Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,54

for it—not when her son stood to inherit the baronetcy as long as Sir Hugo was obliging enough not to have sons of his own. And even Sebastian had pointed out the obvious, that Frannie might indeed supply those sons! Mrs. Arundell had seemed to come round to this logic. Yet no other explanation presented itself. Why did she wish to see Frannie gowned so expensively and with such pomp and style? The gown could almost be considered ostentatious.

As if reading her thoughts, the older woman said, “We leave for Bartlett Hall in two weeks, my dear. I already have two new gowns fit for the best company, but you are in need of this. A lady can never be too well dressed, you know.”

“But ma’am, a lady can be over-dressed for an occasion, would you not say? Edward assures me the baronet’s gatherings promise to be thin of fashionable company.” She glanced again at the beautiful illustration on the page. “This would be proper for some great town mansion of your London acquaintance, I grant, but surely not for the country.”

“Frannie, dear,” said Mrs. Arundell with a little smile. “You must trust my judgment. I know how to get to the top of things, but you my dear, in your quiet style, with your quiet manners, are simply not going to climb Mount Olympus without my help.”

Frannie frowned. Gaining the summit of Mount Olympus, she could only presume, meant getting a husband. And the husband that Mrs. Arundell had in mind must be Sir Hugo.

“I am indeed grateful to you,” Frannie said, “but—”

“But let us not speak more of it. Come, come, dear—” For they had drawn up on a busy street lined with highbrow shops and well-dressed patrons coming and going. A footman opened the door and handed them down, Mrs. Arundell first, and then Frannie. As they walked toward a seamstress’s shop, the lady leaned toward Frannie. “You must allow that I am in the best position of knowing how to please the man, for I know him best!”

These words were nails in a coffin for Frannie. There could be no further doubt. Mrs. Arundell’s object was now crystal clear. She clung to the ridiculous notion of matching Frannie with the baronet. Looking greatly troubled, Frannie had no choice to but follow the lady into the shop. The French modiste was soon speaking to them with experienced ease of fabrics and styles, which ones were all the mode, and which were faux pas. Mrs. Arundell produced the dreaded illustration of the richly embroidered gown, explaining that she wanted it copied for Frannie. The Frenchwoman seemed delighted, all smiling approval. She said something in French to two shop girls who descended upon Frannie with zealous fervor, drawing her away for measurings.

When they exited the shop a good hour later, Frannie had resigned herself to the inevitable, eye-catching gown. Her one, tremulous hope was that, if she needs must wear it to please the lady, that it would be fetching enough to catch Sebastian’s eyes. For the baronet, she had only one thought, and that was to avoid him as much as possible, as much as was in her power. But if Sebastian should look with approval upon her, with something approaching admiration—ah! That would make Christmas special indeed

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The next morning’s Maritime News column brought the encouraging announcement that The Golden Sovereign was expected to dock in London the following day! What they did not expect was the announcement by Sykes, entering the parlour after a cursory scratch at the door, that a Miss Catherine Fanshawe awaited Miss Frances Fanshawe’s pleasure. Only Frannie and Edward were home. Mrs. Arundell was on a morning call, and Sebastian was out to unknown destinations. Frannie looked in surprise at Edward, who said, “Another Miss Fanshawe? Delicious.” But at Frannie’s look of uncertainty, he asked, “Do you not wish to see her?”

“My heart longs to know her, I assure you. But I fear she comes not on friendly terms.” Her insides were already aquiver. Had the young woman come to relieve her mind of the same resentment displayed by the mother? Had she come only to scold, or worse, threaten?

Edward gave her a look of concern. “Leave it to me. I’ll sound her out. If she’s here to have a pet at your expense, I’ll spare you.” To Sykes he said, “The first parlour.” And with that Edward was on his feet and out the door before Frannie could make the smallest