Chapter 5

Frances sat by the window of her room, her thoughts turbulent despite the quiet hour. Her day had been filled with the exhausting parade of suitors her mother had enthusiastically presented, each encounter leaving her more drained than the last. Of course, Albina Cooper had taken the dinner as an opportunity to introduce her to gentlemen whom she had little interest in.

One suitor after another had paraded in front of her, each one insufferable than the last. They had all seemed perfectly agreeable on the surface—well-dressed, polite, and interested in her—but none had sparked even the faintest flicker of genuine interest.

With each forced conversation, Frances felt her spirits sink a little more, her smiles becoming more strained.

Dinner had been the culmination of this exhausting charade. Albina had used the occasion to showcase Frances to a select group of eligible gentlemen, her eyes alight with the prospect of potential matches. Frances had played her part dutifully, but her heart wasn't in it. She had felt like a puppet, her strings pulled by her mother's aspirations.

And then there was also her meeting with Christopher. Frances did not know what to make of this new connection that she had found with him.

What would her involvement in the twins' life look like? She was not sure what she was getting herself into, but for the sake of Lydia and the promise that she had made to her, she was willing to dive in headfirst.

It was a scary thing, though. The uncertainty. She had so easily told Christopher something that she had thought she would take to the grave.

The thought unsettled her. Was it her desperation that made her confess? Or was it something about his person that made the process so easy?

Whatever it was, it was too late now to backtrack.

She hoped that he would keep her secret. If Albina were to discover her involvement with Lydia's departure, she would never hear the end of it.

As she looked out her window, a figure moving swiftly across the lawn caught her eye. Her curiosity piqued, she watched as the figure approached the manor, clearly heading for the servants' entrance. A few minutes later, her maid, Anna, entered the room, an envelope in hand.

"A letter for you, My Lady," Anna said, her voice low. "It's marked as urgent, from the Duke of Huntington."

Frances's heart skipped a beat. She took the envelope, her fingers trembling slightly as she broke the seal. The message inside was clear, and she did not waste time reading it a second time.

"Anna, fetch my cloak, please."

"My Lady, at this hour?" The maid stared back at her, stunned.

"It is urgent, and I must leave right away. It must be discreet."

The maid did not question her further and brought her cloak straight away.

"Make sure no one ones about my departure," Frances instructed.

She was taking a large risk sneaking out of the manor at this hour. If she were discovered, her reputation would suffer greatly. But if the children needed her, then there was no doubt about what she needed to do.

She slipped away into the darkness of the night, the carriage sent by the Duke already waiting for her outside. The journey to Huntington Manor was quick, for the roads were empty at such a late hour.

But as the estate drew nearer, doubts began to creep into Frances's mind. What if she were discovered? What if someone saw her and reported her presence to her mother? The consequences would be severe, the scandal unimaginable. Albina would never forgive her, and the family's reputation would be irrevocably tarnished.

But then Frances reminded herself of Lydia.

She would have done the same for you, and more. You owe this to her children. You should be there for them, whenever they might need you.

It was not much of a solace, but it was enough to strengthen her resolve.

After all, the Duke would not have written to her if it was not extremely urgent. He was a part of Society and knew better than anyone what the stakes were, inviting her at such a late hour.

Upon arrival, she was met by the Duke's valet, who seemed to have been waiting for her. His face was a mask of relief when he saw her.

"Lady Frances, thank you for coming so promptly," he said as he led her through the dimly lit corridors of the manor to the twins' room.

Inside, the scene tugged at her heartstrings. Christopher stood over the twins, his posture tense with concern. Edwin was asleep, his breathing finally even, but Ernest lay awake, his eyes wide until they landed on Frances. A visible wave of relief washed over the boy's face.

"Frances!" he exclaimed softly.

Frances approached his bed, her expression soothing.

"Good evening, Ernest. I heard you've had a tough night," she said gently, taking his hand in hers.

"I could not sleep."

"That is not good, is it? How would you like it if I told you a story to sleep? Perhaps the one about the giant and the princess?"

Ernest's face lit up immediately. Frances had chosen the story because she knew it was one that his mother used to tell him before bed.

She settled more comfortably beside him, her voice soft and soothing as she began the story.

"Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there was a beautiful princess named Elara. She lived in a grand castle surrounded by lush gardens and shimmering lakes. The people of the kingdom loved her dearly, for she was kind and wise, and her heart was as generous as the sun."

Ernest's eyes grew wide with anticipation.

"But beyond the peaceful lands of Princess Elara's kingdom lay the dark and mysterious Forest of Shadows," Frances continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It was said that a fearsome giant named Gorgorath lived there. He was a creature of immense size, with arms like tree trunks and a roar that could shake the mountains."

"Was he very scary?" Ernest asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Frances nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes. Gorgorath was indeed very scary. He guarded a treasure deep within the forest—a treasure that many had sought but none had ever found. They said that whoever could retrieve the treasure would be granted a wish, a wish that could change their life forever."

Ernest's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Did Princess Elara want the treasure?"

She loved that she had his attention. It was enough to get his mind distracted and get him comfortable enough to sleep peacefully.

Frances smiled, shaking her head. "No, dear Ernest. Princess Elara had everything she needed in her beautiful kingdom. But one day, a terrible storm swept through the land. The winds howled, and the rain poured down, and when the storm finally passed, Elara discovered that her most precious possession, a magical golden locket given to her by her late mother, was missing."

Ernest gasped, his hands flying to his chest as if he could feel the princess's loss.

His reaction was quite endearing, even though the situation itself was serious.

"Oh no! Did the giant take it?"

"Yes, the locket had been blown away by the storm and had landed in the Forest of Shadows. Princess Elara knew that she had to face Gorgorath and retrieve the locket, for it was the only way to keep her mother's memory close to her heart."

Ernest listened intently, his eyes wide with anticipation. "Was she scared?"

"Of course, she was scared," Frances replied softly. "But Elara was also brave and determined. She gathered her courage and set off towards the forest. She walked through the dark, twisted trees, her heart pounding with fear. The path was treacherous, and shadows seemed to reach out to her at every turn."

"But she didn't stop," Ernest whispered, caught up in the tale.

"No, she didn't stop," Frances agreed. "She continued onward, and soon she found herself standing before the great cave where Gorgorath lived. The entrance was guarded by a huge boulder, which Elara knew she could never move on her own."

Ernest frowned, worried about the princess. "What did she do?"

Frances's eyes twinkled as she continued. "Elara was clever as well as brave. She remembered the stories about Gorgorath's love for music. So, she took out her mother's little golden harp, which she had brought with her, and began to play a beautiful, enchanting melody."

Ernest's face brightened, sensing that a turn in the story was coming. "Did the giant like the music?"

Frances nodded, her voice softening. "Yes, the giant loved the music. The melody was so beautiful that Gorgorath emerged from his cave, his great head swaying to the tune. He had never heard such lovely music before, and he listened in wonder."

"Then what happened?" Ernest asked, his eyes wide.

"Well, the giant, moved by her song, felt his heart soften. He realized that this was no ordinary visitor, but a princess with a pure and loving soul."

As she continued telling the story, Frances could feel Christopher's eyes on her the entire time. He had left the bed and now was leaning against the doorframe. They had not exchanged any words as of yet, and she felt nervous to talk to him.

Slowly, Ernest's eyelids began to droop, and soon he too drifted off to sleep, his hand still clasped in Frances's.

When she was certain that he had slept, she quietly slipped away, only to be stopped by Christopher outside the twins' room.

"I… I do not know what to say." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Except thank you. You took a large risk coming here tonight."

Frances shrugged her shoulders. "I promised Lydia that I would do whatever I could for her children. And I am not one to break promises."

Christopher nodded, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway. "Even so. I am not blind to the fact that it is a big risk for a young woman to come out at this late hour. I would never have asked you for such a thing if it were not truly urgent."

"Your Grace, I did this out of my own volition. Besides, I do not have any suitors that would abandon me, even if my reputation is ruined." She smiled. "Though my mother would certainly not be too happy to find out. I should head back before she wakes up."

Christopher looked around the hallway. "Perhaps we can have a talk before you leave? In private."

Frances hesitated. She had already gone too far coming here. Could she risk more of a scandal?

"You do not need to worry about anyone finding out. My staff is trustworthy, and they would never mention a word to anyone. I take responsibility for that. It will only be a minute, and then I shall have you escorted back to your home immediately."

She reluctantly agreed and followed him into his study. Even though it did not appear to be a good idea on the surface, something in her heart told her to hear him out.

He closed the door behind him and then turned to face her with a searching expression.

Now that she was alone with him, her mind began to race as she realized just how much of a scandal it truly would be if she were to be discovered like this.

It would even make sense, perhaps. He was attractive enough to fit the bill, and ladies who were caught in scandals were often caught with men just like him.

"You do not need to be so scared," he reassured her, his tone turning sympathetic.

"What is that you need to speak to me about?" Her words came out rushed.

There was silence. The Duke appeared to be at a crossroads. It did nothing to soothe her anxiety.

"Would you tell me at least?"

"I want to know if you were serious," he finally blurted out, "when you suggested marrying me."

Frances felt her cheeks heat up. She had not expected him to bring that up.

"It felt like the rational thing at the time. I do not have any suitors, nor am I in love with anyone. My mother wants me married, and I care more about the children than I do finding a husband."

"Are you certain that you do not have any suitors?" he pressed, surprised.

"Your Grace," she sighed, shaking her head. "I came all this way in the middle of the night. I have very little reason to lie to you at this moment."

"I was not suggesting that you are a liar." His tone softened. "It's just hard to believe, considering you are so…" he trailed off, then cleared his throat. "Very well, I just wanted to make sure."

Her heart rate quickened in anticipation. He was looking at her quite strangely now, and she felt curiosity burning inside her.

"Lady Frances, I never quite… envisioned myself doing this in such an abrupt manner, but I would like to ask you for your hand in marriage, formally."

She blinked at him, stunned.

"I mean, it is the most rational thing to do, as you said. You are looking for a husband, and I should have a wife, as well. The children are already attached to you, and…"

"Your Grace, I?—"

"Please, do not refuse. I know it's not the romantic proposal most women anticipate."

"I will accept," she blurted out, "but only if you formally ask for my father's blessing."

They both stared at each other as if they were seeing the other for the first time. Something between them had shifted, and it had happened all too rapidly.

"I shall do that as early as tomorrow," he said, finally breaking the silence.

"Very well then. I shall take my leave."

"Safe travels, My Lady."

Frances let out a deep sigh as she made her way out of his study, pinching herself to see if this was truly happening.

What have I just agreed to?

* * *

The morning light did little to ease Frances's restless thoughts as she woke from a fitful sleep. The events of the previous night replayed in her mind. The urgency of Christopher's plea, the quiet drive to the manor, the peaceful resolution with the children, and most importantly… the proposal—it all seemed like a vivid dream now.

As she prepared for the day, Frances felt a nervous tension building in her shoulders. Her mother was already planning her social engagements, unaware of what Frances had gotten up to the night before.

Thankfully, Albina was a heavy sleeper. A war could be waged outside, and she would still not wake up. That worked to Frances's benefit, and she hoped that the maid would not tell on her either.

"Frances, dear, remember we have a walk planned this morning. The Withertons will be there, and I hear Mr. Witherton's nephew has just returned to the city. Quite an eligible young man," her mother droned on as they sat down for breakfast.

Frances nodded absently, her thoughts drifting. The mention of suitors and social calls filled her with a sense of dread rather than the usual mild annoyance.

What if someone saw me leave? What if someone finds out about my visit to the Duke?

The scandal would ruin not just her reputation but potentially affect the Duke and his nephews as well.

"Frances." Albina's sharp tone brought her back to reality. "Are you even listening to anything I am saying to you?"

"Yes, Mother." Frances nearly jumped in her seat. "The walk."

Albina looked at her, concerned. "What time did you sleep last night?"

"L-last night?" Frances stuttered, her hands suddenly trembling.

Could she possibly know?

"Why, I was in bed right after we returned from the dinner. You may ask Anna about it."

"It doesn't seem like it. I suspect you have not slept well."

"Not at all, Mother. I slept just fine," Frances assured, though it was a lie.

She had returned so late last night and barely managed to get any sleep, her thoughts keeping her awake.

"If you say so." Her mother's gaze returned to the plate in front of her, and Frances breathed a sigh of relief. "Make sure to dress well for our walk later. I am hoping to finally make some strides in your search for a suitor. It is about time."

If only you knew, Mother.

The morning walk in the park was a well-attended affair, with the crisp air filled with the chatter of the local gentry. Frances walked beside her mother, her eyes scanning the crowd for familiar faces, her mind half-expecting the Duke to appear. Every rustle of leaves, every sudden greeting made her start.

As they strolled, her mother's voice buzzed in her ear, pointing out various gentlemen and recounting bits of gossip. Frances responded with noncommittal murmurs, her attention split. When Mr. Witherton's nephew approached, a tall gentleman with a polite smile, Frances greeted him with practiced grace, though her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Lady Frances, allow me to introduce myself, I am John Witherton," he said, striking up a conversation with her, "I've heard that you are quite fond of books."

"That I am," Frances replied, her anxiety lessening a bit.

Could it be possible that her mother had finally introduced her to someone who had the same interests as her? It could not come at a worse time, of course. But her curiosity was momentarily piqued.

"Tell me," he prodded, "what do you get out of reading so much that you do not find in the real world?"

"Oh…" Frances' face fell. Perhaps she had spoken too soon. "Well, it helps me discover the world, for one."

The gentleman smirked at her. "I suppose it is a good hobby for a lady, given how she does not get to see the world for herself. Reading the accounts of other men would have to do."

Something about his comment rubbed her the wrong way, though she did not call him out on it.

As their conversation went on, he continued to tell her about all his travels, rarely giving her a chance to speak. He was full of himself, that much was clear. But she was grateful, too, that she did not have to contribute much to the conversation, given her already distracted thoughts.

She kept thinking of Christopher. The irrational part of her whispered doubts about his promise to visit, to speak to her father.

What if he decided to change his mind?

When their walk finally ended, Frances was eager to get away from him.

"You are an excellent listener," Lord Witherton commented before they said their goodbye.

And you only speak about yourself.

"Perhaps my mother will be in touch with you soon." He smiled at her, and her stomach churned at the words.

It would be better to be single than to be married to someone as self-obsessed as Lord Witherton.

By the time they returned home, her nerves were frayed, and the constant hum of the man's monologue had left her exhausted.

"How was it, then?" her mother demanded once they were in the privacy of their home. "He seemed like such a nice boy. I'm sure he will take great care of you, too."

Frances wanted to tell her mother that he was not the right match for her, but she kept quiet instead. She did not look forward to an argument.

"Mother, would you excuse me? I believe I need to go lie down for a bit. I've had a headache all morning."

Albina did not seem pleased but nodded anyway. "It's the book you read late into the night. All those words inside your head, they cannot be any good."

Frances pursed her lips and slipped away upstairs.

In the quiet of her room, she paced, wrestling with her thoughts. She reflected on the Duke's character, his kindness, and his clear affection for his nephews.

Could such a man disregard his promise so easily? Doubt lingered, but a small flicker of hope remained. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would indeed come, just as he said he would.

Christopher Grant, Duke of Huntington, had been a surprising and unexpected presence in her life. He was nothing like the suitors her mother had paraded before her.

He seemed to hold his own in conversation, and he had a charm that seemed unique to him. She did not know too much about him yet, but this she did.

But would he keep his promise?

That was the question that kept repeating in her mind, over and over again.

Frances closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She had to believe in something, to hold on to the hope that not everyone was as calculating and self-serving as the suitors her mother had chosen for her.

Though it would be an extraordinary act of self-sacrifice to marry only so you could give your brother's children a chance at a normal life.

Did the Duke not have anyone he was interested in already?

Surprisingly, the thought irked Frances, and she had to reel herself in.

Did it matter?

Well, of course, it did if he was going to ask for her hand. She realized that she did not bring the matter up to him before, and now it was just another thing that she worried about.

Perhaps the only thing that she could do now was wait.

He had to keep his promise. He just had to.