His hand at her back, Gyles steered Francesca to their private wing, listening to her happy chatter.
Francesca slipped from the warmth of Gyles’s arms as early as she could the next morning, but she wasn’t early enough to catch up with Franni before she left the house.
Tugging her shawl about her shoulders, Francesca stepped onto the terrace overlooking the Castle’s gardens. The air was crisp and chilly, but the sun shone and the birds sang; the day beckoned.
Strolling to the steps, she descended to the lawns. Searching for Franni, she walked to the rampart, then descended to the lower level and her favorite seat. She didn’t sit, but lingered long enough to drink in the view, drink in the fact that this land-his land-now felt like home to her.
Pondering that, she returned to the lawns and started walking a wide circle around the house. Wallace had said Franni had gone walking; she would be somewhere close.
Reaching the lawns before the stables, Francesca saw a figure in cambric striding along under the trees. Franni’s carriage was distinctive, stiff, slightly jerky. She had a thick shawl wrapped about her, making her appear peculiarly bulky above the waist. Francesca set out on an intersecting course. Franni saw her as she drew near.
“Are you enjoying the morning?” she called.
Franni smiled with her usual hint of secretiveness. “Yes. It’s been a lovely morning so far.”
“Have you been looking at the horses?”
Joining her, Francesca walked beside her.
“They’re big-bigger than Papa’s. Do you ride them?”
“No. Gyles gave me an Arab mare for a wedding gift. I ride her, now.”
“Did he?” Franni’s expression blanked, then she murmured, “Do you?” A slow smile suffused her face. “That’s good. I expect she gallops fast.”
“Yes, she does.” Francesca was inured to Franni’s fluctuating moods.
“So you ride every day?”
“Most days. Not necessarily every day.”
“Good. Good.” Nodding, Franni paced beside Francesca, her strides longer, rather mannish.
They walked on in silence until they reached the boundary where the park met the nearest fields. Francesca turned back.
Franni kept walking, veering toward the track that led between the fields.
Francesca halted. “Franni?” With an impatient shake of her head, Franni kept walking. “Franni, there’s nothing but fields that way.” When Franni didn’t slow, she added, “Breakfast will be served soon.”
Without looking back, Franni waved. “I want to walk up here a little way. I want to walk alone. I’ll come back soon.”
Nothing of any possible danger lay between the house and the escarpment. Francesca doubted Franni would go far up the steep track.
Turning, she started back to the house. Franni would be safe enough-and if she hadn’t returned within the hour, she’d send a groom after her. Meanwhile, thanks to her husband’s penchant for games at dawn, her stomach was growling. Breakfast sounded like a very good idea.
Over breakfast, Francesca, Charles, and Ester agreed to walk across the park to visit at the Dower House. Lady Elizabeth had issued the invitation last night.
Francesca looked up the table and raised a brow at Gyles. He shook his head. He needed to get on with his researching-what better time than with the house to himself?
Ester turned to Franni, who had recently joined them. “You’ll like to see the Dower House. Remember? We passed it when we drove through the gates.”
Franni’s expression was blank, as if she’d gone within in search of the memory. Slowly, she shook her head. “I don’t want to go. I’ll stay here.”
Charles leaned across and laid his hand over Franni’s. “You’ll enjoy the walk across the park under the trees.”
Franni shook her head. Her face took on a mulish cast Charles, Ester, and Francesca knew well. “No. I’ll stay here.”
Charles eased back, glancing at Ester and Francesca. Francesca smiled reassuringly. She looked at Franni. “That’s quite all right. You can stay here by all means, but if you should go walking, do remember to take a footman, just in case you get lost.”