Chapter 10

Monday morning dawned with a dreary rain, one that seemed to bring a chill to the air despite the summer day. A heavy wind shook the windowpanes as Frances got up and prepared for the duke's arrival at any moment. When she came down to breakfast, she found that the dining room was empty, with no dishes on the sideboard or platters of eggs and bread alongside them.

"Sara? Do you know what's going on?" she asked, looking around.

"Lord and Lady Hutchings aren't coming down. They're taking their trays in their rooms," Sara whispered, looking over her shoulder. "We're not supposed to be talkin' to ya, but I'll go and fetch somethin' for ya to eat and put it in the drawin' room."

"No, I wouldn't want you to get in any trouble," Frances said, keeping her voice low. "I'll have something after the ceremony today, for my good friends are going to have a small luncheon. But do you still have that parcel with my belongings in it? I fear my uncle is going to keep his word that I cannot have any of my things."

"I do, miss! It's down in me room. I'll bring it to ya outside when yer ready to go," Sara promised.

No sooner had the maid spoken than Mr. Robbins came around the corner of the foyer. He bowed deeply and smiled at her.

"Lady Frances, it is my great pleasure to inform you that His Grace, the Duke of Preston, is here to collect you."

"Thank you, Robbins. I suppose I'm ready to depart," Frances answered, glancing down at her simple gown. "Unless you think this isn't all right?"

"You look as lovely as ever, my lady," the butler replied. Sara nodded, her eyes misting with happiness.

"Then I suppose I shall go and greet him." Frances still didn't move, and Mr. Robbins looked at her with a worried sort of smile.

"My lady, if you are having any doubts, do know that you don't have to—"

"Not you too, Robbins, please!" Frances said, laughing nervously. "All I've heard for the past three days is one complaint after another."

"On no, my lady. Nothing of the sort. Just making certain you are pleased with your decision. You are pleased, aren't you?"

"I am. It might not have seemed like I had much choice, but I'm very happy to accept his offer."

"Then ya might want to go a-fore he changes his mind!" Sara teased, and Frances hurried to the front door.

There, the Duke of Preston stood waiting for her. His simple day suit was ideal and did not overshadow her own plain garment. Frances smiled to herself at the stroke of luck.

Of course he wouldn't dress in an overly showy way, she thought as she approached. His approving look made her glad that she was wearing her most serviceable but flattering gown.

"Good day to you, Miss Turner," the duke said, bowing stiffly.

"And to you, Your Grace," she answered, curtseying.

A sudden flash of disappointment crossed the duke's face, and though it was fleeting, Frances took notice of it. Had she done something wrong?

"I hope Your Grace isn't bothered by something? I mean, I know the weather is foul, but do you think it looks to be clearing up a little?" she asked, hinting at his change in emotions.

"I am bothered, actually. I don't know the proper way of doing these things, but… does it not seem odd for us to call each other by such formal address?"

"Are you saying we should simply be Frances and Anthony?" she asked.

"Your name is Frances?" he asked, cocking his head slightly and looking at her warily. Before she could reply, he laughed, a warm, quiet sound that drew her nearer. "I am only teasing. I did know your name, for I had to put it down for the license."

"That's good news. I wish that I could say the same, for I had to discover your name when my dear friend sought information on you to bring back to me. Thankfully, her father was aware of you and could inform the rest of us."

To Frances' great surprise, the duke actually seemed amused. He inclined his head in a slight bow before looking back at her with a sort of warmth that seemed uncommon for him.

"Shall we go… Frances?" he asked softly.

"Certainly," she answered, trying to keep from sounding wistful.

This is not at all how I envisioned my wedding day, she thought as Mr. Robbins held the door for her and whispered a heartfelt goodbye. A footman had gone ahead of them and stood beside the duke's carriage, bowing as they approached then opening the door to let Frances in. I would have thought my own family would at least be standing around me, wishing me well and sending their love and congratulations. Instead, I feel as though I'm sneaking out of the house like a thief who's come to pilfer everything.

As if that very thought had come true, when the carriage turned the corner of the house, Sara hurried forward and waved the driver down. Frances opened the door and thanked the maid profusely as she took a small burlap-wrapped parcel from her.

"What was that all about? Some sort of wedding gift?" the duke asked as they continued on.

"A gift of sorts," Frances answered, trying not to divulge too much of the Hutchings' cruelty.

After a moment passed, the duke looked down at it once more.

"Well, go on. Open it. It should be a lovely token."

Frances smiled awkwardly, but then untied the twine that had been wound around it. She turned the parcel over and over to avoid spilling the contents, for she knew already what it contained. Sure enough, there was her father's watch and her mother's ring, which Frances slipped on her finger. She felt a tug of wistfulness when she noted some other trinkets tucked among her other special belongings, all of them provided by the staff.

"That seems like a rather odd gift, does it not? I fear I don't know much about these matters," the duke said.

"It's somewhat unusual, to be sure. But they were my only family, after all," Frances said, picking up each item and trying to discern precisely who must have given it to her.

By the time they reached the church, Frances' nerves had been soothed. Looking down at these things, she knew that this marriage might not be the most conventional or the one she would have sought for herself under different circumstances, but her mind was at ease. The duke might be an unusual man with strange ways about him, but he was without a doubt the better choice.

"There she is!" someone called out happily when Frances stepped down from the carriage in front of the church.

"Emma? Oh, and Agnes! What are you doing here? I hope you haven't waited all morning in the rain," she cried, embracing her friends. Frances looked over their shoulders and found Juliet pressed into the doorway, a simple woolen cloak concealing her. "And Juliet? How did you manage to get here?"

"Mother and Father don't know I've gone. I'm sure I cannot stay for the ceremony nor go to Lady Agnes' luncheon, but I wanted to see you off. I just wanted to tell you—thank you so much for everything, and I shall miss you dearly!" the girl said before dissolving in tears. "I feel as though I've only just now met you, and you're already leaving me."

"Silly, I will be living right here in London!" Frances protested happily as she hugged her cousin goodbye, though she realized she was entirely certain where the duke's residence was. Did he even remain in London all year, or did he return to his estate after summer was over? Those are concerns for another time, she thought.

"Your Grace," Agnes said solemnly, curtseying as she addressed the duke. "My father is William Young, Duke of Richmond. I believe you may know of him?"

"I've heard the name, though we have not been introduced," the duke answered curtly. Frances looked to him, frowning slightly at his clipped tone. Fortunately, Agnes was unbothered by it.

"You will meet him shortly. He will be hosting the luncheon today in your honor. Well, in honor of Frances, but as her husband, I suppose you can come along," she teased.

The duke didn't laugh or even smile. He looked at Frances, as though hoping for an explanation. She only shrugged slightly but nodded her head once.

"It will be an honor to meet him someday, though I fear today I am otherwise engaged," the duke replied. "I have several appointments this afternoon that I cannot avoid, even for a wedding feast."

With that, he strode into the church, leaving Frances and her friends to stare at each other, perplexed.

"What on earth?" Emma whispered, coming closer and linking arms with Frances protectively. "Does he mean that he is going to go off somewhere after the ceremony?"

"I… I don't know," Frances stammered. "We truly hadn't discussed it. I'm rather amazed to have made it this far, if you must know."

"Frances, I know half of London has already pestered you on the subject, but are you certain about this? He seems so—" Agnes began, but Frances stopped her.

"Yes, I'm certain," she answered, trying to sound determined rather than resigned. "All will be well. We just have to get to know one another better and discuss these things, which we haven't been able to do. You'll see, it will all turn out for the best."

Frances smiled at her friends before following after the duke, but inwardly, she worried that she was the one who needed convincing, not them.

Thankfully, the ceremony was brief and unremarkable. Words were spoken, a blessing was given over the couple and their long, fruitful life together, they signed their names in the book, and that was all of it. Before she knew it, the uncertain bride was now Frances Hughes, Duchess of Preston.

"I'm so happy for you, Your Grace," Emma said playfully when the couple and their friends left the church. Outside, children had already gathered in hopes of being showered with sweets, which Agnes had thought to bring.

"None of that business, Emma," Frances cautioned her kindly. "Nothing has changed as far as I'm concerned."

"No, but it will. You'll see," Agnes added in a knowing tone. Besides her, Emma nodded. "Now, go and find out your husband's plans, then we shall go to my house for a lovely meal. Mother is already waiting to congratulate you!"

"My parents as well, though I suspect it has more to do with your husband being a duke than any well wishes," Emma said, sighing.

Frances thanked them both, then turned to look at Anthony. He was standing slightly to the side of the churchyard, looking up at something. If she didn't know better, Frances would never have suspected that the man had just gotten married. He looked as calm as a man strolling through the park and pondering the weather.

"He doesn't behave like most other men, does he," Emma whispered to Frances.

"I'm sure he just has much to think about," Agnes corrected on Frances' other side. "After all, didn't your father say he runs a very successful business? I'm certain it weighs on his mind, especially if it's something like importing timber on a fleet of ships."

"Of course. That's a very logical explanation," Frances said before walking over to speak to him.

At the sight of her, the duke seemed to come out of his trance and give her a warm smile. Frances thought it didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was very pleasant, nonetheless.

"Are you certain you cannot come to Lady Agnes' house? Even for a little while?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm afraid I cannot. But I can come to fetch you later on to take you home, and I will offer my thanks then. If I finish up in time, perhaps I can visit with everyone for a few minutes when I come."

"Of course," Frances said, trying not to sound too disappointed. The duke seemed to take notice, for his stony features softened slightly.

"I'm very sorry about that. You see, I had this appointment planned before I knew we would marry today. It's terribly important, and I cannot undo it."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm sure you know what's best, after all," she said, trying to sound supportive.

"Frances," he began, stopping as though he was judging the weight of her name and deciding whether or not he liked the familiarity of it. When he finally continued, he simply said, "I will make it up to you. I promise."

Frances only nodded, and Anthony started to say something else. He looked around at the churchyard, nodding in the direction of her friends.

"Perhaps the other ladies would accompany you to move your things from your uncle's house? Wouldn't that be fun?" he asked lightly.

"I have no other things. My uncle is quite put out with me still, and he would not permit me to bring any of my belongings," Frances admitted, looking away.

"What of your gowns? Your clothing even?"

"I'm sure Lady Agnes and Lady Emma will loan me some things."

It took several moments for Anthony to reply, and Frances began to feel more and more awkward as the silence continued. He must surely think he's been duped into marrying a pauper! she thought angrily, only to realize that for all intents and purposes, he had.

"Then you shall require new things at once," Anthony stated firmly, his jaw clenching with some sort of emotion. "Will your friends accompany you to the shops to make your purchases? Simply have the proprietors send the bills to me."

"I'm sure they will be glad to help," she answered, her spirits lifting by his show of kindness.

"Perfect. Then I shall come to collect you this afternoon. Until then," the duke said.

He nodded politely and turned to leave, then seemed to think better of it. Suddenly, he reached out and took Frances' hand and held it for a few seconds, hesitating as if he wasn't sure he should even reach for her. At long last, he leaned down and kissed the back of her hand quickly before hurrying away.