Page 26 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)

“ I should probably tell you,” Mama said carefully, her eyes on her breakfast plate, “but I am going back to the country.”

Frances flinched, sitting up straighter. “You’re leaving London, Mama? But why?”

Mama sighed. “I don’t love London like I once did. Once, I could never have imagined leaving. It would be like opening a vein and letting my lifeblood pour out. But now, with you gone…” she trailed off, shrugging. “I want peace, darling. And I don’t think I’ll find it in London.”

Frances set her fork aside with a clatter. “You’re… you’re leaving me?”

Mama slid her hand across the table, taking Frances’s hand. “No, darling, I’m not leaving you. It won’t happen soon, but…” she paused, as if searching for the words. “I have bought Rawdon House.”

Now, that was a surprise. Frances stared at her mother in amazement. “You bought… how?”

They had been unceremoniously turned out of Rawdon House when the Baron had died and the next heir came to take the title and the estate.

The man, the Baron’s cousin, had not been particularly friendly and made it clear that he vastly disapproved of his relation’s choice of wife.

They had left in a hurry and had not returned.

“The estate is not doing well,” Mama explained.

“Most of the land has been sold off, but the house remains, and the current Baron Rawdon wanted to sell it. For my part, I have been careful with my jointure and with the allowance your Uncle Cassian has given me. I invested it wisely, and now I have a rather neat return on my money. Enough to buy Rawdon House.”

Frances sat back in her seat, absorbing this.

She had good memories from that place, of course.

She had known nothing but happiness and kindness.

The Baron was a mythical figure who had visited rarely and was always extremely awkward around her.

She thought he had tried to be kind, but did not always hit the mark.

Nevertheless, Frances's days had been full of laughter, sunshine, and Mama. She wondered now if Mama’s days had been just as happy.

As if reading her mind, Mama smiled and squeezed Frances’s hand.

“I’ll be glad to go back. That house was mine , and I was quite happy enough, considering. But I should like to know that you, my darling, do not resent me for leaving.”

Frances forced herself to smile. “Of course I don’t resent you, Mama. I want you to be happy, and Lucien and I can visit all the time. I shall miss you terribly, though.”

Who will I turn to for advice?

It was a terrifying thought, the idea that Mama would suddenly not be there. Frances swallowed it down. She would think about that later.

Before the conversation could move on, there was a little commotion in the hallway. Shortly after, Uncle Cassian and Aunt Emily came into the breakfast room, both talking and laughing at each other.

“Ah, Margaret, let me congratulate you on your new purchase!” Cassian said, laughing. He paused, glancing guiltily at Frances. “You have told her, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but only just, you wretch,” Mama huffed. She and Cassian began to talk animatedly, and that left Frances free to turn to Aunt Emily.

“I wonder, could I talk to you about something?” Frances asked timidly. “In private?”

Aunt Emily tilted her head thoughtfully. Sunlight glinted off her spectacles. “Of course you can, dear. Here, let’s go into the morning-room next door.”

Frances followed her aunt into the neat, bright little room and closed the door behind them. There was a moment of silence.

“I imagine it’s come as quite a shock, learning that your mother plans to leave London,” Aunt Emily said at last, her voice quiet.

Frances bit her lip, glancing away. “Yes, it is, rather. Perhaps it was selfish, but I always imagined she’d be right there, by my side, ready to guide me through whatever lay ahead.”

“It isn’t selfish. It’s a sign that you love your mother.”

“I want her to be happy, of course I do, but…” Frances trailed off, swallowing.

Aunt Emily took a step closer, scanning Frances’s face thoughtfully.

“Something is worrying you,” she said at last, making it more of a statement than anything else. “You can talk to me, Frances, you know you can.”

Frances briefly closed her eyes. “It’s about… about the secret.”

There was no need to clarify what secret that was. It was the Great Secret, the one they were all conscious of all the time, the one that lived at the back of Frances’s mind, no matter what she was doing.

“I am afraid… I am afraid that Lord Easton has found out.”

Aunt Emily’s eyes sharpened. “What? Why would you think that?”

“He recited a poem at a… a gathering I attended. I have no idea if he knew I was there or not, but it was about me. It named me. Just my first name, and there are plenty of girls named Frances in the world, I suppose. But it talked about a woman who lived a lie, and was something she was not. It made me uneasy.”

Aunt Emily thought this over for a moment, rubbing her chin.

“If he learns the secret, he will certainly make trouble for you,” she murmured. “But perhaps he is just being unkind.”

“Perhaps. But if it comes out, I’ll be shamed, won’t I? Duchess or not?”

Her aunt said nothing, which was an answer in itself.

Frances continued, “To avoid scandal, I am afraid that Lucien will want to annul our marriage.”

Aunt Emily flinched. “Annul? Oh, heavens, darling, you mustn’t think that. Annulments are not so easy to get, not even for a man of the duke’s stature. Once a marriage is consummated…” she paused, glancing at Frances. Whatever she saw there made her pale. “Oh, Frances. You aren’t telling me…”

“I wanted to get to know him first! I didn’t want to rush into anything, and he didn’t want to make me.”

She sniffed. “I should hope not. Well, I can understand that, at least. Cassian and I… enough of that, actually. But this does put you in a more precarious position, to be sure. Even so, I’m sure that the duke is a proper gentleman, and would not break things off over a trifling little scandal.”

Frances turned to face her aunt. “Do you think that it is a trifling little scandal?”

Aunt Emily’s shoulders sagged.

“No,” she admitted. “No, it is not.”

Frances crossed the room to the sofa, sinking down with her back to the door, facing the empty hearth.

“I’m just so tired,” she whispered. “I’m tired of living in fear, of hiding who I truly am. I’m tired of paying for the mistakes of others. I’m tired of constantly, constantly living in terror that all will be exposed and my life as I know it will end. I’d have nothing, and no one.”

“You mustn’t say that,” Aunt Emily cried, sitting beside her and taking her hand.

“You have me. You have Uncle Cass. You have your mother . She’d set fire to the whole of London to keep you warm.

And as for your uncle and I… Well, we don’t give a fig what Society thinks.

You are our niece, in blood if not in name, and we love you. We love you, and we always will.”

“Well. That is a surprising speech.”

Both women spun around, nearly jumping out of their skins. Frances gripped the arms of the chair, feeling almost faint.

Lucien stood there, his riding cloak flaring around him. He was flushed, as if he’d been riding, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He’d appeared in complete silence.

Frances knew, without having to ask, that he’d overheard the majority of their conversation. The last part, at the very least.

At that moment, a flustered-looking maid appeared, red-faced.

“Your Grace, I said… oh, I beg your pardon,” she gabbled, when Aunt Emily rose to her feet. “I tried to tell him he couldn’t go straight in, but he said that he had to speak to his wife and that he wouldn’t be stopped. I couldn’t stop him!”

“You aren’t in trouble, Joan,” Aunt Emily responded clearly. “The duke here is the one at fault, forcing his way into a place where he is not welcome. You may go, Joan.”

The miserable maid bobbed a curtsey and disappeared. Lucien remained. Aunt Emily turned her cool stare on him.

“You may go too. How dare you listen in on our private conversations?”

Lucien clenched his jaw, and a muscle jumped in his cheek.

“No offence, Duchess, I would like to speak to my wife.”

“You--” Aunt Emily began, but France laid a hand on her arm, cutting her off.

“I will speak to him, Aunt,” she said softly. “In private, please.”

Aunt Emily seemed to deflate a little.

“As you wish,” she murmured. Shooting a poisonous glare at Lucien, she strode past and out into the hallway.

Silence descended. Lucien stared at Frances, and she stared right back.

“I will assume you overheard enough of that conversation to understand that a great secret hangs over my head,” Frances said at last.

He nodded slowly. “I do. Is it time for the truth?”

Frances closed her eyes. “I think it is.”

He pushed the door closed behind him and took a step forward. For a moment, there was only a tense silence between them. Lucien let the silence sit, waiting patiently for her to speak first. Frances breathed out and began:

“I suppose you know that Cassian was never meant to be the Duke of Clapton. He had an older brother, whose name was Matthew. Matthew became embroiled in a scandalous relationship with a young opera singer.” She opened her eyes and threw a wry smile at Lucien.

“My mother, of course. I imagine you guessed. I have heard the story many times. They were in love and planned to marry. The former Duke of Clapton, Cassian and Matthew’s father, was said to be a cruel man, and ruthless.

He broke apart the relationship and managed to force my mother to marry a rich older man, Baron Rawdon.

Mama told me once that she truly believed that Matthew would be happier without her.

She believed with all her heart that her sacrifice would be worth it in the end, for him at least.”

There was another silence.

“And was it?” Lucien asked at last.