Page 43 of The Courtship Dance

Francesca jumped to her feet, knocking her knee painfully against her desk in the process. It had been almost four days since her party, and after her visit with Callie and Lady Mannering the day before, she had convinced herself that she was unlikely to see Rochford again except in the old sporadic way she had for the last few years.

Yet here he was.

Heat spread into her face, and she felt faintly embarrassed, wondering if her old servant had noticed her response.

“Please show him in,” she said, schooling her expression into one of polite welcome.

Rochford strode in a moment later, and the moment he stepped into the room, it seemed suddenly smaller. Francesca had thought she was prepared; she had spent much time advising herself on how she should react upon seeing him, given what had happened between them last time—and given his apparent interest in Lady Mary Calderwood.

But now, faced with him in the flesh, she found it harder than she had imagined. She could not keep the memories of his kisses from flooding her mind. She felt herself flushing, and she quickly dropped her eyes. What was he thinking? What did he feel upon seeing her?

She forced herself to look up at him again and go toward him, holding out her hand in greeting. “Rochford, what a pleasant surprise. I confess, I had not expected to see you again.”

“Indeed?” He came forward, his eyes on her face, his own gaze annoying unreadable. “And here I thought I had become such a frequent guest that my presence would occasion no more than an ‘oh, is it you again?’”

“I am sure that your presence never occasions that sort of remark,” Francesca retorted.

His hand closed around hers, and he bowed over it. She was very aware of the feel of his skin on hers—the warmth, the slightly rougher texture. Why was it that his touch evoked a feeling in her that no one else’s ever had? She found herself wishing that he had kissed her hand rather than simply bowing over it.

She pressed her lips together and turned away, gesturing toward the chairs grouped together in the small, casually intimate arrangement. “Pray, sit down. Would you care for refreshment?”

He shook his head, and they spent a few minutes in the usual polite exchange, commenting on the weather and asking after one another’s health, as well as agreeing how pleasant it had been to see Callie again, and how sorry they were that she was so soon traveling to her new home.

Finally Francesca felt enough time had passed to broach the subject that was uppermost in her mind. “I am glad to hear that you have been paying court to Lady Mary.”

His brows lifted a little, and he smiled faintly. “Indeed? Is that what people are saying?”

“I understand that you took her for a drive in your phaeton.”

“Yes, I did.” He continued to look at her, the same slightly quizzical smile hovering on his lips. “It hardly seems an event worth noting.”

“My dear duke, any sign of favor from you is sure to garner attention.”

He made a small, noncommittal noise.

“You feel a preference, then, for Lady Mary?” she went on after a moment. It was not her custom to press for information, but she could not seem to stop herself.

Still, his face gave nothing away. “She is a pleasant young woman.”

Francesca reflected that Rochford could be irritating in the extreme. She would not let herself be one of those horrid women who chased down gossip, but it was more difficult than she would have thought to turn away from the subject. Why would he not just admit whether he had developed a tendre for the girl?

“Yes, she is,” Francesca agreed. “Quite intelligent.”

“So it would seem.”

“Still, I presume that you are continuing to consider all the options we discussed.”

“Of course.” Again the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. “That is the reason for my visit today.”

“Really? You wish to discuss the young women in question? Or perhaps you would like to consider some other choices. These do not suit?” Francesca felt a distinct lifting of her spirits. “I am sure that I can think of a few others.”

“No. I believe these are entirely adequate,” he told her. “What I had in mind was creating another opportunity in which to woo my future wife. I have decided that I should host a ball.”

“Of course. That would be an excellent idea.”

“I want you to help me make the arrangements.”

Francesca felt a rush of pleasure. “Indeed? I am most flattered.” Reluctantly, she added, “However, it is scarcely my place to do so.”