Frances did not answer at once. Beyond the windows, the afternoon was pale and windless. Somewhere in the house, a door closed softly. They were nothing but ordinary soundsbetween ordinary walls, during ordinary tea cooling between them. Yet Frances felt as though something had entered the room that did not belong there.
“If friendship is your purpose,” Frances stated, “then I must confess I find your questions rather strange.”
“Strange?” Lady Ashford repeated, with a delicate lift of her brows.
“Too exact.”
The viscountess was quiet for half a moment. Then, she smiled.
“My dear duchess, exactness is not a fault when reputation is at stake.”
Frances’ pulse gave one hard beat.
“Reputation,” she echoed.
“Yes.” Lady Ashford set her cup down. “You are newly married. You are young, perhaps not yet accustomed to the care required in such a position. A duchess must understand what may be permitted to circulate and what must be corrected before it takes root.”
Frances focused hard on composing herself. “How considerate of you to instruct me.”
“I mean no offense.”
“And yet you have come into my home to ask whether the child is hidden, nameless, and connected to my marriage.”
Lady Ashford’s expression remained light, but something in her eyes sharpened. “I ask because others will ask with far less sympathy.”
“Then others may be disappointed.”
“Or emboldened,” the viscountess corrected quietly. “Silence can be very dangerous, Your Grace.”
Frances felt the words settle in the air between them. They were not idle, nor merely curious. They weredangerous.
She looked at Lady Ashford more carefully now, searching for some clue in the smoothness of her face, the carefully moderated voice, or the poised hands resting in her lap. There was nothing. That was what unsettled Frances most. She could find no vulgar eagerness and no visible malice, only precision. It was as if Lady Ashford had not come to learn, but rather as if she had come to test.
Frances lifted her chin. “You seem remarkably concerned with His Grace’s household.”
The woman shrugged playfully. “Surely, concern is not a crime, dear.”
“No,” Frances agreed. “But intrusion is discourteous.”
A faint color rose in Lady Ashford’s cheeks, though she mastered it quickly. “I had not expected you to be defensive.”
“I had not expected to be interrogated.”
“Interrogated?” Lady Ashford gave a soft laugh. “Surely that is too strong a word.”
“Is it?”
Before the viscountess could answer, a voice came from the doorway.
“No.”
Frances turned, only to find Andrew standing just inside the room. He had entered without either of them hearing him, or else they had been too absorbed to notice. His gaze was not on Frances. It was fixed entirely upon Lady Ashford, and all the charm he wore so easily in society had vanished.
He, on the other hand, looked utterly cold.
Lady Ashford rose at once. “Your Grace.”
Andrew did not bow.
