All About Passion (Cynster 7)

The short note was in Franni’s unformed hand. Lowering the single sheet, Francesca focused on Osbert. “I won’t be attending Lady Carlisle’s afternoon tea. Please convey my apologies to her ladyship.”

Her voice growing brisk, she turned to Irving. “Have the carriage brought around. Two footmen, as usual.”

“Wait a minute!” Osbert replaced Irving as he bowed and withdrew. “Where are you off to?”

Francesca glanced at the note. “St. Margaret’s Church, Cheapside.”

“What?”

“Osbert, I must go-Franni says to come immediately. She won’t be able to wait long. I can understand that. She and Ginny must be out walking-”

“Not in Cheapside. Not the sort of place ladies go for walks.”

“Regardless, that’s where Franni is, and she’ll have her maid with her, and it’s a church, after all. We’ll be perfectly safe. And I’ll be taking my escort with me.”

“You’re taking me with you.”

“No.” Francesca laid her hand on his arm. “I don’t dare. Franni says she must tell me something about Ester, that she’s ill but concealing it-I have to find out what Franni knows. And she won’t tell me if you’re with me.”

Wallace approached. “The carriage is on its way, ma’am. If I might make so bold, it would be best to take Mr. Rawlings with you.”

Francesca shook her head. “That’s impossible and unnecessary. I’m going to visit a church, meet my cousin, and exchange a few words. I won’t be going anywhere else, I promise you.” Hooves clopped beyond the front door; she whirled. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“Francesca!”

“Ma’am, if I could suggest-”

Francesca swept out of the house. Osbert and Wallace followed. Wallace halted at the top of the steps, watching with open concern as Francesca was handed into the carriage. Osbert was not so constrained; he followed Francesca to the carriage, lecturing all the way.

When the door shut and he was still on the pavement, he glared. “Gyles won’t like it.”

“Probably not,” Francesca replied, “but I’ll be back before he knows.”

The carriage lurched, then rumbled off. Osbert watched it go through narrowed eyes. “Women!”

A discreet cough at his elbow had him turning. Wallace met his gaze. “If I could suggest, sir… the master’s quite experienced in managing females.”

“Yes, I know. Devilish clever in the saddle and all that, but what’s that got to say… oh.”

“Indeed, sir. I believe his lordship is presently at White’s. You, of course, could gain instant access, and you could explain the intricacies of the situation.”

Osbert scowled at the corner around which the carriage had disappeared. “I’ll do it. White’s, you say?”

“Indeed, sir.” Wallace waved imperiously. “Here’s a hackney.”

Osbert turned from tossing the jarvey his fare, and saw Gyles framed in the doorway of White’s. “Hoi!”

Pushing through the crowd thronging the pavement, he reached Gyles as he came down the steps.

Gyles frowned. “I thought you were escorting Francesca this afternoon.”

“So did I.” With a curt nod to Devil, one step behind Gyles, Osbert complained, “She’s gone off to some deuced church in Cheapside.”

“What?”

“That’s what I said. Told her it was no place for the likes of her. So did Wallace-or he tried to, anyway-”

“Why did she go?”