Page 32 of Her Rogue of a Duke
“Yes,” she eventually responded, her voice subdued. “Yes, I’m sure I will.”
Something passed between them in the stretch of silence that followed. Something he could not put a name to. He needed to walk away from her before he did something he could not take back.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I will go, then. You should ring for the maid to come up and help you now. We will talk again later.”
“All right,” she acknowledged with an innocent-eyed nod.
Joshua lingered for a brief second, a part of him not wishing to walk away from her and leave her presence just yet. But he mustered the will to turn and leave the room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Francesca's pupils lit up at the procession of lanterns illuminating the path to the Grand Carrington Hall, the site of tonight's ball. The hall was imposing, its front adorned with giant majestic pillars and wide stone steps leading up to impressive ebony-gilded walnut entrance doors. Francesca was stunned, as the hall appeared more like a palace than any estate she had visited before. But while she marveled at the grandeur of her surroundings, the niggling feeling of trepidation inside her belly also burgeoned.
For a moment, she wished Joshua was by her side.
Francesca was arriving at the ball alone, her carriage, escort, and even return journey, all arranged meticulously by Joshua to allow for no unexpected issues to arise, yet it all felt somewhat incomparable to the simple imagining of being on his arm.
But Francesca recognized the imprudence of such a desire. As he was a notorious rake, it would not have done her reputation any favors to be seen with him. Gossip would spread like wildfireand would likely chase off any potential suitors who might have taken an interest in her tonight.
Still, the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Her carriage drew to a stop in front of the extravagant entrance. Swiftly, a footman opened the door and offered his assistance as she gracefully alighted. Standing before the daunting structure now, Francesca's heart pounded with a whimsical blend of excitement and apprehension. She glanced around briefly and her attention was caught by a familiar-looking carriage that was approaching the drive, but she shook her head, dismissing her wandering thoughts and refocusing on the task at hand.
Unless I intend on loitering here for the remainder of the evening, searching for anyone familiar to accompany me inside, it is now or never.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Francesca gathered her skirts and began ascending the steps, joining the stream of elegantly attired guests making their way into the lavish ball.
A fleeting flutter of self-consciousness crossed her mind for attending the ball unaccompanied amidst the swirl of coupled guests. Yet, this hesitation melted away entirely the moment Francesca entered the grandeur of the hall. The awe she had felt gazing up at the exterior only intensified when she saw the interior. It was breathtaking. Above, a magnificent chandelier of gold and crystal dangled from a high ceiling adorned with a detailed mosaic of cherubs soaring through a sky of clouds.
The entrance hall was a vision of opulence, graced with marble statues depicting intricate, mostly nude figures. The walls were lined with large, masterful paintings, and a plush, deep-red carpet ran from the front doors up the grand staircase. At the top of the staircase, another set of doors beckoned, leading into the grand ballroom.
Inside the ballroom, the warm glow of hundreds of candles illuminated a scene of elegance and high society. The room was filled with finely dressed gentlemen and ladies in gowns the likes of which Francesca could never even dream of owning. Among such grandeur, she felt a twinge of inadequacy, feeling plain and a little out of place.
But then, Francesca's gaze fell upon her own gown, the one Joshua had selected for her. And she realized that, in appearance at least, she did belong there… and it was all thanks to the Duke.
He had chosen this exquisite gown for her. He had made to ensure she would seamlessly blend in with the illustrious gathering. In fact, the sole reason she was able to attend this night was, in large part, thanks to him. Butterflies cavorted in her belly as she looked around, scanning the crowds for his handsome face. He had intended on being here tonight, having departed before her. She assumed he was already mingling somewhere amidst the sea of guests.
Was he dancing with someone? Some other lady dressed in a gown as extravagant as Francesca's?
She hated that thought. Clenching her teeth, she tried to banish the image from her mind, of Joshua holding a faceless beauty in his arms.
With a desire to distract her restless thoughts, she ascended the stairs and ventured further into the depths of the ballroom. The sheer number of attendees was overwhelming. She had anticipated the Carrington’s grand ball was to be a highlight among the Ton this season, but the reality of its significance struck her as she noted the throngs spilling into balconies and adjoining chambers. This setting, she realized, was ideal for her ambitions. Though this was not the sort of event her father would have likely been invited to if he was still alive – amidst this sea of nobility, she was bound to draw attention, and perhaps, among the many eyes that glanced her way, find a suitor worthy of her.
And one that Papa might have been proud of,she thought with a sad smile.
As she navigated through the crowds, she found herself surrounded by unfamiliar faces. The lack of recognition only added to her sense of unease. A part of her longed to spot a familiar face in the sea of strangers, if only to help put her mind at ease—that she truly belonged.
Absorbed in her thoughts, Francesca inadvertently collided with a tall man dressed in a dark tailcoat and contrasting white cravat. Releasing a startled breath, she quickly turned to offer an apology. “I am so sorry, I was not…”
She trailed off when she recognized Lord Terrell standing before her.
“Lady Francesca!” he exclaimed, appearing genuinely surprised. “My, the gown, your hair, you look the very picture of elegance. What an unexpected pleasure!”
Her first impulse was to walk away without engaging, but her manners would not allow for such discourtesy, nor did she wish to cause a spectacle or be at the center of attention once again.
So, against her better judgment, she stood there, her hands tightly clenched at her sides. With a resigned sigh, she replied, “The pleasure is mine, Lord Terrell.”
The Viscount’s enthusiasm was palpable. “I am delighted to have found you here, saves me the headache,” he grinned, lifting his hand to touch her shoulder but thinking better of it at the last moment. “Actually, I have been hoping to get you alone, especially after our little misunderstanding at Hyde Park.”