Page 15 of Corrupted by the Wicked Duke

CHAPTER 15

F rances looked out the window in the morning room. A storm was coming. Dark clouds were building up just over the horizon. For a moment, she watched wispy white clouds dissipate as bigger, black ones loomed over the distant houses.

“Frannie, are you even listening?” Marie’s frustrated tone cut into her wandering thoughts.

“Hmm? What were you saying?”

Marie let out an exasperated sigh. “Really, Frances. You have been so distant lately.”

“Marie,” Nora’s soothing voice cut in, “this time is stressful for everyone. Plus, she’s been spending most of her time helping Jenny and Duke Pilton; maybe she is thinking of all the preparations she still has to do for herself. You could offer your help instead of snipping at her.”

Marie sniffed. “I’ll admit, Jenny is more tolerable, now that she has learned to control her ranting, but whenever I see the Duke, I can’t help but see a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Sorry, Frances, but I still believe he is a lost cause, and you should just move on from him.”

Frances’ heart crumbled at Marie’s remark. If she only knew how true her words were.

“I heard Lady Weatherby has her eye on him for her daughter Constance.” Sarah noted. “I think they would be a lovely pair. She’s a bit quiet which he would most likely appreciate.”

He’d hate that . Frances squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples. Her mind fought her heart and refused to stop replaying their times together. Their most heated moments led to the most exhilarating and passionate moments of her life. She couldn’t see him with someone so meek as Constance Weatherby; he would be bored within minutes of meeting her.

“Frances? I hear you and the Viscount got along very well at my party. Word is he has called on you several times already. Anything you wish to tell us?”

Frances chewed her lip and shook her head. “He called on me the day following your party. We’ve seen each other around town, nothing formal other than your party and the morning after.”

“And?” Nora prodded which meant she already knew the answer to what she was asking.

“And… he brought up the idea of marriage.”

Her friends all let out excited gasps that had Frances’ eyes threatening tears. She didn’t want their excitement over the Viscount. She wanted nothing but one particular thing, and she only wanted it from one man.

“Oh, Frances, that is wonderful!” Nora clasped her hands. “I can see the two of you being truly happy!” Frances knew Nora meant it. She had always wanted the best for Frances and Nora, no doubt, saw the Viscount as the right match for her.

“I agree. You two would make a handsome pair,” Marie noted with a slight sniff.

Frances bit her tongue. The more she was around Jenny’s genuine heart, the more she realized how condescending Marie really was in her tone. She couldn’t help but sneer at Marie’s remark.

“Maybe he’ll propose to you at the ball?” Sarah sounded hopeful. “How remarkable would that be?”

Frances swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. That sounded like her worst nightmare come to life.

“Oh, look at her! You must be so nervous at the thought! You shouldn’t worry, Frannie. We’ll help you with whatever you need to prepare for the wedding.”

“Nora, I haven’t said I would accept.” Frances sighed at how sullen she sounded.

“Why wouldn’t you? It’s not like you have a line of suitors knocking down your door,” Marie questioned.

“Marie,” Nora chided, “it is no secret Frances never put marriage on a pedestal —”

Marie interrupted with a flick of her wrist. “Enough of that. It was always odd that she said she never cared about marriage.” Marie gave a pointed look in Frances’ direction. “Frances, you must admit you said that because you were worried about your lack of prospects. Now that you have a credible one, you can be honest with us. You were saying you didn’t care for marriage because you were embarrassed, right?”

Frances’ hurt turned into sharp anger. She stood. “Marie, we have been friends for a long time, and quite frankly, I can’t remember why. No, I never lied about my feelings regarding marriage. Good prospects or not, I’ve always been happy with the way my life has been laid out in front of me. You insult my maid, my friends, my intentions; I think it’s time you leave.”

The woman had the audacity to look shocked. Both women stood staring at each other, each waiting for the other to back down. Frances was tired of being the one who played nice, so she stood her ground.

Marie’s eye twitched. “Frances, you know I love you, and I thought we could be honest with each other. You know what I’m saying comes from a place of love.”

“No, I do not know that. You find joy in nothing, everything is beneath you, and quite frankly, I tire of it. I’ll call Stephens to have your carriage called.”

Marie looked around the room for support and thankfully, found none. With a huff, she gathered her reticule and left.

“I can’t believe you said that to her!” Sarah said in awe.

“If you ask me, it was about time one of us said something. She has become more incorrigible these past few months.” Nora brought her attention back to Frances, who was back to sitting, staring out the window. “Sarah? We should be going as well; the ball is tonight, and I know we all have last minute preparations to do. Will you go call for our carriages to brought around?”

Nora waited until Sarah closed the door, “Frannie? What is the matter? Are you nervous at the prospect of marriage? If so, it’s completely natural. When my Edward proposed, I was completely stunned silent for a few moments.”

Frances couldn’t bear to look at her best friend. She was holding her emotions back with grit and stubbornness, and even those were starting to fail her. “It’s not that, Nora.”

“Do you not wish to marry the Viscount?”

Frances closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the chair. “I do not know what I want.” Frances knew the words were a lie, but she couldn’t admit the truth. If she did, then she’d have to acknowledge she may have deeper feelings for the Duke which was completely unacceptable.

“I know you don’t know the Viscount well, but he is a lovely man and father.”

“Nora? Please.” Frances’ exhaustion was apparent in her plea.

“Very well.” Nora stood and gathered her belongings. “I shall see you tonight at Lady Staunton’s ball. Don’t worry, once this all gets sorted out, you’ll feel much better. It is just nerves, I’m sure of it.”

Frances watched her friend leave. She felt time slipping away from her. The talk around town was the Viscount was preparing to formally propose, and once that happened, it would be over for her. She only had one chance to feel the kind of passion she craved, but the person she hungered for wasn’t speaking to her.

Jenny held onto Thomas’ arm for dear life. If he couldn’t feel her shaking, he wouldn’t have known how nervous she was. Frances taught her how to control her emotions well. Frances. Thomas refused to acknowledge the ache he felt when he thought of her.

“I’m nervous,” Jenny whispered as they ascended the steps outside.

Thomas looked up at the darkening sky. Looks like we made it just in time.

“I know. If you shake any more, people will think you are having a fit. I’ll need to send you away.” Thomas glanced down at his sister and grinned. “Hmm, that might not be a bad idea.”

She slapped at his chest and giggled. “Stop. Someone might hear you and think you’re serious.”

They reached the entryway, and both stopped, looking towards the door where Lord Staunton’s steward stood.

“Are you ready?” Thomas asked.

Jenny took a deep breath, “Are you?”

“Not even a little bit.” He swallowed, his cravat rubbing against his throat in the way he hated. The memory of soft hands caressing his throat as they tied the silk stole his breath. He shook his head to clear the thought away.

“Then I suppose we’ll do this the way we’ve done every other hardship…”

Thomas raised an eyebrow as he peered down at his sister.

“Together,” she finished.

“Together,” he confirmed.

Thomas escorted his sister into the house and into the ballroom, and together, they made one round around the room. Jenny found Nora and Sarah by the refreshments, and Thomas was thankful to leave her with them.

“Duke Pilton!” A hard clap to his back caused Thomas to take a slight step forward.

Lord Fealton, the Viscount Gloushire, stood too close to him with a smirk on his face. Thomas regained his composure and squared his shoulders.

“Fealton,” he said with a nod.

“Good to see you out. I haven’t seen you at the club lately.”

“I’ve been busy.” Thomas looked around the room. Jenny’s gossip about the Viscount’s intentions with Frances had been confirmed by several peers. He hated that they would be a good match. The Viscount was a good man with a solid and proper background. The thought of them together laughing, touching, loving each other made Thomas’ teeth grind.

“Ah, yes. I heard Miss Ambrose has been helping you and your sister adjust to our way of life.”

Thomas took the slight, swallowing down a retort. Although, he couldn’t stop his mind from imagining the Viscount with a bloody nose.

“She is a remarkable woman, isn’t she?” Fealton looked across the dance floor.

Thomas followed Fealton’s gaze to where it landed on Frances. Her dress was the color of the sky on a clear day, and although he couldn’t see them, he knew it matched her eyes perfectly. Just then, she turned with a laugh, and the rasp of it clutched his heart and squeezed. The laugh brought a subtle tint of red to her cheeks, and he became immediately jealous of whoever made her laugh. Thomas stood stunned. She looked ethereal.

“She is.” It was the only response he could form. His mind was too busy memorizing her every movement, the way she gently swayed to the music, how her slight fingers curved around the cup of punch she held. The urge to go to her was undeniable.

The music changed, and the Viscount let out a small laugh, “Ah. That’s my cue. Please excuse me, Pilton; it is my turn to dance with Miss Ambrose.”

A rush of adrenaline shot through Thomas’ veins. His head began to throb, and his hands were tight fists at his side. The closer Fealton got to Frances, the closer his rage bubbled to the point of explosion. She’s not yours.

He was about to move towards them when he felt a slight tug on his arm. Jenny stood beside him. “It’s just a dance.”

Thomas breathed in deeply through his nose. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but your intentions are written all over your face. You’re standing as straight as a rod, and if looks could kill, the Viscount would be a pile of ash right now.”

Thomas shook off his sister’s hand. “I don’t know what you mean; I’m perfectly fine.”

“Why do you assume I am an idiot?” Jenny sighed and picked at a ruffle on her dress.

Thomas scoffed. “You know I hate when you talk in riddles.”

“Dear brother, I would have to be blind not to see the way you look at her.” She held up a hand to stop his response. “And how she looks at you.”

Thomas paused. “She doesn’t look at me any differently than she looks at you.”

Jenny’s laugh brought unwanted attention to them. She quickly covered her mouth and nodded her apologies to those around them. “I’m sorry, but if she looked at me the way she looked at you, there would be a lot more gossip about us. She saves those kinds of looks for you.”

Thomas licked his lips. He knew the looks his sister was speaking of. He saw them every time he closed his eyes. Her bright blue eyes that sparkled with challenge whenever he managed to needle her. Her hooded eyes when he kissed her neck, and the way they fluttered shut when he moved down her body. Oh yes, he knew her looks very well.

“Very well then,” Jenny continued as if she were bored. “If she isn’t who you want, why don’t you ask another young lady to dance. There are many to choose from, thanks to Frances.”

“I don’t want to dance.” Thomas tried to relax his shoulders, but his sister was right. He was standing so straight his back was starting to hurt.

“You don’t want to dance?”

“No.” Thomas cracked his head from side to side, hoping to relieve some of the building tension in his shoulders.

“With anyone?” Jenny’s voice was light and airy. It pissed Thomas off.

“No.” Did someone turn on the heat? Why is it always so bloody hot at these things? Thomas could hear the faint roll of thunder in the distance. Escaping to the patio wouldn’t help him now.

“What if I said Frances has an opening on her card.” Thomas looked at his sister who was currently waving to Nora.

He knew he shouldn’t entertain his sister and certainly not the thought of going to Frances. He needed to distance himself from her. He had already made up his mind she was better off with the blasted Viscount.

Jenny sighed. “Ah. Well. I guess the Viscount could take the opening. Although, two dances in one night, how the ton will talk. Might as well get the marriage banns ready.” The echoes of Jenny’s parting words reverberated in his mind for moments after she walked away.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. She deserves better. She deserves him.

Thomas looked up and found the pair. Fealton’s one hand rested easily on the small of Frances’ back and traced small circles. Frances tilted her head to meet the Viscount’s eyes while he leaned in to whisper something that made her smile.

Thomas hadn’t realized his feet were moving until he was a few steps away from the couple. What the hell, like Jenny said, it’s just a dance.