Lord Upton lifted his brows. “An impudent girl,” he remarked, though not in a tone of disfavour.
“An intelligent one,” Sir Percival said with pride, “and now a very vulnerable one.”
Arch stilled.
Sir Percival’s tone altered—subtly, but unmistakably. “Her parents are dead. Her guardianship falls to me, but I cannot be everywhere and Francesca is—” He paused, choosing his words. “—very much her own mistress.”
“I fail to see the problem,” Arch said cautiously.
“The problem,” Sir Percival replied, “is that she is rich.”
Arch leaned back in his seat. “Ah.”
“She is young,” Lord Upton added, “independent, and possessed of… certain views.”
“Views?” Arch echoed.
“Dangerous ones,” Sir Percival said gravely, “—at least where men with designs upon her fortune are concerned. They have begun to circle.”
Arch considered this. “You fear she may make an unfortunate match?”
“We fear,” Lord Upton said, “that she may be persuaded into one. Mr. Fergus Harcourt has already indicated his interest. He is a polished Parliamentarian who espouses reform and is a great favourite with the ladies.”
Arch considered this. He was familiar with Harcourt, who was a glib politician who spent entirely too much time in front of the looking-glass.
“Then there is Ashbourne, who has indicated that her properties would be a welcome addition to his.”
Arch straightened involuntarily. Ashbourne had been Arch’s nemesis during their school days and well his father knew it.
Sir Percival nodded. “Her solicitor is also… radical.”
“What say does he have?” Arch asked.
“He holds some influence. They have been acquainted since childhood. She also attends political salons. She corresponds with men who believe reform is best achieved through noise rather than sense.”
Lord Upton folded his hands behind his back. “She is in Town for the Season.”
There it was: the crux of the matter.
Arch felt the familiar pain at the base of his skull. “And what is my role in this?”
Sir Percival smiled. “To escort her. To have a care for her.”
Arch stared at him.
“Attend certain functions with her,” Sir Percival continued pleasantly, “and ensure she is not taken advantage of. Offer guidance when necessary; protection when required.”
Incredulous, Arch laughed but once. “You want me to act as her nursemaid.”
Lord Upton frowned. “That is not?—”
“It is precisely what it is,” Arch cut in. “You are asking me to chaperone a young woman who detests soldiers and will resent my presence on principle.”
Sir Percival waved a hand. “She will come to appreciate you.”
“Unlikely.”
“You have patience.”
