Chapter Six
Lord Panicle smirked from his position near the corner of the building.
My cheeks flamed hotter than the beating sun. I hastily stepped back from Julian’s form at the same time as he stepped between me and Panicle, shutting me from sight with his body.
He crossed his arms over his chest as he squared off against the duke’s son. “Can’t a man engage in a little harmless sodomy in peace anymore?”
For a second, my heart stopped beating in my chest. What was he doing? Good men were hanged for engaging in sodomy. It was a capital offence.
Lord Panicle sniggered. “Right. Sodomy. Because that’s what’s going on here.”
Sneaking his hand behind his back, Julian urged me to leave with a surreptitious wave. But I couldn’t abandon him, could I? When I didn’t budge, he risked a glance over his shoulder. His glare penetrated me. “Leave,” he mouthed.
Without taking my eyes off them, I slipped backward until reaching one of the pillars rooting the lofty balcony overhead. I flattened myself against the far side. The balcony cut off the overbearing sunlight, leaving my vision punctate with sunspots.
When I risked a peek around the column, Julian had approached Panicle. The pair exchanged words in a low monotone. The conversation didn’t carry. Then, to my surprise, Lord Panicle gave a haughty salute and left.
I crossed to Julian’s side. He managed a shaky smile, but I still wasn’t convinced.
“Do you think he recognized me?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “In your cunning disguise?”
I moaned, letting my head fall back against the cool stone of the shady wall. “My life is over.”
“Please.” Julian snorted. “Who would believe him if he told anybody?”
I wished I shared his confidence. “We should go.” Before someone else recognized me.
He stared down at me with an unreadable expression. He nodded once, curtly, and rounded the corner.
I hesitated. “Is it safe?” We had hidden at the rear of the manor for a reason, after all.
Julian shrugged. “The duke’s son already caught up to us. What else can happen?”
When he continued walking, I trotted to keep up. “Can you slow down?” Twinges of pain spiked through my ankle with every step.
He lengthened and slowed his stride. At the next corner, he paused before he peered around to the front. I sidled up next to him, hoping to catch a view.
At least half of the carriages in front had departed. Julian pointed to the row. “Third one down,” he said. “Unmarked. That’s the hack I hired to bring me here.”
His body pressed alongside mine. I inched away. My cheeks heated as the foolishness of asking him to kiss me finally sunk in.
He turned to me, frowning. “Let me escort you home.”
I didn’t meet his gaze but nodded. He hovered by my side as I walked to the carriage under my own power. I might be injured, but I was far from helpless. After glancing around to ensure no one was looking, he grabbed my elbow and hoisted me into the carriage when the steps proved troublesome.
We didn’t speak as the driver snaked through the thick London traffic. Our passionate embrace hung heavy over us like the heat. At least, it did over me. I turned my attention to the small window but didn’t say a word. Once the hack pulled to a stop in front of my townhouse, I shuffled to the edge of the seat then paused with my hand on the door.
“Francine?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Julian. “Why didn’t you write? I sent you more than one letter.”
The shadows crossing his face deepened the hesitation in his expression. “It’s complicated.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. His expression turned stony. That was all the answer I was going to get?
I mumbled a good-bye under my breath and let myself out. Julian made no move to help.
I hurried up the steps and into the house proper before someone spotted me dressed inappropriately. Our butler, Grimsby, lifted a gray eyebrow but didn’t comment on my attire. I slipped past him into the house, hoping if I ignored his awkward stare he might forget he ever saw me. It was a slim hope.
I tried to sneak up the stairs without anyone else spotting me.
My luck had run dry. Mary paced back and forth in the parlor. She spotted me as I reached the bottom step.
“Francine.”
It wasn’t a hail of excitement. Anger thrived in her expression, damping off all cheerfulness in the room. Her ire spilled into the hall like the stink of rot.
“Where did you go?”
My mouth dropped open. “Where did I go? Where did you go?” I pushed past her into the sitting room, hobbling toward a chair. My ankle throbbed with a vengeance. “You left me in there on my own.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “I did not. You had Julian there with you.”
And good thing I did. It was a measure of how much she liked Julian that she considered him an option for companionship. She rarely trusted a gentleman she’d just met. With any other man, she would have bristled at the fact I was left alone with him. At his “mercy.”
But Mary continually planted herself in the presence of men while unchaperoned—usually in pursuit of justice. Like today with Cypsela.
I shook my head. “You left with Cypsela, nonetheless.”
Puzzlement took root across her features. “Who?”
Twin points of heat bloomed in my cheeks. I aborted eye contact. “Sutton, sorry. I meant Sutton.”
She stepped closer. “What does Cypsela mean?” From her tone, she wasn’t happy at the moniker.
“It’s a plant term,” I mumbled.
“Half the words to tumble out of your mouth are plant terms.” She crossed her arms. “What does it mean, Francine?”
“A cypsela is a dry, shriveled, one-seeded fruit borne from an inferior ovary.”
Mary barked a laugh. “It’s perfect.”
A smile ghosted over my lips. She approved? She usually hated when I referred to people by plant terminology. I glanced down. My smile slipped.
“I have to change out of these clothes before Papa sees me in them.”
Mary barred my path. Anger rotted her good mood once more. She squared her shoulders. “That’s right. He’s forcing you to marry.”
I felt as green as grass. I swayed, but Mary turned tail and catapulted through the parlor door. “Where are you going?” I called after her.
She paused to shoot me an incredulous look over her shoulder, as if surprised I didn’t already know. “To confront him, of course.”
I moaned as she disappeared from view. The thought petrified me in place for too long.
By the time I staggered to the door, she was already gone. I prayed my father had already taken himself off to White’s, or some other men’s abode that Mary couldn’t penetrate. Assuming, of course, that White’s doors were closed to her. Very few doors in London were.
We had infiltrated a men’s lecture without consequence, after all.
Even so, I couldn’t keep standing in the middle of the hall, dressed in my father’s old wedding clothes. I limped toward the stairs and slowly, carefully climbed to the top. At the landing, I leaned against the wall as I waited for the throb in my ankle to subside.
Mother exited the library farther down the hall, a book in her hand. A disapproving frown marred her features as she spotted me. “Francine, are you wearing your father’s wedding clothes?”
I groaned under my breath. “I believe so,” I said in a small voice. I couldn’t very well lie to her.
If anything, the truth deepened her frown. “Why ever are you dressed like that?”
My head throbbed. I had no good excuse for wearing men’s clothes.
“I attended a lecture on botany.”
“Oh.” Her disapproving expression eased. “And how was it?”
I’d half expected Mother to fixate on my state of dress. Seemingly, she cared more for the reason than for the attire itself. I smiled.
“Quite stimulating. The professor was a guest from the Americas. Would you like a copy of my notes?”
“Please.” She narrowed her eyes as she studied me. “It can wait a day or two, if you’d like. You seem ill.”
I felt utterly drained. “I don’t feel quite the thing. Would you mind terribly if I cried off tonight?”
Mother pursed her lips. “I’ll speak to your father.” She sauntered away, book in hand.
I wondered if she would remember.
Pushing the thought from my mind, I escaped into my room. I sighed as I shut the door but didn’t immediately cross to the dressing room to remove my clothes. My ankle spiked pains up my leg with every heartbeat. I hobbled to my bed and sat. I carefully removed the oversize boots, wondering which servant I should return them to. Hopefully Mary remembered.
My ankle throbbed with vigor as I removed it to the open air, as if the boot had muffled the pain. I winced, doubling over the appendage. I worked my fingers into the muscle, hoping to massage it. I whispered promises not to venture on such an escapade again.
Ever again.
As I slowly stripped the stocking from my leg, Rose barged into my room. Her blond hair was in disarray, her eyes wild. I frowned at her. “Rose, what’s wrong?”
She mirrored my expression. “What are you wearing? Oh, never mind. When you didn’t show up at Hyde Park, I feared the worst.”
The bed dipped as she threw herself down beside me. I mustered what little patience I still cultivated as I faced her dramatics. Though perhaps she had right to be angry. I’d forgotten about our meeting entirely, what with the day’s excitement.
“I’m so sorry. Mary came over and cajoled me into going out with her.”
“Ah. That explains it.” Rose wrinkled her nose at me. Or, more likely, at my attire. She reached for my hand and tugged me to my feet. “Let’s get you out of those hideous clothes.”
My ankle gave way as I started to put weight on it. Rose shouldered her way beneath my arm and transplanted me into the dressing room. She left the door ajar to invite in the meager light from my bedroom. She immediately attacked the laces at my throat. Within seconds, they loosened enough to pull the shirt over my head.
Rose, it seemed, had gotten rather good at removing men’s clothing in her happily married state.
With the shirt over my head, my arms still caught in the sleeves and the fabric muffling my face, Rose lamented, “I waited for you for an hour, you know. An hour. Haven’t you a care for my delicate condition?”
I wrestled the shirt the rest of the way off and threw it on the ground. Unfortunately, my dress from this morning was no longer there. Pauline must have found it and returned it to the wardrobe. Meaning I had one more person to explain my actions to today. I stifled a sigh.
I met Rose’s gaze. In the weakened sunlight streaming into the room, her blue eyes appeared almost black. Ominous.
“What delicate condition is that?” I asked, irritable.
She beamed. Her smile seemed to supplement the sunlight and light up the small room. She pressed her hand to her belly. “I’m with child.”
I reeled. I stretched my arm out to graze the wall and steady myself. Somehow, I mustered a slim smile. It didn’t do justice to the snarl of emotions in my stomach. Rose was pregnant? I would soon have a child to dote upon, if not my own.
“Rose, that’s wonderful!” I launched myself upon her, wrapping my arms around her neck.
She hugged me back just as fiercely.
“How long have you known?” I asked as I pulled away.
“I’ve suspected for almost a month, but I had to be sure before telling anyone.” Jubilation brimmed in her voice and her expression.
I hugged her again. I didn’t want to part. “I can’t wait for the child to arrive,” I whispered in her ear.
My joy dimmed as I realized that I might be locked up in a convent when that happened. I drew back and busied myself with removing the rest of these blasted clothes.
Rose stopped me with a hand on my wrist. “Francine, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy for me?”
“Of course I am, Rose. I just…”
Her eyebrows knit in a scowl. “You’re jealous.”
I rubbed my forehead between my eyebrows, where a small headache had rooted. “Not exactly. Papa…he’s set me an ultimatum.”
“What does that mean?” Rose unknotted the bandage around my chest and started to unwind it.
“It means I have until the end of the Season to marry. Or he’ll send me away.”
“Away?” She recoiled. Now free, the bandages drooped and unravel all on their own. “Where?”
I turned away. I didn’t want to see the pity on her face. “He’s threatened me with a convent.”
“That’s mad!”
I shrugged, my back turned.
“Well, we’ll have to change his mind.”
She sounded so matter-of-fact I almost smiled. But then I remembered the gravity of the situation. “I doubt he’ll be swayed,” I told her. “Mary’s trying as we speak.”
Rose gave a melodramatic moan. “Francine, how could you let her play advocate for you? You’ll ruin your chances of undoing this verdict.”
I turned, spearing her with a glare. “Can you stop her when she sets her mind to something?”
Rose made a face. She wasn’t any more successful at curbing our friend’s outbursts than I was.
She shook her head. “Well if we can’t change his mind, we can at least extend the date. Ten days to find a husband is ludicrous. He’ll see reason. You’ll at least have next Season.”
I wanted to believe her, I did. But she hadn’t seen the livid expression on Papa’s face when he’d learned I’d entertained an unsuitable man in the bushes. If Julian had met my father’s standards, I would have an entirely different predicament—not necessarily a better one.
To Rose, I said weakly, “My ankle is giving me grief. Would you mind fetching me a dress to change into? I can’t very well remain here naked.”
“Of course.” She slipped into the other room.
I fought with the bandages as she left. The mess turned into a snarl around my breasts. At least with it loosened I breathed easier. The constriction of the bandages on my chest no longer hampered my movement. Finally, I fought free of the damned things and hurled them onto the ground. I pushed the overlarge breeches down after them.
Rose returned with the dress and a chemise. She lifted each over my head in turn. I was grateful for the covering. She buttoned the gown in silence and helped me into the other room.
Mary waited on the bed, swinging her legs. “Ah, there you are. I wondered if you’d run off again.”
Shaking my head, I asked, “Where would I have run off to, Mary?”
She shrugged. “You never know. Maybe that Julian fellow showed up and asked you to come out with him.”
“Julian?” Rose echoed with raised eyebrows. “Why haven’t I heard of this? You’ve been morose over your impending sentence, and you may have solved it all along.”
I shook my head, hobbling away from Rose to sit beside Mary on the bed. “Julian is not an option. He’s the friend you found me dancing with last night.”
Rose narrowed her eyes with a sly smile. “I found something, but it wasn’t dancing.”
My cheeks heated. Mary glanced at me with alarm. “It’s not what she thinks,” I assured Mary. To Rose, I added, “I was dancing, until I strained my ankle. He kept me from falling.”
Rose grinned. “I’m sure.”
Oh, there was no getting through to her.
Mary shrugged in dismissal. “I’ve met the fellow. I agree with Francine. I saw no clues that he wanted to take advantage of her.”
“See?”
Rose shook her head. “Mary, what would you know? Have you ever been courted by a man?”
She scowled. “I’m asked to dance.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
I cleared my throat, hoping to abort confrontation between the two of them. “Can we focus on my predicament, please? I don’t want to go to a convent.”
But, at the same time, I couldn’t think of a single gentleman I could suffer to be married to. I kept that thought to myself.
“The answer’s simple,” Rose said. “We’ll find you a husband before the ten days are up.”
“I hardly think so,” Mary said loudly. “Assuming Lord Valentia doesn’t change his mind—”
More likely miracles would happen first, like turning water into wine.
“—the answer isn’t to go along with what your father sets down for you.”
If only Mary had any sense of reality. Papa had absolute control over my future. If he sent me to a convent, I had to go. That, or be thrown out into the street like a common beggar.
“Mary, please don’t make Francine’s life more complicated,” Rose said. She pressed her hand over her belly.
Oh no. Was the conversation upsetting her? I didn’t want to put her child at risk.
I squeezed closer to Mary. When I patted the bed beside me, Rose gave me a slim smile and sank down on the plush mattress.
Unfortunately, Mary didn’t drop the subject. “Francine’s life wouldn’t be complicated if her father treated her like a person instead of like an unruly pet he possesses. He can’t punish her for something she hasn’t done wrong.”
She turned to me, her eyes earnest. “I assume you haven’t suddenly turned to religion to solve your problems? You don’t want to become a nun.”
“No,” I said with feeling. “Anything but that.”
Even marriage. But did it have to be to a man of my father’s choosing? All I wanted was a nice man who would leave me in peace to study my plants. I didn’t think that was too much to ask.
“Then the way forward is clear,” Mary said. “We ruin your reputation.”
Silence enclosed the room. Rose shattered it first.
“That’s a terrible idea.”
To be honest, I agreed with her. I added, “I don’t think that will solve anything, Mary.”
“To the contrary,” she said. “If you’re seen as a sinful woman, what convent will accept you? And, at the same time, no man will marry you, either. We’ve solved the problem all in one fell move.”
I hedged. Her solution sounded too final. And what would my life entail after that? I doubted Papa would react favorably. But if we sowed the seeds of discord in a way that didn’t prove permanent, ensuring my continued welcome in polite Society…
No, it was ludicrous. A madwoman’s idea. A last resort, to be sure.
Rose scoffed. “Are you suggesting that she lose her virtue?”
The notion petrified me. I hadn’t thought of that. I didn’t want to engage in that sort of activity with a man, certainly not for the sake of tarnishing my reputation. I turned to Mary in alarm.
A scowl darkened her features. “Certainly not.”
The tension in my belly evaporated somewhat.
She continued, “Francine doesn’t need a man to rule her life. And she certainly doesn’t need one to ruin her reputation, either.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “Back to my idea, then.”
I cleared my throat. Maybe Mary’s idea had merit after all. “What do you propose, Mary?”
She beamed. “We spread rumors, of course. It’ll be easy. The servants love to gossip and several owe me favors. It’ll be all around London in hours.”
Rose reached across me to wag her finger under Mary’s nose. “Don’t you dare. You’ll ruin her chances at marriage. I have a plan, after all.”
I blinked. “You do?” Moments earlier, she’d been lamenting she didn’t have enough time to graft the match.
“Of course I do,” she said. “Have a little faith.”
Mary crossed her arms with a harrumph. “Do continue. I must hear this.” Her glower contradicted her words.
Rose lifted her chin a notch higher in the air. “It’s simple, really. First, we identify the kind of man you’re interested in, Francine. The kind of man who is interested in you.”
I didn’t think such a man existed. Mustering a false smile, I muttered, “I’m not picky.”
Not that Rose paid me any mind at all.
Mary said, “And then what? Do tell.”
Rose smiled triumphantly. “We don’t have time to trick him into falling in love, like I did with Warren.”
I snorted. She made it sound like she had aimed to fall in love with him the entire time. If I recalled correctly, he had been on the very bottom of her list. He had pursued her; she hadn’t tricked him into anything.
She glared me into silence then continued, “When we find the man of choice, we’ll have to force his hand.”
That sounded promising. Not only would I be trapped in a marriage, but he would be, too. What a recipe for a disaster.
Mary laughed. “That’s your plan?”
“Yes.” Rose lifted her chin. “It worked for me, didn’t it?”
I didn’t know what aspect of her plan she’d applied to her own marriage, but I held my tongue.
Mary wisely did the same. She pushed off from the bed, catching my gaze. “I’ll have to think on a good rumor. I’ll ready my contacts. Your father might still come around. We don’t want to ruin your reputation if we don’t have to, right?”
Rose smiled at her, baring her teeth in the most unfriendly expression I’d ever seen her wear. “You’d better be jesting, Mary. If I hear one sliver of a rumor, I’ll string you up by that waistcoat you’re wearing. We are finding Francine a husband, and that is final.”
Mary rolled her eyes at me. Beside me, Rose tensed. Without looking at her, I sensed her glower. I inched away from her, removing myself from the line of fire.
Pointedly, Mary said, “I have things to do, so I’ll bid you adieu. Until later?”
I nodded.
Rose sighed the moment Mary’s slim form disappeared from view. “Finally,” she said with feeling. Then with a frown, she added, “You’re not considering her option, are you?”
“No,” I said, though I hadn’t made up my mind.
“Good. We have much to do.” She, too, stood from the bed. I sank farther into the mattress, all alone. She raised her eyebrows at me. “I’ll see you at the opera tonight?”
“No. Mother has already agreed I can cry off on account of my ankle.”
Rose gave the appendage a dubious frown. But her displeasure in itself would not heal my injury. I needed some time to recuperate, didn’t I?
As she departed, I sank back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling while I waited for the throbbing in my ankle to abate. When I shut my eyes, I relived my near-kiss with Julian. Shame burned through me—more at his refusal than at the fact that I’d asked. Why hadn’t he kissed me? He’d offered no explanation for his silence these past few months, either. I deserved an explanation.
I balled my fists as I wrestled into a sitting position. I didn’t understand him. Before he disappeared from London as suddenly as he’d arrived, I had to get an answer from him.