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He finished her lacings with a small chuckle. “Don’t wilt on me just yet. He is still waiting for us in my office.” And likely availing himself of Arthur’s good whisky to boot.
“I say we let him stew for a good while,” Francesca replied with a mutinous expression. “I was having such a splendid time, and he had to go ruin it all.”
“We can’t avoid him forever. I’ll be needing to speak to your father soon, and I’d much rather have Amberwood at my side while I do so.” The Earl of Dolefield was a genial man and even the occasional visitor to The White Heather when flights of fancy took him, but Arthur couldn’t be certain how well the gentleman might take his daughter marrying the owner of said scandalous establishment, even with the addition of an earldom.
“I doubt Papa will care,” she remarked. “Especially considering my lack of prospects. Mama had even suggested I set my cap for you a little while ago.”
“We’ll see how they feel after finding out I have no estate,” Arthur replied with a grimace. Another problem came to mind, one he hadn’t yet considered but would need to be addressed. “Where will we live?”
“Here?” Francesca said with a raised eyebrow. “These rooms are perfectly acceptable.”
“How are you to entertain?”
She gave him a deadpan stare. “I’ve spent my entire life despising balls, and you think I’m going to ever host one? Besides, why bother when you have half the Ton here nearly every night?” She looked at the ceiling with a thoughtful smile. “Perhaps I should arrange some more entertainments during the nights women are allowed.”
“You? On the floor? With all of those people?”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s just the thing I need to get more confidence in myself. I would love to try.”
He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, even though the image of her dressed in a becoming scarlet down and flitting about their patrons like the social butterfly she deserved to be was far more appealing than it should have been. “Please refrain from informing Lord Dolefield of these plans of yours.”
Francesca nodded with a delightful little grin that satisfied him immensely, and Arthur was beginning to suspect that he’d have a hard time denying her anything when she put her mind to it. He finished her lacings, and she stood with a happy stretch, turning around to hold out a hand. “Perhaps we can leave the men in your office a little while longer. I believe a tour of your grand establishment is in order, My Lord.”
He rose and tucked her hand into his elbow with a rakish smirk. “Very well. But I must warn you, I like to talk endlessly about it.”
She leaned into him. “Lead the way, my love.”
Epilogue
One Year Later,
“This was a terrible idea, Your Grace,” Francesca remarked to Ashford in amusement as she watched Arthur attempt a waltz with Kitty. He laughed as he missed another turn, and Francesca was happy that her husband was so unbothered by his awful dancing skills. The scandalized looks the other dancers gave the couple seemed to more than make up for it.
“Kitty is too wild a partner for such an amateur.” Ashford’s lips quirked with a small smile. “But they seem to be enjoying making a spectacle of themselves.”
“Perhaps I should see about having a ballroom added to the club,” she replied. To the surprise of just about everyone involved, Francesca had taken a shine to her role as matron of The White Heather, and the establishment grew full to bursting nearly every Tuesday and Thursday, with curious newcomers and regular patrons alike hoping for a glimpse of the infamous countess. She’d become a valuable asset to the business, and in return Arthur decided to mingle in society as the earl with more regularity. Francesca didn’t care for their standing amongst the Ton in the slightest, but if Arthur wanted to have a go at some respectability, then she would support him. Hence why they were currently at Lady Aircourt’s famous yearly ball, the first major event they were attending as Lord and Lady Clifton.
And it was a beautiful, entertaining disaster.
“So, how has our two-footed friend fared?” Amberwood said as he and Sophie approached. The waltz drew to a close, and the dancing couple made their way back to the group.
“Oh, come now, Jasper,” his marchioness remarked with a playful smack of her fan. “He is not that bad.”
“Please, do not demure on my account, Lady Amberwood,” Arthur remarked as he handed a snickering Kitty over to Ashford.
“He only stepped on my foot once this time,” the duchess observed.
“Luckily, I hate dancing,” Francesca said and leaned up to give Arthur a light peck on the cheek. Outraged gasps sounded around them, and she fought hard to keep from laughing aloud. Her husband held no such compunctions.
“Now, now, love. This isn’t the floor of The White Heather. You cannot do something as horrendous as show your husband a mild amount of affection in public.”
“I fear we are not well suited to polite society.”
“Not with these nobs about, no,” he replied with a lopsided smile. “But I don’t mind one bit.”
She sidled closure to his side. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
