Page 42 of The Courtship Dance

It was a disappointment to have her time alone with Callie cut into by another guest, but Francesca gestured for the butler to show their visitor in. Lady Mannering was one of the hostesses whom she was hoping would issue an invitation or two to Harriet in the future.

“Lady Haughston. And Lady Bromwell,” the newest guest said happily. “What a pleasant surprise to find you here, as well.”

There was polite chat about Francesca’s party, as well as about the beauty of Callie’s wedding. Then Lady Mannering leaned toward Callie with a knowing smile and said, “One has to wonder, Lady Bromwell, if there isn’t another Lilles alliance in the offing.”

“Excuse me?” Callie stared at the other woman blankly.

“Why, your brother, dear. He seems most interested in Calderwood’s eldest, does he not?”

Francesca felt a sudden cold clutch in her stomach. “Lady Mary?”

“Yes, that’s the girl.” Lady Mannering nodded her carefully coiffed head. “I saw him talking with her the other night at your party, Lady Haughston. I remarked to Lord Mannering about it—how long they talked and how unlike the girl it was. Quite pretty, she looked, too. Once she gets past that dreadful shyness of hers and actually smiles, you can see that she is rather attractive.”

“Yes,” Francesca agreed. “And sweet, as well. But, surely, one conversation at a party does not make a romance.”

Her guest’s eyes sparkled. “Ah, but that is just the thing. Yesterday I saw her with him again. They were riding along in that phaeton of his. She was chatting away as if they were old friends. It is so unlike her. And him. One cannot help but wonder if there is a courtship afoot.”

Francesca kept a polite smile on her face. “Indeed.”

“I would not refine overmuch on that,” Callie told the other woman. “If Rochford has any especial interest in anyone, I have not heard of it.”

The look on Callie’s face, Francesca thought, could almost rival the duke’s when it came to damping pretension. Lady Mannering quickly abandoned the topic and instead began to talk of the dinner she was planning in a week. Did Lady Haughston think that nice Sir Alan and his daughter might like to attend?

Francesca forced herself to put any other thoughts out of her head and concentrate on helping Harriet Sherbourne. As their conversation progressed, she had the feeling that it was Lady Harriet’s father and his single state that spurred Lady Mannering’s interest more than anything else. However, Francesca was not above taking advantage of that interest to advance Harriet’s social career. Lady Mannering was one of the city’s most prolific party-givers, and her events were always well attended.

Besides, if she could stir up a romance for Harriet’s father, as well as enliven Harriet’s Season, surely that was to the good. So she answered Lady Mannering’s questions about the Sherbournes with alacrity and even added a few tidbits of information beyond what the woman asked.

Francesca managed to keep her attention on their conversation, but later, when both Callie and Lady Mannering had departed, she told Fenton that she was not at home to any more callers and took herself off to her bedroom.

She went to the window and stood looking out at the street below, but her mind did not really register what she saw.

So it was Mary Calderwood who had taken Rochford’s fancy.

Francesca supposed that she should have known that the duke would not do what she expected. Lady Mary would have been the last of the women whom she would have guessed Rochford would want. Not that there was anything wrong with her, of course. Her reputation was impeccable, and her lineage was excellent.

It was just that Francesca would not have thought that the duke would be drawn to a such a quiet, shy girl. She was, well, exactly the opposite of Francesca herself. Though there was really no reason, she supposed, to think that Rochford would want someone similar to the choice he had made fifteen years ago. Still, she had thought that he would be more drawn to beauty and vivacity than other qualities.

But then, as Lady Mannering had pointed out, Mary was pretty when her face became more animated, and clearly Rochford seemed to be able to put the reticent girl at ease. Besides, Rochford was fifteen years older now. Doubtless he had realized over the course of the years that there were more important reasons for choosing a bride than the physical attraction he had felt for Francesca when they were young.

He enjoyed reading and corresponding with learned men. It was likely that he would enjoy being married to a woman with whom he could talk about serious, important matters. Even at the time, Francesca had known that she was too light in thought and manner for the duke. He must have come to realize that himself, as well.

Of course, it was early on yet. There was nothing to say that he would marry the girl simply because he had paid attention to her a time or two. Yet, like Lady Mannering, Francesca knew how rare it was for Rochford to show any sort of particularity toward a young woman. He was the sort of man who avoided gossip like the plague, and, moreover, knowing how highly he was rated on the marriage market, he was too much a gentleman to raise hopes in any available female’s breast.

For him to be seen with a marriageable girl, particularly spending an appreciable and concentrated time alone with her, such as taking a drive together, indicated a high degree of interest in her. Moreover, to do that after having a fairly long conversation with her at a party only a day or two earlier was bound to cause speculation and lead to rumors. Rochford knew these things as well as anyone in the ton. Yet he had done them anyway.

Those facts raised what in another man might have been only an expression of some degree of interest to a much higher level. If he were to dance with her a time or two at a ball, it would really set tongues to wagging.

Of course, Francesca had the advantage over Lady Mannering in knowing that the duke was looking for a wife. It did not strike her as odd that he had talked with or called upon or in some other manner spent time with the various young women he was considering. However, knowing that, she also was more aware than anyone else that any interest he showed was leading toward marriage. Moreover, she knew that by taking Lady Mary for a ride in his phaeton, he was paying more marked attention to her than to any of the others.

Francesca could not imagine any reason for Rochford’s actions other than the one Lady Mannering had arrived at: the duke was seriously considering Lady Mary for his wife.

She should feel glad, she knew, that her efforts were already bearing fruit. This was what she had wanted: to make up for the wrong she had done him. She wanted him to find a woman to whom he could give his heart. She wanted him to find happiness.

So why, then, had this odd weight settled in her chest? Why did she find it difficult to see the street for the tears pooling in her eyes?

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Francesca was at her desk, opening her most recent invitations, when Fenton appeared in the doorway.

“His Grace, the Duke of Rochford, is here.”