Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,11
of Bartlett Hall, he would want a sensible, intelligent woman by his side. Until then, he wouldn’t think of displacing his mother as mistress of their home. There was no need for it. It was not to be thought of.
But Edward was a concern. Miss Fanshawe, with her ridiculously large, chocolate eyes, was just the sort of female his younger brother would be smitten by. That she was utterly without consequence would mean nothing to the pup. Had she known the name of her supposed noble father, it might have helped her case. But without his identity, the idea of a trust could only appear as a desperate hope, a wish, a longing, a prayer. She’d referred to her parents “tragic marriage,” but he doubted there had been a marriage. Miss Fanshawe might be an orphan or her natural father might be alive; but either way, she was a blow-by. Exactly the sort of woman no Arundell could possibly align themselves with. He’d have to keep a weather eye upon Edward, to be sure.
CHAPTER FOUR
Despite her determination to embrace life as a companion and all it must entail, Frannie was abashed at how much energy was required to make herself heard by her new mistress. She realized now why it was that Mrs. Arundell had a difficult time keeping a companion. Because of this, she was not enraptured later that day when the lady instructed that she must take meals with the family. She would almost have preferred to be consigned to the servants’ hall, shrinking at the thought of raising her voice at table. Too, she was conscious of her new status. Ladies’ companions weren’t always welcome at upper class tables. What if either of the Arundell men did not think her worthy of sitting with them?
She took courage when the younger Mr. Arundell gave her a bracing smile as she settled in her seat. She hardly glanced at Sebastian, for his stern countenance could easily unsettle her, but one chance peek made her stare. She had never seen Sebastian without his spectacles before. His entire demeanor underwent a transformation. The studious looking bookworm was a Byron! Mama called such men ‘handsome devils’ Frannie thought, though she saw nothing devilish about Sebastian. A strong nose and noble brow revealed keen, clear eyes that made you want to hold their attention just to look into their depths. He caught her startled gaze and she looked away, but with a sudden flutter in her stomach. What a handsome gentleman! Amazing how she had missed it, earlier.
A rich, three course meal followed, replete with lively conversation among the Arundells, to Frannie’s surprise. She and Mrs. Baxter had been companionable dinner partners, but meals were mostly quiet. Here, it was quite the opposite. But both men were forced to speak every bit as loudly to their mama as she, however, so that any discomfort on that head soon dissipated.
Mrs. Arundell’s favorite topic was town news, who was getting married, who had been declared a bankrupt, or who was moving into the apartments recently vacated by the French Ambassador. Edward’s aim seemed to be to say as little as possible about his pursuits in the metropolis, while Sebastian plied him with questions about whether he’d been active at gaming dens, or laying bets at cock fights, or getting into fisticuff matches. About this last low pursuit he went on for some time, admonishing his brother that, if he wished seriously to comport himself as a gentleman, he must assiduously avoid street brawls. “Shows of physical strength are required only by the weak to prove themselves,” he said. “Good men hunt, fish, or fence for a contest, but physical matches are repugnant to them.” With a glimpse toward his mama and Frannie he added, “And even more so to ladies.”
“I daresay you’ve forgot I’m studied in pugilism,” Edward replied hotly.
“Keep your boxing to Gentleman Jim’s establishment along with other young sprigs in training, and you’ll do well. But I’ll not hear of another street brawl. Striking a man for a provocation is the meanest sort of response I warrant a gentleman can display.”
Frannie surmised that apparently Edward had been guilty of participating in a fight that had not occurred within the bastion of Gentleman Jim’s, that most famous of fisticuff instructors. Even she had read snippets about the famous boxer and his rooms on Bond Street, where he taught upper class males his art. Edward looked with supreme disinterest at his brother, as if further