Chapter 11

It was a whirlwind day of activity and fuss. Agnes and Emma had of course been delighted by the prospect of having to go to the shops for the things Frances would need. Measurements were taken, fabrics were selected, and orders were placed. Through it all, there was a certain demand that Frances outfit herself as befitting a duchess, but she managed to rein in her friends' attempts.

"Chemises and stockings are a necessity," she would remind them cautiously, "jewels are not."

"But surely you cannot object to these simple pearls? You must have something to wear to social occasions! And these ostrich feathers are required to be worn in your hair at court, so ordered by the Queen herself!"

Frances could only shake her head and remain steadfast. Something told her that Anthony wasn't the sort to frequent parties or the opera, and she didn't think she would be going to court anytime soon.

"There will be plenty of time to assemble an entire trousseau later on. For now, I shall only order the things that are needed at once."

Their hopes of dressing a duchess dashed, Agnes and Emma resigned themselves to selecting fabrics. Much of it Frances intended to put to use with her own needle, for Miss Chatham had required all of the ladies in her care to learn to sew quite adeptly. With her supplies ordered and instructions given to deliver them to her new home, Frances had gladly gone to the Duke of Richmond's house for a small celebration.

It was not small in the least.

As Frances entered Agnes' house, she was instantly overcome by the extravagance. Flower-filled bowls and vases stood on every surface, with half a dozen garlands of blooms draped delicately overhead. Platters of delicate foods were piled on tables and carts or even just balanced on the tireless hands of the staff. A string quartet waited on a wide dais that had been erected on one end of the room, and everywhere Frances looked, guests milled about.

"Agnes, what is all this? And who are these people?" she breathed.

Agnes looked unbothered by the sight of it all. She lifted a hand casually and waved her mother over from across the room.

"It's just a small wedding feast, as promised. But all of the guests are eager to mee the Empire's newest duchess. There aren't so many of them, you know, only two dozen or so."

"Aggie, dear, you were supposed to send word that you'd arrived so the Duke and Duchess could be announced!" her mother said as she approached. She looked over to Frances and winced. "My goodness, Your Grace, what are you wearing?"

Frances looked down at her gown, seeing at once how out of place it was in a room filled with so many members of the ton. Agnes intervened.

"She's coming upstairs to change her clothes. But the Duke of Preston could not make it, Mother," she explained with a frown. "I thought announcing them and having only Frances appear would set the gossips' tongues to wagging."

"Good heavens, that's quite right. Very good thinking, my dear!" the Duchess of Richmond said, pressing a hand to her mouth as she thought of what to do. "It's no matter, we'll come up with something. For now, all of you hurry upstairs to change before the other guests arrive."

"The other guests? You mean, there are more?" Frances asked as the duchess returned to the main room and then snuck over to the servants' stairs.

By the time Frances was suitably dressed and ready to come down, the first floor of the house had filled up with people. She made the rounds on Agnes' arm, greeting everyone and doing her best to learn their names. She was soon struck by a sudden, unkind thought: None of these people cared who I was before I married a duke.

"Oh no," Frances said as she made her way through the downstairs rooms. "Why are my aunt and uncle here?"

"I told Mother it was a bad idea," Agnes insisted under her breath, "but she swore it would be far worse to not invite them. It would make you look ungrateful, and people might concoct some sort of scandal since you married so quickly and they were not pleased."

"Argh. She's right, of course. She knows so much more about these things than I do," Franes conceded. "But if it's all the same, I would prefer not to speak with them."

"That's no trouble at all. I shall go and keep them occupied," Emma said triumphantly as she headed in their direction.

"What did I ever do to deserve such wonderful friends as you two?" Frances asked longingly.

"That's the problem right there, Frannie. You don't have to do anything to deserve happiness. I'm sorry that anyone in your life ever made you feel as though you weren't worth all this," Agnes said somberly, leaning her head on Frances' shoulder for a moment. She giggled quietly and said, "Besides, you know how Mother loves to host an occasion!"

"Well, I am most grateful to her. This was more than I ever expected."

"Frannie, look! The duke is here!" Agnes said, whispering behind her hand.

Frances looked to the door where the butler was bringing Anthony into the main room. He spoke briefly to the Duchess of Richmond and her husband, then scanned the crowded room for Frances. Before her eyes, she saw the steely blank mask he always wore shift a little when he spotted her over the throngs of people. He lifted his hand slightly and gave her a small wave, which made her heart skip for some unexpected reason.

"Hmm, who knew the duke was such a romantic?" Agnes said playfully, causing Frances to blush a little.

As she watched him come near, Frances noted how he never looked at any of the other people. He kept his gaze on her in that same unnerving way he'd had when she'd first met him at the ball. It was as if no one else was in the room save her, nor even existed.

"My apologies for being later than I'd hoped," he said warmly, all but ignoring Agnes standing beside her.

"It's all right. We actually only arrived here a little more than an hour ago," she answered, looking up at him slightly despite her height. "Oh, but we can leave whenever you like, especially if you have more work to see to."

"No, I'm finished. We will stay as long as you wish," he answered, but too soon, Frances saw that he looked utterly miserable. Once, as people pressed closer and closer, Anthony even appeared to tremble slightly.

Has this man been keeping to himself for so long that a mere party is torture?Frances thought, wondering if a dreaded solitude awaited her for the rest of her life. She chided herself for such an uncharitable thought. Stop that at once! He has never mentioned so much as a word about locking you away or keeping you from your friends!

"I'm ready to go," she said lightly. "I'm quite eager to see my new home, after all."

"Of course, if you're certain," Anthony said, though his smile carried more than a hint of relief.

It took nearly half an hour more for Frances and Anthony to say their goodbyes and reach the front door. Outside, the gloomy day had given way to a shining midday. The sun had reached its peak and was just hinting at starting to go down, bathing everything in a radiant, inviting glow. They climbed into Anthony's carriage and were about to set off when he asked a question.

"Where are your parcels? Did you not have time to go purchase what you need?"

"Some of the things I bought were taken to your house, or they will be delivered later today. But many of the items had to be ordered. They won't be ready for a number of weeks, I should think, due to all the modistes being overloaded with orders for the Season."

"I see. My apologies, I didn't know. I've never had to be fitted for a gown before," he answered dryly, turning his attention to the window and leaving Frances to wonder if that was another joke.

As the carriage wound through the streets of London, Frances began to wonder how she'd ever manage to find her way around. This was a part of the city she'd never visited, for her years at school had prevented her. She could imagine all of the grand parties and balls that must be held in these fine houses, though, and she longed to see more.

At long last, the driver turned the carriage off the main road and onto a sweeping drive that wound in front of an immense house. Frances tried not to gape with wonder at such a structure, though she couldn't help but marvel at the rows upon rows of windows that gleamed with the sun's rays. A wide marble staircase led up to the front door, and two adjacent, twisting staircases framed it like scrollwork. At the very front of the property was centered a small reflecting pool where swans drifted above their own images, and neatly trimmed shrubs framed the pool like a gilt-enshrined masterpiece.

"Anthony, your home is beautiful," Frances said when she could finally find her voice.

"No. Our home," he answered simply before descending from the carriage and striding away.

Frances worried that she had offended him with the remark, one that had distanced herself from him without intending to. Her worry was eased when Anthony appeared at her door, having come around the carriage and waving off the footman to help her down himself. She beamed at him for the gesture, but it was brief. He dropped her hand and walked off, perhaps expecting her to follow him inside.

At the front door, the entirety of Anthony's household—no, our household, she reminded herself—waited to greet the new duchess. Anthony waited for her to catch up to him and began the introductions. The sparse handful of people included only a butler, a housekeeper, and another woman who was introduced as the nurse.

A nurse? Frances looked to Anthony. Is he ill in some way?

No one thought to explain the need for this person, and Frances most certainly didn't want to make a bad impression while still standing in the doorway from her arrival, so she didn't inquire any further.

"It is lovely to meet all of you," she said hesitantly, already wondering how a house this immense was cared for by only these three. The nurse smiled and departed almost at once, leaving Frances to wonder what duties she had to see to.

"If there is anything you require, Vickers or Mrs. Barrett will be happy to assist you," Anthony said with a touch of reverence in his voice for his staff. The butler bowed and left them, while Mrs. Barrett went to retrieve the items that had been delivered already for Frances. "Now, it cannot be helped, but I must see to my work. I need only inform you of two rules that I must require you to follow."

Frances looked at him expectantly, already wondering how her life was about to change forever.

"The first is that—as you can probably imagine—it gets very lonely here at times. Therefore, I shall require… no, I'm sorry. I shall expect that you will take your meals with me."

"That sounds lovely," Frances answered cheerfully, relieved to hear such a mundane request.

"Well, Mrs. Barrett has informed me that married ladies traditionally take their breakfast upstairs in their rooms. If it's all the same to you, I would like to have some company at all meals instead."

"That is quite understandable, and it's certainly a very small request," Frances agreed. Anthony smiled at that, and once again she felt that unexpected fluttering in her chest.

His countenance quickly darkened, though.

"The other rule is only that you remember this—there is part of the house that is very special to me. It is my private domain and I do not permit anyone to enter it, not even Mrs. Barrett or the ones who are hired on to clean thoroughly each spring. The rest of the house and the grounds are yours to enjoy, and I hope you feel like this is truly your home. But I do expect you to respect my wishes and permit me to keep this one portion of the house private."

"I see," Frances said with uncertainty. "That is uncommon, to be sure, but I am happy to respect your privacy. How will I know where to avoid?"

"Mrs. Barrett will take you around shortly and show you the house and the gardens. And please remember, Frances, anything you require you need only say the word."

With that, Anthony smiled and looked like he wished to say something further. Instead, he shuffled his feet awkwardly, then quickly darted closer and kissed her on the forehead. Before Frances knew it, he strode away to somewhere else in the house.