Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

With a groan, she sat up in the dawn light. She needed to escape this place as soon as possible, and return to the moors where she was safe. He was here in London. And although Francesca kept telling herself that she would continue to resist him with all her might, she knew that when she was with him it wasn’t that simple. She didn’t trust him…she didn’t trust herself.

Perhaps if she’d married some safe, dull gentleman she wouldn’t have this problem. However tempted she might be by Sebastian, her marriage vows would have stopped her from throwing caution to the winds. Why hadn’t she wed? But Francesca knew why. She hadn’t been able to bear resigning herself to a loveless marriage. It would be worse than remaining a spinster and never knowing love at all, but she’d been prepared to do so…until she met Sebastian.

Now she was so confused, she didn’t know what to do. Either way she was going to be hurt.

Ask Aphrodite. She’ll understand. She’ll know the answer.

The voice in her head shocked her. She didn’t doubt that her mother would understand, but as to knowing the answer…Aphrodite hadn’t been able to organize her own life; how could she help her daughter?

Washed and dressed, Francesca went downstairs to breakfast. Yesterday they had visited Trafalgar Square and taken tea with an old acquaintance of her mother’s. Amy was already busily planning this day’s activities, filling up every moment so that she couldn’t miss her husband.

She looked up at Francesca with a smile. “Francesca, there you are! Today we are taking Helen shopping with us.”

“Mama, please, I really don’t need a new wardrobe.”

Amy raised an eyebrow. “I was thinking of myself, my dear. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of your company, surely?”

Francesca wouldn’t, of course, but she strongly suspected it was one of Amy’s ploys to “smarten her up.”

“Mrs. Jardine. Miss Francesca. Good morning.” Mrs. March appeared in the doorway to the breakfast room, her face as impassive as ever. Her glance flicked to Francesca, and she gave the faintest of smiles. Since Rosie’s departure, and her own victory, she seemed to have grown in confidence.

“Good morning, Mrs. March,” Amy replied sweetly. “We will be going out this morning and may not be back until this evening. We have a great deal to do. Will you tell my brother?”

“In fact, Mr. Tremaine asked me to inform you that he will be at his club this evening.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Mr. Tremaine is a very busy man.”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of other occasions when my brother and I can chat.”

Mrs. March looked as if she doubted it, but she didn’t comment and left the room as regally as a ship in full sail.

“William seems to be making himself scarce,” Amy said, reaching for more toast. “Anyone would think he didn’t want to repair our relationship.”

“He’ll come around, Mama.”

“I hope so. I mean to win this war between us, Francesca.”

“Speaking of wars…I have the distinct impression that Mrs. March is fighting one with us for possession of Uncle William. Is he such a prize, Mama?”

“She may be concerned about her position in the household, my dear, that’s all. Being a servant can be tenuous, and I imagine she has seen many others come and go. My brother is an exacting man with a fiery temper.”

“I shouldn’t think she’d have to worry about him bringing a wife home just now, not if his behavior the other night, when you mentioned it, is anything to go by. He’s a confirmed bachelor. Surely that is every housekeeper’s dream?”

Amy sighed. “Francesca, William is quite a catch. And he’s had his fair share of amours,” she added, and laughed when she saw the expression on her daughter’s face. “You’re surprised! But it is so; in fact, William considered himself quite the ladies’ man when he was younger.”

“Please, Mama, stop. The thought of Uncle William breaking hearts is making me feel quite ill.”

“I don’t know why, you silly child.” She paused and grew thoughtful. “Though now I come to think of it, Thomas was the real heartbreaker, not William. The ladies always fell for Thomas. It wasn’t his fault—he just seemed to draw them like flies to jam—but it was another reason for William to dislike his elder brother. How I wish…”

Amy was growing maudlin. Francesca decided it was time to cheer her up. “Hurry up, Mama! We are going shopping, remember? Finish your tea and toast.”

Amy’s eyes lit up, and she cast a speaking glance over her daughter’s dowdy ensemble. “So we are.”

“I know of a new modiste,” Helen informed them when they arrived in Bloomsbury to collect her. “She’s quite the rage.”

Francesca was relieved to discover that Toby was out, visiting a dentist. He’d been suffering with a troublesome tooth but had refused to have it seen to until he found a modern-thinking dentist, one who used ether to reduce the pain. Toby was never one to suffer if he could help it.