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Six
It was a lovely night, and Francesca couldn’t have asked for a better one for her comeout ball. This was her official launch into society, and it would be the last time. She had to accept the truth. Her pregnancy guaranteed she would never be accepted in polite society again. They would snub her, and her child. She’d made her decision and she had to live with it. Her only regret was for her baby. The innocent life growing inside her had never done anything wrong, and he or she certainly hadn’t asked for the challenges life would bring.
She wished Matthew had been someone she could depend on. He’d proved to her that he was not a worthy risk. Marrying him would have simplified everything, but it would not have made it all better. He had some demons of his own to face, and she could not be his saving grace. She could barely take care of herself, and she had to think about more than what was best for her. Francesca still wasn’t certain she’d made the best choice. She might be miserable with Matthew, but her baby wouldn’t have the stigma of being a bastard.
The ballroom was filled to capacity. She was the granddaughter of a duke, and no one had refused an invitation. There would be plenty of gentlemen in attendance. If she had more time perhaps she could convince one of them to marry her. Her dance card was already almost full. Instead of wallowing in self-pity she’d decided to embrace the night. She stood at the edge of the ballroom waiting for her next dance partner. She didn’t recall his name and didn’t care to. All she could recall was his title, a viscount, no an earl… It didn’t matter. He was currently walking toward her with a smile on his face.
Francesca tilted her lips upward hoping that she appeared happy to see him. She needed a break. The ball wasn’t as fun as she’d hoped, and it failed to distract her from her dilemma. The entire night had become tedious faster than she could have imagined.
She curtsied when he arrived at her side. “My lord,” she greeted. She determined that was a safe enough greeting. “I’m ready for our dance.”
“I am glad.” He grinned. “But can I interest you in a stroll instead? It’s become a bit hot in here.”
Francesca did not want to stroll, but as she didn’t want to dance either she didn’t see any reason to turn him away. “I could use some fresh air.” That at least was the truth.
“Then let’s go out on the balcony.” He led her to the balcony doors. It was nearly as crowded as the ballroom, but there was some lovely light from the moon to illuminate it. She would have preferred the private balcony, but not with him. Perhaps she would escape there after she was done with her allotted time with him. She had another dance partner after him and would have to excuse herself.
“It is a nice night.” She sounded like an imbecile. Francesca had nothing to say to him, and quite lost altogether. It was a good thing she was no longer hoping to secure a good match. She would have failed miserably in her endeavor.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “It appears spring has finally decided to make an appearance.”
He didn’t sound all that intelligent either. Perhaps this was how courtships began… Francesca had no experience to fall back on. When she’d first met Matthew, they hadn’t talked this way with each other. It had seemed more natural. This exchange…was wrong. She wanted to escape and never be forced to converse with him again. Which wasn’t exactly fair, but it was how she felt.
“We should go back inside,” she said abruptly. “I have a partner for the next dance.”
“Very well,” he agreed. She couldn’t tell if he was happy to hand her off to someone else or upset he didn’t have more time with her. Either way she was just glad to be done with it.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he left her at the edge of the ballroom to wait for her partner. The gentleman in question was nowhere that she could see. Perhaps she had escaped the impending dance and she could go to the private balcony for a little while.
“You look a little lost,” a woman said.
Francesca turned toward her and wished she hadn’t. Then she might have been able to ignore her. Now she would be forced to converse with Lady Briarton, the woman who had broken Matthew’s heart. “Not at all,” she said. “I can hardly be lost in a room I’ve been familiar with all my life.” She hated her. She was the reason Matthew could never really love her.
“You do realize he’ll never love you,” she said in a callous tone. “His heart belongs to me.”
Was she reading Francesca’s mind? How could she be so cruel? More importantly, did Matthew still love her? “I don’t know what you mean.” She would not feed into her beliefs.
“There’s no reason to act as if you’re unaware of who I speak of,” she said in a conspiratorial tone. “I saw the way you looked at him in the park. It’s clear you have fallen hard for him. It’s best you give up that fantasy. I intend to have him again, and I will not think twice about stomping on you to do so. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me.”
“Trust me, I don’t.” Lady Briarton was a conniving, selfish, harpy that didn’t deserve happiness, or to have what she wanted. As mad as she was at Matthew, even he didn’t deserve the likes of her. “And you’re welcome to him…if he’ll have you.”
With those words she strolled away from her. She wanted to stomp away in anger, but that would have given Lady Briarton something to sneer after. Instead, she slipped out of the ballroom and went toward the private balcony. She needed a little time alone.
Mathew had overheardthe conversation between Edith and Francesca. He wasn’t certain how he felt about it. He wanted to go after Francesca, and he would, but first he had to let Edith know she could go to hell. He would never take her back.
“Edith,” he said coolly from behind her. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s the ball to be at tonight. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“Shouldn’t you be in mourning?” he lifted a brow. “Didn’t that old man you married die a month ago?”
She laughed, and it had an almost evil quality to it. He wondered what he had ever seen in her. She was beautiful, but there was nothing of substance inside her. “No one expects me to act the loving widow. Everyone knows I married him for his title.”
Of course, she had. After she failed to get Matthew to the altar, she’d married the old man. Her reputation was in tatters and she had to do something to repair it. She was also penniless, and the old earl had given her a generous purse. “I suppose that is true.” He leaned down and when he was next to her ear he said, “Go home. You’re not welcome here.”
“Do not be ridiculous. I have an invitation.”
He lifted a brow. “I doubt that very much. The Marchioness of Blackthorn would not have sent an invite to a widow of less than a month. I think it is more likely you came with someone that did have one. Go find the fool you convinced to bring you, and leave, or I will have you removed.”
