Page 36 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

“Perhaps,” Frances finally conceded. “But what was the point in marrying at all if he intends to keep me shut out as well?”

“I cannot say for certain, for I am not the duke’s confidant. But I do know this much: this was a tremendous step for him. Attending a ball, seeking you out, proposing marriage only to be rejected and not understanding why, then having you change your mind and agree to marriage… it was quite an ordeal, I’m sure. Be patient and permit him to recover from the effort of it, from the fright even, and then you will see what a gentle, caring, simply nice man he is.”

Frances smiled shyly. She had been rather abrasive about forcing Anthony to be more to her liking, she was certain of it. There was a prick of guilt in her conscience for it, too. Mrs. Barrett was right, she hadn’t exactly given Anthony much of a chance to be accustomed to all of this, and he was quite likely to be just as unnerved by all of it as she had been.

“Thank you, Mrs. Barrett. You have once again given me some very wise counsel, and by rights, you shouldn’t have to be instructing me on how to be a good wife and duchess. I appreciate how patient you’ve been in correcting my missteps.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace, for I most certainly don’t!” she answered cheerfully.

A knock at the door prompted them both to look up in surprise. Mrs. Barrett crossed the expansive sitting room and opened the door to Mr. Vickers.

“Your Grace, you have a visitor downstairs. She says she was summoned here by you. A Miss Sara Brandt,” the butler said formally.

“Sara! Oh, my goodness, what wonderful news. Vickers, please bring her up. Mrs. Barrett, that’s the lady’s maid I wrote for. She served in my uncle’s house, and I know she’ll be so much happier here.”

“That is welcome news,” the housekeeper said, visibly glad to hear it. “We must instruct her in His Grace’s rules, however, and see that she remembers them.”

By the time Mrs. Barrett left and Sara was escorted up, Frances was beside herself with excitement. There would finally be someone in the house who knew her, someone who could chat with her and pass the time with her.

Maybe now I won’t feel so alone, Frances thought, practically dancing across the room to open the door.

Her excitement was extinguished all too quickly. One look at Sara’s somber face told her that something was terribly wrong.

“Sara, what’s wrong?” Frances demanded, taking her by the arm and gently pulling her towards a chair.

“Oh, Yer Grace! Everything’s wrong! It’s just awful!” she cried, falling into a chair and dropping her bag on the floor beside her.

“Tell me everything,” Frances insisted, sliding another chair close by and sitting down.

“Well, ya know how yer aunt and uncle aren’t the kindest people in all of London,” she began hesitatingly. “Always goin’ on about money and others’ titles and whatnot, always mindful that they don’t have as much as everyone else.”

“Yes, that does sound like them.”

“Yer uncle’s gone and dismissed half the staff! But he wouldn’t say it was due to their wages, so he accused ‘em of stealing from him, claims they’ve been doin’ it for years!”

“What? How could he do such a thing! It’s not only a horrid lie, but they’ll never find any respectable work if people think them to be thieves!” Frances cried, horrified.

“I know it. It’s just awful. And to think that the only one who did actually go pilferin’ anything wasme, tryin’ to help ya keep yer rightful belongin's!”

“Sara, you mustn’t feel that way. You did nothing wrong, for those things were my property,” Frances corrected her sternly, trying to make the girl see that she was as innocent as a lamb.

“Thank ya, but I know what I done. I took ‘em after yer uncle said ya weren’t to have any of yer things. But I just couldnaw stand to see ya go without what’s rightfully yers! Those things were from yer saintly parents, and it wasn’t right to keep ‘em from ya.”

Frances threw her arms around Sara and embraced her, thanking her once again for the trouble she’d gone to.

“So, after so many of ‘em were dismissed in such a hateful way, and then when Mrs. Pennings had told me about yer letter—yer aunt had taken it from her so I couldnaw read it, not that I could know what the words said anyway—I came here straight away, hopin’ for a position a-fore that terrible man could send me away.”

“Of course, you have a position here! And I promise I shall ask my husband about hiring those who were so hatefully accused. This is not right, and I will do my best to make him see that,” Frances promised.

Sara wept tears of sadness and relief while Frances patted her hand, reassuring her that somehow they would make this right.

“Do you think he’ll approve?” Sara finally asked, dabbing at her eyes.

“I should think so. He’s a good person, and—oh good heavens! I’m late for dinner with him!” Frances cried out, jumping to her feet.

“Here, I’ll help you,” Sara offered, following Frances to where some of Agnes’ gowns were hanging. She shrugged off her coat and laid it over a chair to set about dressing Frances and styling her hair.

With Sara’s assistance, Frances was ready and hurrying down the stairs in only a matter of minutes. Still, she cringed when she glanced at the clock above the dining room fireplace. Anthony was already seated at the table, looking lonelier than Frances could recall ever seeing him.

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