Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

L ady Staunton's ball was the first of the season and therefore, the reason behind Frances' current headache. "Oh, I know! What if we twist the braid and weave it into the curls that are cascading down from the crown of your head?" Dorothy's not-so-subtle yank had Frances wishing for her bed. Any man who complained about what he needed to do to prepare for a ball was going to get a slipper up his… ow! " Dorothy! My head is attached to my body!"

Dorothy shot an apologetic look at Frances in the mirror. "Sorry. I know how important the first ball of the season is, and you seemed so out of sorts lately. I just want this night to go perfectly for you."

Francis massaged her temples. There was only one thing that would make the upcoming ball perfect, and it had nothing to do with the style of her hair and everything to do with a certain man who had been ignoring her for the past week.

"That's enough for one night, Dorothy. I don't think my scalp can take much more."

Dorothy excused herself and left Frances alone with her thoughts. A soft knock came, and Stephens entered. "Miss Frances? A letter has arrived for you from Froudrigh Manor."

Frances' eyes snapped to the little white envelope in his hand. She wasn't planning on seeing Jenny for another day to help with last-minute preparations for the ball.

She murmured her thanks to Stephens as she took the envelope and ripped it open. Her heart sank. It was from Jenny asking her to come tomorrow morning. She almost laughed at herself for thinking it could possibly be from the Duke. Ever since the closet, he had done his damnedest to avoid her. When he was there, it was only for moments before retiring to that smelly library to work.

She hated to admit it, but she missed him. She missed the way he challenged her, intrigued her; hell, she missed the way he angered her. She'd give anything to bicker with him. Instead, in the rare instances she had encountered him, he had been… pleasant.

Frances groaned flopped onto her bed and groaned into her pillow. She may have done her job too well when it came to him. People were now talking about how Duke Pilton had been more forthcoming and agreeable to talk with. Ugh. It shouldn't bother her; that was her job. She should be proud that she was able to turn the big oaf into someone who could hold a conversation with actual words instead of just grunts and eye rolls.

But she was bothered. She missed the gruffness of his voice when he was annoyed, the way his eyes flashed with defiance, or the way his lips curled into a smirk right before he was going to deliver a crushing blow to whomever he was talking to. He was a worthy adversary, and now, he was becoming the perfectly respected duke. She wanted to punch someone.

The next morning, Frances made her way over to the Pilton estate to meet Jenny. She was escorted into the parlor and took her normal seat across from the window that faced the street. Frances took a deep breath and relaxed as the smell of vanilla wafted into the parlor on the soft breeze

The parlor door swung open.

"Good morning, Jenny," Frances said as she watched people walk outside the window. "I hope you don't mind, Stephens offered me some tea before you came."

"That's his job."

The deep voice held her body hostage. She couldn't move, think, or breathe; she just sat there, waiting.

The Duke crossed the room and slammed the window shut. The thump of the pane hitting the sill broke the spell she was under.

"Why did you do that? It's a lovely morning, and the smell was delightful. What kind of flower is it?"

Thomas shrugged his shoulder and made his way to the door.

"You're leaving?" Frances turned in her seat, not trusting her legs to hold her up.

Thomas stopped with his hand on the door handle. "Jenny should be down shortly," he mumbled and left.

Frances sat stunned. Her cheeks flushed and her feelings were hurt. He acted as if he wanted nothing to do with her. Was she too forward in the closet? No. That could not be. With the kind of agreement they had, it would make sense that removing one's bottoms would be the next step. She had her leg wrapped around him for heaven's sake.

Jenny came bouncing in a moment later.

"Hi Frannie! Thank you so much for coming over today. I know we said we'd meet tomorrow, but I couldn't wait to tell you what I heard. Frances?" Jenny waved her hand in front of Frances' blank stare when she didn't respond. "Frances, are you well?"

Frances didn't have the strength to pretend but managed to blink her eyes to prevent any rogue tears from falling. "Yes, Jenny, thank you," her voice cracked. "Just overwhelmed with all the planning. What were you saying?"

Jenny scowled and glanced at the door. "Are you sure? I saw my brother pop in before I came in. He's been in a peculiar mood this past week. Did he say something to you?"

Frances just shook her head. "No. He just came in to close the window and said you'd be down shortly." Frances was desperate for information, but she could not bring herself to inquire about the Duke.

"We've finally been having beautiful weather, and he insists on closing every window Simmons opens. Who knows why?" Jenny waved the thought away with her hands. "Anyway, guess what?" Jenny kneeled at Frances' feet and took her hands in hers.

"People can't stop talking about my brother's transformation, and it's all because of you ." Jenny's eyes were bright, and she was beaming with pride for both her brother and her friend. "No one thought it could be done, but you managed the impossible!"

Frances swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. She wasn't in the mood to be congratulated. She felt as if she was losing her grasp on everything.

"You act as if I taught him to fly." She barely got the words out; her voice shook. Her eyes dropped to their clasped hands, and she willed God for strength to get through this conversation.

"You might as well have. He's a completely different person, well, outside these walls. Inside, he's as moody as ever. But hopefully that'll be someone else's cross to bear, thanks to you."

Frances' ears perked up. "What do you mean by that?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you. Being the new Duke, he was already on the top of every mama's list, but now that he is somewhat personable, girls are tripping over each other to get his attention." Jenny's eyes focused on her. Her smile faded slightly. "It seems you have tamed the beast."

Frances felt sick. The walls were closing in on her; she couldn't breathe. Her eyes darted to the window. He closed the window; there was no air. Frances jumped up; she needed to get outside. The quick movement caused the room to spin, and she tumbled back into the chair.

"Frances! Are you all right? Simmons! Frances, what is wrong?" Jenny stood up, reaching to stabilize Frances in the chair.

Frances pushed Jenny's helping hands away. "It's nothing. I wasn't feeling well this morning, but when I received your letter, I was worried you needed to see me regarding the ball. So I came first thing this morning."

"Oh, Frannie. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to imply it was of absolute necessity that you come today. I was just so excited and proud of you and my brother; I couldn't wait to tell you."

"Well, you could have," Frances snapped.

Jenny opened her mouth and then closed it.

Frances took another deep breath. Spots danced in front of her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jenny. I spoke out of turn. I should go. Please forgive me." Frances tried to rush past Jenny, but her friend grabbed her hand.

"Of course, Frances. Let me help you out to your carriage."

Frances twitched at the connection. She couldn't bear to be touched right now.

Simmons arrived and called for her carriage to be brought around. The carriage had barely stopped moving when Frances clamored inside.

Jenny peered in through the window. "Would you like me to escort you home? Or Thomas? I'm su?—"

"NO! I mean, please don't bother the Duke. I'm fine, really. The weather is getting warmer, and sometimes it can be too much. Please do not tell your brother. I-I don't want to inconvenience anyone. I'll meet you at the modiste tomorrow morning like we had planned."

Jenny stood outside the carriage, not convinced she should let Frances go alone. "All right. Please send word when you get home. I'll see you tomorrow."

The carriage pulled away. Through her tears, Frances saw Jenny turn on her heel and stomp towards the house.

Thomas watched as the carriage pulled away. He let go of the curtain and sat at the desk in the library, the damned smell of vanilla still coursing through the window that was still stuck open. The upside to the window being stuck open was the musty, dead smell was gone. The downside was the room that was supposed to be his escape was now his own prison thanks to one woman.

She was everywhere he went; he was unable to escape her. If he didn't smell her, Jenny was talking about her, or people were inquiring about her. It was now well known the secret to the Duke's newfound personality was Miss Frances Ambrose.

Which was the stupidest concept ever. He was still Thomas Bennet, the pig-headed shopkeeper from the other side of town who wanted nothing to do with the ton. It was just now he had her annoyingly sultry voice in his head chastising him whenever he wanted to roll his eyes or make a snide comment to someone.

Thomas ran his hands through his hair. Blasted woman. She had no right to occupy so much of his mind. They were not meant to be; it was as simple as that. She was raised with champagne and balls. Thomas was brought up on bar fights and stocking shelves. His title didn't change who he was or where he came from. He may be able to act like a Duke, but everyone knew the truth. The peerage was nothing but who could play the game, and thanks to Frances, he now knew the rules.

The door swung open and slammed into the wall. Thomas' head snapped up, and he found his sister standing tall, as if she was about to duel.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," Jenny huffed and stormed in. "Frannie ran out of here like her dress was on fire. What have you done?"

Thomas looked down at the ledger in front of him. "I am not her keeper, dear sister. I have no idea why she left in such a manner."

Jenny pursed her lips. "Don't play coy with me. You may have refined some edges, but I know you better than anyone. If someone's upset, chances are you're the culprit."

Thomas flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his desk. "I wasn't around her. You were. What did you do?"

Jenny sat in a chair opposite Thomas and rested her elbows on his desk. "That's just it. We were talking about the ball, and I mentioned how the tide is turning regarding your place in the ton, and she went as white as a ghost." Jenny leaned in, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why do you think that is?"

Thomas sighed, his hands in tight fists. "What do you mean the tide is turning?" He hated it when his sister talked in riddles.

Jenny straightened. "Well, exactly what it's intended to mean. Frances has done her job. While you haven't completely won over the peerage, you're damn close."

"Watch your tongue." Thomas raised his eyebrow. "Apparently, you still have work to do."

Naturally, Jenny stuck her tongue out in response.

"I told her that by being the new duke, it was obvious the mamas would have their eyes on you, but now, so do the daughter's. You should have a very interesting ball this week. And now that you have somewhat of a personality, people are holding me in a higher regard as well."

Jenny was about to continue, but Thomas held up his hand. "Stop. You talked about my marital prospects with her?" Thomas was outraged. "What right do you have to talk about my prospects? I'm not looking for a wife."

"I just —"

"I don't want to hear another word. I thought you understood you were not to perpetuate gossip." Thomas nodded towards the door.

"I never said you were looking for a wife! I thought you'd be proud of your accomplishments," Jenny offered.

"Proud? Since when do I care about any of this? In fact, I think I should stop spending time with Miss Ambrose." There. Thomas needed to distance himself from her. He couldn't control himself around her. It took every ounce of strength he had not to give into lustful thoughts when he just saw her in the drawing room.

Jenny's mouth fell open. "Why? We're doing so well. The ball is next week."

Thomas smoothed his jacket. "I didn't say you couldn't see her. Just as you said, people have noticed my ability to be civil; Miss Ambrose's work is done in regard to me.

"You mean Frannie's work. Why are you calling her Miss Ambrose all of a sudden." Jenny leaned in. "Did something happen between the two of you," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Jenny. Enough. Stop this nonsense at once. Nothing has happened. I am done with lessons, and I am done with you. Please close the door on your way out."

Jenny stood and cocked her hip. "Has everyone gone mad? I'm going to speak with Simmons; there must be something in the water." She stopped before she got to the door and turned slightly. "One last bit of gossip before I go. You're not the only eligible bachelor people have their sights on. Viscount Gloushire is making the rounds."

Thomas was losing what little patience he had for his sister. "And why, pray tell, is this important information for me to know?"

"Because while you might not be looking for a wife, he is. And word around town he has his sights on a certain blonde friend of mine."

She turned and marched to the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Thomas took a deep breath and cursed. Once again, the damned smell of vanilla invaded his senses. Thomas stood in front of the stuck window. Placing his hands on the pane, he used all of his might to slam it shut. The pane shook under the force. He stepped back, waiting to feel relief for finally closing the window that had been stuck open since they moved in.

Instead, he felt defeated.