Page 43 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“You don’t think that—” Agnes began, but she stopped when it was Emma this time who jabbed her in the side.

“Think what?” Frances demanded, narrowing her eyes.

Emma and Agnes exchanged a look, but Emma only shrugged. Agnes leaned closer and asked, “Could this nurse be the duke’s… ladybird?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know… his kept woman,” Agnes whispered.

Frances was horrified. She shook her head, but she did not reply right away as her mind began churning. Surely, Anthony would never be so callous as to keep another woman in the very house and expect Frances to see her every day! The reverse was true as well, for no gentleman would force the woman he did love to share the house with his rightful wife and the mother of his heirs. Why, the rumors that would circulate among theton—that she was so unworthy that her husband’s mistress lived under the same roof!—would be unthinkable.

“I refuse to believe it,” she finally said quietly, folding her hands in her lap and looking thoughtful. “He may be somewhat unusual, but I cannot believe he is cruel as well.”

“Perhaps he has had no need to move her out to a townhouse until now, and intends to do so very soon,” Emma suggested as gently as she could.

The more they spoke, the more her friends’ concerns began to make sense. Who would possibly need a nurse in a household of only one man? And why had Miss O’Reilly whisked away the mistaken parcels which happened to contain ladies’ garments, and beautiful ones at that? Of course, Frances had noted the way this “nurse” had ordered Mrs. Barrett about, even demanding that the housekeeper come help her at once. Mrs. Barrett had been all too eager to oblige, for some reason.

“I think I might be ill,” Frances whispered, pressing a hand to her middle as though she could stop the ominous churning inher stomach. “First, this terrible news about poor Juliet, and now this? Is there anything else this awful day wishes to heap upon me?”

As if by some fantastical force of doom, Mr. Vickers appeared in the doorway.

“Your Grace,” he announced formally, “your aunt, Lady Hutchings, has come to call.”

Frances closed her eyes and let her shoulders sag in defeat.

“I never should have said anything,” she muttered before sitting up straighter and looking at her friends. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” Agnes whispered as Frances turned to the butler.

“Thank you, Vickers. I will receive her,” Frances said loudly, hoping her aunt was eavesdropping at the door.

The butler bowed and stepped back to permit Lady Hutchings to enter. Frances noticed right away that the woman’s gaze drifted all around the room as if appraising the value of its contents. Frances stood up, squared her shoulders, and folded her hands serenely in front of her as she held her head high. Behind her, Agnes and Emma followed suit, flanking her like a pair of ladies-in-waiting.

Lady Hutchings strode forward but stopped when her attention finally drifted to Frances. She appeared to be taken aback by theyounger woman’s newfound sense of importance. She opened her mouth to say something then paused, gritting her teeth bitterly as she curtseyed to the duchess.

“Your Grace,” Lady Hutchings said, her jaw clenched.

“Lady Hutchings,” Frances stated simply. “To what do I owe this visit while I am still on my honeymoon?”

Her aunt didn’t ignore the slight. Instead, her grimace turned into something of a leer that was trying to pass itself off as a smile.

“I have simply come to see how you’re getting along,” she began in a rather high-pitched voice. “And to tell you that I’ve arranged to have your belongings packed up and brought over. They’re here with me now.”

“Oh? So, my uncle has relented on stealing them from me?” she asked, enjoying the flash of disdain that passed over the viscountess’ face. “Or has he forgiven me for rejecting his pig of a friend?”

Lady Hutchings’ pinched smile appeared fixed in place with some sort of glue. She nodded slightly.

“Something like that,” she finally said, simpering slightly as she fought to keep the anger out of her tone.

“Good. I shall have Vickers bring them upstairs. Or I could possibly wait for one of ournewservants to carry them up. They will be here later today. You may leave the things in the foyer until then.”

Frances knew that her aunt would surely have learned about the servants’ new positions and be furious, and she wasn’t disappointed. Of course, the faint air of dismissal in her tone kept Lady Hutchings from being able to say much more. The older woman glanced between Agnes and Emma, then came closer.

“I was hoping I could speak to you briefly about a private family matter,” she began slowly, clearly hinting at Frances’ friends.

“Whose family would that be?” Frances challenged, her features calm though her insides ached with her own hurt feelings.

Lady Hutchings only smiled again. “I see.”

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