d been walking about when Dominic was pulled into a game of ringtoss. Dominic failed the first round, but he’d still left with a smile on his face. Then he saw Frederic. The two hadn’t left on the best of terms, but if Edgar were warming back up to him, there could’ve been hope for them as well. “Frederic!” Dominic called out, practically pulling his brother to his side. “Come. Let’s have a game like we used to and see who wins.” Dominic didn’t care for winning, not at this moment. The prize was just some cheap ceramic, probably costing less than the price of a round, but it was all for fun.