Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

She was sorry as soon as she said it, because he looked hurt.

“As a matter of fact I have found someone,” he said in the haughty voice he used when she annoyed him. “Someone you know.”

“Don’t tell me, William, let me guess. This is fun. Who could it be…?” She tried several names, but she could see he was growing impatient with her, and brought her game to a abrupt halt. “Tell me then, brother. I can see you’re dying to do so.”

He smiled. “Francesca.”

Amy found she couldn’t speak, and when she finally managed it, her voice came out as a squeak. “Francesca? She’s your niece!”

He wasn’t in the least concerned. “No, she isn’t,” he said, coolly rational. “She is no blood relation. There is no impediment

at all, Amy.”

“But, William…” She was floundering, too shocked to be able to argue in a way that might sway him. Even now he was looking at her as if she were nothing more than a hysterical woman.

He began to list the benefits. “I am older than she, and can supply a steadying influence. I am settled, and I have a large house and plenty of money. I can care for her in a proper manner. And when we have a child, it will want for nothing. Marrying me is the sensible option. What on earth would Francesca do if she returned to Yorkshire? Stride about the moors in the rain and weather? No, no, it won’t do. Marriage will be the perfect solution to both our problems.”

Amy took a breath. “William, I don’t think Francesca sees her current situation as a problem. And besides, she is talking of staying in London.”

“Well, perhaps she is already aware of my feelings for her.”

“Your feelings for her…”

“My admiration and…and esteem.”

“I see.”

“She is young, and needs someone older and more mature to guide her through life.”

“Does she?” She swallowed, searching desperately for some way to shake his certainty. “William, I really don’t think—”

“I thought it best for me to approach you first, before I propose to her.”

“Why did you think that?”

“I’m relying on you to let her know how greatly a match between us would benefit the family. She’ll listen to you. She trusts your judgment, Amy, although God knows why. You have made some very silly decisions in your own life.”

“William,” she murmured, irritated by his comment but still not wanting to hurt him. “I know Francesca. She is my daughter. And I am certain that she will never agree to—”

“Ah.” He cocked his head, listening to the sound of horses outside. “There’s the first arrival!”

Amy felt as if she’d just awoken from a nightmare. William wanted to marry Francesca, and he expected her to smooth the way for him! It was sheer madness. Impossible. And yet…he had made it sound so plausible that for a moment, a very brief moment, she almost found herself agreeing with him.

In his eyes it was the perfect solution.

She had to find her daughter and warn her. But it was too late. Guests were arriving, and she could see Cook gesturing to her from the doorway, a look on her face that told Amy something had gone wrong in the kitchen.

Surely, Amy asked herself, William would not propose until the ball was over? Let Francesca enjoy the ball, and then Amy would put a stop to this appalling situation once and for all.

Francesca found herself dancing every dance. There seemed to be more partners than she knew what to do with, and her sisters were here, smiling and encouraging her. She looked about for Sebastian whenever she was able. She had sent him an invitation—without Uncle William’s knowledge—and he had sent a note this morning promising to come, saying he may be delayed. As yet he hadn’t appeared.

Had he changed his mind?

But that was nonsense. He loved her; he wanted to marry her. She trusted him with her life, and had done so more than once. He would come, she told herself. She mustn’t believe otherwise.

Despite Amy’s concerns, and a slight problem with the cook’s cat taking a fancy to the ham, the supper was both lavish and delicious—even Toby would have difficulty making inroads on such a spread. Francesca sipped the lemonade her partner had fetched her and listened to the conversation. Vivianna’s husband, Oliver, was smiling at her, looking as devastatingly handsome as always, and there was Max, slipping his arm around Marietta when he thought no one was watching.

The sight of her sisters’ happiness only made her more aware that Sebastian still wasn’t here. The secret that had sustained her so far began to weigh heavily upon her. All her life she had been afraid of being hurt, of her emotions leading her into heartbreak, of being the sort of woman who could not control her passions.