Chapter 27

He loves me, Frances thought as she finally descended the stairs from Abigail's room. He does truly love me!

The thought lifted her spirits and carried her all the way up to her rooms, making her feel giddy. If only she could break through the walls that he had so stubbornly erected around himself and let him know that she felt the same way.

The notion stopped her in her tracks, one foot poised on the stairs.

I love him, she thought suddenly, the idea confounding her. But how? How can I possibly love a complete stranger, one who has shown so little regard for me? It makes no sense!

Frances reached her rooms and found Sara hanging some freshly laundered garments in the wardrobe.

"Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but I couldn't help but notice your sewing has been neglected. Would you like for me to take on some of it?" she asked, sounding hopeful.

"That would be very kind of you, Sara. Thank you. But only if you wish. I won't have you taking on the things that I've been too lazy to finish."

"Too busy, you mean, what with all you've been doing ‘round here. But don't worry about it none, I'll have all of these things finished straight away," the maid promised.

Frances thanked her and went to sit down for a moment, her thoughts taking hold of something Abigail and Anthony had spoken of. What was this problem she'd asked about? The one that Anthony had said led to some bruising? He'd told her the problem had not yet been resolved, though he felt there had been some progress.

"Sara?" Frances asked thoughtfully, a new idea coming to her. "Who was that man who came to call? The one that His Grace threw out and we saw waiting in his carriage outside the house."

"Sir Perry, was it?" Sara suggested, deep in thought.

"That's it. It cannot be a coincidence that he came here and Anthony became nearly violent with rage. Surely, His Grace isn't up to his neck in problems. Do you think that man could be the problem they spoke of?"

"I wouldn't know, Your Grace. Though it cannot hurt to find out. Do you think we should go out and see for ourselves?"

"You are always itching to thrash someone, aren't you," Frances accused playfully.

"Only those as deserve it!" Sara answered, grinning. "But if I may ask, why are you so determined to find this out? Is it not better to leave these matters to the duke?"

"If he could have ended this problem already, he would have. Don't you think? I feel it is the least I can do after the upheaval I've caused. Besides, I just know it has something to do with Abigail. You didn't see her, Sara. She's a prisoner upstairs, and they were both so secretive about her presence. They are so worried that someone will know she is here and tell others. I cannot help but think this man and his claims of an agreement have something to do with it."

"Then we must find out all we can for her sake! I'll fetch your bonnet," Sara insisted, putting down the sewing she'd already begun sorting through.

When they slipped out of the house and hurried to the corner, Frances finally began to look around. To her disappointment, there was no carriage and no Sir Perry.

"It's not as though we could will him to appear," Sara reminded her helpfully. "But all is not lost, there's your friend coming along."

Frances looked up to find Lady Agnes rushing towards her. She brightened when she saw Frances.

"You'll never guess! The butcher has taken down his notices for an apprentice!" Agnes said.

"My word, how could I have forgotten to send you a note. Juliet has returned! She's staying with us at Cadmoor House until everything is sorted," Frances explained. "But for now, I have a new concern."

Frances wished to tell her about Abigail, for she was certain they would become close friends as well. Instead, she remembered the warning from before, the warning that Frances couldn't be trusted to keep Abigail's presence a secret. Instead, she spoke of Anthony's strange bruises and her concerns about this baronet. Agnes listened intently, nodding thoughtfully as she took in the news, peppering Frances with questions from time to time.

"And as such, we're off to find this horrible man," Frances concluded.

"How do you even know for sure that Sir Perry is connected to this?" Agnes asked while Sara nodded in agreement.

"I don't. It is merely a feeling I have, and I intend to learn all I can about him."

"Didn't Emma offer to have her father find out who he is? We should go and fetch her."

It was the first real semblance of a plan that Frances had, so she readily agreed. Emma was more helpful than she knew, however.

"I've spoken to Father!" Emma cried as soon as she received them. "There is no such man as Sir Perry or the Baronet of Bellingsworth!"

"What? How can he be sure?" Frances asked, her eyes wide.

"As I said, he makes it his business to know every single member of the ton, or at least know them by name and who they're connected to. He has serious designs on his future, and he never misses a chance to know someone who can help further him. I may have hinted that he's the brother of a duke and seeking a wife," Emma said, wincing at her own deceit. "Father has asked everywhere, all under the guise of being invited to make an investment with him. No one has heard of this man at all!"

"Could he be from the Continent, perhaps?" Agnes suggested.

"I wouldn't think so. He certainly seemed British enough, and his name would make me believe it as well," Frances said, still pondering the mysterious discovery. "If he's a fraud, then there's even more reason to root him out and expose him. My husband seems to have already paid him money on at least one occasion, and this Sir Perry claims he's after more than that."

"Would you remember his carriage if you saw it again? We could go out in search of him, just to see what we find. It's a lovely enough day that it won't be a wasted effort if nothing turns up," Emma suggested. Within minutes, they were squeezed into her father's carriage and rolling through the streets of London.

"So, tell me about the duke. You say he appeared to have been fighting," Agnes began, looking to Emma and nudging her to listen closely.

"He could only have been sparring. A number of gentlemen take their exercise far too seriously, whether it's in boxing or fencing or footraces, that sort of this," Emma reminded her.

"That's true enough, I suppose. Two of my brothers have taken to brawling in the garden every time they disagree on anything. Rather than putting a stop to it, Father actually supervises and declares the victor when they're done," Agnes answered, rolling her eyes at the absurdities of men.

"Somehow, I don't believe my husband was merely exercising," Frances said, though she couldn't very well explain that she'd overheard him discussing it.

"From the two appearances in social events and the little you've described of him, brawling in public doesn't exactly seem to be his style, either," Emma pointed out.

"Precisely, and that's why we need to find this Bellingsworth and find out what's going on."

They each kept watch from their respect vantage points as they travelled throughout the city. Any sign of a carriage that appeared to be similar to Sir Perry's brought renewed interest and excitement, but after two hours of searching, they still had nothing to show for it. As all hope appeared to be lost, Sara tapped her mistress on the arm.

"Doesn't that one look familiar?" she asked, nodding out her window. Frances looked to where the lady's maid was watching.

"I don't know… it might?" Frances replied. She kept looking at the empty conveyance as Emma instructed their driver to stop.

"Look there! Someone's coming over to it," Agnes said, straining to see over Emma's shoulder.

"Yes, that's him," Frances said, sitting back so that she wouldn't be seen. "You two watch him. Sir Perry knows what Sara and I look like."

"I doubt he'd remember me after the walloping I gave him. His head would be too scrambled," Sara muttered, though Frances detected a hint of pride.

"All of you remain here. If I should come to any harm, you must get help," Frances said, turning the latch on the carriage door.

"Wait, Frances! Where are you going?" Agnes hissed as Emma called after her.

Frances ignored their pleas to return to the carriage. They couldn't know how crucial this was, that Abigail's and Anthony's and even her own freedom and happiness could well depend on this man being uncovered.

As she slunk closer to his carriage, trying to look inconspicuous, Frances kept a close eye on Sir Perry. He was talking to another man, and by the looks of things, the other man felt precisely the same way Frances did about the baronet. It appeared as though Bellingsworth made a habit out of establishing enemies.

Frances slipped behind a passing carriage and ran alongside it on tiptoe, using it to conceal her approach. She followed suit with another and then another, effectively preventing Sir Perry from seeing her. When she'd managed to cross the street this way, she ducked behind a chimney sweep's cart, leaning away from the sooty brushes that projected from the top. From her position, she could hear the two men arguing and almost make out what they were saying.

If I could only get a little closer, Frances thought as she moved along the wall of a nearby clerk's office.

Suddenly, the was pulled backwards by someone who accosted her from behind. She half-stumbled into the office's doorway and whirled around, staring directly up at Anthony.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled, glancing over her shoulder as if trying to see who might have spotted them.

"I'm trying to learn more about this Sir Perry," she confessed, working to keep her voice even.

"Why on earth? He is a dangerous man! Are you out doing his bidding?"

"I beg your pardon," Frances argued.

"I've now seen you near him twice. What business do you have with him? Has he sent you to spy on me?"

"I cannot believe what I'm hearing! How can he have possibly sent me when you are the one who sought me out and so boldly requested marriage? If anything, I should wonder if you're not the one with suspicious motives," she countered, her temper flaring under the accusations.

Anthony's features softened slightly. He glanced around again, then back at Frances.

"My apologies. You're right, of course. I only became enraged when I saw what peril you were putting yourself in. I wanted to believe the worst instead of thinking that you didn't know how dangerous that man is."

"Why is it that you have no ability to express an emotion unless it is anger?" Frances demanded, her own fury taking hold.

"I have much to be angry about," he said simply, but he clenched his jaw and didn't explain further. "In any event, Sir Perry is not someone to be trifled with. I don't know what game you are envisioning, but I assure you, there is talk this this man has murdered for mere amusement. Why are you even trying to observe him?"

Frances looked down. How could she explain it to Anthony without revealing that she suspected his secret?

"I'm just very worried, that's all. I saw him as I was out with my friends, and I thought to discover more about him. You've said yourself that he has caused you problems in the past, and I'm trying to understand it."

"It's not for you to concern yourself with," he snapped.

"Then what is? What exactly is my business then? For I'm not to know what you do, where you go, or even who resides in my house! If no one will tell me anything, then they mustn't be astonished when I seek answers for myself. But I've already grown rather weary of the lies and the secrets!"

"The secrets could cause you harm, Frances," Anthony said, his breaths short and his gaze intense.

"In what way? And if they can cause me harm, what worse terror could they inflict on you, hmm?" she demanded, standing firm.

"It matters not what happens to me. They are my problems, and I'll not drop them on you to carry."

"Do you not understand that whatever befalls you is a burden I must carry? This man has already sought money from you, funds that will feed me and my future children, God willing. What if he does something dangerous? What happens to me then?" Frances challenged. Anthony looked away, so she followed his gaze. "What happens to your sister?"

That did the trick, she thought triumphantly, though her victory was fleeting.

"What do you know of her?" he demanded, grasping Frances by the arms as if clinging to her for safety rather than being firm.

"Only what she herself has told me after she invited me to visit with her," Frances said truthfully, though she felt as if she was betraying Abigail's confidence. "She is a lovely girl and I'm honored to be her sister, too. And therefore, I will do whatever I must to protect her, but I cannot help you do that unless you are honest with me!"

"You have already helped in ways you cannot understand. You've done more than you know, and certainly more than you should have had to," he argued. "Now I must ask that you simply leave this alone."

"I will not! Whatever you've done until now is clearly not working. So let me help you and perhaps we can solve whatever problems you've got."

"No! I will not use you again! You deserve better than that!" Anthony hissed before looking stricken at his confession. He stepped back, his fists clenched at his sides as if he could strike something. Frances went pale.

"Using me… you only married me as a ruse, didn't you," she whispered, flooded with a sudden wave of humiliation.

"Frances, please allow me to explain," Anthony said, though he continued to look over her shoulder towards Sir Perry.

"There is no need. I should have known, for what sort of man marries the first woman he sees at a party. I'm the one who was foolish enough to think your talk of seeing me there and being stunned by my beauty would be true."

"Frances, stop. That was true! I swear it," he insisted, but Frances shook her head.

"Please. Don't."

"You don't understand—"

"No, I must say that on the contrary, I finally do understand. It's why I'm a stranger in my own home, why you hardly even look at me, let alone speak to me. You insisted I be present at every meal, all so it would look like you were happy in marriage, all so you could create the appearance of having a wife. It all makes sense now, and I feel utterly stupid for it."

"Frances, that is not why! I must explain it to you. Please!"

"I've heard all I need to, thank you," she whispered tearfully as she slipped out of the doorway. Anthony blocked her path. "If you will please step aside, I should like to go collect my things. Lady Agnes has graciously agreed to take me in, at least for now. I will not be a bother any longer."

"Frances, no. I need you to listen to me," Anthony said, stepping around in front of her once more and looking her in the eye. "I need you."

"I wish to go," she said, her voice low but firm.

"I beg you to permit me to explain. Then, if you still want to go, I will deliver you myself, anywhere you like."

Frances paused. She hated the weak feeling that was consuming her, the part of her heart that was still clinging to the thin hope that Anthony's words could undo her hurting. The image of Abigail's smiling face appeared in her mind, prompting her to at least consider his offer.

"All right. You may say your peace before I go."