CHAPTER 12
Frances
Frances swirled her spoon in the teacup, the silver clinking against the porcelain.
“I think the sugar is quite dissolved now,” Marianne remarked, placing one hand over her wrist to stop her. “What is wrong? You look quite blue-devilled.”
Frances sighed and leaned back. “James has proposed to me.”
“He made an offer of marriage?” Marianne squeaked. “Really? I knew there was something between the two of you!”
“No, believe me, there is nothing between the two of us,” Frances said quickly. “Not a jot. Not the slightest particle of affection. He did not make the offer out of his sudden and undying love for me. He made the offer because he needs a wife. Apparently, Somerset Trust has him at knifepoint. If he cannotproduce a wife post-haste, they will no longer support him and will demand back the money that they loaned to his father. He would have to sell lands, and his tenants would suffer, and he would suffer. And so he thought, since I am on the shelf and in desperate need of a husband,” she drawled, “that I would be most grateful for his offer.”
“Your tone tells me that you are not,” Marianne said.
“It is not that I am not. It is… James and I do not see eye to eye. We started off on the wrong foot, and it has only grown worse since then.”
“Except whenever I see the two of you talking, I see two people who are of one mind on many things and have spirited debates. And dance together quite beautifully. Besides, I have noticed the way he looks at you.”
“I have not,” Frances replied, although that wasn’t true.
She knew she did. Dash it all, she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t just because he was handsome, but because there was something about him that always drew her back into his orbit.
“So, you will not even consider it? His offer?” Marianne asked, looking at her intently.
“I have to admit it is a good offer. It would give me the freedom I always craved, and I would have my own income—be independent…”
“Or you could remain married, and you could live your life, and he could live his.”
“He suggested as much.”
The truth was, Frances had thought about James’s offer long and hard for the last twenty or so hours. She wanted to be independent from her family, even from Aunt Eugenia.
She didn’t want to have to be eternally grateful to her aunt for having set her up with somebody. She didn’t want to have to return to her father either. Besides, she couldn’t deny that the idea of becoming a duchess while her stepmother and half-sister continued to struggle to gain any sort of standing in society was alluring, indeed.
Add to that all the good she could do. If she had money, she would be able to help those in need, especially those back home. Her church desperately needed to be renovated. The prayer books were tattered and old, and the children who relied on the church often had clothes so tattered they were in danger of falling off.
She could fix all of that.
But it would mean accepting James’s offer.
“He’s an honorable man,” Marianne said, interrupting her thoughts. “He always has been. And I would not be so quick todismiss the possibility that there is more between the two of you than either of you wishes to admit.”
“No,” Frances insisted. “There most certainly is not. And whether he is honorable or not, I cannot say. I know that he is insufferably top-lofty for his own good at times. And he proposed to me in a most arrogant manner.”
“He did?” Marianne’s lips twitched. “How did he do it? I take it he did not go down on one knee?”
“No,” Frances said. “First, he was incredibly rude to one of Aunt Eugenia’s guests, then he stormed away after I censured him. And then, when I followed him to see why he was in such a foul mood, he informed me that he was returning home earlier than expected, and that I would come with him as his wife.”
“How perfectly like him,” Marianne snorted. “He has always been the practical sort.”
“Practical, or rather full of himself? I want to say it is the second.”
“Perhaps it is,” she relented. “Perhaps he was out of sorts because he saw you talking to Lord Blatt.”
Frances looked up. “Why would he be out of sorts because of that?”
“I do not know the whole story, but they did not like one another very much when they attended Eton. Lord Blatt claimed that James once planted a facer on him. I did not see it, but I heard about it. Nathaniel heard about it as well from another friend who was there.”
