Page 28 of Madcap with a Marquess
Genny’s green eyes widened, and she bounced on her toes. “Congratulations, Lady Francine—Rutledge. How wonderful!”
“Thank you, Genny.” Not even the subject of her marriage could dampen the warmth that had seeped into Franny the minute Genny had stepped into the cottage.
“Her Ladyship wants to take part in the preparations for the Midsummer’s Eve festival. Perhaps you two can gather some herbs from the garden, enjoy the beautiful day, and come up with some ideas on how she can assist.”
Genny tucked Franny’s arm in hers, and they were already halfway out the door when she called out, “Great idea, Mama!”
Franny laughed as Genny overenthusiastically tugged her around the back of her family’s cottage to their garden. They each picked up a basket hanging on the fence, and the familiarity of the action had some of the frustrations from her marriage dissipating. It was so comforting being back here. The Doherty’s had been the closest thing to a family Franny had ever had for a short while.
“I amdyingto hear about married life! Is it a dream?”
“I’m not sure how much information I can provide, as I have only been married a few days. I’m hardly an expert.” She said it lightly, but her stomach constricted. She was so far from an expert. Three days into her marriage, and her husband was already avoiding her like she was covered in boils. Preferring his own hand to her company. She bit back a growl. The beetle-headed hog grubber.
She forced a smile and glanced at Genny. “And with how beautiful you are, I am sure the men are fiercely vying for your hand. You will have your choice of husband and find out soon enough.”
Genny’s lips flattened. “Not if Billy has any say in it. Scares ‘em all away. Haven’t even been able to steal a kiss with him hovering about, the overprotective lout.”
Franny’s eyebrows shot up as she settled before a thyme plant. “Little Billy Doherty is frightening people? Do the men in this village have no backbone?”
Genny snorted so loud she started coughing. “Oh goodness, my lady. Billy is anything but little now.”
That was almost inconceivable, considering he’d been nearly a head shorter than Franny the last time she’d seen him three years past.
“I think I’ll have to see it to believe it,” she murmured, snipping some twigs of thyme into her basket. The rhythmic movements were calming; she’d done it so many times before when she was younger. “So, tell me about the Midsummer’s Eve festival. How can I help? I know Rutledge Manor sends down the feast each year, but there must be other things we can do.”
Genny wrinkled her nose as she collected some chives. She caught Franny’s eye before hastily looking away. She opened and shut her mouth and then let out a soft “hmmm”.
Franny chuckled. “What on earth, Genny? Are you having a fit?”
Genny rolled her eyes and flipped her rosy plait over her shoulder. “The feast the Rutledge’s provide…it leaves much to be desired.”
Franny’s brows scrunched. “Well, that’s no good. What would you like to be included?” She set her shoulders. “I am in charge this year, so you have an inside source. You name it, and you’ll have it.”
Genny’s eyes lit up, and she grinned. “Definitely keep the roast pig. But perhaps you could add meat pies to the menu. Any vegetable other than something that resembles a leaf. There is always sooo much cabbage and kale.” Genny’s nose turned up. “Perhaps sweetbreads and sweetmeats. Oh, and St. John’s apples! It is supposed to bring good luck to roast them over the fire, since it will be St. John’s Eve and all.”
“Duly noted,” Franny said with a firm nod and lifted her fingers to her forehead in a mock salute. “I’ll make it happen.”
And she would. The warmth that had settled over her as soon as she’d seen Mrs. Doherty grew, bubbling and fizzing like cheerful champagne. This was something she could do, something she could be good at. Look at her, enjoying anacceptable ladylike activity. Take that, Rupert.
“We also make garlands to wear and crowns, which you could assist with.” Genny glanced over at Franny, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Each type of bloom has a magical ability, bringing the wearer things like wealth, love, good health.”
Franny huffed out a laugh. “Magical abilities?”
“Yes.” Genny nodded adamantly, her green eyes wide and serious. “Never doubt the folklore of St. John’s Eve.” Her eyes narrowed, and a smirk curved her lips. “They say Verbena blooms enhance romantic relationships. Howareromantic relationships, hmm?”
“Genny!” Franny tossed a sprig of thyme at her friend.
Goodness, what was she supposed to say to that? She couldn’t admit the Lord and Lady of the Manor were a complete and utter disaster.
Genny chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to explain anything. My family are pig-farmers, my lady. I’m not ignorant of what goes on. Though I do hope there is much less squealing.”
Franny choked on a laugh, and Genny shot her a grin. Genny had always been a fiery one. It was probably a part of why Franny had been so drawn to the Dohertys. She had fit in with them. While she was able.
Franny glanced away from Genny’s expectant look and picked at her skirts, now stained with dirt from where she kneeled on the ground. She was sure Perfect Perty would have something to say about that when she returned.
“I don’t believe I’m the one you want those answers from, Gen,” she said quietly.
“Franny?” Concern coated Genny’s soft words, and her use of Franny’s Christian name pulled Franny back to their childhood days. Mr. and Mrs. Doherty had emphasized the importance of not forgetting Franny’s title—the line between tenant and noble. But when they’d all run off to play, the formality had been forgotten.
