“He no longer matters, nor will I say his name.” Bethany closed the subject and turned to Frances. “I am very happy you will be joining me in my independent spinster status.”
“I do appreciate the opportunity,” Frances sighed with a smile. “I have quite outgrown the need for an aunt to dictate my comings and goings, and lecture about what I can and cannot do. I am old enough to make decisions for myself.” Besides, the income from her employment would allow Frances to be even more financially independent.
“So, it is true,” Shrewsbury murmured.
“What is true?” Bethany asked.
“I heard rumor that Lord Seth Claxton had left his gaming hell and attended a ball for the first time in over five years and now he just entered the box across from ours.”
Frances’ first instinct was to look, but she was too afraid. She had not seen Seth since he had broken her heart. Just the mere mention of his name caused the breath to lodge in her throat for but a moment as her pulse increased, then she quickly chastised herself for allowing him to have any effect on her person.
He was responsible for ruining her very first Season, even though she had already been too old to be placed on the marriage mart. But she had stupidly hoped that Seth would walk into a ballroom, see her, realize the error of his decision then sweep her up in his arms and beg for forgiveness. That had never occurred and she’d not seen Seth since the day he walked out of the cottage five years ago.
Instead, she heard rumors of how he was a rake, rogue and downright scoundrel. Frances had not wanted to believe what she had heard but too many people whispered similar stories, which meant there was some truth to their words. When she learned that he had opened his own gaming hell—The Emerald Garter—she wondered if he had laughed at her when he’d settled on the name.
How well had she known him and how much of what they had shared was a lie?
Hers had not been the only heart broken either. While she still lived in Laswell, he had flitted from one miss and debutante to another. He danced with them, took turns about the room, called and nearly courted, then quickly lost interest and moved on to the next, much like a bee in a flower garden who could not decide which bloom he liked the best. Seth hadn’t cared who he hurt because his only concern was making his fortune and being independent of his father.
“I wonder why he has returned to Society?” Bethany’s words intruded on her thoughts.
“Maybe he has decided to wed,” Shrewsbury offered to which Frances frowned. Seth had no intention of ever marrying, that was something he’d made very clear. At least to her.
“Why would you say so?” Bethany asked.
“I do not recognize the woman with him. She is a lady, and not the lightskirts he used to escort about when not at his gaming hell.”
Frances’ stomach churned at the very idea of Seth enjoying lovers and her heart filled with jealousy that someone had captured his—something she’d been unable to accomplish.
“She is very lovely,” Bethany acknowledged and as much as Frances knew that she would regret her actions, she turned to look.
Lady Blythe was the first person she saw, and Frances hated that small bit of relief that swept through her to see the lovely woman was Seth’s widowed sister and not a love.
However, when her eyes met Seth’s the pain of rejection surged along with anger. Frances tipped her chin and turned away, putting all her attention to the performance that was about to begin and dismissed Lord Seth Claxton from her mind.
Except it was impossible to forget about him and instead of watching the play, Frances returned to the last day they ever spent together.
Seth turned to face her and she noted the sadness in his blue eyes.
He bent forward and gently placed his lips against hers in the most tender of kisses.
They’d shared many kisses these past few years. Some of them sweet and others filled with passion and desire that left her body aching. Seth never pressed for more even though she would have likely allowed him any liberties he may have wished to take.
He pulled away, his hands cradling her face. “I will miss you Franny.”
Yes, the cottage had been sold and he would be returning to London while she traveled on to Yorkshire, but they would not be parted forever.
“We may see each other sooner than you believe.” Seth did not yet know of the letter she had just received from her uncle and she could not wait to share the news with him.
“I do not know when or if I will be able to visit you in Yorkshire. I will try to write though.”
“You will see me in the spring,” she announced with an excited grin.
Seth pulled back with a frown. “I do not understand.”
“Uncle Edmund has written that he has set enough aside to give my sister Hope, and cousin Bryn a Season.”
Some of her excitement dissipated. If she was not mistaken, Seth lost a bit of color as his blue eyes widened.
