LITMIR.BIZ

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sank back into her seat and shut her eyes. The encounter had exhausted her. She thought she had got over him, had learned not to care, and to remain cool in a crisis, so why was she shaking? Why had she been such a fool as to agree? Did she really want to spend hours in the company of his daughter, who could so easily have been her daughter too, if her early hopes and dreams had been realised? No one expected her to pay the whole cost of that orphanage, nor even the major part of it, she did not need to put herself through torment just for that. She could easily find other commissions which would not be anything like as stressful.

      She stood up and poured herself a glass of wine from the decanter on a side table and sat down again to give herself a good scold. She was too old to let a middle-aged roué upset her. It was business, he had said so, and business was all it was, and she really ought to thank Lady Willoughby for recommending her so highly. Incomparable! She laughed suddenly and the wine spilled over her hand. She downed the rest before she could spill any more.

      She spent the afternoon teaching a class of half a dozen young ladies about line and perspective and in the evening she went to a soirée given by Lady Holland. Her ladyship was sharp and imperious, and some people made fun of her, but she was still a great Society hostess and Frances knew she would enjoy the conversation of her guests, which was usually well-informed and witty and ranged from the financial troubles that the end of the war had brought with it to poking fun at the Regent. Frances returned home in a happy frame of mind, ready to take on the world.

      She was not so sure about that the next afternoon when the Duke of Loscoe was shown into her drawing room, bringing with him a reluctant Lady Lavinia, but she did not let that show as she rose to greet them.

      He was dressed in a dark blue superfine coat, white pantaloons tucked into tasselled hessians which would have done duty as mirrors they were so polished. His cravat of white lawn was tied in an intricate knot which undoubtedly had a fancy name but which eluded her.

      ‘Countess, your obedient.’ He swept her an elegant bow, which she suspected was more for his daughter’s benefit than hers and she answered in like manner by dropping a deep curtsy.

      ‘Your Grace.’ She did not wait for him to raise her before standing up and turning to the servant who hovered in the doorway and ordering refreshments. If he wanted his daughter to be shown how things were done, then she would do her best, though this stiff formality was not to her taste. She turned to the girl. ‘Lady Lavinia, what a pleasure it is to see you again.’

      Her father nudged her and she curtsied and mumbled, ‘My lady.’

      Frances indicated the two sofas which faced each other on either side of the screened fireplace. ‘Please be seated.’

      Father and daughter sat side by side, so that Frances, sitting opposite, was able to assess how alike they were in looks. Both had amber eyes and thick lashes and though Lavinia’s hair was lighter than the Duke’s and fastened back with two glittering combs, she could detect a streak of chestnut in the gold ringlets. Both had lean faces with strong cheek bones and the finely arched brows of all the Stanmores. Lady Lavinia’s mouth was thinner than her father’s, more sulky, and her chin a little less prominent, though she could undoubtedly be stubborn, Frances decided.

      Looking at the silent girl who seemed to be studying the toe of her shoe peeping from the hem of a pale green muslin gown, Frances was not at all sure of being able to succeed in teaching her; there was nothing worse than an unwilling pupil. But she was reminded of herself when young; she had had the same wayward streak and tendency to rebel. In her it had been squashed by a domineering mother and a broken heart and later she had channelled her energies into something more acceptable, bringing up her stepchildren, her good works and her painting.

      The maid brought in the refreshments and a few minutes were occupied in pouring tea and offering sweetmeats, during which the conversation, conducted entirely between the Countess and the Duke, revolved around the weather.

      ‘Now, Lady Lavinia,’ Frances said, at last. ‘I believe you are to come to me for drawing lessons.’

      ‘So Papa says.’

      ‘You do not like the idea yourself?’

      Lavinia shrugged. ‘I am hopeless at it.’

      ‘Oh, dear. Who has told you that?’

      ‘Miss Hastings, my governess. She loses all patience with me—’

      ‘It is not to be wondered at,’ the Duke put in. ‘You do not even try.’

      ‘I cannot see the point in trying. What use is being able to draw to me? Or dancing? Or playing the harpsichord? Or mincing about learning to curtsy?’

      He sighed. ‘We have been over this all before, Vinny. These are accomplishments all young ladies need in order to enter Society.’

      ‘Then I shall not enter it. It is all a terrible bore.’

      ‘Lavinia,’ he said sharply, ‘you will do as you are told. You know what we talked about only yesterday…’

      ‘That Mama would have wished it. Yes, yes, I know, but Mama is not here, is she?’

      Oh, poor child, Frances thought. She misses her mama dreadfully and he cannot see that. ‘Lady Lavinia,’ she said gently. ‘Shall we have a trial, just to see how we deal together? If we cannot do so, there is no point in continuing; I cannot teach you if you do not wish to be taught.’

      ‘Do not forget, I have also commissioned a portrait,’ Marcus reminded her. ‘I insist she sits for that.’

      ‘We will deal with that later,’ Frances said, looking from the girl to the man, her brows drawn together in annoyance. How was she to get through to the child if he continually interrupted?

      He glared at her, but fell silent under her withering glance.

      ‘Now, my lady,’ Frances went on. ‘Shall you come again tomorrow and we will talk some more? Perhaps you could come with your governess, so that your father may go about his business.’

      ‘I will bring her,’ Marcus snapped. ‘My daughter does not go about town without a proper escort. Her governess would be useless in a tight corner.’

      ‘Very well, your Grace,’ she said, wondering what sort of tight corner he had in mind. ‘I will expect you both at ten o’clock. I am afraid I cannot make it any later. I have a class at noon and an appointment for the afternoon.’

      ‘That will serve,’ he said, rising. ‘Come Vinny, we have other visits to make.’

      All very cold and businesslike, she told herself after they had gone, and cold was the only word to describe him, cold and top-lofty. Was he like that with his daughter all the time? Did he ever show her any affection? Whether she would break through the girl’s petulance, she did not know but, for some reason she could not explain, even to herself, she wanted to try. Perhaps it was simply that she enjoyed a challenge.

      She repeated that thought to Sir Percival when they were riding in Hyde Park the following morning. They had enjoyed a good gallop over the turf and had returned to walk their horses along the carriageway before returning home.

      ‘If you do not mind my saying so, Fanny, you are a ninny,’ he said, while bowing to an acquaintance in a phaeton. ‘You will only invite gossip.’

      ‘It was you who told me no one would remember the scandal, Percy.’

      ‘Yes, but you do not have to remind them of it.’

      ‘I am not, but if I had refused the Duke’s request, he would think I bear him a grudge and that I cannot have. The past is dead and gone and teaching Lady Lavinia will prove it.’

      ‘How?’

      ‘Why, because nothing will come of it. It is a business arrangement and when it comes to an end and he takes his daughter back to Derbyshire, everyone will see it is.’ She smiled and inclined her head in greeting towards Lady Jersey, sitting in a carriage with one of her bosom bows.

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