“I didn’t see either of them later. They must have left when everyone was crowding around.”
Francesca grimaced. “Charles didn’t seem worried…”
Her gaze grew distant. Gyles wondered why she’d seemed so certain he’d spoken of his offer to her cousin. Did she believe he’d raised her cousin’s hopes? But she’d known all along…
He needed more time-a lot more time-to sort out who’d known what.
Voices reached them through the door.
He straightened. “Our presence is required.” Catching her hand, he opened the door and walked out into the hall before the formal dining room.
“There they are!”
The crowd, having arrived and discovered them not where they were supposed to be, turned and, en masse, smiled widely.
Francesca knew what they were thinking. Her blush only reinforced the picture created by her husband and the smirk on his too-handsome lips.
“Just a little detour to show Francesca more of her new domain.”
The crowd laughed and parted for them. As she went forward at his side to lead the way into the formal dining room, to the banquet laid out in their honor, Francesca heard numerous ribald references as to with which part of her domain she’d recently become familiar.
Such comments did nothing to improve her mood, but she hid he
r temper, her feelings, well. Not one guest, nor any member of his family or hers, would have any inkling what seethed beneath her unremittingly joyful facade.
Chillingworth and she stood side by side, the perfect couple, and greeted their guests as they entered the room. Charles was among the first-he shook hands with Gyles, then embraced her warmly and kissed her cheek.
“I’m so happy for you, my dear.”
“And I have so much to thank you for.” Francesca squeezed his hands. “And Franni?”
Charles’s smile faded. “I’m afraid the excitement proved too much, as we’d feared it would.” He glanced at Gyles, who was listening attentively. “Franni isn’t strong, and excitement can overwhelm her.” Charles turned back to Francesca. “Ester’s with her at the moment, but will join us later. Franni’s simply a little disoriented-you know how she gets.”
Francesca didn’t, not really, but she couldn’t talk longer with Charles. With an understanding smile, she released his hand and he moved on as the next guest took his place.
A tall, lanky gentleman, unquestionably another Rawlings, pumped Gyles’s hand and beamed delightedly. “Capital, coz! Can’t thank you enough! Huge load off my mind, I can tell you.” Wearing an unfitted coat, a dark, drab waistcoat, and a soft, floppy cravat, the gentleman was some years younger than Chillingworth.
Gyles turned to Francesca. “Allow me to present my cousin, Osbert Rawlings. At present, Osbert’s my heir.”
“Only for the present-ha, ha!” Beaming, Osbert turned to her, then realized what he’d said. “Well, I mean to say-well, it’s not as if…”
He slowly flushed beet red.
Francesca flashed a look at Chillingworth, then smiled radiantly at Osbert and took the limp hand he’d extended and left hanging in the air between them. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Osbert blinked, swallowed, and refocused. “A great pleasure.” Still holding her hand, he remained standing before her, staring, then he said, “You’re quite devilishly beautiful, you know.”
Francesca laughed, but not unkindly. “Thank you, but it’s not my doing-I was born this way.”
“Still,” Osbert persisted. “Have to say-that moment in the chapel when you appeared, it was quite the most galvanizing instant.” He stepped closer to Francesca as those behind jostled. “I was thinking of writing an ode-”
“Osbert.” Gyles intervened, displeasure clear in his tone.
“Oh! Yes-of course.” Osbert shook Francesca’s hand, then released it. “I’ll speak with you later.”
He stepped away; others quickly took his place.
Moments later, when she had a chance, Francesca glanced at Chillingworth. “What’s wrong with an ode?”