![]() ![]() Her purpose for meeting Lord Montrose was twofold. She wanted to tell him Lord Montrose needn’t protect her from anyone because she wasn’t staying. Montrose will need to protect you from the vultures of polite society.” You are a rare find, a diamond among a heap of rocks. “You know I’ve never cared about such things.” “You look beautiful,” Uncle Bernard said in a low, soft voice.įrancie smoothed her gown and picked one of George’s hairs from her sleeve. It matched her eyes and the wide ribbon that bound the annoying mass of red curls at the nape of her neck. Cerulean, like the sky on a warm summer’s day. She opened her eyes and looked down at her blue muslin gown. Her uncle’s voice brought her out of her musings. “We should be there in just a few minutes.” She’d much rather bury her head in a book or wander the fields collecting sweet-smelling herbs and flowers. Most were either too short, or too tight, or too worn, and Aunt Eleanor hadn’t the time to make the appropriate alterations. Not that she owned more than a handful that would be presentable in public. She wasn’t staying, so there was no need to select more than one other gown. And so, with great misgivings and a multitude of questions swimming in her head, Francie packed a small satchel and readied herself. For three days, she’d waged a firm, steady battle of wills against her aunt and uncle, posing questions she was certain would make them reconsider their insistence to send her to Drakemoor.īut to no avail. The carriage rolled on, closing in on a destiny she could no longer avoid. She leaned further away from the lumpy, faded emerald squabs and wished she’d never heard of Lord Montrose or Drakemoor. Please excuse my thoughtlessness.”įrancie squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples. “When you’re at Drakemoor, Montrose will see you ride in nothing less than a carriage bearing his crest.” He gave her a gentle smile. Anything to prevent hitting her head again. “We might as well be riding horses bareback,” Francie said to her uncle, planting her feet on the floor of the carriage and leaning forward. ![]() She swiped at it, tucked it away, and straightened the bonnet for the seventh time since they’d begun their journey. A red curl escaped from her bonnet, springing halfway down her nose. Good heavens, what a contraption! It would be amazing if they reached their destination without a broken bone or some other mishap. She grabbed the edges of the worn seat to steady herself. ![]() She blinked hard but the tears continued to fall, soft, silent, and unstoppable.įrancie jostled from side to side as the rented carriage rolled down the road. His words made no sense, scattering about her like errant raindrops, falling to nothingness as they touched her ears. She was colder than a frozen pond in the dead of winter, and not even her uncle’s jacket or the steady beat of his heart pounding in her ear could warm her. Uncle Bernard drew her into his embrace, speaking in soft, soothing tones. The man’s laughing blue eyes, her eyes, stared back at her, and fiery curls, her curls, framed his handsome face. Her gaze narrowed, then widened, as she stared at the tiny picture nestled inside. “This belonged to your mother.”įrancie reached for a tarnished and scratched half -piece of locket, turned it over in her palm, and brought it nearer. “Here, child,” she said, holding the object out to Francie. “He has no idea he has a child.” Uncle Bernard nodded to Aunt Eleanor, who disappeared into the couple’s bedroom, returning moments later with a small object. “If he hasn’t contacted me in eighteen years, I doubt he’ll be interested in ‘helping’ me now.”Īunt Eleanor buried her face in her lace handkerchief. “I fail to see how this man can help us.” Francie swiped at her cheek, surprised to feel wetness. And all these years another man held the title, yet he’d never sought out his daughter. ![]()
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