Page 5 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

Of course not.

“Oh, that’s right,” Juliet continued, turning her spiteful gaze on Frances, “she has no money to buy anything. I suppose she’ll have to wear my old things. You go ahead and keep that one, Frances. I don’t want it back. Father will simply have to buy me a new one.”

Frances would have rolled her eyes if Lady Hutchings wasn’t watching her smugly to gauge her reaction.

“Oh, Juliet. I could never take your gown for keeps,” she said, simpering a little. “I’m sure your father has already spent more than he intended on your Season. I shall be very careful with it, I promise, and try not to spill anything on it.”

After Lord Hutchings’ ominous grunt of agreement, Juliet fumed at her words. It took all of Frances’ strength not to grin triumphantly in return, so instead she kept watch from the window until they reached Colonel Fitzgerald’s house.

No sooner had she stepped down from the carriage than Lady Hutchings was at her elbow. The woman gripped it almost painfully tightly and whispered urgently in Frances’ ear.

“I do not need to remind you how to conduct yourself. After all, the money we threw away on your education should have more than prepared you. But I am reminding you that you have a singular purpose this evening—find a worthy match.”

With that, her aunt released her grip and pushed ahead of Frances to follow after Juliet. Frances turned and glanced at heruncle for reassurance, but he only looked right through her as he always did.

Inside, the Colonel’s house was homey and inviting. Every room had been cleared of most of the furnishings to make room for the boisterous crowds. Most of the chairs had been placed along the walls to permit the revelers to sit and rest after dancing, or better, to converse and catch up. Frances couldn’t help but admire the overly welcoming scene.

“This is nothing like the balls at Miss Chatham’s school, is it?” someone said, coming up behind her and covering her eyes with their hands.

Startled, Frances turned around at once and pulled the hands from her eyes. She laughed with delight when she saw Emma and Agnes beaming at her.

“Oh, it’s so wonderful to see a familiar face!” Frances cried, embracing them both. “But no, this is not at all what I expected.”

“Mother says it’s because Colonel Fitzgerald married well above his station,” Agnes said in a low voice so as not to be overheard. “His reward for all the years of victorious service was to marry well, a third daughter of a well-appointed gentleman. The Colonel’s wife is great-niece to the king!”

“My word!” Emma said, looking around. “But this is more like a public ball than one of Miss Chatham’s carefully arranged events.”

“To be fair, we were not there to socialize,” Frances reminded her as she looked around to get her bearings. “We were only there to learn and observe.”

“True enough, though I shall not miss having to dance with any of the young soldiers who were brought in to help us practice our steps. My toes still haven’t recovered!”

As the three ladies took a turn of the various rooms in Colonel Fitzgerald’s first floor, they nodded in greeting to those they did not yet know. As they walked, they whispered and giggled secretively about some of the many misadventures they’d faced at school. From nearly being caught pilfering cakes from the larder to hiding on the roof to avoid going to chapel, there was a delicious story for practically every misdeed.

“I still cannot believe we managed to last as long as we did there,” Agnes complained, turning serious. “It’s a wonder we weren’t packed off for home on a number of occasions, and with no one to blame but ourselves!”

“Well, a school cannot afford to toss aside its well-monied students. It’s positively shocking what Miss Chatham would be willing to overlook if she knew, all in the name of keeping her doors open and coal in the cellar,” Emma said brazenly.

Agnes nudged Emma sharply, and Emma looked horrified for a moment. Her disposition became apologetic almost at once.

“I’m sorry, Frances. That wasn’t kind of me,” she said quietly.

“What’s that? Oh, there’s no harm done! It’s not as though I wasn’t aware of my situation,” Frances answered pleasantly. “It’s not your fault that my father left this world with little to show for it, after all, and I wouldn’t expect you to be forlorn to spare me just because your father is rather solvent. Or you as well, Aggie.”

Her friends smiled gratefully at her readiness to be understanding, and Frances couldn’t understand why. Was it only those who had money and feared losing it who felt as though the poorer among them were to be pitied… or avoided altogether?

“What a flock of wayward ducklings we make, hmm? You’re the only one among us who had any sort of respectability to her,” Emma said mournfully to Frances. “Your father and mother were at least well-respected and known before their untimely accident. My father is a baron who cannot stand being scorned for his low station, and Agnes—”

“Don’t say it,” Agnes warned darkly, an uncharacteristic sharpness to her protest.

“Aggie,” Frances said lovingly, putting her hand on her friend’s arm.

“What? Do you think I’m not constantly reminded of my own lot in life?” she asked, turning away from their sympathetic gazes. “I wear my shame like a cloak everywhere I go. Being in London has done nothing but serve as a reminder that there are doors that will remain steadfastly closed to me because of my…”

Frances put an arm around Agnes’ shoulder, but neither she nor Emma waited for Agnes to finish her thought. They knew all too well what she meant, what the other girls at Miss Chatham’s had often taunted Agnes with.

Her father was a duke… and a rake who had ruined her mother. She’d been left on his doorstep after her own mother had not survived the birth, and her father—though he and Agnes and all thetonknew the never-to-be-spoken-of truth—raised her as his adopted child.

“Aggie, that is not your crime. You did nothing wrong. All this time, you’ve grown up into a beautiful, witty, warm young lady who’s made the best of her situation. Weren’t you the one whose mother secured all these invitations for you? For us? People cannot still harbor any scorn towards you if they’re glad to have you dance in their ballrooms.”

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