From Unwanted to Duchess (Daughters of the Ton #4)

Chapter 1

Frances

Frances stepped out of the carriage in front of the townhouse that evidently belonged to her aunt Eugenia. It was an impressive house, four stories tall with balconies overlooking the front, as well as a wrought iron gate.

She clasped her hands together, feeling the handle of her reticule digging into her palms. This was to be her home.

Her heart fluttered uncomfortably in her chest as she took in the house and then the street.

The roads here were smooth, the sand pressed down properly so that the rides were smoother. Street lamps lined the road.

She had heard that in the city at night, someone would come to light the lamps. They had no such thing back home. One had to walk around with a lantern if someone wanted light out on the street.

Dusk was already settling, and she knew that soon enough, she would see the spectacle for the first time.

Oh, I sound like such a clodhopper. As if I have never been out of Bedfordshire. As if I have never been to a town. That’s ridiculous. And yet everything is so overwhelming.

“Miss,” a voice said.

She looked up to find a man standing in the doorway. A pair of black pantaloons, a crisp white shirt, a white waistcoat, and a black overcoat told her that this had to be the butler.

Of course, Aunt Eugenia had a butler. Frances had spent the entire ride attempting to think of everything she knew about the old lady, but her mind had drawn many blanks.

She knew that Eugenia was not truly her aunt. She was her father’s second cousin. They were connected through some distant relation, a grandparent or a great-grandparent or some such. She had met her on occasion when she was younger, but not for over ten years now.

She vaguely remembered the three daughters of the household. Evelyn, Charlotte, and Marianne. Marianne was closest to her in age, but beyond that, she could not recall much.

“Miss,” the butler called again, and this time his voice carried a hint of impatience.

Quickly, she hurried up the steps. Her skirt swished as she climbed them, and her shoes slapped against the stone. Her hair, which had escaped the tight bun at the back of her head, likely looked very unruly and not the way it ought, given that she was about to be presented to a lady.

“Yes,” she said. “I am Frances Langley. I am here—”

“Franny!” a voice came from the back of the house.

The clip-clap of footsteps followed, and a moment later, she was pulled into a tight hug. Meaty arms enveloped her, and a plume of lavender and sage wrapped around her.

When she was released, she saw that the person dishing out the hug was an elderly woman.

Frances was not tall, merely five feet two, but the lady was shorter than her. Her wrinkled face beamed up at her, her thin lips curled up, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight.

“You have grown up so much! I remember when you were just a little girl bouncing on your mother’s—”

“My mother’s knee?”

She remembers my mother.

Warmth spread through Frances. Perhaps this was a chance to learn more about her mother.

Had she always harbored this foolish hope?

“How was your journey? I am Aunt Eugenia, by the way. You probably do not remember me.”

“Genuinely, I do not,” she said. “I barely recall a whit.”

“Nonsense, you’ll just have to get to know me again. Now, come, come. Hand your luggage to Peterson, and I’ll have the footman bring in the other things.”

“I only have the one trunk.” Frances pointed behind her, where the footman had already lifted the woefully small case from the carriage.

Aunt Eugenia’s white eyebrows rose, adding to the sea of wrinkles on her forehead. “That is all you have? That cannot be. Surely you have more. Clothing? Shoes? Hats?”

“I have brought three dresses, two hats, and these shoes.”

Aunt Eugenia clicked her tongue. “Well, that will not do. That will not do at all. You are to be accompanying me in public, after all. We shall have to see to it. There are several armoires in this house filled with dresses that your cousins no longer need. They are high-ranking ladies now. A duchess, a marchioness, and a countess. So, of course, their wardrobes have been somewhat upgraded. We shall find you something wonderful.”

Castoffs. Frances was going to be dressed in castoffs. Hand-me-downs, though quality ones to be sure.

It was disheartening to think of it. But she knew she shouldn’t be ungrateful. Her cousins’ dresses were likely to be much grander than anything she could ever have hoped for. Certainly more than her half-sister could ever have hoped for.

That thought lifted her spirits somewhat.

“I am grateful for the position. I just was not expecting it.”

“Oh, but you must be so very eager. Your father wrote to me last week that you were looking forward to coming here.”

“Last week?” she said as they stood in the entrance hall. “I only found out I was coming here a few hours ago.”

“What?” her aunt gasped, her eyes darkening.

“That scoundrel, Roland. What a complete rogue! I should have known. You know I never liked your father,” she said.

“Excuse me for being blunt, but if we’re going to be living together, you’ll have to get used to it.

I have become far more blunt of late. I find it suits me well. ”

“I think it is good to speak one’s mind,” Frances said quietly.

“Well, good. We shall get along famously, then. I do beg your pardon for how you came here. I truly thought that your father would have told you. He and I have been corresponding for weeks now. But I was half expecting it, which is why I was not quite as honest with him as I should have been.”

“What do you mean?” Frances asked.

“Oh, I shall tell you all about it.” Aunt Eugenia took her by the arm. “First, we have to go upstairs to your chamber.”

Together, they climbed up the rather steep staircase, which was covered by a heavy red rug that muffled the sound of their footsteps. Her aunt grunted slightly as she pulled herself up using the banister.

Frances wrapped her arm around her waist, helping her up.

“You are very kind,” Aunt Eugenia said, “but I can quite manage on my own.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon. I did not mean to imply that you could not. It is just that I thought I was going to be your companion, and—”

Halfway up the stairs, Aunt Eugenia turned to her. “I will be happy with the company,” she said. “But the truth is, you’re not only going to be my companion. And if you are, I hope it will not be for very long.”

Before Frances could say anything else, her aunt continued to trek up the stairs. Her silk lavender gown clung to her body like drapes, indicating the ample hips and stomach that had settled around her body with age. Frances caught the candles’ reflection on her pearls.

She took a moment to take in the rest of the house, or what she could see from her vantage point, anyway. The floor downstairs was marble. A white marble statue stood by the door. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked like a grand warrior. She spotted a grand piano through one of the doors.

It has to be the drawing room.

Portraits and landscapes hung on all the walls.

This was one of those grand homes she read about in the Times. And now she was going to live in one. It would have been exciting had it been of her own volition, but it hadn’t been. She was forced to move here.

Aunt Eugenia led her up two flights of stairs and then down a short hallway. She opened a door that led to a spacious room overlooking the street below.

“Here we are. This chamber used to belong to Evelyn, I believe, until she left. It has the nicest view. My chamber is just down the hall. I shall show it to you later.”

Frances could barely believe what she was seeing. The room was the size of her own, her half-sister’s, and her parents’ combined. A huge fireplace stood at the end, with armchairs in front of it. A large bed stood off to the left of the fireplace, facing the windows.

A sideboard with many small patch boxes ran along the wall, and a writing desk stood nearby. A shelf laden with books hung near the bed, and silver candlesticks sat on either side of the bed.

“This room is rather large. I do not think that it will suit me. I thought that I would have a chamber with the servants, under the attic.”

“Do not be silly. Come, sit with me. There’s something I must explain.”

Reluctantly, Frances stepped into the room and then noted that there was another room adjacent to it. It stood open, and inside she spotted several armoires.

A dressing room. She was to have her own dressing room. It was absurd. This situation was growing more ludicrous by the minute.

Still, she sat, folding her hands in her lap.

“I must admit that I have somewhat tricked you and your father. I do need a companion. It is true. But not in the sense that you might have imagined. I would like the company, but I do not intend for you to stay here very long.”

“What do you mean?”

“I intend to find you a good husband. The Season has just started, and I intend for you to partake in it. We will find you a fine husband.”

“A husband,” she whispered.

This had to be a dream. What a turn of events this is!

“You cannot mean it,” she said. “I am not titled. I am linked to the Langley family, but that’s it. My father is a gentleman, as he owns a farm, but it is a small farm. I have no dowry. One of the reasons I was sent away is that my parents have no money.”

“You do not need to worry about such things. I am well-connected. My nieces are well-positioned ladies. Everybody will want to be connected to our family somehow. But you need not worry about that. I will make sure that somebody decent offers for you. We will look through all the dresses here and select something that suits you. I already purchased the vouchers for Almack’s. The patronesses know me well.”

Frances sat back, shaking her head. “This cannot be real. But why would you do this for me? You scarcely know me.”

“That is true,” Aunt Eugenia agreed. “But I knew your mother.

You see, when your parents were first married, they were very much in love.

They would come and call on me whenever they were in London or back at my seaside estate.

They would stay with me for a few weeks at a time.

I adored them, especially your mother. But as the years went by, I could see that the love they had for one another fizzled out.

Oh, it was terribly sad to see, but it could not be denied.

“After a while, your mother confided in me. She knew that your father had mistresses. Oh, she struggled terribly with it. I did my best to support her, but then she grew ill.”

She leaned forward and grasped Frances’s hands. “You were still so small then. She loved you very much. You were the apple of her eye. She would bring you everywhere all the time. My husband offered to hire a wet nurse because he thought it was proper, but she refused.”

Frances’s heart ached as she heard the tale of her mother. She had hoped that Aunt Eugenia might have known her and could tell her stories about her, but she hadn’t expected this. For them to have been so close.

“You cared for my mother?”

“Very much. I was never blessed with children of my own, but I adored her. You see, when she grew ill, she made a request of me. She knew that she was not long for this world and that your father would install his mistress in her place as soon as he had a chance. She feared for you and what would become of you. She asked that by the time you came of age, if you had not made a match or if your living situation did not prove promising, I would take you under my wing.”

Frances couldn’t believe her ears. Her mother had made all these plans so far in advance. It also hurt her to know that her mother had suffered so much and that she had known, even in her final days, that her father would install his mistress in her place.

“I would have sent for you much sooner, but as you know, my brother, the late Earl of Lowey, was quite the rakish sort, given to all manner of excess and dissipation. His life was, shall we say, not well managed. He brought me here to look after his daughters, and I did. And the truth is, I neglected my duty to you. I should have brought you here years ago. But I was occupied with the girls, you see.” Aunt Eugenia cringed, as though she was embarrassed.

Frances shrugged. She was used to being second best. An afterthought.

“Well, we are not closely related,” she said. “It is no wonder that you would focus more on true relations.”

“You are also a true relation. As I said, your mother was like a daughter to me. I loved her. And I will do right by her through you.”

“But how did you know that I was not yet promised to anyone?”

Aunt Eugenia smiled. “I have kept in touch with some of the other Langleys who live on the former Langley estate. Your great-aunt Marjorie wrote to me regularly, telling me that your father did not treat you as he did your half-sister. At first, I thought sending money might help, but I suspect that you never saw a dime of it.”

“I did not,” Frances admitted.

“Well, you shall have everything you could ever need now. We will find you dresses. We will fit you with attire befitting a young lady, and then you will be out on the town, and we will find you a husband.”

Frances’s mind whirled. She had no notion of what it meant to be a debutante. To be out. She didn’t know how to dance. She had no accomplishments.

I shall make a complete cake of myself.

And yet her aunt seemed so excited and so determined that she did not want to upset her. She’d have to find the time to tell her the truth, but now was not that time.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and the butler appeared with a silver platter. He handed it to Aunt Eugenia, who lifted a carefully folded letter. She opened it, placed spectacles on her nose, read it, and then let out a sigh.

“If you will excuse me, there is something I must attend to.”

She got up and left Frances alone in the giant room that was going to be hers, at least for the time being.