Page 76 of The Bridal Quest

Francesca shrugged. "Not terrible. Only human. What female does not want a man's admiration ...? Especially the admiration of the man she loves?"

"Francesca! You are quite wrong. I do not love Gideon. I did, I admit, feel a certain low satisfaction in—in making him notice me. And I have been foolishly bothered by the fact that he has been dancing attendance on all the other young women here. But that is utter nonsense, I know. I intended for him to pay attention to them. That is why we worked with him so much."

"No. I worked with him to force you to be around him long enough to realize how you felt. The other women are here only in case you never come to your senses, or he gets so annoyed with you that he chooses someone else."

Irene stared at her. "What?"

"Irene. Really." Francesca linked her arm with Irene's. "My dear girl, I saw how it was with you two as soon as I watched you together in the park that day. It was utterly clear to anyone—or at least to anyone as accustomed as I am to watching people tumble into love—that the two of you were, well, in a word, destined."

"Destined?" Irene repeated blankly. "You mean, destined for each other? Are you mad? We argued the whole time we talked in the park."

"Yes, you did. But it was the way you argued. You were both clearly upset because you challenged each other's preconceptions. You each had very orderly arrangements, and the other one did not fit into them at all. Naturally you were upset. But the ... attraction was unmistakable. I knew it was just a matter of time until you figured it out. You are a clever girl-Irene gaped at her. "All of this ..." She waved her hand vaguely around the room. "All of this was just a ... a ruse?"

"Oh, no. It wasn't a ruse at all. I did need your help. Your assistance was absolutely essential." Francesca smiled at her, amusement brimming in her eyes.

Irene was torn between anger and laughter, but Francesca's smile was too infectious, and after a moment she lost the battle and chuckled. "You are outrageous," she told her friend, shaking her head. "Well, I hope you will not be too disappointed when your plans do not work out as you had hoped. I have no intention of marrying Lord Radbourne."

"Indeed, that is too bad," Francesca said without any visible sign of distress. "I fear he will be exceedingly unhappy. But ..." She shrugged. "When your heart is not engaged, it simply is not. Poor man. You still find him disagreeable, then? Maddening, I think you called him. Selfish, annoying ..."

"No! I mean, yes, he is all those things," Irene agreed. "However, I do not dislike him. No, indeed. I have come to quite appreciate the man. He is strong and capable, and once you come to know him, you realize that he possesses a sharp wit. He is an excellent man. Everyone—his relatives most of all—have grossly misjudged him."

"Have they?" Francesca murmured.

"Oh, yes." Irene nodded. "It is a wonder, really, that he puts up with them. A lesser man would have tossed them out on their ears by now."

"If you hold such admiration for him, I am at a loss to understand why you would not marry him," Francesca told her.

"You know why I have no plans to marry."

"Yes, but when one meets a man who stirs one so, then such plans usually fail, and the reasons you used to cling to no longer apply."

Irene shook her head. "I am not, I hope, so inconsistent. And he—he does not want a true marriage. To love him would be a futile exercise. He does not want love. Marriage is a business arrangement for him. A practicality."

"Indeed." Francesca frowned. "Is it truly so? The look he sent you did not seem so cold."

"Oh, he is not cold," Irene responded, and again her cheeks turned pink. "He is, in fact, quite bold in that way. But that is not love."

"Ah. Well, many women I know would feel that they could turn such 'boldness' into a deeper feeling. They might believe that with a little effort, such a man could come to love a woman who loved him."

"Perhaps. But ... it does not matter. Marriage is not something I long for. And 'tis better, surely, to avoid the pain that could come with such hopes. To love a man who does not return your love must be painful indeed."

"Yes, I suppose it must be." For an instant, sorrow shadowed Francesca's lovely face, but then she shrugged it off. "Well, you are a very strong woman, Irene. I admire you. Few women would be able to turn away as you can. To face not seeing Gideon again. To return to the life you have lived until now. Many would be unable to bear the thought of the loneliness. The pain."

Irene's smile wavered. "I will manage, I am sure."

"Of course you will."

Determinedly, Irene sought to change the subject. She glanced around, saying, "There are a number of new people here tonight."

"Yes," Francesca agreed. "A few local people whom Lady Odelia considers good enough for a large gathering—the squire and his family, the vicar and his wife. And Lady Odelia's invitation is command enough to bring several others here just for the night. They have been tucked into the undamaged rooms in the old wing."

"Not the best of accommodations."

"No, but 'quite well enough for them', as Lady Odelia would say." Francesca shrugged a shoulder. She stiffened suddenly and stared across the ballroom, muttering a soft, "What is she doing here?"

"What? Who?" Intrigued, Irene followed Francesca's gaze. She saw a woman with dramatically good looks standing across the ballroom, chatting with Lady Odelia and her sister.

The woman was older than Francesca by a few years, but she was still lovely, even though she must now be on the far side of thirty-five. She was tall and voluptuously built, with auburn hair and large pale blue eyes.