Francis sent his brother a sympathetic look. Of all his father’s children, Joseph had taken the discovery that Lord Vegas was a venal, unrepentant ass the hardest. Joseph had always believed their father’s pious act and had sought to ingratiate himself to the man by being just as good and pure. Now, however, in the wake of the truth, Joseph was lost and rudderless. And as much as Francis wished he had the time to be the guide that his brother needed, he had the weight of the entire family on his shoulders now.
“What do you plan to do about your father’s debts?” Aunt Josephine asked, voicing the concerns Francis was certain they all felt.
Francis grinned, energized by the plot he’d concocted for his own financially advantageous but socially questionable marriage. “I plan to attend this evening’s meeting of the Women’s Franchise League,” he said with a broad smile, standing.
As expected, his mother, his aunt, and Joseph were all startled and glanced at him with confused looks.
“The Women’s Franchise League?” his mother asked, sounding scandalized. “Whatever would you want to waste your time with that bunch of bluestocking harridans for?”
Joseph’s confusion quickly gave way to a knowing grin. “There is someone who will be attending that you have your sights set on, isn’t there?”
“Perhaps,” Francis said with a cocky grin, stepping beside his chair so that he could bow to his mother and aunt. “If all goes well, Mother, not only will I be collecting on a sumptuous dowry to set Father’s debts to right, you will find yourself gaining another notable daughter-in-law to boast about to your friends.”
His mother sent him a mock scolding look and shook her head, but Francis could see the spark of intrigue in her eyes. “I am afraid one of you will go too far with this salacious game you are playing,” she said all the same. “Samuel has evaded censure by leaving London. Dean has been forgiven because Nanette is so beloved by the public. But that sort of luck cannot last.”
“We shall see, Mother,” Francis said, sending his mother a teasing wink. “We shall see.”
Francis left his family to finish their tea and headed out to the hallway. Flynn was ready and waiting with his coat and hat, and by the time Francis stepped out into the streets of Mayfair and made his way toward St. James’s Park, he was feeling confident and powerful.
His own candidate for a bride of great wealth and questionable repute was as perfect as any of the women his brothers had married. He’d all but decided on her at Dean and Nanette’s wedding reception. And no matter what the appearance might be, his choice wasn’t purely mercenary. He had been intrigued by the object of his fascination from the moment he’d spotted her in Hyde Park, several weeks ago.
Or rather, he’d rescued her in Hyde Park. At least, he’d attempted to. Dean had been on a walk with Nanette, and somehow his errant brother had ended up throwing a ball and striking the exotic Miss Priya Narayan’s drawing supplies. Francis happened to be in the park at the same time, and he’d rushed to assist Miss Narayan and to make things right. He’d been deeply shocked when, instead of thanking him for his assistance, Miss Narayan had flown at him in irritation, as though he’d been the one who had upset her peaceful afternoon.
He'd kept an eye on the intriguing Indian woman since then, and sure enough, they’d met again at the Savoy hotel, during the reception for Dean and Nanette’s wedding. Miss Narayan had been passing through the lobby, and Francis had stepped out to have a word with her. Once again, Miss Narayan had expressed anger and distaste toward him, but she’d remembered who he was. Francis had taken the whole thing as a positive sign. Women remembered men who intrigued them. As far as he was concerned, he could build on those feelings.
St. James’s Park was a popular sight for speakers of all kinds. Political meetings had been held there for generations. When the weather was nice, the park was always full of men and women speaking about the causes they held dear, and plenty of curiosity-seekers flooded the place to be entertained by their passions.
The same was true that evening as Francis approached a large gathering of mostly women. There were quite a few men there as well, but many of them looked to be hanging back around the edges, as if amused by the quaintness of women speaking up for themselves.
Francis held back with that crowd at first. It wasn’t as though he disliked the idea of women speaking for themselves as a rule. He wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of women voting either, though he didn’t see why any of them would want to. Most women he knew were as unconcerned about the governance of the country as they were about the production of cacao beans in South America.
Miss Narayan must have felt differently, though.
Francis spotted her near the front of the rows of chairs that had been set up in front of a small dais. She had her head inclined toward the woman next to her. The two of them seemed to be whispering to each other as the older woman speaking carried on about the moral integrity women would bring to any and all elections they would participate in. Francis barely heard a word of the speech. His eyes were only for Miss Narayan.
She was beautiful, no one could deny that. She had a certain grace to the way she held herself that belied her nobility. No, not just her nobility, Miss Narayan was royalty. She was a rani of Koch Bihar. Her father was the king there. And even though India was filled with small kingdoms of varying degrees of importance, Miss Narayan was certainly one in a million. As Francis had discovered, she’d come to London with her brother so that they might both receive the highest sort of education her father’s money could buy.
Miss Narayan was wealthy. She was educated. She was beautiful and passionate. She would make the absolute perfect Countess of Cathraiche, and someday, when his father was gone, she would be the Marchioness of Vegas. Yes, their marriage would cause a stir. Francis wasn’t ignorant enough to think that the darker tones of Miss Narayan’s skin and her provincial background would be ignored. But that was precisely the point in the scheme he and his brothers had concocted.
And really, Francis looked forward to getting the last laugh against his peers—none of whom had stepped forward to help his family in their hour of need. He would end up with a wealthy, intelligent, beautiful princess for a bride, and the rest of the aristocracy would ultimately be green with envy that he had found so much happiness.
All Francis had to do was woo Miss Narayan into his arms and convince her to be his bride.
He smiled as those thoughts filled him. It seemed fitting that the crowd would burst into applause at the same time. The speaker smiled and bowed in acknowledgement of the applause, but Francis only joined in as Miss Narayan stood. His heart lifted with the realization that the object of his desire was about to get up to speak. He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say.
Even better, as Miss Narayan stepped up onto the dais, her gaze darted instantly to the back of the crowd, where Francis stood. Their eyes met, and Francis could have sworn a flush appeared on Miss Narayan’s face. She had most definitely seen him, and if Francis’s guess was right, the very sight of him had struck the princess into silence.