Francesca was looking forward to it, to seeing the folly in the snow. “Tonight, there’s nothing, so we’ll be at home. If you bring Franni to dinner, there’ll be no social whirl to unnerve her, but she can see the house and visit as she’s wished. Maybe that will calm her.”
Ester and Charles exchanged a long look.
Francesca suddenly recollected that Gyles would return to Green Street soon, and he’d expect her to be there. “I must go.” She grasped Charles’s hand. “Say you’ll come.”
Charles smiled. “You’re very persuasive, my dear.”
Francesca beamed. “Seven, then. I know Franni doesn’t like waiting.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, dear.”
“No, no-seven.” Making a mental note to tell Ferdinand, Francesca waved and hurried to the door.
She was in the hall letting Irving take her pelisse when the front door opened and Gyles strolled in.
He considered her, then raised a brow. “Was that our carriage just rounding the corner?”
“Yes.” She swept up to him, stretched up to kiss his cheek, then slid an arm through his. “I had to get new gloves. I took a groom and a footman, and they were with me all the time, so there was no possibility of danger.” She glanced at him. “Are you satisfied?”
He sighed and steered her into the library. “I suppose I’ll have to be.” He hesitated, then added, “I don’t want you to feel caged.”
She smiled, telling him with her eyes that his protectiveness no longer bothered her, then she crossed to the chaise. “I met Charles and Ester while I was out. I invited them to dine with us tonight-you don’t mind, do you?”
Pausing before his desk, Gyles took in the happiness shining in her face. “No-of course not.”
Francesca held her fingers out to the fire. “Franni’s here, too, of course, so there’ll be five at table.”
Gyles was grateful she was warming her hands and not looking at him. Rounding the desk, he sat and reached for the pile of correspondence awaiting his attention.
Francesca leaned back. “I said seven-I told Irving to tell Ferdinand.”
Gyles’s lips twitched. “I wonder-”
A knock fell on the door; Wallace entered and bowed. “Ferdinand wishes to know if he might speak with you, my lady. About dinner tonight.”
Gyles looked down at his papers.
Francesca sighed. “I will see him in the parlor. Wallace, you will attend this meeting, too.”
Wallace bowed. “I’ll fetch him, my lady.”
Wallace withdrew. Francesca stood and stretched. “At least dealing with Ferdinand keeps my Italian from growing rusty.”
Gyles looked up. “Before you go-”
She turned; he laid aside the letter he’d been perusing. “You made a copy of the family tree-what did you do with it?”
Something-consciousness?-flashed through her eyes; it was immediately overlaid by curiosity. “We-your mother, Henni, and I-elaborated. Added on all the branches and connections we could. Why?”
“I need to assess the relationship of some of the connections. Can I see your effort?”
“Of course.” She hesitated. “But I would like it back, please.”
“I only need to look at it to see if your combined wisdom knows more than I.”
She smiled gloriously; her dimple winked. “I’ll fetch it for you in a moment.”
“After you’ve dealt with Ferdinand.” Gyles waved her to the door. “Perhaps I should brush up my Italian.”