Miss Fanshawe's Fortune - Linore Rose Burkard Page 0,55

objection. Her insides churned uneasily. She came to her feet and paced the room. At the window she observed a nondescript carriage at the kerb, no doubt Miss Fanshawe’s. If only Sebastian would return from wherever he’d gone. He would handle this young woman if her intentions were unkind.

But in a few minutes a short knock at the door was followed by the entrance of Edward and their guest, who had one hand upon his arm. Upon spying Frannie, the young woman nearly stopped at the threshold with a look on her face as though she feared she would receive at Frannie’s hands what Frannie feared from hers.

Frannie left the window and Edward made introductions, giving Frannie a bright look and a furtive wink as the girls made their polite curtseys. She felt she’d been holding her breath but now relief settled upon her. If Edward was reassured, then she could be also. She might even hope for friendship to come of this!

“Please, have a seat,” she said with a polite smile, motioning with a hand at a wingchair, while she took one opposite, so that the two young women faced each other. Miss Fanshawe registered the kind look with apparent relief, nodded, and took her seat. Frannie said, “May we offer you some refreshment, Miss—Fanshawe?” She’d hesitated over the word, never having had cause to address another Miss Fanshawe before. Catherine shook her head. “Thank you, no, Miss Fanshawe,” (spoken with a tremulous smile). “I will trespass upon your privacy only for a few minutes.”

More relief filled Frannie at her kind tone, and because Catherine evidently accepted her as a relation.

Looking toward Edward with concern, Catherine cleared her throat. “Mr. Arundell has informed me that you may not wish to speak with me privately, only I must tell you, I fear our conversation may be…delicate.”

Frannie said, “I understand.” For surely they would wish to speak of the trust, and of the shrouded mystery of their connexion, both delicate matters to be sure. She leveled a quelling gaze upon Edward. “Dear Edward, please allow me to speak with my—my cousin—privately.”

Edward came to his feet and made a deep bow to Catherine. “A great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Fanshawe. I hope we may see more of you?”

Catherine’s cheeks flushed. “I—I hope so, sir. Thank you.”

He turned to Frannie and bowed. “Ring if you need me,” and then, facing her in a way so that Catherine could not see his face, made a raised brow and motioned imperceptibly toward the visitor. Frannie had no idea what this was meant to signify and merely smiled sedately. “Thank you. We won’t be long, I’m sure.”

“Indeed. I only need a few minutes of Miss Fanshawe’s time,” added Catherine hurriedly. After the double door had shut behind him, Catherine turned to Frannie. “Do you know how we are related?” she asked, coming right to the point.

Frannie blushed. “To be honest, I’m not quite certain. I believe your father is my uncle.”

“Yes,” Catherine said. “That is my belief as well!”

Both young women had been sitting stiffly erect, but with that one thing established, that each considered the other a close relation, tension dropped from the atmosphere as if bright sunshine had shooed away clouds. They studied each other benignly and with undisguised curiosity.

Smiling shyly, Catherine said, “You are the only female cousin I have.”

Frannie said, “Do you have male cousins? Do I also have other cousins?”

Catherine chuckled. “No, I’m sorry. I should have said you are my only known cousin. Until now, I thought I had none.”

“As I thought also,” Frannie said, nodding. “But my mother was your father’s sister, I believe?”

Catherine’s eyes clouded. “Was? Is your mother—?”

“Passed from this life,” Frannie said, with admirable self control. “For nigh eighteen months.”

“I’m sorry.” Catherineʼs blue eyes filled with sympathy.

“Thank you,” said Frannie. “But she left me with quite the mystery…” Here she hesitated. Should she say outright that the biggest mystery of her life was the identity of her father? It was a shameful thing to own. “The trust,” she said at last. “Do you know about it?”

Catherine bit her lip, blinking. “This is the reason I have called. I wanted to let you know that I remember a day when a woman called upon Papa. I believe it was your mother.”

Frannie gasped. “Indeed?”

Catherine nodded. Her face grew pensive as she thought back to the day. “It was in Papaʼs study; they looked over some papers together. She said something like, it must be this way,