She broke off as Franni shook her head again, still grinning fit to burst. “No, no, no!” Franni swung to face Francesca; her eyes danced-she was almost laughing. “I have it all straight-yes, I do! My gentleman has a different name. He comes and walks with me, and listens to me and talks to me. And he’s not Chillingworth. No, no, no. Chillingworth’s an earl. He married you for your land.”
A somewhat malicious gleam shone in Franni’s blue eyes. “I’m not like you. The earl married you for your land. I don’t have the right sort of land, but my gentleman wants to marry me-I’m sure he does.”
She swung away and all but skipped along the terrace. “He’ll marry me-you’ll see. In the end.”
Francesca watched her go, then turned inside.
The gentleman wasn’t-had never been-Chillingworth. So who was he?
* * *
After breakfast, Franni went walking in the park, a footman trailing after her. After dealing with her household duties, Francesca joined Ester in the family parlor.
Ester looked up from her embroidery with a smile.
Francesca returned it. “I’m glad to have a moment alone with you, Aunt Ester.” Crossing to the chair beside the hearth, she sank into it. Ester watched her, brows rising.
“Are you having any problems-”
“No-it’s not me.” Francesca studied Ester’s blue eyes, like Franni’s yet so different. “This is difficult, because Franni told me in what might be classed as confidence, except that Franni doesn’t think in terms like that.”
“No, dear, she doesn’t. And if this is something to do with Franni, then yes, you should definitely tell me, confidence or not.”
There was such resolve in Ester’s voice that Francesca set aside all hesitation. “At the inn on our way to Lambourn…”
She recounted all Franni had told her, both at the inn and on the terrace that morning. “I’d worried that it was Chillingworth-he did walk with her twice. But he says he barely spoke a word to her, so it seemed odd she would have made anything of it, but…”
“But one never does know with Franni.” Ester nodded. “I can see why you thought that, especially with her reaction during the ceremony. But if she says it wasn’t him, then…”
“Precisely. It could be someone else-someone who’s been meeting her when she walks about at Rawlings Hall. It wouldn’t be hard to do without being seen. And she will inherit Uncle Charles’s property, after all.”
“Indeed.” Ester’s lips had firmed. “My dear, thank you for telling me-you’ve done exactly right. Leave the matter with me. I’ll speak with Charles, and we’ll deal with it.”
Francesca smiled, sincerely relieved. “Thank you. And I do hope it all turns out well.”
&nb
sp; Ester made no reply. Frowning, she returned to her embroidery.
“Is this where you hide?”
Startled, Gyles turned. He’d been standing by the window in the library gallery, consulting a list of trials. In the doorway from the inner gallery, Francesca’s cousin stood, smiling smugly.
Her gaze had already left him to travel the shelves.
“You have a lot of books.”
He watched as she advanced, pirouetting to scan the room.
“There must be thousands and thousands.”
“Yes. There are.”
She stopped, facing him, head tilted, her gaze distant. After a moment, she said, “It’s very quiet up here.”
“Yes.” When she said nothing more, simply stood gazing vaguely at him, he asked, “Did you enjoy your walk?”
“Yes, but I liked seeing the Castle more. Francesca was naughty-she didn’t bring us here.”