Taking his cousin’s hand, they moved forward and back, performing the required steps in the country dance, before turning her and sending her to the next partner. Moments later, she returned. “It appears you had an excellent dance instructor,” he said.
She gave a cheeky grin. “Before I left for London, Mr. Tippy made sure I learned to avoid stepping on a gentleman’s feet.”
After a few minutes, she gazed up at him. “What is the matter, cousin? I thought I was the only one counting steps.”
He laughed. “Woolgathering, I suppose.”
The dance had come to an end, and he escorted Paula back to their group. “I was thinking about when you and my sister were children.”
“Ah, that was when I hung on your every word,” Paula said, grinning. “I was quite a pest.”
“It never felt that way.”
“Are you sure?” she teased.
“I’m here, aren’t I? If I did not enjoy your company, I would not be here, I can assure you.”
Katie looped her arm protectively through his. “Are you sure you aren’t here for…her?” she asked, nodding toward the fair-haired woman who’d just stepped into the ballroom. “Lady Gallwey just arrived. Alone.”
Thomas’ heart did several somersaults as he beheld Frankie across the room.
“I can read the shock on your face,” Paula said.
“You can.” It was a statement, not a question.
“For years, I was angry with whoever put those lies in the gossip rag.”
“There was nothing to gossip about…” he said, but his words died as he recalled that several people had seen them together that night, the dowager, and the widow among them.
“I have always felt there was more to the story,” Katie said. “Make yourself available to the dowager and hear what she has to say.” His sister squeezed his arm. “I don’t know what happened all those years ago. But just remember—neither do you, Thomas,” she whispered. “So, ask questions and listen. You may find the answers you seek.”
* * *
Drat!Why had she talked herself into coming here? Her friends had urged her to step back into Society and find someone whose company she could enjoy. As a widow, she had options that weren’t available to younger, unmarried women. Against her better judgment, Frankie had agreed.
And then she saw him. Goodness! Her heart thundered in her chest when she beheld him across the room.He’s here. I can’t believe he’s here after all these years. She’d made a terrible mistake coming here tonight. She hadn’t expected to see Thomas. Seeing him again after five years brought that night back to her, as though it was just yesterday. It also brought all those painful and bittersweet memories to the fore.
A part of her wished she’d stood up to her father and told him she had met someone and had fallen head over heels. But Thomas had disappeared that night with no explanation, no letter,nothing. It was as if she’d ceased to exist, making her wonder if she’d imagined that night at the ball and everything they’d said to each other. Heartbroken, she’d had no choice but to acquiesce to her father’s demands. She’d always wished her father had fought the rumors, but instead, he’d used them as a catalyst to meet his own financial needs in forcing her to marry Lord George Gallwey.
Her marriage had not been one of love, physical or otherwise. She did grow to care for George—for he was kind to her and never cruel. Even though her marriage had not been a love match, she wouldn’t have changed it for the world because of Maggie.
Her late husband’s daughter, Maggie, was the light of her life and she loved her with everything in her heart.
Maggie was at an age where she liked to play and begged her not to leave. She should have listened to her daughter and stayed home.
Frankie’s gaze once more strayed across the room. Thomas was speaking with a lovely young woman with dark hair, and they appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation. She wondered if the woman was his fiancée. After all, he was a most eligible bachelor, handsome, titled, wealthy, young, and virile. He could have his pick of any beautiful debutante. And then Frankie’s heart almost stopped when Thomas suddenly looked up and their eyes met. He inclined his head in a cool nod of recognition. Humiliation washed over her, making her want to flee.
Maybe no one else had noticed her. She looked around and noticed the Dowager Duchess of Clarence speaking with an older woman who looked like an older version of the brunette that Thomas was so engaged with. The debutante’s mother perhaps? Frankie had been absent from Society for so many years, she had no idea who was whom anymore.
Frankie looked about her, noting that people were staring, women were chatting behind their fans, and men were casting speculative looks her way. She inhaled a shaky breath. Clearly, the passing of five years meant nothing to the gossip-hungryton. Not enough time had passed for the two of them to be in the same room and not be the focal point of discussions.
Desperate for solace and privacy to regain her composure, Frankie slipped away from the crowded ballroom, passing a group of men who were clearly talking about her, their eyes gleaming with curiosity and something darker, bolder, insinuating. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she hurried along to find the retiring room. If what her late husband had said was true, men could be worse than women when it came to gossip. Since that conversation, each time she saw men gathered in small groups, she wondered whom they were targeting with their maliciousness. Perhaps that wasn’t fair, but she no longer cared about fairness. No one had been fair to her.
Frankie remembered everything so clearly about that night. They’d been in a well-lit area with plenty of couples milling about.Nothing untoward had happened.
After the lies and innuendo hit the gossip rags the day after that ill-fated ball, Frankie felt betrayed and heartbroken. Thomas had abandoned her to face the rumors alone. Her father began to press her about the damage to her reputation. With no choice, she’d relented and married Lord Gallwey.
George had said there had been no hint of the identity of the accuser who’d leaked the story to the papers. Evidently, the coward had sent an anonymous letter to the newspaper with enough detail that the editor had been unable to resist printing. But as George had pointed out, gossip rags didn’t give a fig for the truth, not when the story was as salacious as the one about her and Thomas. Her husband had told her it could have been anyone, man or woman, someone seemingly innocuous, lurking in the background.
