Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

When the music finished, he bowed, and she was left to her next partner. Attempting to make polite conversation was agony, and smiling was worse, when all she wanted was to burst into tears. And find Sebastian.

I will see him again, she told herself angrily. I don’t care what Uncle William says. He does not own me. I am five and twenty, and I am in charge of my own life.

“You blush delightfully,” her companion murmured, thinking she was reacting to whatever he had said. Little did he know, thought Francesca with a rueful smile, that it was rage that was putting the color into her cheeks.

Amy, completely ignorant of what had happened in the garden, gushed with pleasure when it was finally time to say their farewells to Lady Annear.

“What a marvelous evening!” she declared in the carriage. “Francesca, you were such a hit. Lady Annear complimented me on you several times.” She smiled. “And naturally I took full credit.”

“Mama…”

“By the way, where did Mr. Th—that is, Lord Worthorne go? Lady Annear was looking for him, but he seemed to have disappeared. Did he say he was leaving early?”

Francesca glanced sideways at Uncle William, but he was staring out of the window in silence. “I think he had another engagement,” she said in an emotionless voice.

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“It’s a pity Helen wasn’t invited,” Amy went on, stifling a yawn as the carriage turned into Wensted Square. “She would have loved every moment of it.”

“Helen is an embarrassment we were better off without,” William said sharply, without turning his head.

Amy ignored him. “I still can’t quite understand why we were invited. I don’t know Lady Annear, and she says she barely knows you, William. I can only think our names were put forward by some other party.”

Francesca sat, staring straight ahead, but she felt her uncle turn his gaze on her. “That must be it,” he said levelly. She was grateful when they stopped outside the door, and she was able to accompany Amy up the stairs and into the house. Soon, she thought, she’d be able to stop pretending and weep and rage as she’d wanted to ever since her uncle found them by the fountain.

One of the maids had sat up by the front door to await their return, and now she came, sleepy-eyed, to help Amy and Francesca with their outer garments. They were starting toward the staircase when William’s voice stopped them dead.

“I wish to speak to you, Francesca. In the library, if you please.”

Her heart grew heavy with dread. Not another scene! She was tired and emotional and the last thing she wanted was further accusations from her uncle. “Uncle William, I am sure anything you have to say can wait until morning. I am tired and—”

“It won’t wait. In the library, now.” He sounded icy. Uncle William at his very worst.

“What do you want with Francesca?” Amy asked. Even without knowing what had happened in the garden, she had finally sensed the tension between her brother and her daughter. “It can’t be urgent. I’m sure the morning will do. We are all very tired, and things may be said that are later regretted.”

“Amy, you are interfering in something you know nothing about. Go to bed and leave this matter to me.”

But his impatience had the opposite effect. Francesca could see Amy’s back stiffen, and knew she wasn’t about to be sent off like a naughty child.

“No. If you speak to Francesca, then you will have to do so with me present.”

Francesca took her mother’s hand, squeezing it in gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Uncle William looked from one to the other, his mouth twisted with distaste. “If that’s what you want,” he said, leading the way into the library. “We do not wish to be disturbed,” he called out to the servant, who was watching them, goggle-eyed. “Go to bed.”

The girl bobbed a quick curtsy and hastily retreated into the shadows.

William closed the door and then walked to the table with the brandy decanter upon it. He poured himself a hefty glass, while the silence grew. Francesca had the awful sensation that she had slipped into her own past, while the hateful governess had taken on the form of Uncle William.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything more, with your mother,” he said at last. “You can’t help what’s in your blood. But I hoped my sister would have taught you better manners than to let yourself be tupped by a shady creature like Thorne. In the garden of a house in Belgravia, no less!”

“William.” Amy’s voice was trembling with outrage. “I can only think you do not know what you are saying, or else you are drunk. Francesca danced one dance with Lord Worthorne…”

“You don’t even know what’s under your very nose,” he snarled, turning to face them. “She was out in the garden with him. I was watching.”

Francesca felt the color drain from her face. He had seen them, her and Sebastian? The moment had been wonderful beyond anything she’d imagined, exciting and pleasurable, but at the same time she had never for a moment felt threatened or sleazy. Not until now. She knew she would hate her uncle forever for doing this.

He was nodding, his nose twitching as if he smelled something rotten. “The daughter of a whore. What could we expect?”