Frances had never wanted a man like this before, never even dreamed of wanting someone, and it was terrifying.
That was only a first taste. You must tell me when you are ready for more…
She felt as though she was in the high branches of a tree and Ambrose had said that he would catch her when she was ready to jump. He might well be strong and willing, but to jump from such a height was still no easy thing. Frances might never have the courage for it.
And so the hours, and then days, ticked by in avoided eye-contact, blushes and polite conversation. Frances hoped that Ambrose was really as patient as he seemed. If she received another summons from him, she could not ignore it – and did not want to.
Now, she watched the butler open the front door for Mr. Vennels and then listened as the duke’s footsteps retreated once more to the study where he had been closeted with his guest. Only when she heard the sound of the study door closing did Frances descend and go about her business.
“I hear you met with your lawyers this afternoon,” Frances said conversationally at dinner, glad to have something neutral to talk about rather than genuinely curious about Ambrose’s meeting with Mr. Vennels.
“Yes, nothing of great interest,” the duke responded very casually, so casually, in fact, that Frances felt prompted to question him further.
“Nothing that concerns me as your wife?” she asked.
Raising her eyes to Ambrose’s face, she saw him blink somewhat self-consciously.
“Not really, no,” he answered after a pause for thought. “It was to do with a family trust, only an administrative matter.”
Did he deliberately then put a piece of meat into his mouth so that he could not answer anything further for a while? Frances frowned slightly but could not put her finger on exactly what was bothering her about his reaction.
It might only be that the Duke of Westall had been so very frank and open with Frances in other areas of his life that this mild reluctance to talk struck her more noticeably. Some people did not like to speak of money, she supposed. Perhaps her husband was among them.
Lawyers for the Scovell estate had already assured Frances that her own future was taken care of in the marriage contract and she had seen this in writing, with signatures and seals. Even if slightly mysterious, the duke’s meeting today could have not impact her own legally protected security and fortune, could it?
But then, why would the bank need to see their marriage certificate? If Frances confessed to eavesdropping, she could ask Ambrose this question directly. Not wishing to admit that she had been hiding from him on the staircase, she moved on instead.
“Wasn’t Winnie’s drawing of her pony rather good?”
Ambrose answered and then conversed throughout dinner affably enough but some part of him was withdrawn and thoughtful. They agreed that he should read Winnie’s bedtime story alone that evening. Neither of them attempted to linger once the meal was done.
Ambrose had been surprised when Frances asked him of his meeting with Mr. Vennels. He had not mentioned anythingabout this but supposed that she must have seen the lawyer’s carriage outside and asked one of the servants.
Well, it was hardly a secret that he should sometimes meet his family lawyer, was it? The Dukes of Westall had employed Vennels & Bristow for three generations now and anyone in the district would know that Ambrose was a client of theirs.
Before Frances spoke, he had been casting surreptitiously appreciative glances in her direction and thinking again of that first foray they had finally made into marital intimacy. She was in white muslin tonight with a diamond pendant hanging low, just above the tops of her shapely breasts. Ambrose remembered their weight and softness in his hands and the sounds Frances made when he kissed them.
She had been so very shy since that encounter. Remembering her confession of how much she feared her own desire, Ambrose had held himself back over the last few days, waiting and hoping for Frances to return to his arms of her own volition. As he waited, he wondered what he might show her next..?
The dry questioning about his meeting with Vennels had brushed all such pleasurable contemplation temporarily aside.
Ought he to have introduced his wife to Mr. Vennels? Perhaps that was the source of the flash of mild displeasure he thought he saw on Frances’ face during their short discussion about the lawyer’s visit. If Frances had been around, he would have done so, but she had vanished once Winnie returned to the schoolroom after luncheon.
The duke felt a pang of conscience which he tried and failed to shrug off. Why should he feel guilty? He had not lied. It really had only been what he had told Frances – an administrative meeting about the family trust.
Ambrose could have said more, of course. He could have explained the terms of his father’s will and how it was only with proof of his marriage that his mother’s fortune could now be put in trust for Winnie. The true source of his guilt hit home now – he had never told Frances about his father’s will at all.
It was not as though he had set out to deliberately hide it from her, but only now did he grasp that he had done so anyway. Did it matter? Ambrose felt uneasy in asking himself this question. He did not know the answer.
It was a relief to make small talk until the meal was over.
Lady Levene called again the following morning, riding up the drive on a white mare with a harassed-looking groom riding behind her.
The Duke of Westall came out to meet his grandmother on the steps, having heard the sound of hooves approaching and seeing her from the window.
“Brownlow, do go and take some tea while I speak to my grandson,” she instructed the groom as Ambrose came forwardto lift her down from the horse. “My stepdaughter-in-law Anne wouldn’t have me stir from the estate on horseback without someone following me about today. Quite ridiculous but she is a good woman and I humor her.”
“I agree with Anne,” remarked the duke, “although I don’t expect you to like it.”
