Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Where a Curious Heiress Ponders the Rules of Attraction
The village seamstress jabbed her with a needle without Franny feeling a thing. Which was her own fault. She’d never been able to stand still during fittings with her modiste, which could account for her gown’s shortcomings.
This fidgeting, however, was due to Viscount Remington.
Since the incident in his study, she’d been walking around in a fever dream. Her skin sensitized to the slightest caress of muslin or lace. Her breath teasing lips that were bruised from her touch and sadly, only her touch.
Damn and blast , she thought hotly. He’d taken something from her without her even realizing she was relinquishing it. And he hadn’t even let her sketch him as he’d promised.
Although, he’d occupied her dreams for two nights, his body covering hers, the fantasy bleeding into a mix of heat and sensual urgency, her frustration staggering when she woke to an empty bed and cool sheets.
Strangely enough, they were working together. Or working apart might be the better way to describe it .
They were passing her sketches back and forth, in ways that limited the chance they’d find themselves alone in the same room again.
She’d gotten used to deciphering his scribbled modifications in the margins, the sheets left during the night on a desk she’d appropriated in a library that regrettably contained few books.
She returned the revised drafts to his workshop each morning.
They were getting close to the design of the desk he wanted in Carlton House. Theirs was a partnership unlike any she’d envisaged she would have.
Ada knew something had happened between them. Franny couldn’t get much past her. Consequently, her companion had not let Franny out of her sight.
Until the Duchess Society stepped back into the picture.
Hildy Streeter had stopped by the evening prior to check on a situation she’d not agreed to, and upon seeing the gown Franny had selected to wear to Lord Grimley’s ball, quickly located a seamstress who could modify one of hers.
She was taller than Franny, her curves less plentiful, but with a skilled craftsman, it would do.
Georgiana Munro, the Duchess of Markham, Hildy’s partner in the Duchess Society, had also arrived and was currently trying to arrange Franny’s hair into something resembling a chignon.
Ada wasn’t skilled, and Remington had no maid on staff who was.
“I shouldn’t be going.” Franny stilled lest the needle make another strike, but her toe tapped a furious rhythm on the carpet.
“Lord Grimley and I haven’t been introduced.
My father hasn’t done business with him even.
No one is expecting me. I’m an American version of a wallflower.
Worse. I promise you that I add nothing to the event. ”
Hildy seethed in ladylike decorum from her spot on the threadbare settee jammed in the corner of Franny’s bedchamber.
The hulking furniture did not fit the space.
Like most of the rooms at Rose Hill, this one was a jumble of masculine embellishment and blatant neglect.
“Being recognized by Lady Chapman-Holmes of all people made the decision, Miss Shaw. Everyone in Derbyshire is expecting you. Lord Remington stated publicly that I knew about this governess arrangement, almost as if I was your chaperone. So, you’ll accompany me and prove it.
There are rules to uphold. The baron agreed to the latest set of contracts, and we’ve forwarded them to your father’s local solicitor.
Hillsdale was unsettled by the rumor of you being in the residence of a notorious rake, even if properly accompanied, so he arranged for transport he cannot afford, and he’ll also be in attendance. ”
“Can’t blame him, considering the viscount’s horrid reputation,” the duchess mumbled around the hair clip jammed between her teeth.
“Dogs like to fight over their bones, don’t they?
Maybe Remington assuming care of a child will polish off a few of his rough edges.
It won’t make the hungry mamas harass him any less, that’s certain, but perhaps he’ll forgo a mistress for a bit. That would help.”
“Bother,” Franny whispered, her heart giving a jarring thud.
The thought of Chance Allerton and his sizzling glances, and Baron Hillsdale and his tepid ones, occupying the same space made her want to crawl beneath her ratty counterpane and hide until spring.
While the thought of the viscount’s many mistresses made her want to break something.
“Have you talked to him?” This question was thrown over Franny’s head by the duchess—who had asked to be called Georgie—to her partner in crime, Hildy. They’d held multiple hushed conversations while she stood there fuming. “Close friends, aren’t you?”
“Chance? We’re distant cousins, actually.
” Hildy smoothed her hand over her gently rounded stomach with a clever smile.
She was expecting in a few months, and her excitement was surpassed only by her husband’s.
All of London was commenting on Tobias Streeter’s transformation from rookery brawler to lovesick husband. “Oh, he’s avoiding me.”
The women looked to her as if Franny knew the reason behind this.
Franny’s lips parted, a terse exhalation slipping free.
“He’s working.” And riding his midnight-black bay across the frozen landscape each morning like he was fleeing from something.
Or someone. “A new desk design. It’s actually quite lovely.
Gorgeous finials and these tapered, very elegant legs.
Rosewood, I think he said he’s going to use.
I—” Halting, she realized she’d said too much.
In a tone that spoke of familiarity well above a governess’s lot.
“Oh, dear,” Georgie murmured, giving a lock of Franny’s hair a yank. “I was afraid of this. ”
While Hildy simply watched, waiting. Patient but expectant. She was going to make a magnificent mother if she used these dead stares on her children when they’d done something wrong. It was worse than a ruler across the knuckles, which her father had employed many times.
“I’m helping him,” Franny finally said. Then stronger. “He doesn’t have an artist who understands his vision.”
“His vision,” Hildy whispered into the hand she’d bought to her lips. “His vision . I’m going to kill him. How about that for a vision, Chance Allerton?”
Franny gave the seamstress, Mrs. Smithe, who was also a midwife in the village, a chagrined grimace. “Perhaps it’s good enough? I like the fit.” She wasn’t going to mention that Lord Remington had begun tacking her sketches up alongside his own on his workshop wall.
Mrs. Smithe sucked her cheek between her teeth, running her hand over the altered waist of a gown that was the loveliest Franny had ever worn.
She’d never cared much about clothing or had anyone special to dress for.
“If you don’t eat a thing this evening, not so much as one biscuit, it might work.
I wouldn’t exhale too hard, either. Dancing is questionable.
You are slightly more endowed”—she wagged her hands to describe a fuller figure, then nodded to Hildy—“than the missus. Keep a shawl handy just in case you split a seam.”
Franny’s cheeks flushed. She was healthy , according to Ada, who had a vile, defensive hatred of slender figures. “Thank you for the advice. I appreciate your prompt assistance.”
Mrs. Smithe whistled and gathered up her basket of materials, stabbing needles in the velvet cushion strapped to her wrist. Crimson thread matching Franny’s gown dangled from her sleeve and her bodice.
“Dear heart, you paid me London wages for Derbyshire work. I’m not even the best seamstress in the village.
But it’ll do. And so will I. My stitches are straight and strong, don’t you worry. But don’t go and cough, not even once.”
Georgie covered a burst of laughter with the hairbrush and escorted Mrs. Smithe into the hallway.
Once they were alone, Franny rounded on Hildy. “There’s no reason to hurt him. I’m helping Lord Remington, true, but we’re barely speaking if that makes you feel better. It’s the most distant business relationship imaginable. He’s not coming to dinner or breakfast while Kat and I are there.”
Her hand going to her lower back, Hildy stretched with a muted groan, her gaze taking no prisoners. Franny could see how she’d captured the most cunning man in London. She was a fierce competitor. “He’s avoiding me, avoiding you. Why is that, do you think?”
Knowing exactly why that was, Franny decided it was a perfect time to test the gown’s seams, circling the room, trailing her fingers across dusty shelves, making a mental note to have someone clean the room.
This house would take a year of hard labor to get in order.
With a sinking heart, she realized Remington would soon marry, and it would be his viscountess making sure that happened.
“My husband did something similar after we kissed the first time. He made quite a show of running, Miss Shaw. I know what men trying to escape a realization look like.”
Franny did a slow rotation on the balls of her feet. “We didn’t kiss.” She hadn’t kissed anyone since that disaster in Philadelphia. She’d wanted to kiss Lord Remington, of course. What woman wouldn’t? He was the most handsome man in England. Tall, dark, and…
Hildy snorted, an inelegant sound from an elegant woman.
“You should see the dreamy expression on your face. Whatever happened was enough to have the viscount making a respectful fool of himself. When I told him you were off-limits. About to be married to Hillsdale. The man is a menace. A bounder. A scoundrel. I presented a challenge he can’t deny.
Unless…” Hildy sat up, her feet hitting the floor with a thump .
“You want to marry Hillsdale, don’t you? ”
Franny gave a half-hearted shrug. “Truthfully, I don’t want to marry anyone.
If not for my father and his threats, I’d live my life as a sketching spinster.
But I want freedom, financial and personal, and it seems marriage is my only way to get it.
I’m purchasing a husband if I may be bold, so I have control I wouldn’t otherwise have.
” She picked up a vase with a chipped edge and ran her thumb over the imperfection.
She’d always thought imperfections made a piece.
She didn’t want to tell Hildy about the scandal that had brought her here.
It didn’t really matter except in the depths of her heart.
“Look at the vexed expression on your face. You believe in love. Matchmakers often do. It’s not surprising.
But it’s not reality, either. I’ve never known anyone to marry for anything but business.
My parents included. My mother’s dowry backed his first company.
He didn’t come from money, believe it or not.
Baron Hillsdale’s children won’t have a storied birthright, but they won’t be destitute, either. ”
“We’re not matchmakers, but I believe in love.
I’m in the midst of living it. I want what I have with Tobias for every woman who crosses the Duchess Society’s threshold.
Every woman in England. There’s no greater joy than marrying the one person you can’t live without.
I would have gone anywhere with Toby, marriage or no.
Followed him to the ends of the earth and back.
He had me from the first moment, the first word.
I can’t explain it. I only know it’s what I felt.
” She smiled softly, her hand settling on her stomach in a protective gesture.
“What I feel . I also understand this isn’t practical for most.”
Franny placed the vase back on the shelf, turning the chipped side to the front. “There’s truly no reason to delay. My father and I agree this is the best choice for me.” Acting on an infatuation with the most infamous rake in London wasn’t a wager she could safely make.
But she would have liked a kiss.
She glanced over her shoulder, a sense of urgency driving her toward something. “So, you’ll continue to help me? Until we have the papers signed?”
Hildy slumped to the settee, grooves of exhaustion streaking from the corners of her eyes. “Of course. That’s what I was hired to do, but I won’t be happy about it.”
I won’t either , Franny thought woefully.