in Bartlett Hall despite all of Sir Malcolm’s machinations.” Turning to Sebastian he added, “All my life I have not been able to give my daughter what was her due. It eases my heart, sir, that she will be mistress here. I regret deeply that her mother was not able to fill that role, to enjoy the rightful due that my father denied her.”
Frannie could hardly comprehend it. Far from being the dubious natural daughter of an unknown gentleman, she was the daughter of a baronet and betrothed to Sebastian, the heir to the title! Her heart felt full to the brim.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Suddenly the main door to the study flew open and Mrs. Arundell burst in, her face beaming. She rushed to her eldest son, stopping only to shoot a triumphant smile at Frannie. “Oh, Beau, dearest! I knew she was perfect for you!”
“You knew it before I did,” he said with a smile.
“But of course. I had an inkling!”
She kissed his cheek and went to embrace Frannie, but he spied tears upon her face. With furrowed brows, he said gently, “No need for that, ma’am.” He drew out a handkerchief and softly wiped away the wetness.
“My tears aren’t for you,” she said. She turned to face the baronet. Her face went from happiness to sorrow. “You should have told me, Hugo! Indeed, you should have told me!” Her voice shook with emotion.
The room fell silent, as if each one knew the long-standing mystery, the second long-standing mystery that is, was about to be demystified. Frannie’s parentage was the first, but it was settled. Her future, settled. But Mrs. Arundell’s old grudge was still a tangle.
“Penelope,” said the baronet, his eyes full. He almost dropped Frannie’s hand, but raised and kissed it first, with a tender look. Frannie smiled at him, blinking back tears. She went and stood by Sebastian’s side, who took her hand and grasped it between both his own.
Mrs. Arundell went and stood in front of Sir Hugo’s desk, facing him with large, tragic eyes.
He said, “I wanted desperately to tell you. I’m afraid I was too ashamed. When I met you, I had already secretly pledged myself to Margaret Fanshawe. We waited years to marry in hopes of gaining Sir Malcolm’s approval.”
“You ought to have told me,” she said in a subdued voice. “I would have kept your secret.”
“But that’s it!” he said. “It was a terrible secret. I couldn’t burden you with it. I was a mere cub at the time, only eighteen, and you were what?—only sixteen. I lived in fear that my father would discover my attachment. He desired I should offer for you, but I could not. My previous engagement, though it was in word only at that time, prevented me.”
She looked at him across the desk, and by the expression on her face, Sir Hugo knew she was not yet appeased. He went around the desk and stood before her, and then took her hands in his.
She gazed up at him sadly. “I felt at the time there was a hindrance. I thought it must be me!”
He shook his head regretfully. “Dearest Penelope! If I had not already pledged myself to another, I would have gladly welcomed the match with you.”
Here he paused, his eyes filling with sorrow, looking pleadingly at Mrs. Arundell. “I liked you very well, Penelope, and wished at times—well, it was too late. But I couldn’t tell you of a secret betrothal until after I’d told Sir Malcolm. We were forced to wait years after you married Richard, and finally wed without having gained my father’s approval.”
She nodded but said, “Richard died in 1800. I’ve been an ace of spades a long time, sir,” she said with a reproachful look.
“’Twas only when I learned from Sir Malcolm—he confessed it as he lay dying—that Margaret was gone, did I consider myself free to approach you, my dear; which I did, by escorting you to the Merrillton’s ball, and inviting you here.”
Mrs. Arundell bit her lip lightly and nodded. “I understand you,” she said gently. Looking toward Frannie and Sebastian, she said, “And Providence has worked out a blessing in it.” She turned her eyes back to the baronet. “Had you and I married then, neither of us would have our precious offspring!”
His eyes turned to gaze at Frannie, still standing beside Sebastian. “Thank God we do,” he said, with a look of fresh appreciation. He turned back to the diminutive Mrs. Arundell. “But now, Penelope, you must put