Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“Home?” Francesca repeated uncertainly.

Amy raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You do not sound pleased, my dear! I had thought you were homesick. Do you wish to stay longer? Vivianna or Marietta would be pleased to have you, I am sure.”

“I am homesick. I’m sorry. It is just that…” But she couldn’t explain, not yet.

“No, you must not apologize. I am so glad you are enjoying yourself at last,” Amy went on, patting her hand.

Francesca almost told her then, but managed to bite back the words. She had been hugging her news to herself ever since the Bacchus Room, and every day it grew more difficult not to share it with her family. She had found the perfect man, the love of her life; why shouldn’t she be happy?

Her sisters were also here. Vivianna had arrived from Candlewood, the house she ran for orphans, after settling Rosie in. The little girl, she assured Francesca, was fitting in well and seemed very happy with her new home.

“She confided in me that Aphrodite’s Club was full of old people,” Vivianna said with a laugh. “She was relieved to find Candlewood full of children.”

“She made Dobson promise to visit her,” Marietta said. “Although I think that had more to do with him bringing along Jem, the puppy.”

The ballroom sparkled, and supper was laid out in the drawing room. William had insisted on a room being set aside for card playing, for those who did not dance, but other than that he had been true to his word, allowing them free rein when it came to the preparations and the expenditure.

Francesca decided she really had misjudged him.

He had made her promise him the first waltz, and she planned to thank him then for his kindness. He would never take the place of her father, Tommy, but Francesca admitted to herself that she was beginning to see her uncle William in an almost fatherly light.

“Francesca?” It was Amy, ethereal in pale blue silk with a net overskirt attached by white bows. “Do you think Cook remembered to cut the roast beef thinly enough? I caught her making sandwiches like doorstops earlier. And the ices…it would be dreadful if they melted before they were served.”

“Dreadful indeed. I will go and make certain that the beef is thin enough and the ices have not turned to water,” Francesca soothed.

Amy watched her go. Her youngest daughter was looking beautiful tonight in a yellow so pale it was more like cream. With her hair a cascade of ringlets and her eyes shining, she might have been Aphrodite made young. Not that Amy would dare say such a thing to William! He had been amazingly good-natured of late, and she didn’t want to spoil it.

As if her thoughts had conjured him up, her brother came to stand by her side, and for a moment they both watched Francesca.

“Amy, I wonder if I might have a word with you before the guests arrive? In private.”

She gave him a harassed glance, but he kept his gaze firmly on hers, and in the end she nodded and followed him to the library. “It will have to be quick, William,” she reminded him. “There is still a great deal to do.”

“Of course. I understand. You have done a marvelous job already. Quite like old times, eh?”

“Francesca deserves it,” Amy said, smiling brilliantly and keen to share her pride in her daughter. “She looks absolutely gorgeous. I’m certain she will be a great hit.”

“Yes, she is certainly a beautiful young woman.” He moved to the fireplace and rested his arm on the mantelpiece, watching her. “Actually, Amy, it was Francesca I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” she said warily, and couldn’t help but remember the last discussion they’d had about Francesca in this very room.

It was as if he’d read her thoughts.

“Now, don’t look like that, Amy! You know I’ve come to see the error of my ways where Francesca is concerned.”

“I’m glad, William. I know you have been getting on together so well, and I appreciate the effort you are making.”

“Yes.” He tapped his fingers on the marble, and she waited, curious as to what was occupying his thoughts. “I wonder if you remember the conversation we had after you arrived in London?”

“There have been so many—”

You spoke to me about my marrying and producing an heir. I was annoyed at the time—I apologize for that. It is something that has been playing on my mind and you touched a raw spot. Mrs. March had been, eh, suggesting that she was the woman for me.”

“Good heavens! I didn’t realize. No wonder you were cross, brother.” Amy shuddered at the thought of Mrs. March becoming Mrs. Tremaine. “Mrs. Slater’s daughter!”

“Exactly, although I didn’t know that at the time. Still, that’s in the past. I am looking to the future.”

“Are you?” Amy said, surprised. “Don’t tell me you’ve found a prospect, William! I was beginning to think you were far too fussy to be pleased.”