“I am not at all angry,” she assured Lady Levene. “I am only trying to find my feet here at Westall Park and as a married woman and a duchess. You have been married three times, and for many years, but it is all new to me.”
Those shrewd blue eyes seemed to look into Frances’ mind and heart but the old lady did not speak again immediately, only nodding and patting the tree-trunk place beside her again.
“I will not say any more on this subject today,” she promised once Frances retook her seat. “It is better that my grandson is the one to help you find your place at Westall Park and show you that you belong. Ambrose is a good man, you know, and capable of far greater and finer feeling than he has ever had the chance to demonstrate.”
These were kindly meant statements, Frances was sure, but also bewildering. What was Lady Levene really trying to say?
“He is a good man,” Frances agreed and was then relieved to see Winifred scampering back towards them with a selection of interesting pebbles from the shore, offering an end to furtheradult confidences. “Winnie, what have you found? Come and show us!”
Chapter Thirteen
“The finest flowers of Westall Park,” pronounced the Duke of Westall, descending the steps from the terrace down to the lawn where Winifred and her new stepmother were playing with hoops and balls. “Both literal and metaphorical.”
Winnie smiled adoringly and ran to her father, eager to hug him and then have the little handful of wild flowers from the woodland threaded in her hair as usual. Frances looked to him more cautiously and faltered, only following the child’s footsteps after a moment’s hesitation.
“Papa always picks the prettiest flowers,” Winnie said as Ambrose tucked several into her braids or behind her ear. “When he goes walking, he always looks for my favorite color and brings them for me.”
“Ah, but is your favorite color today red, yellow or pink?” Ambrose laughed, putting the remaining blooms into her smallfingers while keeping hold of a second bunch in his other hand. “I brought three colors for you, to be sure of getting it right.”
“I like all of them today,” his daughter giggled and then pointed to the second set of flowers, all white, pastel pink and pale violet. “Are those ones Duchess Frances’ favorite colors?”
“I do not know,” he admitted, with an enquiring glance to his new duchess. “But I do know that they are all colors that become her very well. You do know that you may call Frances ‘Stepmother’ now, don’t you Winnie?”
Winifred pulled a face but then looked at both adults a little uncertainly.
“Stepmother is an ugly word and I like Frances,” she tried to explain to her father. “I’m glad that you got married and that she is the Duchess of Westall and has come to live with us. Do I really have to call her ‘Stepmother?’”
“Winnie may call me what she wishes,” Frances said immediately, taking the girl’s hand with a smile. “As long as she understands that I am her family now too, it does not matter.”
“I’m glad you are here, Duchess Frances,” Winnie responded, snuggling in close to her stepmother.
“So am I,” Ambrose added, regarding them both with warm satisfaction, reflecting that he seemed to have made a gooddecision in choosing his second wife, or at least a stepmother for his child.
“We have been having great fun this morning, haven’t we, Winnie?” said the duchess to the happy girl. “We’ve roamed over half the gardens. I dare say we will both be very hungry at luncheon.”
Winifred nodded.
“There’s still more I must show you, Duchess Frances. There’s places here no one knows but me, not even Father or Mrs. Betsworth or Mr. Jolley the head gardener…”
Frances’ first weeks at Westall Park had been a great success from the perspective of seeing his daughter bonding with this new parental figure. Having visited several times, his grandmother had also been extremely complimentary about the new duchess and the way Frances took such great interest in Winifred’s life, from her meals to her schoolbooks, to her pets and hobbies.
Winnie certainly welcomed this attention and took pride in being her stepmother’s guide around the estate. When the little girl was not in the schoolroom with Miss Winters, she and Frances seemed almost inseparable and Ambrose was glad of it.
This was not only for his daughter’s sake but also because it gave him some non-threatening justification for seeking out Frances. They must surely get to know one another, even in a marriage of convenience, and Ambrose already grasped that his wife didnot like to be directly pursued, whether by an unwanted dance partner at a ball, or a husband whose desire was sparked by her graceful figure.
So, if Winnie wanted her bedtime story from Frances, Ambrose might linger in the corridor to listen. If Winnie wanted to play ball in the garden with Frances, Ambrose might reasonably bring them flowers from the nearby woodland. He must tread softly until his new wife beckoned him closer, a development that still seemed some way in the future.
The Duke of Westall was increasingly certain that Frances had been avoiding him since that passionate embrace in his bedroom on her first evening at Westall Park. Every time Ambrose thought again of those minutes, he had to take a deep breath and recompose himself. It had ended all too soon, but even such short tastes of Frances’ lips made him want far more…
“You’re daydreaming, Papa!” laughed Winifred, making him realize that she had been addressing him. “I was trying to get you to tell Duchess Frances about the old herb garden and the boarded well that I’m not allowed to play near. Miss Winters tells me not to daydream but that’s when I’m inside. Is it better to daydream outside?”
“We all daydream sometimes, Winnie,” her father answered, patting her head. “Miss Winters is right that it is best not done in the schoolroom.”
“In any case, I’m sure your father was thinking of something useful,” Frances remarked further, presumably having no cluethat the duke’s mind had strayed back to the brief encounter of their wedding night.
“Were you, Papa? What were you thinking about?” Winnie now pursued him.
“The past is past and the present is pleasant,” he answered humorously, his actual thoughts certainly not appropriate for his audience.
