good wife for any baronets would be put forth. She could not live a lie. But she met Edward in the corridor, who, upon spying her, bowed most politely.
“Miss Fanshawe,” he said. “My compliments, I’m sure.” His eyes were fixed on her in a curiously thoughtful way, an admiring way, and Frannie wasn’t certain what to make of it. He even offered his arm, which she smiled at, but shook her head. “No such formality is necessary, if you please, Mr. Arundell,” she said.
“Oh, you must call me Edward,” he said with large eyes. “Or even dear Edward, as Mama does, if you like.”
Frannie blushed. To accept such an invitation would mean that Edward would, in turn, be free to use her Christian name. Frannie was not sure she wished to have Edward calling her by her first name, but when she hesitated, he added, leaning in conspiratorially, “No formalities are necessary, eh? Not between us.”
She stared at him strangely, and then reluctantly said, “I—I suppose not. Very well, thank you, Edward.”
“My pleasure, Frannie.” He leaned in again. “That is what I may call you, isn’t it?”
She nodded, while lengthening the space between them and keeping her eyes ahead. Why was Edward cosing up to her? Then she remembered that he, like his mama, had the wrong idea about her. Was he actually thinking—oh, what direction were his thoughts? She must disabuse him of any false notions.
When they were seated at table with no servants about, she said, “You must understand, Mr. Arundell—that is, Edward. My fortune is most uncertain, much more so than I knew when we first became acquainted.”
Edward made a dismissive sound. “No worries at all! Sebastian’ll secure it. He said you are entitled to it, and he’s seldom wrong in matters of blunt, you know.”
“He said that?” Hope dawned in her breast. Somehow it was reassuring if Sebastian believed in her cause enough to have stated it thus. Edward nodded vigorously, taking in a spoonful of egg and sausage pie. In truth, Sebastian only said he had “reasonable cause” to think she might be entitled to a trust fund, but for Edward, it was all the same.
Nevertheless, Frannie’s dejected spirits remained. Edward had yet to understand she was not respectable, with or without a trust fund. Mrs. Arundell’s words were meant kindly, but pedigree was of utmost importance to the upper class—even provincial Frannie understood that. Yet she had not the heart or the courage at the moment to enlighten Edward, to warn him about her shocking illegitimacy and make him know she was not at all the sort of woman he should admire. He would learn it soon enough.
When Sebastian appeared and greetings were exchanged, Edward was suddenly anxious to depart. He mumbled a hurried explanation of having business which “by heavens cannot wait,” with an acquaintance he had arranged to meet in Haymarket.
“Haymarket?” repeated Sebastian with a sardonic glance. “There’s no theatre at this time of year. I hope you’re not taking part in a boxing match. I had your word you’d refrain from boxing, and from wagering upon it.”
“I’m merely a spectator,” Edward assured him haughtily. He bowed deeply to Frannie. “Good day, Frannie,” he said with a parting, triumphant glance at his brother. Frannie blushed and pursed her lips as he left.
Now she was alone with Sebastian but knew not what to say. Sebastian’s look at the departing sibling was not one of approval, but when his gaze fell upon Frannie, the look softened. Something inside her joyfully noted the softened gaze, indeed, wrapped itself around it, wishing desperately to keep it. But she must remember herself. She was not worthy of an Arundell. “Sir, your mother has a mistaken notion about me.” The green-grey eyes pierced her soul. How clear and penetrating they were! They were arresting, long lashed, nothing short of beautiful. It struck her every time she met their scrutiny.
“How is that?” he asked.
Frannie shifted in her seat and glanced at her plate. Looking up again she said, “She thinks I am…respectable.” In a small voice, she continued, “You must tell her what you know. What I now know. That I am uncertain about my parentage.” Her voice grew jittery, for it filled her with shame to have to say the things she had to say. Sebastian leaned forward in concern as she continued, “That my fortune is uncertain… That I am, in short, utterly un-unworthy of th-that term, ‘respectable.’” She swallowed a sob, and dabbed her eyes with