Frances’s heart sank. She had already tried to feign illness before dinner, believing that to be a much better alternative than pretending to be a shrew. Being a shrew would involve theatrics and was certain to be tiring, while feigning illness involved lying in one’s bed and reading, and what could be better than that?
Despite Frances’s fake coughing, back of her hand to her forehead, and plenty of moan-sighing, her mother would have none of it. Mama had ordered Frances to dress for dinner and prepare to be charming and friendly. Mama had also reminded Frances she was not, under any circumstances, to mention anything about either the Employment Bill or politics of any sort.
Frances had reluctantly allowed poor, beleaguered Albina to help her dress, all the while seriously doubting whether she could be charmingorfriendly, let alone both, particularly if Sir Reginald was her dinner companion. How would she ever pretend to be interested when the man began telling a story about his feet or something equally mind-numbing? Abigail had always been good at listening to other people’s boring stories and feigning interest. Frances, however, tended to alternate looks that had been described by her mother as a trapped fox and a sleepy parson. But Frances couldn’t help it. Boring stories were boring stories and Sir Reginald Francis had proven himself to be a successive offender.
For the thousandth time, Frances wondered why her mother simply didn’t give up on her and save the dowry money for Abigail. Abigail was charming. Abigail was friendly. Abigail was looking forward to marriage and running a household and having a family. Abigail never wanted to discuss politics. Abigail was much more like the other young women at the house party. It was beyond ill luck that Abigail wasn’t the elder of the two of them.
Frances glanced around at the other occupants of the dining table. It was mostly comprised of young ladies and their mothers. In fact, now that Frances considered it, the table was noticeably lacking in eligible gentlemen. Not that she minded as far as courtship was concerned, but she suspected the other young ladies had (like Mama) come here hoping to find more eligibles. Frances mentally shrugged. Normally, she’d be interested in talking politics with the eligible gentlemen, but since she’d already promised Mama not to broach the subject, she supposed it didn’t matter how many eligibles were here. She seriously doubted the other young women and their mamas felt the same, however.
Frances took another surreptitious glance around the table. There were several lovely young women here. She recognized each one of them. Like her, they were all the outcasts of the Season. The ones who hadn’t made matches at least.
With one notable exception.
Lady Julianna Montgomery.
Lady Julianna was the daughter of the Duke of Montlake and the sister of Frances’s friend, Mary. Lady Julianna was gorgeous, with blond hair and light-green eyes. She was also tall and thin and proper. In fact, she was so wealthy, popular, and beautiful that theTimeshad followed her debut and subsequent courtships. Abigail and Mama had been positively on tenterhooks reading the stories. Frances remembered bits and pieces of their gossip. Apparently, the year before last, when Lady Julianna had made her debut, there had been rumors that she’d caught the eye of the elusive Duke of Worthington, but no one had truly believed that. Worthington was dashing and exceedingly handsome by all accounts, but he was also an established rake and a notorious gambler. He’d never been one to frequent the events of theton. Still, the rumors had been given some credence. After all, if Worthingtonwasplanning to finally marry, Julianna Montgomery certainly would be the sort of young woman who could manage to bring him to the altar. Surprisingly, Lady Julianna had remained unattached her entire first Season, but this past Season, she’d made an excellent match. She’d become engaged to the Marquess of Murdoch. The marquess was young, rich, handsome, and the heir to the Duke of Murdoch, his childless uncle.
Frances took a sip of wine and eyed Lady Julianna from behind her glass. The blonde was here at the house party with her mother and younger sister, who’d just made her debut this Season and had yet to secure an engagement. Lady Julianna was everything Frances was not. Regal. Poised. Charming. Gorgeous. How she managed to always keep a serene and inviting look on her face, Frances would never know. No doubt about it, Lady Julianna was a diamond of the first water. Surely her dowry was indecent. And Frances was entirely certain that Lady Julianna never did anything inappropriate such as bringing up politics to potential suitors. No wonder the Marquess of Murdoch had come calling.
When Lady Julianna suddenly turned and met Frances’s gaze, Frances nearly dropped her wine glass. She quickly looked away. Perfect. Now she’d been caught staring at Lady Julianna Montgomery. What more rude behavior could she display this evening? She glanced at the clock that rested on the mantelpiece in the center of the long room. That clock had to be the slowest contraption in history. She sighed under her breath. She’d be forced to sit here for at least two more hours, if not three. These sorts of formal affairs were ever so lengthy and tedious. Especially when the talk was as trivial as it was at present. Mama was chatting with the woman on the other side of her about Sir Reginald’s imminent arrival. Frances was already bored, and the knight hadn’t even made his appearance.
The only thing that was keeping the evening from being completely wasted was the fact that the extremely handsome footman who’d helped with the trunks and asked for her name this morning was serving the table. Frances had been unable to keep her gaze from him all evening. Was it her imagination or had he just glanced at her? Lucas was his name. Mr. Lucas. He’d been awfully kind to her. He’d even tried to give her back her coin. She’d never known a servant to do such a thing. She’d also never known a servant to be as handsome and well-built as he was. In addition to being tall, his broad shoulders filled out the black jacket he was wearing perfectly, not to mention his—Good heavens, her cheeks were heating. Mama would have a conniption if she knew the impure thoughts Frances was having about a footman. She hid her smile behind her napkin and tried not to glance at Mr. Lucas. Much.
Moments later, Sir Reginald came hurrying into the dining room. “I’mawfullysorry to be late, my lady,” he said to their hostess, “but I received a letter from thePrince Regent, and well, one does not wait to read a letter from Georgie.” He pretended as if he only meant Lady Clayton to hear, but his words had been loud enough to reach the entire dining room.
Frances couldn’t help it. She glanced at Mr. Lucas. Had he just rolled his eyes? That was interesting. She took another sip from her wine glass to keep from smiling again.
Sir Reginald soon located the empty chair to Frances’s right and proceeded to seat himself. He was just about to open his mouth to speak when Mama leaned across Frances to say, “My dear Sir Reginald, you must tell us what thePrince Regentsaid in his letter.”
Frances didn’t miss that Mama had also emphasized the wordsPrince Regentand nearly toppled out of her chair in her attempt to garner Sir Reginald’s attention.
A self-satisfied smirk popped to the knight’s thin lips as Mr. Lucas settled a napkin on his lap. Sir Reginald didn’t spare the footman so much as a glance, Frances noted with some distaste.
Sir Reginald cleared his throat. “Why, he asked how I’m getting on at the house party and wanted to know if I’d like to come to dinner atCarlton Houseupon my return,” Sir Reginald announced, his voice raised again for the entire table to hear.
“Did you hear that, Frances?” Mama asked nodding more. “Sir Reginald has been invited toCarlton House.”
Frances did her best to smile and nod also, but she was certain both looked pained and awkward. Why did they keep emphasizing the words Prince Regent and Carlton House? Frances had never given a fig about the prince and wasn’t about to start now. The man was almost always on the wrong side of every political issue she’d ever taken an interest in.
“I intend to write back and invite him here, with Lady Clayton’s blessing, of course.” Sir Reginald smiled and nodded toward Lady Clayton who raised her wine glass and inclined her head and said, “Of course, Sir Reginald. Of course.”
Mama nearly squealed. She pressed one hand to her chest. “The Regent! Coming here! Why, just think of it, Frances.”
A great deal of talking and excitement bubbled throughout the room at the news that the Prince Regent would be invited to join them. Frances glanced at Mr. Lucas who had pursed his lips and raised his brows in the semblance of being mock-excited about the news too. She smothered her laugh behind her napkin again just before Sir Reginald turned to her and said, “My dear Miss Wharton, it’s lovely to see you again. I still recall our fascinating discussion of whist the last time we spoke.”
“I recall it, too,” Frances managed to croak, while Mama smiled approvingly. Frances glanced at Mr. Lucas when she said it and was convinced she saw the hint of a smile hovering at his firm lips. Goodness, that man was handsome. Was it hot in the dining room of a sudden?
“Yes,” Mama added, “Frances has mentioned your fascinating conversation about whist more than once.” Mama leaned so far over toward Sir Reginald, that Frances had to grab her wine glass to keep it from toppling and lean so far back in her chair as to risk falling out of it. In fact, as the chair tipped back, Mr. Lucas appeared to right it for her.
“Be careful, Frances,” Mama whispered under her breath, a false smile still plastered to her face for Sir Reginald’s sake.
Frances shot Mr. Lucas a thankful look and lifted her wine glass to her lips again. She was quite certain Mama might smile herself into insanity if she kept it up at this rate.
When Frances resumed listening to the conversation, Sir Reginald was still talking about whist. Frances watched the knight from the corners of her eyes. Did he truly believe his whist story had been fascinating? From the wide smile on his face, he looked as if he believed Mama. Frances fought the urge to shake her head. Some people were far too quick to believe flattery.
Moments later, Frances found herself looking around the room to catch Mr. Lucas’s gaze again, but apparently he had left. He was probably on his way to the kitchens to retrieve the next course. Frances had the strangest feeling of being left alone. She glanced around the table again. When her gaze fell on Lady Julianna, the woman gave her an encouraging smile. Frances returned the smile just before Sir Reginald cleared his throat again.
“I hope you don’t think it too forward of me to say, Miss Wharton, but I’ve had my eye out for you all afternoon,” the knight announced.
