Page 36 of The Courtship Dance

Fortunately, at that moment she noticed a couple making their way toward her and Callie, so she was able to say truthfully, “Oh, there are Lord and Lady Hampton. No doubt they are ready to make their goodbyes. Have you ever noticed how they are invariably the first to leave?”

She slipped away from her friend to meet the others. After that, other guests began to leave gradually. Francesca took up a station nearer the doors into the hallway so that she might more easily say farewell to her guests.

Before long, everyone had left, and the servants came in to begin cleaning up. Francesca climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and since Maisie was busy downstairs with the others, she struggled to unhook her dress without her maid’s help and took down her own hair. Then, wrapping herself in her dressing gown, she sat down on the window seat and began to brush out her hair. One window stood open a little to let in the night breeze, and it felt good after the heat of the crowded party.

She had just finished brushing out her hair when a man’s figure appeared at the end of the block. She leaned forward, squinting. It was too dark to make out his features, but she was certain, looking at his form, his walk, that it was Rochford.

He stopped in front of her house and looked up. Her room was dark, for she had set her candle down just inside the door, on the other side of the room from the windows. He hesitated, glancing at her front door.

Quickly Francesca leaned forward and rapped on one of the panes. His head snapped up, his eyes searching the upper floor. She bent down to the open window.

“Rochford,” she whispered loudly.

When he saw her, he whipped off his hat and sent her an elegant bow. She pointed down at the front door, then slipped off the window seat and, grabbing her candle, hurried out of her room.

CHAPTER NINE

HE WAS WAITING on the front stoop when she unlocked the heavy door and opened it. Mindful of the servants finishing up their cleaning in the assembly room, she held a finger up to her lips for quiet. It would be just as well that the servants not see her letting a man into the house this late at night, even one of such character as the Duke of Rochford. Her own servants were discreet, but she did not know the ones whom Fenton had hired to help with the party.

Rochford raised his brows at her gesture but obediently did not speak, merely stepped inside. Francesca cast another glance over at the lighted room, then gestured for him to follow her and slipped off down the hall.

She led him to the morning room at the back, which was her favorite spot—and was also the farthest from the room where the servants were cleaning. When he stepped inside, she closed the door behind him and walked over to light a lamp.

Turning back to him, she crossed her arms and fixed him with a severe look. “All right. Confess.”

“Gladly,” he responded lightly. “To what would you like me to confess?”

“I saw that Mr. Perkins was soon suspiciously absent from the party.”

“Perhaps he grew bored. I doubt he was well received by any of your guests.”

Francesca quirked a brow. “I also noticed that you and your cohorts were gone at the same time.”

He grinned. “My cohorts? Pray, tell me, who are my ‘cohorts’?”

“Lord Radbourne and Lord Bromwell. What did you do?”

“We simply suggested to Perkins that he would be happier elsewhere…and then we went with him to make sure that he arrived safely.”

“Sinclair! Did you hurt him?”

“Really, Francesca, what sort of ruffian do you take me for?” He idly picked a speck of lint from the arm of his immaculate black jacket.

“I would have said no ruffian at all, until I saw you trying to bash in your future brother-in-law’s head.”

“He was not my future brother-in-law at the time,” he pointed out mildly. “Besides, I had a good deal more basis for hitting Bromwell. I thought he was trying to ruin my sister’s reputation. Perkins was merely…bothersome.”

“So you only talked to him?” Francesca asked.

He shrugged. “Yes. Gideon was in favor of throwing him in the Thames—” At Francesca’s horrified gasp, a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth, and he went on in a confidential tone. “Gideon’s upbringing, you know. Bromwell and I dissuaded him, though I may have intimated to Perkins that his fate would be worse if he bothered you again.”

“What did he…did he say anything untoward?”

“He said a number of things I cannot repeat to a lady. Nothing of any significance.” He studied at her, puzzled. “Tell me, why are you so concerned about the miserable villain? Surely you did not actually invite him tonight.”

“No, of course not. I don’t care about him. Well, I do care, but not in a good way. He is a wicked man. I was worried that he might have hurt you, if you must know.” She turned away, crossing the room. “Though clearly I need not have been concerned.”

He took a step after her, his expression softening, then stopped. “No, you need not. Perkins is no threat.”