“I beg your pardon,” James offered. “I did not mean to upset you.”
“No, you did not,” she replied. “You only—no, you did not mean to, but youdid. You seem to make that a habit.”
“If you are referring to yesterday?—”
“I am,” she scoffed.
“Excuse me, both of you,” Aunt Eugenia interjected. “I would like a quiet, peaceful breakfast, so if the two of you could refrain from bickering, I would much appreciate it. Come, have some hot cross buns. It is the season, and before we know it, we will not be able to have them anymore.”
Frances sat beside him, and he looked her up and down.
He’d been right in his initial assumptions about her. He hadn’t meant to be unkind, of course, but he knew a great many girlsfrom the country who would set their caps at any gentleman who crossed their path.
He had come to know these kinds of girls. He hadn’t thought her one, but many of the young girls at the ball had been exactly that sort. Perhaps not country girls as such, but certainly with the same attitude and keen instincts. With that astute skill that helped them pick out the most eligible bachelor and sink their claws into him.
Of course, he couldn’t fault them. Their entire lives were built around finding a suitable husband. He had seen this in his own home. His two younger sisters had been turned into proper society princesses. They had learned to dance every dance imaginable to man to perfection. They had each learned two languages, watercolors, embroidery, reciting poetry, singing, even if, like his poor sister Sophia, the good Lord had bestowed not a hint of talent in that regard.
Still, he had been wrong to say what he said to her. Even though he couldn’t have known that she was actually a low-born country girl.
They finished their meal in relative silence, interrupted only by Aunt Eugenia making plans for Frances. Plans that he was somehow now involved in. She intended to take Frances to the theatre the upcoming Saturday, and he was to accompany them.
James could not decline. He was a guest, after all, so he agreed. He also agreed to go to the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens the following week.
God willing, his house would be repaired by then. But for the time being, he agreed to that as well.
Frances, meanwhile, spoke little and focused on her food.
After breakfast, James spent the afternoon at White’s. After spending several hours placing wagers, playing billiards, and throwing darts, he returned in a somewhat better mood.
He ascended the stairs and was about to make his way to his chamber when he was met by a most peculiar sight. Sitting in the library was none other than Frances. However, she wasn’t reading. She was sitting next to one of the maids he had seen during one of his previous visits. He paused and listened.
Quite the bluestocking, he thought with amusement.
“So what does this letter say?” Frances asked.
The maid paused for a moment, then said, “D. It says D.”
“That’s right,” Frances said, her tone very encouraging. “And then this one, the second one. We already learned it.” She looked up, and he saw her profile as her mouth puckered up, as if to shape the letter. “O.”
The maid hesitated before pronouncing the letter.
Frances beamed. “That’s right. And the last letter is a new letter. We haven’t learned it yet. It’s G. It makes this sound.”
She pronounced it carefully, and the maid repeated it.
“So what do those three letters say together?”
“Dog,” the maid said with some difficulty.
Still, Frances cheered and clapped.
Despite himself, James found himself clapping as well. Both young women turned to him at once.
The maid gasped and jumped out of her seat, clutching the book to her chest.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I beg your pardon,” she said, then rushed past him through the door leading to the servants’ stairs.
“That was most unkind,” Frances huffed. “You should not shame her in such a way.”
