All About Passion (Cynster 7)

“He’s made himself her principal cavalier. I’ve gone along with it because I trust him, and he’s with Francesca at times I’m not.” Gyles hesitated, then added, “And because he’s using her as a shield.”

“The matchmaking mamas are still after him?”

“Presumably while evaluating him as a possible future earl, someone realized he’s comfortably plump in the pocket quite aside from what he gets from the estate, and, as a poet, he doesn’t indulge in wasteful habits. He doesn’t gamble or keep mistresses, or run through his blunt in any other tonnish way. Which brings me back to my point. Osbert doesn’t want the title. Killing me or Francesca simply would not be in his best interests.”

“All right. Why not one step away? In reality, Charles was one step away from the title. Who’s after Osbert?”

Gyles halted. Frowned. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

He waved aside Devil’s incredulity. “The Rawlingses are not like the Cynsters. The family’s as large, but it’s fragmented-one branch doesn’t talk to another, news of marriages isn’t widely disseminated. After Osbert… we’d need to go back at least two generations, and then see which branch had precedence, then follow it down…” Gyles grimaced. “I’ll get Waring onto it.”

“Do,” Devil stood. He met Gyles’s gaze. “It’s the most logical, most likely explanation, you know.”

Gyles turned to the door. “I know.”

Francesca fervently hoped Gyles was at White’s. She’d heard it was located in St. James. If her husband was there, safe within its portals, he wouldn’t be around to see her jauntering about town in the carriage, when she’d told him she was only walking to North Audley Street and back.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. On the contrary-it would save him unnecessary worry. She’d had to get a new pair of gloves and sending Millie was impossible as Millie had hands twice the size of hers. Perfectly justifiable, yet who knew how Gyles might react?

But she’d be home soon. She glanced out of the window at the passing buildings. And saw Charles and Ester going up the steps of one.

Francesca leapt up and opened the hatch. “John-stop!”

Two minutes later, she entered the building, a liveried footman behind her, a groom trailing a few yards farther back. Ignoring both, she looked around. The building housed an emporium offering numerous wares for sale. An apothecary shop took up the back counter; it was there she found Charles and Ester.

“My dear!” Ester’s eyes widened; she moved to hug Francesca. “Oh, it’s good to see you.” Ester held her at arm’s length, studying her face, then her carriage dress. “You look wonderful! Are you enjoying the capital?”

“Very much.” Francesca cast a puzzled glance at Charles. “But I had no idea you were here. Franni?”

“She’s here, too.” Charles exchanged a glance with Ester, then took Francesca’s arm and steered her to the counter’s end. “She’s at the house we’ve rented, along with Ginny. We had to come here for more laudanum. They’re making up the dose.”

Francesca took in the strain in his face. “Is Franni being difficult?” She looked from Charles to Ester.

Ester grimaced. “At times. We got your letter that you were here in town-I read it to Franni. She’s always shown such interest in your doings. Well, after that, nothing would do but we had to come to London, too. She was so eager-we were going to write, but then we thought we’d just come. It’s not difficult finding lodgings at this time of year. But when we got here…” Ester glanced at Charles.

“Franni’s been unpredictable. Even-tempered one minute, quite difficult the next.” Charles took Francesca’s hand. “We wanted to call on you, but it seemed unwise, even though Franni’s been so insistent she wants to see you. It would be irresponsible to expose her to the social activities I’m sure you’re involved in.” Charles’s lips twisted. “We thought of writing and inviting you to call on us, but Franni got quite wild. She’s be

en insisting we call at Chillingworth’s house, but we didn’t feel we could.”

Francesca opened her mouth to assure him otherwise; Ester put her hand on her arm.

“My dear, you need to understand that it’s not simply a matter of the effect socializing might have on Franni, although we’re certainly exercised by that thought. The truth is, we couldn’t guarantee Franni’s behavior. She’s unpredictable, rebellious and, I’m afraid, secretive, too.”

Ester exchanged a glance with Charles, then continued, “Franni’s slipped out alone, without Ginny, twice. And you know how watchful Ginny is. Charles and I are afraid to leave Franni, but sometimes we must. We’re very concerned.” Ester lowered her voice. “We’re sure something’s afoot, but we’ve no idea what. It may be something to do with Franni’s gentleman visitor.”

“Did you ever learn who he was?”

Ester shook her head. “You know how difficult it is to talk sensibly with Franni when she doesn’t wish it.”

Charles had noticed the footman. “I’m glad to see you’re not going about alone.”

Francesca didn’t mention the groom, who was pretending to look at mufflers. “Chillingworth insists.” She waved the point aside. “But I have a suggestion, one that might help with Franni. You say she’s been pressing to come to Green Street-she may have convinced herself that was what would happen when you got to London, and she’s reacting because it hasn’t. So why not visit-why not bring her to dinner tonight?” She held up a hand. “Before you say anything, this would be a quiet family dinner, just the three of you and Gyles and myself.”

Ester and Charles exchanged a glance. “But,” Ester said, “surely you have plans-”

“No, none. This week it’s grown quiet-many have already left town. There’ll be a few parties next week to celebrate the year’s end, then we’ll retire to the country.”