Page 49 of Her Rogue of a Duke
Francesca paced restlessly in her bedchamber, trying hard to distract herself from the fate she had marked herself for. Five days had passed since her falling out with Joshua, and the silence between them weighed heavily on her heart. They had both taken pains to avoid one another. Francesca spent most of her time sequestered in her room, venturing out only for meals or brief moments of respite in the garden. Joshua, for his part, seemed equally intent on evading her, despite his assertion that their conversation was unfinished.
On the third day of their bout of silence, her curiosity had overcome her pride, and she had asked Mrs. Clark about Joshua’s whereabouts.
“He is accompanying Lady Susan to the opera,” the housekeeper had reluctantly told her. “His Grace has been... well, spending quite a bit of time with her lately, my lady.”
Francesca had barely managed to escape to the sanctuary of her room before succumbing to her emotions. She knew she shouldnot be surprised that Joshua was with Lady Susan, but the truth inflicted a pain far deeper than she had anticipated. She had devoted the remainder of the afternoon to seclusion, her isolation a welcome shield as she indulged in her sorrow and wept into her pillow for hours on end, until came the distinct rumble of carriage wheels late at night in the manor’s driveway.
Francesca shook her head to try and dispel her mind of all thoughts of Joshua and the anguish that had plagued her the past days. She did not have time for wallowing. The Beckinsale Ball loomed on the horizon of the day and demanded her full attention. This event might very well be her final opportunity to secure her future with Liam and steady the tumultuous ship that was her life, and she couldn't afford to let anything derail her plans.
Not even her unresolved feelings for Joshua,
Francesca gazed at her reflection emptily as a maid fluttered about her, fussing with the finer points of her attire. The gown she wore was an exquisite creation of fine muslin, its fabric enveloping her figure in a gentle embrace. It was a pale lavender hue, and she knew when it caught the light of the hundreds of candles in the ballroom, it would shimmer like moonbeams on a tranquil lake.
The bodice of her gown was adorned with delicate embroidery that cascaded like vines across her décolletage. The neckline, a soft scoop, revealed just a hint of her porcelain skin, lending an air of modesty amidst the opulence.
The high waistline accentuated her figure and was cinched gently with a ribbon of silver thread, embellished with tiny pearls that caught the light and winked as she moved. The skirt, flowing down from the empire waist, billowed like a cloud around her when she walked.
Her sleeves, sheer and barely there, adorned with lace as delicate as a spider's web, barely brushed her wrists, lending an air of delicate femininity to her ensemble. A string of pearls adorned her neck, glimmering softly against her skin, and matching earrings danced when she moved.
Completing her attire, Francesca wore long, satin gloves that hugged her arms, a soft ivory that contrasted gracefully with the lavender of her gown. Her hair, styled in loose curls, held in place by an intricate comb adorned with pearls, framed her face like a halo.
She had never looked so elegant and had never worn a dress of such exquisite beauty, and yet she could not bring herself to enjoy the moment or appreciate the fine fabric wrapped around her body. As her maid touched up her hair one final time, Francesca could hardly stomach her reflection any longer.
This felt so incredibly wrong. This gown, this elegance, it should all have been reserved for Joshua. But instead, she was preparing for another, and the reality of that left a bitter taste.
The maid's presence provided a temporary distraction, but the hollowness remained. She yearned to mend the rift between them, to speak the unsaid words hanging in the air, but theweight of her father's secret bound her in silence. Revealing the truth might endanger Joshua as an accomplice and shatter any hope of reconciliation between them.
She could not help but wonder if Joshua would be there that evening. If so, would Lady Susan be on his arm? She was not certain she could handle such a scene.
Still… her curiosity got the better of her.
“Will His Grace be attending the ball tonight?” Francesca asked the maid, struggling to keep her tone as casual as possible.
The maid paused as she gazed up at Francesca, her eyes flashing with hesitation.
“No, my lady,” she answered at length. “It seems unlikely. We have been tasked to serve him dinner this evening, so I do not believe he has made any plans to attend the ball.”
A wave of disappointment washed over Francesca, deepening the already palpable ache in her heart. The knowledge that Joshua would not be at the ball only amplified her feeling of loneliness at this important juncture of her life.
With the final touches to her attire complete, it was time for Francesca to depart. She descended the grand staircase to the waiting carriage one step at a time, each step feeling heavier than the last. As she stepped outside of Elmcroft Manor, Francesca took a deep breath, suppressing the torrent ofemotions threatening to overwhelm her. If everything wentwell,this might even be her last time here.
She cast a lingering glance back at the manor, wondering where Joshua might be. Was he watching her at that very moment? Or, perhaps, did he not even know she was leaving for the night?
No, that was not true. She instinctively knew Joshua was well aware of what night it was and where she was going. He would know she was on her way to receive a proposal from another man. And yet, he had made no move to intervene.
She could not help the disappointment that lanced through her soul. With a heavy heart, she turned away from the manor in one final act of betrayal and accepted the footman's hand before ascending into the carriage.
Joshua sat in his study, staring blankly at a collection of correspondences from Lady Susan Moore. He had been speaking with her on a regular basis and spending more and more time with her, just as he had vowed to himself. Instinctively, he picked up one of her missives, reading her avowed affection, and found himself clenching the paper tightly in his hand.
Despite the generally pleasant nature of their exchanges, a disquieting feeling lingered within him. The entire affair felt unsettlingly askew. He had hoped that a few days in Lady Susan’s company would ease his mind and dispel his doubtsabout her, but such relief had eluded him. This was not at all how he had imagined he would feel upon finding the woman who had saved him all those years ago. He wassupposedto be happy. Relieved, even. This was the woman he had been obsessing over for years. The only woman he had ever seriously contemplated marrying.
Yet, instead of feeling optimistic about Lady Susan and looking forward to a potential future with her, thoughts of Francesca invaded his mind relentlessly, stirring a maelstrom of emotions that had transformed him into a grouch to his staff.
It was the night of the Beckinsale Ball. He had been doing his best to avoid thinking about it, but this night could be the night Liam proposed to Francesca, and the mere idea of it caused Joshua’s stomach to pitch. For a moment, he feared he might actually succumb to his nausea.
He detested the thought of Liam asking for Francesca’s hand, and worse yet, her accepting. Had he made a mistake by simply standing idle and allowing things to get this far? Should he have been the one to make that proposal? Their interactions had never explicitly broached the subject of marriage, leaving him uncertain about her true feelings toward him.
Could it be that she never truly had an interest in him as a potential life partner? Perhaps he was just a pleasant dalliance for her in the end. An outlet to explore her wild desires before eventually committing to someone more suitable.