Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

" I cannot believe this story. His hands were in your lap?" Dorothy's face was flushed with excitement as she brushed Frances' hair. Dorothy, her maid, was a few years younger than Frances and always seemed like a younger sister. And in times like these, she both loved and hated their relationship. She loved having someone to confide in, but the embarrassment of last night weighed heavily on her. Dorothy was one who loved to dwell on certain topics, especially if those topics included scandalous behavior.

"It was only a few seconds. I don't understand why I need to rehash this over and over again." Dorothy's mouth dropped open, her eyes as wide as saucers. She met Frances' glare in the mirror.

"Frances. The new Duke had his hands in your lap! I honestly don't think we're talking about this enough? What did your father say?"

Her father. Frances inwardly cringed at the thought of him. To say he was less than pleased with her behavior would be a gross understatement. "Well, he was quiet on the carriage ride back."

Dorothy's hand stilled. "Oh."

"Oh," Frances repeated.

Her father, like her, was not known for his silence. He was always talking to someone, making connections, and looking for the next business venture that would finally give the family the boost they needed to secure their finances once and for all. It was never a good sign when Lord Solomon Ambrose, Baron Lounton, was quiet.

"We left shortly after dinner. I barely had enough time to say goodbye to Nora before my father made some excuse and dragged me out by my arm. I felt as if I were a child again when he pulled me out of Lord Stellon's house to scold me for pushing the boys."

Dorothy laughed. "I remember that story. You came home crying about how the boys were pulling your curls, so you shoved the one, and Lord Stellon caught you. Mama felt bad because it was my brother who had taught you to defend yourself. She made your favorite biscuits for an after-dinner treat."

"Which you had to sneak to me because Papa sent me to my room directly after dinner." Frances smiled at the memory. If it weren't for Dorothy, her brother, and the other children whose parents worked for her father, her young childhood would have been very lonely.

"It seems once again my untoward behavior has gotten the better of me." Frances stared back at her reflection in the mirror. It's not that she woke up each morning intending to cause trouble, she just happened to have a proclivity for it. Trouble always seems to find her.

There was a knock at the door. "Miss Frances? Lady Honora Wellington, Lady Marie Stellon, and Miss Sarah Hornsby have arrived. They are awaiting you in the morning room."

"Thank you, Stephens, I will be down shortly."

Stephens paused in the doorway. "The correspondence you had sent this morning has been delivered."

"Thank you, Stephens," she said with a nod.

Frances returned to her reflection, avoiding Dorothy's questioning eyes.

She waved her hand. She was not going to tell Dorothy she sent word to Jenny asking when an appropriate time would be to visit. "It's nothing. Some correspondence to our solicitor for Papa." She took one more look at her reflection and groaned, "We should go. I'm sure Nora filled them in on the mess from last night, and it's all they will want to discuss."

Dorothy squealed. "I can't wait. Come, we must make haste." Dorothy grabbed Frances by the hand and led her to the morning room.

Frances could hear low murmurs followed by giggles as Stephens opened the door for her. Three women who were by her side for every dinner party, dance, or social gathering since she was ten were together in the same room, giving her the same devilish grin. Dorothy followed her in and made her way to the tea cart to prepare the drinks.

"Well, have at it," Frances opened her arms wide. "I'm sure Nora has informed you all about last night. What have you got to say?"

The women sat and looked at her. Nora sniffed. "I'm not sure what you're talking about Frances or what you're implying about my ability to hold my tongue, but I recounted nothing about last night."

The color drained from Frances' face as she rushed over to her friend. "Oh, Nora. I am so sorry. I —"

Her apology was interrupted by a fit of giggles from the women. "I'm sorry," Nora laughed. "I couldn't help myself. Of course, I told them all about it. How could I refuse? It was just too good of a story!"

Frances ignored their outburst and joined Dorothy at the tea cart. "Would anyone like tea, or shall I just assume you'd rather gawk at me all morning?"

"Come now, Frances," Marie countered, "it's all in good jest. I only wish I could have been there to witness it."

Frances poured hot water into the teacups her mother received as a gift from her father on their wedding day. "Ah yes, how was the theater? Did you and Sarah have a pleasant time?"

Marie bit into a biscuit, moaning at their sweetness. "It was a wonderful evening," she said between bites. "Viscount Gloushire was there. I hear he's looking for a new wife."

Frances groaned. She heard the intention of the sentence. As the only unmarried woman in their group, outside of Dorothy, her friends gave the marriage mamas of the ton a run for their money. They were forever dropping prospective matches in her path, and so far, all of them have been dull. Was it too much to ask for someone who matched her intelligence, one with whom she had engaging conversations as well as tender moments? Her friends did. How? She had the faintest idea. By the goodness of God, all of her friends have found love matches with their husbands, a rarity in the business of marriage.

"I think after last night, our little Frannie may have her sights set on a duke." Dorothy handed a cup to Sarah before taking a seat near the window.

Frances rolled her eyes. She has always been grateful her society friends adopted her maid into their little friend group, but in times like these, she seriously questioned their choice. "Dorothy, you weren't even there," she huffed. "Nora, please tell them that what happened last night was nothing more than some spilled water and a bumbling apology."

Nora held her hands up. "I'm sorry, dear friend. I wasn't privy to your conversation from my end of the table. However, what I saw was your whitened face and a brooding Duke Pilton with his hands in your lap."

Frances rubbed her temples and contemplated adding something stronger to her tea. Surely her father wouldn't mind; he most likely was doing the same thing after last night.

Sarah patted Frances' knee. "I'm sure it wasn't like that, Frances. You may be lax with us, but we all know that in society, you are the one most likely to play by the rules."

Frances reached out and took Sarah's hand. "Thank you. All I need is this to turn into something it's not."

"I agree," Marie chimed in. "From what I hear, he is a brute and simpleton. I would not want to be tied to such a man." Frances' eyes narrowed on Marie. She didn't like her quick judgment about the Duke, even though Frances was guilty of the same first impression. Bickering notwithstanding, there was something about the devilish man that begged for more inspection. She felt it in the way he leaned into her; there was more to the Duke than his intimidating persona.

Frances tsked. "Marie, do not speak so ill of a man you do not know, especially a duke. He didn't seem like a simpleton; he's a little rough around the edges, but nothing some time with the peerage wouldn't cure."

"Oh Marie, I heard that about him, too." Sarah sat straighter while eating a biscuit, completely ignoring Frances' scolding. "I heard he worked in a shop in St. Giles, and his aunt died of nefarious means, and all of a sudden, he's a Duke."

The women started talking over each other, each adding a more ridiculous tidbit of misheard information. While Frances enjoyed these teas as much as her friends, she liked them more when she wasn't a part of the gossip and scandal.

The conversation made Frances' head throb. "Ladies, please," she said while raising her hand to quiet the pecking hens. "There is not one thing truthful about any of that other than the fact that his aunt did recently pass on." Frances didn't feel it was her place to share the Duke's story, but she felt the need to defend him.

"After his parents died, he took over their shop, and their aunt took them in. It was after she passed, a solicitor showed up and proved his inheritance. I think it nothing more than divine timing. This is all new to them, and I think we should be extending our support, not our judgments."

Frances took a breath and looked around the room. Owlish eyes projecting shock and interest peered back at her. "Well," Marie started, raising her eyebrows in a comical manner. "Seems like someone knows an awful lot about our mysterious Duke."

Deep breath, Frances. "I don't know what you're implying Lady Stellon but I fear I wouldn't appreciate its candor." The women shared knowing smiles that had Frances' blood boiling once more. "Why are you all looking at each other like that?"

"You like him," Nora had the audacity to declare with a sly smile.

"What? How preposterous. How could you arrive at that conclusion based of me saying his aunt passed? Something you yourself learned from Jenny." This was ridiculous. Frances' heart was racing, her mind reeling, and sweat was starting to form across her brow.

Why was her body reacting to Nora's comment this way? She felt as if they had uncovered some deep, hidden ruth about her. Do I have some sort of misguided feelings for him? No. I only had one conversation with him and a horrible one at that. Yet, her mind couldn't stop replaying the look in his eyes when her hand touched his. Even now her lap tingled with the memory of him pushing down — Nope. I refuse to think about that.

"Frannie," Nora continued, "I was there. You were the only one who was able to get more than one word out of him."

"We spent our time bickering!" This conversation exhausted her. "He thought we had ulterior motives for speaking with his sister, and after this conversation with you lot, I can see why he might think that. Plus, he didn't give me details about his family, Miss Bennet did. All he did was act like a big oaf and accuse me of fishing out information for my own amusement."

Marie shot her finger into the air. "Ah-ha! So he is a brute!"

Frances fell back into the settee and stared at the ceiling. Why did she put up with these women? "That's not what I meant. I mean, he was in a way, but I don't think that is the whole of his character. Yes, he was a bit stand-offish and defensive, but wouldn't you be if you were thrust into our world without a single warning? Look at us now, we are doing exactly what he accused us of wanting to do, talking and gossiping about his family."

The women exchanged a look and immediately became interested in anything but meeting Frances' eyes. "Now what?" Frances sighed. She really was rethinking her friendships. Maybe there was a quiet barn mouse she could befriend instead. She would have to make her way to the stables later today to look.

"Oh, it's nothing," Nora patted Frances' knee. "It's just, well, some of the best love stories start with bickering."

"This conversation is over. I need some fresh air; how about a walk?"

Frances tried to stand up, but Nora pulled her hand back down, causing her to fall back into the settee. "Forgive us, Frances, you are right. We are hearing wedding bells where there are none. Besides, Duke Pilton isn't the only eligible bachelor. Sarah, weren't you just saying Lord Gloushire is rumored to be looking for a wife?"

Sarah nodded into her tea as Stephens walked into the room.

"Miss Frances, a letter has arrived from you from Froudrigh Manor."

Frances accepted the correspondence and tucked into her skirt.

"Froudrigh Manor? How do I know Froudrigh Manor?" Nora's eyes furrowed in concentration. Frances silently prayed that her friend wouldn't realize where the letter came from. Once her friends found out she sent a card to call on Miss Jenny, she wouldn't hear the end of it. In her defense, she didn't realize Miss Bennet would respond so soon.

"Wait! I know," squealed Sarah. "That's the Duke's residence!"

"You said that letter was to your solicitor on behalf of your father!" Dorothy could barely contain her amusement.

Frances hated being caught in a lie, but she hated being the target of gossip and giggles more. "I extended my support to Jenny to help her acclimate to the ton and prepare for the season, that is all."

Marie examined her gloves. "I'm not so sure about you calling on Miss Bennet, Frances. I feel she is a lost cause. I mean, how refined can one be coming from such a humble background?"

"Marie! Why would you say such a thing?" Nora scolded.

"What?" Marie looked around the room. "Come now, I can't be the only one thinking it." When no one responded, she continued, "They're commoners." She dragged the word out with disdain dripping from the syllables. "She seems a bit too green, and I'm sorry, no amount of time around the upper class is going to refine that many rough edges on that man." The women sat in stunned silence. "I'm sorry, Frances, but someone had to say it."

He was right. The blasted man was right. There was nothing polite about this society. Their so-called civility was based solely on judgments and opinions. They would rather keep a man down than help him succeed, especially if that meant that person's success might hinder theirs. Her eyes landed on Dorothy, who sat completely still in her chair, and her heart sank.

"No, Marie, no one had to say that." Frances rose and brushed the wrinkles from her dress. "I think that is all for today, ladies. Dorothy and I need to prepare for the day. My father has some business engagements tonight, and I will be visiting Miss Bennet tomorrow. Thank you all for coming by, but we must get to our responsibilities."

The women all murmured their goodbyes, Sarah and Nora both jabbing Marie in the ribs for her retort. As the women left, Frances and Dorothy returned to her bedroom.

Dorothy immediately began tidying up the vanity of various hairpins and combs. "Dorothy? I do hope you did not take any offense to Marie's implications about commoners." Frances could do nothing but wring her hands. While there had never been a question of whether or not Dorothy was welcome to stand in and offer a thought or two during their morning tea, every once in a while, the topic of class reared its ugly head and would make things uncomfortable. Unfortunately, it usually came from Marie. The daughter of a viscount, she had regard for the finer things in life than the rest of the ladies and often forgot her manners when it came to classist chatter.

"You know she adores you and your friendship," Frances offered.

Dorothy smiled absently as she closed a drawer with her hip. "I know. There is no point dwelling on it. Thank you for allowing me to sit with you; it's always the best part of my day."

Frances enveloped her maid in a hug. Dorothy let out a little sniffle before breaking away. "Enough of this," she said wiping a stray tear. "What of the letter? What does it say?"

The damn letter, she almost forgot.

Frances pulled the note from her skirt and sat on her bed. "It's from Miss Bennet. She accepted my card and is excited to see me tomorrow. Goodness, I don't think I've ever seen so many exclamation points in a correspondence letter."

"So you're going to go?"

Frances looked up at Dorothy, who was leaning into the post of Frances' bed. "Of course, I'm going to go. Nothing has changed, Dorothy. I couldn't care less what Marie or anyone else thinks of Duke Pilton or Jenny. She is kind and in need. Besides, I've always enjoyed helping people, you know that."

"People, wild animals…"

Frances couldn't help but laugh. "It's true. What can I say, I have a bleeding heart when it comes to helping those in need."

"It's your bleeding heart that makes you so special, Frances. Anyone who meets you knows that. It would take a truly heartless person to see your generosity as anything but genuine." Dorothy's words were a soothing balm on Frances' strung-out nerves. Unfortunately, the truth of the matter was not everyone saw her generosity as genuine. There was one big ugly mark on her record, and its name was Duke Pilton.

"I hope you're right, Dorothy, but I have a sinking feeling that there is someone of importance who disagrees with you."

And thanks to her generosity, she was willingly walking into a lion's den. Helping wild animals, indeed.