The girls had withdrawn to Jack's sitting room, and after all the chatter, crying, laughing, and tea Francie felt much better. The baby Oliver played happily on the floor, apparently recovered from his night. She'd lost track of the time but it had to be getting on toward noon. She and Sam should withdraw so the household could get on with their day. Not that she was sure precisely what a countess did all day.

Dibbs appeared at the door. "My lady, there is a man here for Miss Francine."

At first Francie thought that her uncle had come to collect her, then realized the butler would simply refer to him as Jack's father.

Jack looked at her with a smile. "Well. It seems your fiancé has come back for you." Turning her attention back to the butler the countess said, "Show him to Gideon's study and let the earl entertain him while I dress. He should make some payment for causing our lovely Francie to cry this morning."

Francie's eyes widened. "Oh, Jack, no."

"He's the son of a viscount, something he withheld from you until he couldn't any longer. He will be perfectly fine conversing with an earl while you help me dress." The countess directed one more thing to the butler. "Oh, and Dibbs? Send for Sabre and George if you would. I'm sure they'll be as delighted to see Francie as I am."

Francie followed her cousin upstairs while Sam came behind saying. "Maybe Quince will come, too. Having a duke in the room will make Mr. Burnham lose his starch."

Of God, what had she done to poor Reggie by confessing her fears to her cousins? Jack had also been sympathetic over her fears regarding Phoebe and immediately sent a footman to the Caversham residence with a note to check on her. They should have at least something of an idea how the Grenard sisters fared soon. Provided that Francie herself could survive an afternoon surrounded by more nobility than she thought she'd ever even see in her life, much less be expected to talk to.

"What am I to call Sabre?" she asked, suddenly worried.

"Your grace," the sisters said in unison, with matching derisive tones.

Francie laughed. "With such agreement, should I assume that is the inflection I should use?"

The sisters laughed. "Oh, heavens no," Jack said.

"Sabre is very proud of her title," Sam said.

"She's still Sabre, though," Jack said, settling at her dressing table so a maid could brush and arrange her hair. Apparently 'helping' a countess dress meant sitting nearby and chatting.

"None of us has changed overmuch," Sam agreed.

"I've been thinking about George a lot lately," Francie said.

"Really?" Jack prompted.

"Reggie wanted to know where I acquired my wicked sense of humor and I realized her influence."

Jack smiled. "She'll be so proud."

The girls laughed and giggled while helping Jack choose her dress for the day. If only she knew Phoebe and Lydie were safe, and that Reggie really did intend to marry her, then she could be happy right now. She'd had too much loss of late, but this was a good reminder that she still had so much left.

 

***

 

The butler showed Reggie into a room of pale, gleaming wood with low couches and expensive curios on display. It smelled of wood polish, leather, and faint traces of tobacco and brandy. Reggie knew a gentleman's study when he saw it, and this was clearly the earl's. The man himself stood from behind his desk.

"Mr. Burnham.

"My lord."

Introductions were clearly not needed. The butler hadn't even announced him and now closed the door with a solid click. It felt suspiciously like being locked into a cage with a hungry tiger.

The earl stepped out from behind his desk and indicated one of the couches. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Brandy?"

It was a bit early for spirits, but it didn't do to be rude to your host. "Sounds lovely." Reggie perched politely on the plush seat and wondered where in this enormous house his fiancée might be hiding.

The earl handed him the glass and sat across from him, all masculine insouciance as was the fashion. Reggie didn't trust it for a minute. He didn't keep up with politics in general, but even he had heard about the earl's speeches in Parliament. The man had an agenda and was reputed to be unstoppable.

"Your father says you won medals for bravery in the Atlantic."

"The Navy agrees it's brave to live when many around you die."

The earl nodded. "Just so, thank you for your service to the Crown in these times of dire need."

If this was to be a political speech Reggie had other things to do. "Thank you, my lord."

The earl swirled his brandy in his glass. "It might not be too long before you're calling me Gideon. But you can start by explaining how my wife's cousin came to be in your possession."

"In- in my possession? Is that what she said?"

The earl seemed unperturbed. "Those aren't her words, they're mine. But by my calculation she spent better than a fortnight in your company without a chaperone."

He should have known that she would run to her beloved cousin and spill every sordid secret of their time together. For just a moment Reggie wished that cousin Jack had been a man so that he could punch the rotter right in the mouth.

"Well?" the earl prompted.

"We all discussed it and decided that her safety was more important than her reputation."

"You couldn't hire a maid, or have her stay with a friend?"

"She swore not to have a friend nearby, nor did we have the funds to hire a maid."

"Yet you had the funds to travel to London days later?"

Bloody hell, the earl might as well be one of his brothers. "As the situation was dire, I put debts in my father's name. Something I am typically loathe to do."

The man narrowed his eyes, then took a slow sip of his brandy. "A terrible imposition, I'm sure. I assume we will see the announcement of your engagement in the papers tomorrow as I see nothing about it today?"

"I wouldn't think so as I've not asked Mr. Walter's approval yet."

"Curious," the earl said, swirling his brandy again. "I could have sworn she called you her fiancé."

Reggie leaned forward. "My lord, I do not mean to be impertinent, but if there is something you want to say then I encourage you to get to it. My only concern is Miss Walters and it is imperative that I speak to her as soon as possible."

The earl crossed his legs. "I'll make allowances for the fact that as a Naval officer you are used to both command and action, but I would caution you that attempting to bully me in my own house will not be met with a response you desire."

Reggie moved his gaze to the floor and forced himself not to sigh with exasperation. This was why he had no interest in living in London. Drawing room posturing and politics held no interest for him. Yes, the man was a bloody earl. You couldn't shake a stick in the fine houses of London without hitting a noble. Reggie would give him all the respect due his position, but no more than that unless it was earned.

"Since you seem to need it drawn out for you, let me make it plain. I love my wife. She loves her cousin and her father. Anyone who attempts to harm any of them will have to deal with me."

Reggie's chin raised again. "What do you mean?"

"If Walters feels the need to call you out over these indiscretions it won't be him you'll be facing."

Reggie stood without thinking, prompting the earl to stand as well. "Bloody hell. You're posturing over some sort of honor duel? Why don't you just let the girl marry who in the hell she wants to marry?" He tossed back the rest of the brandy and slammed the glass on the low table between them. "If you'll excuse me, I have to talk a woman into going to a ball.'