Page 10 of Madcap with a Marquess
He took his mother’s hands in his and squeezed. “I am sure your presence will be much appreciated after that time. Lady Francine—” He cleared his throat and quickly glanced back at Franny. “Erm, Lady Rutledge, that is, will be in much need of your guidance and wisdom. I am sure of it.” He smiled down at his mother, who broke out in her own smile.
Franny’s nose wrinkled. If evil could smile, the dowager’s face would surely be it.
The dowager turned to Franny. “I am sure of it as well.”
With one quick, contemptuous perusal, the woman made it clear that no amount of guidance in all of England could ever transform Franny into an acceptable Lady Rutledge.
Franny ground her teeth but forced her lips to curve upward since her husband was looking her way. She wanted the dowager’s guidance like she wanted cabbage served at dinner:
Not at all.
“Well, we best be off.” Lord Rutledge leaned forward and bussed his mother on the cheek.
In the same exact manner he had with Franny.
Her gut roiled.
That could not be a good sign.
5
Franny
FrannyfollowedLordRutledgethrough the doors of the Pearl Swan Inn, held open wide by two impeccably dressed footmen. They approached the ornately carved reception desk, the slap of her slippers and the thud of his boots echoing through the vast entry. Nothing but the best for Pretentious Perty. Stiff and starched from his black topper to his gleaming black Hessians.
She huffed out an irritated breath, and her husband's lips tightened. They’d just suffered an awkward and stilted carriage ride, during which Lord Rutledge had rattled off his expectations of her as his wife. Most of which she hadn’t heard. She’d stopped listening around which China should be set out for the dinners she would need to plan to support his political ambitions. That was all well and good, but blast it all, could they not discuss anything more diverting on their wedding day?
She still couldn’t believe he hadn’t kissed her. Bussed her on her cheek. Like she was some musty smelling elderly aunt. Like he’d bussed his mother. She wanted to throw up all over his shiny Hessians. She reached up and fisted her locket, gaining some calm from the cool, familiar silver.
They stepped up to the desk and a rosy-cheeked man wearing a wig of white curls greeted them with a smile.
“Lord and Lady Rutledge! Welcome!”
“Are our two rooms ready?” her husband asked. “Please have our luggage brought up straight away.”
Franny double blinked. Two rooms? Well, that wouldn’t do. How would they consummate the marriage in separate rooms? She hastily unclasped her locket and slid it into the pocket she’d sewn into her skirts.
Then she let out a sharp gasp.
Lord Rutledge spun toward her, gaze flying over her person. “What’s wrong? Is something amiss?”
Her hand flitted over her bare neck and she looked up at him, furrowing her brows. “Dear me, my locket, my lord. It was my mother’s. It’s all I have of hers. It must have fallen off in the carriage.” Franny rested her hand on her husband’s forearm. His muscles went rigid, and his gaze shot to where she touched him. “Will you check and see if it is in the carriage, my lord? I would be mostappreciative.”
Not looking away from her hand, Lord Rutledge nodded. “Yes, yes…of course.”
He stepped away and briskly exited the inn. As soon as the door swung closed, Franny strode to the counter and locked stares with the innkeeper. “How much coin for the only room left in the inn to be a single bedchamber?”
The innkeeper raised a dark brow that clashed with his white wig. “I may be able to be convinced.”
Everyone had a price. She hoped this man’s wasn’t more than her pin money. And what a shock that had been. Pin money? She’d been lucky to have a warm cooked meal at her father’s. No. Not father’s.The Earl’s.
Franny opened her reticule, pulled out a crown, and placed it on the counter. “Will that suffice?”
He stared at the coin.Have some sympathy for a bride on her wedding night. Please.
“One more crown, and I’ll see it done.”
Franny smiled and placed another crown on the counter. She stepped back and clicked her reticule shut. There was nothing more important than a woman’s virtue—one of the few lessons that had been drilled so thoroughly into Franny from her many governesses that it stuck. She didn’t like the fact, nor agree with it, but to be frank, she didn’t agree with much her governesses said. Regardless, her virtue was for her husband. She didn’t want to think of what it meant if her husband didn’t want it. This marriage was her last chance at even a semblance of happiness.
