Page 54 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“He sounds wonderful,” Frances said, nodding her thanks to Mr. Vickers, who silently instructed the new footman on how to serve their plates.

“He was. I regret that he perished when I was so young, for I’m certain I could have learned so much more from him.”

“And your mother?” Frances asked, happy to listen to Anthony actually divulge these things about himself.

“She was a saint. She loved my father very much, and he adored her. I don’t recall much about it, but I know that his first wife died of an illness, and therefore, there was something of an age difference between my parents. But I can still recall the way she grieved over him. She never let me forget what a wonderful man he was and how much he’d cherished us both.”

“But you’ve lost her too?”

“Yes, sadly,” Anthony said, clearly growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Why don’t you tell me about school?” Frances suggested, changing the subject before it became too painful.

“I was taught here at home. My mother seemed to worry that I might be tormented by some of the other students if she sent me away, but secretly, I think she simply couldn’t stand the thought of an empty house. But what about you? You mentioned that those ladies who are always about were classmates of yours, I believe.”

“They are not always about,” Frances corrected with a grin, “but yes. We attended school together up in Marwell. Some girls can be petty or even cruel when forced to reside together, but Agnes and Emma became my dearest friends from the moment we met. It made the reality of living far from home easier to bear.”

“That does sound rather nice. I never had any playmates of my own, though I did have cousins on my mother’s side who would visit from time to time.”

Frances smiled wistfully as Anthony described his childhood in better detail. She began to see the full picture of a man who’d experienced great loss coupled with isolation and loneliness. It was no wonder he wasn’t a better conversationalist or more open with his feelings.

It was true, she thought happily as they began to talk about holidays and books and composers.All he needs is some practice, someone to talk to.

By the following day, Frances was starting to feel as though the chaos of her new life might be sorting itself out. She’d sent her messages to inquire about Juliet, and the butcher had begrudgingly agreed to inform her if Juliet returned. Anthony had been a lovely dinner companion the evening before, and they’d stayed up quite late into the night talking. When she’d finally excused herself and gone up to bed, Frances had even wondered what had made her so worried in the first place.

She hurried out of bed and got ready for breakfast, intent on being on time. If every meal could be as pleasant as yesterday evening’s dinner, they would all be something to look forward to. Instead, her hopes were dashed when she opened her door and found Mrs. Barrett standing there with a tray.

“What’s all this?” Frances asked politely.

“My apologies, Your Grace, but the duke had to hurry off this morning. He sends his deepest regrets for abandoning you first thing in the morning, but he wasn’t certain when he’d be back.”

So much for this rule about mealtimes, Frances thought, trying not to be bitter.

“I understand,” she said, forcing herself to remain cheerful for Mrs. Barrett’s sake. “Thank you for bringing that up, but I’d best get in the habit of taking my meals downstairs… and on time.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said with a knowing smile.

Frances followed Mrs. Barrett down, thinking all the while about where Anthony could have gone at such an early hour. She hadn’t known him to leave the house so early, but then again, she wasn’t entirely certain what sort of business he conducted. All he’d said the previous evening was that it had been his father’s investments and he’d taken them on.

“Mrs. Barrett, could you tell me what it is His Grace does?” Frances ventured, knowing before she’d even asked that the loyal housekeeper was going to be vague.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I don’t know. It’s not my place to involve myself in his business affairs.”

“He’s never even mentioned it? Perhaps to Vickers?”

“I should think not. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Of course.” Frances made a note to bring it up the next time she and Anthony were conversing.

After eating her solitary breakfast, Frances returned to the library to find an interesting volume to read, one that would absorb her attention and keep her from spending too much time alone with her thoughts. Her sewing could wait, for the gowns she’d ordered had still not arrived. Besides, the day was looking as if it might turn foul, and Frances did love to sit with a book while the gloomy sky unleashed rain against the windows.

Frances had been reading for only a short while when the butler appeared at the doorway to summon her. He knocked softly and waited for her to look up.

“Your Grace, forgive me. But there is a gentleman here to see the duke. Sir Perry Smyth, Baronet of Bellingsworth,” Vickers said.

“The duke isn’t here though, is he?” she asked, wondering why she should involve herself.

“No, Your Grace. But this gentleman is… persistent. He claims to have come for something that is owed to him, and he is not fond of the idea of returning later when His Grace is at home.”

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