since she was an unmarried woman, it was inappropriate of her to request a meeting with him alone. But it was important enough to risk being accused of an impropriety. She would not remain in his company long. What she intended to say to him would be brief. She’d practiced it in the looking glass a hundred times during the Season, preparing for the day she might unexpectedly meet Lord Kendall at a ton event. Such an opportunity had never presented itself, but she hadn’t forgotten her speech.
“I heard something about Lord Kendall’s arrival,” Frances replied to the three young ladies, doing her best to seem as if she could not care any less.
The first young lady stopped and stared at her. “You’re not excited?”
“Should I be?” Frances asked, blinking at them innocently.
“Have you seen the Earl of Kendall?” the second young lady asked.
“No, why?” Frances ventured. “Have you?”
The three ladies looked at each other. “Well, no, but the rumors are that he’s extremely handsome and of course he’s highly eligible.”
Frances blinked at them some more. “Is that why you all are making such a fuss?”
All three of them raised their eyebrows simultaneously and looked back and forth at one another with wide eyes as if they could not believe what they were hearing.
“He’s not just supposed to be handsome, Frances. They say he looks like Adonis,” the first one said.
“And he’s not just eligible,” the third lady said, “he’s second only to the Duke of Worthington in eligibility.”
Frances nodded and did her best to pin a believable smile to her face. “Well, then, for your sakes, I do hope he makes it to dinner.”
No use telling them they were excited over a horse’s ass. The ladies giggled and continued chatting and strolling down the path while Frances rolled her eyes. She slipped behind a nearby orange blossom tree to find much-needed solitude.
The three debutantes may have dressed up their news in solicitude, but Frances knew better. They were being disingenuous. She knew as well as they did that she was hardly a debutante who would turn the head of the second most eligible man in the ton. She was passable pretty at best and her dowry was a pittance. Even if the Earl of Kendall wasn’t a horse’s backside, she was hardly planning to compete with the lovely rich girls with whom she’d just spoken to garner his attention. Not to mention Lord Kendall was the last man on earth she’d want to marry. For heaven’s sake. She was more likely to step on his foot than flirt with him.
Besides, the man she had been flirting with recently just happened to look like Adonis as well. No doubt Lucas would make the Earl of Kendall seem like a troll. During the Season, Frances had determined that other young ladies tended to inflate the looks of many of the bachelors based on the size of their pocketbooks and the prestige of their titles.
She’d been told many an eligible gentleman was exceedingly handsome only to see him and wonder what the fuss was about. The only thing she wanted from the Earl of Kendall was a minute or two of his time. Only the longer she went without hearing back from him, the more anxious she became. She had hoped to hear back before he met with Sir Reginald. She’d sneaked from her room, leaving Albina to pretend as if she were still sleeping off her megrim. She’d asked the maid to come find her if a reply arrived from Lord Kendall.
Frances was tempted to sneak down to the servants’ hall to find Lucas. It was a ludicrous notion, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to see him again, even sooner than tomorrow morning. The happiest hour of her day was the time she spent with him in the library. At the moment she was a bundle of nerves and seeing him would calm her. She knew it.
A twig snapped behind her and she turned to see Albina coming down the path toward her. Frances’s stomach lurched.
“Albina!” she called, waving from behind the orange blossom tree. “I’m here.”
Albina’s head swiveled until her gaze alighted on Frances and then she nodded, picked up her skirts, and hurried over. She didn’t appear to have a note in her hand.
“Did he send a reply?” Frances blurted, wringing her hands.
Albina shook her head. “No, Miss. I’m afraid not.”
Frances’s stomach lurched back to its original location. “Oh,” she said, attempting and failing to hide the