Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

F rances let her eyes wander around the room and saw the Duke in conversation with the Lady of the house. Knowing Lady Stanton's penchant for conversation, Frances knew the girl would be free from the shadow of her protective brother for quite some time.

"Miss Bennet, do you remember me?" Nora asked with a nod. Nora approached the girl as one would a hurt kitten. She held out her hand to gently touch the girl's hands fidgeting in front of her. Frances half expected the girl to yelp and run away.

"Oh, yes, I, um… yes. Yes, I do. Honora, correct?" The girl couldn't keep her hands still.

"Please, call me, Nora, all my friends do."

With that, Miss Bennet's face lit up, and her shoulders relaxed. "Please, call me Jenny then."

Nora gestured to Frances, who offered her hand. "Miss Jenny Bennet, may I introduce to you one of my dearest friends, Miss Frances Ambrose."

Jenny curtsied which had Frances reaching out to steady her. "Oh dear. No need to curtsey to me."

Jenny's eyes dropped to the floor, and her fingers played with the drawstring of her reticule. "I'm terribly sorry. I'm new to all of this," she said while gesturing to the room. "I fear I will never get the hang of all these rules."

Frances commiserated with the young woman. "No need to apologize. We grew up with them, and we still have trouble following them to the letter," Frances said with a little wink.

"And if anyone were to skirt the rules of polite society, it would be Frances," Nora added with a nudge into Frances' ribs.

"Honora! Don't say such things! You're giving off the wrong impression," Frances hushed Nora. "I assure you, I am very well versed in etiquette and what is expected of myself. I know how to conduct myself quite adeptly in society," she said with a sniff.

Nora, nonplussed, continued, "Remind me again whose idea it was to steal some of Sir Benton's brandy at last year's summer party?"

Cripes. Frances had forgotten all about that night. "Well, I would've gotten away with it if you would've been able to hold your liquor. One drop, and you were ready to burst into the gentleman's club and demand membership."

The two women lost themselves to their giggles. They were so caught up in their memories, that they barely noticed the slightly horrified look on Jenny's face.

Frances coughed, "I think we're scaring young Jenny, Nora."

"I fear you're right." Nora looked over Jenny's shoulder and saw her husband looking back at her, apprehension written clearly across his terrified face. Apparently, their reminiscing was drawing unwanted attention. "I think it's time I go play dutiful wife. I see my husband is stuck talking with Lord Stevens. If you'll excuse me, I'll be back soon." With that, Nora was off to save her husband from the longwinded elderly man who loved to tell tedious tales of his time at court.

Frances gestured to the punch bowl. "Come. Would you like some punch? Dinner won't start for another hour; Lady Staunton likes to give her guests plenty of time to talk and acquaint themselves before sitting for the meal."

Jenny politely took Frances' offered elbow, and together, they made their way to the cart in the corner. All the while, Frances felt a presence at her back. Looking down to her side, she could just see the Duke in the corner of her eye, his eyes on her. Trying to shake off the uneasy feeling, she brought her attention back to Jenny.

"Are you liking the Mayfair?" she asked as she poured some punch into two glasses.

"Yes. It is very different than the town where we're from."

Jenny's eyes clouded at the mention of her town, and Frances couldn't help but feel protective of her. This poor girl seemed so lost, isolated. Stealing a glance at Duke Pilton, she could see why. Even standing there, listening to Lady Staunton blabber on about some mundane topic, he seemed tightly wound and ready to fight at the slightest movement. He didn't seem like a gentle and kind guardian for a young girl coming up in society.

"Forgive me for asking, but how is it you ended up here?"

Jenny gave a quick glance in her brother's direction which intrigued Frances.

Are they hiding something?

"My parents owned a store, and Thomas, er, the Duke, my brother —"

"Pilton, you would call him Pilton."

Jenny's face reddened. "Ballocks. See? I keep forgetting what to call him while we're outside of our home. We were so removed from the peerage while growing up." Jenny quickly swatted at a stray tear that fell. Frances discretely handed Jenny a napkin from the punch cart, not wanting to embarrass the girl any further.

"Our job was to mind the store and only the store. We had no use for titles, etiquette lessons, or what to call people. He was always just Thomas to me."

Thomas.

Frances liked the sound of his name. Thomas.

She found herself looking right past the girl and at the profile of Thomas. Frances nearly lost her breath. Using his Christian name out loud was considered inappropriate, yet even just thinking it made her blush.

Using her fan to wave away the thought, she took a sip of the punch before asking, "What changed?"

None the wiser to Frances' wayward thoughts, Jenny toyed with the napkin in her hands.

"When my parents died, I was a young girl, so our aunt took us in. However, she died recently. We were managing well enough until one day a man came into our store saying he was a solicitor of some sort — I honestly wasn't paying attention. All I know is one day my brother was running a store, and the next, we're moving into a townhouse in London, and I'm to address him as Your Grace or Pilton." Jenny rolled her eyes. "It feels so odd to think of him as a Duke."

Frances could only imagine a young Pilton taking on the responsibility of a small child, let alone a business — although he did seem capable of handling such responsibilities. However, to then find out he inherited a title that would throw him and his sister into the throes of the ton without any preparations. Frances would've been terrified.

The hairs on her neck rose, and once again she felt eyes watching her. She glanced over Jenny's shoulder and found those same blue eyes as earlier staring back at her.

"Speaking of your brother, how is he handling this new world?" Those eyes still had an effect on her, but she was getting used to their attention. She raised an eyebrow in the form of a challenge. If he wanted to stare at her for no good reason, she was going to stare right back. She was never one to hide behind a fan, and she wasn't going to start now.

Jenny smiled into her cup. "You've noticed his demeanor? I'm not surprised." Frances returned her attention to Jenny, tilting her head in encouragement for the girl to continue. After all, it would be rude for her to assume she knew the Duke well enough to call out his character flaws. Plus, she was always one for a good mystery, so the more she knew about him, the more she could put the pieces together and figure out the presence that seemed to have locked in on her.

"He's not as bad as he seems. He wants nothing to do with the ton. He would be happy to just assume the title of Duke and live out the rest of his days in our country estate."

It was then Jenny laughed. "Country estate. I can't believe we have a country estate!"

Frances couldn't help but feel endeared to Jenny. She was so full of youthful wonder and na?veté. She could look around this party and see a world of possibilities whereas Frances only saw a room full of pomp and circumstance.

"So, he is not one for the ton ?" Frances led Jenny around the drawing room, nodding her acknowledgment to the lords and ladies who occupied chairs, chatting about the latest gossip and states of affairs. She needed to move. Her mind blamed it on her body's stiffness from the poking stays and long carriage ride here, but there was a small part of her that recognized it was her reaction to a certain pair of eyes that studiously followed her. She felt as if she was under a microscope being dissected. It unsettled her. Yet, if she was being truthful, there was a part of her that found it exhilarating.

She was ever mindful of the Duke and his watchful eyes. Frances felt an invisible thread connecting them. Wherever the two women moved to, he would move to be across the room from them. One would think he was trying to keep his distance from Frances, but Frances felt it was more than that. It was as if he wanted to keep her in his eyesight. But why?

"Oh no, he could definitely do without. In fact, he's here because of me."

Frances cocked her head. "How so?"

"Well, I turned seventeen this year, and now that we're a part of the peerage, I considered it proper that I have an official debut." Jenny's eyes once again fell to the ground, a tell-tale sign of embarrassment Frances quickly picked up on.

" You suggested it?" They had made their way back to the punch cart and settled onto a settee that was just vacated.

"Well, yes. I've been reading about it," Jenny's checks slightly darkened at the admission. "I love to read," she acknowledged while brushing a curl that fell from a pin. She tucked it behind her ear. "The dresses, the dancing, the chance of finding one's true love on a starlit night." Jenny sighed into the chair.

Frances chewed on her bottom lip — a terrible habit, she knew, but one she couldn't help when her mind ran from her. It wasn't long ago, she had the same expectations for a dinner party. Now, she was happy to get through a night without a damned lord stepping on her new slippers.

Frances looked across the room and once again found his gaze locked in with hers. Curiosity was getting the better of her, and her father's words echoed in her head. "You have a tendency to talk too much and befriend even the poorest of characters. And this Duke Pilton is not someone I wish my only child to entertain. " Unfortunately for her father, telling Frances not to do something was the exact reason why she would.

Frances couldn't tell if she liked the attention or not. The Duke's eyes seemed to darken, and his brows furrowed, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Maybe she did.

"His Grace didn't expect you to debut?" Frances asked, finally tearing her eyes away from his.

"I think his exact words were, ‘You're an idiot.'" Jenny laughed in spite of herself.

She didn't seem one bit offended at her brother's name-calling.

"Yes. I've noticed he seems a bit… intense."

Jenny smiled. "That's an understatement. I know he's doing this for me, but he's not making it easy. You should have seen us at Lady Donton's luncheon yesterday. Neither one of us knew how to act, which made him angry and frustrated and made me want to cry. I've read books on etiquette, but all of it leaves my senses as soon as I'm met with real life situations."

Frances patted Jenny's arm. "I know how that feels."

I'm feeling it right now if I'm honest with myself. Thanks to Dorothy sneaking in dime novels, Frances has read her fair share about lusting young Dukes and the wanton women they fall for. However, no reading had ever prepared her for the rush of emotions she felt when her eyes collided with his.

"How about this? Would you allow me to call on you this week, and I can help you prepare for your upcoming debut?" The words left Frances' mouth before she fully comprehended what she was offering.

Jenny's eyebrows rose. "You would do that?" Apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment.

"Of course, I would! And I promise to be on my best behavior. I fear Nora's stories of me may have given you the wrong impression. I was raised with the best tutors. However, I must admit, I was also raised around my father's staff while he was away on business most of the time. So, some may say I have some rougher edges than most, I like to think I have lived the best of both worlds. Do you think His Grace would mind?" For reasons unknown to her, Frances held her breath.

Jenny's brows scrunched. "Doubtful. He's been so busy acclimating to his new role, I'm sure he'll welcome a distraction for me. Besides, we're here now. I might as well know what I'm doing, so I don't make fools of us both."

Lady Staunton's voice broke through the chatter of the dining room.

"For this evening, I think it would be fun if we mixed things up a bit in honor of our new guests. Since my dear husband is away, Your Grace," she called while reaching an arm out to the now wide-eyed Duke, "would you do me the honor of escorting me to the dining room and sitting next to me?"

Pilton took a deep breath, wiping his hands on his trousers, an action Frances found both odd and endearing. Not once had she ever encountered a duke who seemed even slightly unsure of himself. She must've imagined the gesture.

He offered her his elbow, and Lady Staunton slipped her arm through. "Wonderful! Now, let us eat. Oh! I almost forgot. With the Duke sitting next to me, I think it would be fun to have us sit alternately tonight. What do you say, Your Grace?"

The man barely moved his head in agreement as she pulled him into the dining room.

"I feel for His Grace; Lady Staunton can be somewhat of a gossipmonger and chatterbox," Frances mused as she paired off with Jenny to walk into the dining room.

"His Grace will be just fine," Jenny whispered back. "It is Lady Staunton I fear for. Although, if her drink needs to be chilled, my brother could just stare at it to cool it down."

Frances tried to disguise her laugh as a cough and failed miserably.

Unfortunately for Frances, her amusement was short lived when she walked through the doors and was directed to the empty chair left of the Duke. She looked around frantically. An unmarried daughter of a baron should not be sitting next to a duke; surely, there had been a mistake. But, alas, thanks to Lady Staunton's insufferable tendencies to change things up in the name of spontaneity, it looked like Lady Staunton's drinks wouldn't be the only thing affected by the Duke's presence tonight.

Frances made her way to her seat, noticing how the Duke's shoulders stiffened when she stood behind her chair. Well, this should be fun.