She had not given details to her father, exactly, but she had informed him that she wouldsend word of her whereabouts once she was situated. That was almost the same thing, as far as she was concerned.
“You should learn to speak less and listen more,” the duke remarked coolly, igniting a fresh blaze of anger within her.
“That is not what a good tutor does,” she shot back, shaking with fury.
If this man had any idea what her existence had been like before coming here, he would not dare to make such assumptions. She was tired of always being the listener and never being listened to.
“And your daughter needs a tutor, far more than I think you realize,” she continued with fervor. “She is beautiful, she has character, she is a good judgeof character, but it will not be enough. A rough diamond cannot bethediamond, but with some faceting and polishing and attention, Icanmake her sparkle in a way that will make thetonfall over themselves to know her.”
She was embellishing her ability, perhaps, but who had not stretched the truth in times of desperation? Besides, Lucinda had been the debutante on everyone’s lips when she had entered society two years prior; she had just been unimpressed by thegentlemen who favored her, waiting for a love match. And Juliet had been greatly talked about, admired wherever she went, with many whispers that she would be the diamond.
And I shall miss all of it…
“Lady Frances,” the duke said, standing up to his full, towering height. “I do not trust society, nor do I trust those it casts out.”
She crinkled her nose. “Then you must not trust anyone.”
“I trust those who prove themselves worthy of it,” he replied, as he eased his ragged coachman’s coat off his shoulders and draped the garment over the armrest of the settee.
Frances could not help but stare, half-wondering why he had seen fit to undress in front of her, half-wondering how shoulders could be so broad.
It was not just his shoulders that snared her attention, either. Powerful arms bulged beneath his ruined shirt, so thick she doubted she could have put both hands around them and had her fingertips meet. And, thanks to the rain that now pattered against the windows, she was privy to sights that she should not have seen: a muscular chest that spoke of brute strength, and the ridges of a work-hardened abdomen.
She found she had to remind herself to breathe.
“I would not have come here if I did not think I could help your daughter,” she said hoarsely, her throat refusing to cooperate. “Yes, I sought to escape London, but I did not answer your advertisement with the assumption that you would accept me due to my father’s title. If I had, I would have announced myself as Lady Frances from the beginning. No, I answered your advertisement because I knew I could do it, and do it well, as well as it offering me a reprieve from society.”
“What proof do you have?” he replied, standing there in that dirtied, drenched shirt and torn trousers.
She swallowed thickly. “I have trained my two sisters for this very thing. One has had countless proposals of courtship and two proposals of marriage, though she has not accepted any. The younger will be debuting soon and it is rumored that she will be chosen as the diamond of the Season, but… I believe I may have ruined that.”
The duke folded his arms across his broad chest and stared at her as if he meant to bore a hole straight through her. It took all the willpower that Frances possessed to hold that intimidating gaze, for she feared that if she looked away, he would cast her out.
In tense silence, they continued to stare at each other, the tick of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece sounding out the minutes of their wordless duel. And though she was squirming inside, flushed and awkward, she refused to be the first to break the quiet.
After what must have been an eternity at least, the duke expelled a strained breath. “I will tolerate your presence if you prove yourself to be useful.” He grabbed his coat from the armrest. “You have one month to instruct my daughter, so she may debut with everyone else. If Harriet is not ready for the Season by the month’s end, you will be dismissed.”
With that, he headed for the door.
CHAPTER THREE
“Wait!” Frances yelped, shooting to her feet.
The duke rested his hand on the door handle, though he did not turn to face her. “If you cannot do it, you may leave.” He opened the door. “There will be a stagecoach in an hour.”
“Wait!” she repeated, as she hurried toward him and, with all the courage she could muster, reached out to touch his arm. To prevent him from leaving before she had even given her reply.
Goodness…It was like touching stone, the hard muscle a shock. She had not known an arm could feel so solid, and she had taken the arm of several gentlemen during the past seven years.
The duke seemed to bristle at the contact and pushed away from the door, putting a polite distance between them. “I have said all that needs to be said,” he told her. “You are either capable or you are not. I shall find out tomorrow, when you are either here or you are gone.”
“But… butIhave not said all that needs to be said,” she replied, a bite in her voice.
She was no fool; he was setting her up to fail in this endeavor. He had decided what he thought of her the moment she gave her name, suspicion in his every word, distrust in those sharp blue eyes of his. Yet, he no doubt wished to avoid a quarrel with his daughter by pretending he had given Frances a chance.
But Frances had never backed down from a task that had been put before her, no matter how great or how impossible it might seem. That would not change today.
“Let me be certain I understand you,” she continued, breathless. “You want your daughter to debut atthisSeason’s debutante ball? The debutante ball that is barely five weeks from now?”
