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Nothing and no one.
**
“What did you just say?” It took everything Francesca had to not let her knife clatter onto her breakfast plate.
Jasper took a sip of his tea, completely unaware that her heart was sinking to her toes. “Barrow left at dawn.”
“But why?” she demanded. “Isn’t there too much for him to do at Renwood?”
Her cousin choked over his teacup and put it down with a sputter. “Whatever do you mean, Francesca?”
She scowled. “I know he’s Clifton.”
Jasper glanced sharply at his wife. “You told her?”
Sophie placidly buttered her toast. “I haven’t said a word about our conversation yesterday.”
“Sebastian told me,” Kitty chimed in with a cheerful pat on Ashford’s arm.
The duke sent Jasper a mildly apologetic look over the table. “She found out last night. Kitty can wheedle just about anything out of me when she puts her mind to it.”
“God dammit,” Jasper muttered and rubbed his eyes. “And who told you, Francesca?”
“Arthur did,” she replied, too upset to remember not to refer to him by his Christian name.
Jasper reeled back in his chair; eyebrows raised. “Arthur?”
“Why would he just leave, before I could—” She put a hand over her mouth with a shaky inhale as tears threatened to fall. Before she made even more of a fool of herself, Francesca rose and all but ran from the room.
“What in the hell is going on?” Jasper’s voice bellowed as Francesca slammed the door of the breakfast room behind her. She dashed through the house, ignoring concerned servants and the distant voice of Sophie calling to her, and emerged into the back gardens. He’d left without a word, before she could fix things between them. The memory of his last words before everything fell apart rang in her head.
I wish to…
Court her. Francesca was almost certain that had been what he was going to say before she’d gone and ruined everything with her silly conclusions. She paced down the gravel paths, willing her sobs to subside. He’d return to London thinking her to be nothing more than another frivolous lady of the Ton who cared not a jot for him beyond his capacity as a novel, scandalous bedmate. She stopped and stared at her feet, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. Everything was lost.
“Perhaps we should give her some time to calm,” a quiet voice sounded.
“To hell with that,” another voice said with a scoff.
“Kitty!”
Francesca peered up at the arguing voices of Sophie and Kitty, spying their obscured forms hiding behind a hedgerow. “I can hear you,” she called with a watery laugh, their antics warming her despite everything. The two women emerged from their hiding spot with sheepish smiles.
“We were worried about you,” Sophie said. “I’m not entirely sure what is going on, but I’m here to help, regardless.”
“I’m sorry,” Francesca replied. “I should have told you everything that was happening, but I didn’t want you worrying. Bad enough that Kitty already knew.”
The duchess grinned at the glare Sophie shot her. “I didn’t want there to be a big fuss. We were going to tell you eventually, I swear.”
Never one to hold on to anger long, Sophie let out a long-suffering sigh. “Well, I’m here now. Why don’t we address whatever this is together?”
The three of them sat side by side on a stone bench while Francesca availed them of everything that happened yesterday and the events leading up to it, being sure to omit the details of their interlude in the forest for her own sanity.
“I knew you two had something going on,” Sophie said once Francesca finished her tale. “You could almost feel the tension whenever the both of you were in a room together. I’m surprised it took this long for things to boil over.”
“Oh, boy, have they,” Kitty remarked playfully.
“I wish you had told me, Francesca,” Sophie chided.
