Amelia sighed. “You’re most amazingly lovely, Lady Francesca.”
Francesca smiled. “You’re very lovely yourselves.”
A thought popped into her head; her eyes widened, and she smothered a laugh. “Oh-excuse me!” She shot a wicked glance at Honoria and Louise. “It just occurred to me that if we made an entrance, all three together-Amelia on one side, me in the middle and Amanda on my other side, it would look quite extraordinary.”
The contrast between their fairness and her exotic coloring was marked.
Louise grinned. The twins looked intrigued.
Honoria laughed. “It would cause a sensation.”
Gyles caught Honoria’s eye and glared.
Honoria’s smile deepened; she turned to Francesca. “We must have you around for dinner-Devil will want to meet you again, and we must introduce you to the others. For how long are you down?”
Gyles left Francesca to answer. Perched beside her on the curricle’s box seat, he felt increasingly exposed. He was pleased when, all relevant details exchanged, they took their leave of Honoria and her companions and he could drive on.
They didn’t get far.
“Chillingworth!”
He knew the voice. It took a moment to locate the turban, perched above a pair of obsidian eyes that were the terror of the ton. Lady Osbaldestone beckoned imperiously. Seated beside her in her old brougham, watching with a too-knowing smile, was the Dowager Duchess of St. Ives.
Gyles swallowed his curse-Francesca would only wonder, and he had no choice anyway. Angling the curricle into the verge, he drew up beside the brougham.
Lady Osbaldestone smile
d widely, leaned over and introduced herself. “I knew your parents, my dear-visited with them in Italy-you were only three at the time.” She sat back and nodded benignly, her black eyes gleaming with deep satisfaction. “I was exceedingly pleased to hear of your marriage.”
Gyles knew the comment was directed at him.
Francesca smiled. “Thank you.”
“And I, my dear, must also add my congratulations.” The Dowager, her pale green eyes warm, took Francesca’s hand. “And yes,” she said, smiling in response to the question dawning in Francesca’s face, “you have met my son and he spoke highly of you and, of course, Honoria told me all.”
“I’m delighted to meet you, Your Grace.”
“And you will be seeing more of us, my dear, I have no doubt, so we will not keep you and Chillingworth any longer. It will soon grow chilly, and I’m sure your husband will want to whisk you away.”
The twinkle in her eyes was not lost on Gyles, but retaliation was out of the question-it was far too dangerous. Both he and Francesca bowed; he escaped as fast as he dared.
“Are they-how is it described? Grandes dames?”
“The grandest. Do not be fooled. They wield considerable power despite their age.”
“They’re rather formidable, but I liked them. Don’t you?”
Gyles snorted and drove on.
“Gyles! Yoo-hoo!”
Gyles slowed his horses. “Mama?” Both he and Francesca searched, then he saw Henni waving from a carriage farther up the line. “Good Lord.” He drove up and reined in. “What on earth are you doing here?”
His mother opened her eyes at him. “You’re not the only ones who might fancy a bolt to the capital.” She released Francesca’s hand. “And of course, Henni and I wanted to be here to support Francesca. It’s a good opportunity to get to know the major hostess without the distraction of the Season.”
“We’ve already met Honoria and Lady Louise Cynster, and the Dowager Duchess of St. Ives and Lady Osbaldestone,” Francesca said.
“A very good start.” Henni nodded determinedly. “Tomorrow we’ll take you up with us, and we’ll visit a few more.”