Frances closed her eyes, overwhelmed and could barely make herself speak. “I do not deserve such a gift.”
Cleveland sighed. “Nevertheless, you shall have it. She was bought for you and I would not have her languishing here when she could be treated with care and attention with you.”
I would not have the reminder, Frances heard, and felt such a fool. Of course Cleveland would want nothing of her around after this decision, would not want to suffer memories of the warmth they had shared when they were being unjustly torn apart.
“I am so sorry,” Frances said again, because she needed to, and fled before Cleveland could say anything else.
There was precious little in her room that she did not want to take with her. There would be no room in the carriage, of course, and she could not say what her potential husband was like, or would even allow, in his home.
Helena attended her, one of the younger maids, Anabel, helping with collecting Frances’s belongings. They were mostly silent, Helena looking upset, and Anabel crying once before regaining her composure.
“I did not know I would be missed so,” Frances admitted, collecting her hair combs and brushes from the dresser and placing them in a travel box. “I was sure I would be forgotten.”
“Not likely, Miss,” Anabel said immediately, cheeks flaming. She, like her brother Chester, was very much unashamed of saying what they wanted, but flushing afterwards, like they knew it was improper but could not help themselves. It had endeared them to Frances almost immediately, and she was sad that she would not continue to have that frankness that openness in her life. From the various maids and footmen, she had seen through society dinners and tea parties, it was a rare commodity indeed.
“Anabel is right, My Lady,” Helena continued. “You have been a wonderful addition to the household, if I may say. His Grace has never been so happy.”
Frances’s heart clenched painfully at the reminder. “I am sure he will find himself happy again.”
“I hope so,” Helena said with a smile. It was the kind of smile that Frances was not used to seeing; kind but with a hint of fear as though not certain.
When everything was packed up, Frances bid goodbye to Anabel, surprised when the young girl almost looked as if she was going to cry again, and then fled the room. Helena was more poised, and Frances sighed, closing her eyes. “I know it seems rushed,” she started. “I wish to leave as soon as possible. I would not prolong the pain for my—for the duke.”
“Very well,” Helena said. “My Lady?”
“Yes?”
“It really was an honor.” Helena stepped forward, giving Frances a curtsy and taking her hand, squeezing it gently. Frances squeezed back, more grateful for Helena than she could put into words. “I hope you’ll be happy with whoever you end up with.”
“As do I,” Frances said, with a reluctant smile. She doubted she could be, no matter what kind of house or estate she would ultimately live in. Nothing could compare to this, to the acceptance and kindness of the estate and everyone within it. “Thank you for everything.”
By the time Frances’ things had been stowed in the carriage, and she was set to leave, only Duchess Isabella was waiting in the main entrance.
“I apologize for my hasty leave at breakfast,” she said, sweeping Frances into a handhold.
“There is no need,” Frances said, feeling tears burn her eyes once again. Would she ever stop crying? “I am only sorry I have to leave this way.”
“There are no apologies necessary from you,” Duchess Isabella said, echoing her son’s sentiment. “It has been a blessing to have you at the estate. I am grateful for the lightness you have brought to Isaac even if you must part so soon.”
Frances nodded, wondering whether she would dare ask to see him before she left. She doubted she would have the courage to do so and merely smiled. “I want to thank you for the kindness and hospitality since I arrived. You have been wonderful.”
Lady Isabella nodded, looking a little teary-eyed herself. She brushed a kiss to Frances’s cheek. “You are very welcome. If you need anything.” She stressed the word and tucked a finger under Frances’s chin, meeting her eyes unabashedly. “You send me a letter immediately, you understand me?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Frances said, grateful beyond words. “Please take care of him for me.”
“I will do whatever is in my power,” Duchess Isabella promised.
It was hard to part from her, to settle in the carriage and lean against the window, looking back at the estate as it disappeared into the distance. Frances wanted nothing more than to beg the driver to turn the carriage around, to take her back, but she could not. Settling back in the plush cushions, closing her eyes, she tried not to let the tears fall as the carriage pushed its way through the snow.
Chapter 11
A Decision
“Are you going to do nothing?”
Cleveland did not wish to face his mother. She was angry, he could tell immediately, and there was a flush of shame to her face that he couldn’t explain. It had been almost a week since Frances had left and he had come out of his study very little. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shared a meal with his mother. “What would you have me do?”
“Fight for her,” Isabella said immediately. She came into the room, closing the door behind her. It was rare she did so, only closing them off from the house when she wished the staff to remain out of earshot. “Prove to her that you would have her even with your money in danger.”
“I would remind you,” Cleveland said, wanting to hurt someone—and not able or willing to hurt the person who had left him. “It was your decision to write that letter in the first place.”
“I am not sorry for it,” his mother said, narrowing her eyes. “Harold Bell deserves nothing, not from me, not from you, and most certainly not from his daughter.”
There was a long silence as his mother sat in the chair closest to the desk and stared down at her hands. When she spoke again, it was with a gentleness she usually reserved for Frances.
“I know that you are hurt. I know that you are angry at me for interfering, but you love that woman.” Isabella stared at him, as if daring him to refute her, but he could not. It had been slow and struck him by surprise, but the thought of her leaving had been heart breaking. He had never felt such pain, not even at the hand of fighting. “And I know that she loves you.”
“I hoped that was the case,” Cleveland said. In his heart of hearts, he knew that it was true; Frances would never have left if she had not loved him enough that the thought of her parents bothering him even a fraction was too much to take. “There is little I can do.”
Isabella raised her eyebrows. “You have struggled through much. You were drafted, you went, you fought, and you came home and pushed through the pain and injuries. You are a strong man and I know that you can be stronger still. You can show Harold Bell exactly what it means to test a duke.”
Cleveland frowned. “I cannot issue that contract without his blessing. He would be free to take the money.”
“So make it clear,” Isabella said, “That you will make his life unbearable should he wish to stand up to you.”
There was another silence while Cleveland thought it through.
“Are you or are you not a duke? Do you not own the very land he lives on?”
Cleveland’s eyebrows raised. In his despair over the situation, he had forgotten that. “I did not believe them to be in my jurisdiction.”
“Of course they are,” Isabella waved a hand.
“Is this what you have been doing?” Cleveland said, accusing. “You have been studying the estate documents.”
“My father kept immaculate records,” Isabella said. She looked satisfied with herself. “It did not take long at all to find the documents that I needed.” She placed the papers she was holding onto the desk and Cleveland pulled them towards himself.
The records were indeed complete. It was clearly listed as being in hi
s jurisdiction. “What are the chances that she would still be at her father’s home?”
Isabella shook her head gently, the determination on her face shifting into compassion and a softness that Cleveland had come to associate with his mother. “If I know Frances, she will still be there. However,” she continued, her voice taking on an edge. “If I know her father, there is a chance she is already gone.”
The snow outside was still not thick enough to impede travel. It would not take long to get to the Bell’s residence. “Very well.”
“You are going?”
“It seems I will get no rest otherwise,” Cleveland said with a smile. His mother smiled in return, clasping her hands together.
“And you will bring Frances home?” His mother looked so hopeful and Cleveland did not want to disappoint her.
“I will do my best.” Cleveland stood up and drew his mother into a hug. “I cannot promise that it will be definite.”
Isabella nodded and accepted the hug, pressing her hands to his face. “I know you will. Good luck, Isaac.”
Cleveland left the study, calling Luther. He appeared quickly enough that Isabella had clearly requested he be nearby just in case. Amused at his mother’s forwardness but understanding it, Cleveland had Luther harness up a carriage and said that he would be gone for an unknown amount of time.
“Will you be bringing back anyone, Your Grace?”
“Tell you, did she?”
“I am sure I don’t know what you mean,” Luther said, his passive expression broken only by a lip twitch. “I hope we see her Ladyship again.”
“As do I,” Cleveland told him.
By the time he made it back downstairs, ready for his journey, the carriage was already waiting outside the house. When he stared at Luther and Chester, both of them looking pleased with themselves, his mother had clearly been meddling elsewhere as well.
“I will see you soon, gentleman.”
It would be a long journey, Cleveland was under no illusions, and the cold would aggravate his injury enough to make it difficult and irritating. That did not stop him, however. He knew that Frances was worth the effort and he would not turn tail and run at the hint of frustration. Now that he had the ammunition, he would not leave Frances to a future she did not have to have.
Chapter 12
Relief
Frances did not wish to leave her bedroom.
She knew that her husband-to-be was arriving that afternoon, but she had no wish to meet him. As soon as the carriage had come to a halt outside of her parents’ home, she had been reluctant to step out. The footman, Robert, had helped her down and imparted his own goodbye. The last farewell from someone she did not wish to leave.
While she approached the door, knocking loudly, Robert helped to unload her things from the carriage. Her father stood on the other side, his mouth twisted into a nasty smile, but it was her mother who swept out of the house, clasping Frances’s face in her hands.
“How terrible it must have been for you, trapped there.”
Frances bit back on a retort but noticed Robert’s impertinent glare. She pleaded silently with him to leave before her parents could see and admonish him for it. Staff of a duke he may be, but he was still lower down the social ladder than her parents. “Mother, please.”
Marla looked put-out, eyes narrowing, but she took Frances’s elbow. “Your father will get your luggage. We must talk.”
Though Harold looked irritated with his wife’s suggestion, he nevertheless left the house and took the luggage from Robert. Frances allowed her mother to pull her into the kitchen, surprised to see Catrina sitting at the table.
“Catrina.”
“Hello, Frances,” Catrina said, standing quickly and tugging Frances into a hug. Frances was taken aback, frowning at her sister’s demeanor. “I thought I would never see you again.”
Frances pulled away. “What are you doing?”
“Is that any way to talk in front of a Lady?” Marla took Catrina’s hand and Frances sighed.
“So they found you a husband then?”
Her father had come up behind her, hand on her neck, and had shaken her a little. “And we have found you one as well. Hold your tongue unless you wish to be married to a baker.”
Frances would have preferred that. She wanted Cleveland, but her parents would not allow that for her. “Perhaps I should go back to Cleveland.”
“Try it,” Harold said, his face angry. “Let us have access to his fortune. That seemed to be what you wanted to keep us from.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Frances said, jerking out of her father’s grip and slipping closer to the doorway. “I was happy, truly happy. That should have been what you wanted for me.”
Catrina was staring at her, eyes wide. “You really loved him?”
“I love him,” Frances snapped. “There’s no past tense. I love him and I do not wish to marry anyone else.”
Her parents looked displeased, exchanging irritated looks, but there was something about the way Catrina was looking at her that had Frances wanting to flee the room.
“As you have made that difficult for me,” Frances spat. “I have no choice but to await your choice of a husband.”
She had fled to her room, upset, but an hour later Catrina had come into the room, apprehensive.
“What do you want, Catrina?”
“I am sorry.” Catrina dropped onto the chair at the dresser. “They found me a husband. He is an earl, lovely man, really cares about me. I do not love him,” she added, meeting Frances’s eyes carefully. “But I think I could learn to.”
Frances had not expected such a change to overcome her sister. “What made you change your mind? Just a month ago, you were being–”
“I would have wanted a rich husband.” Catrina smiled ruefully. “You are permitted to say so, Frances. I was a thoughtless child. But if being with my husband has taught me anything, it is that people can love you for who you are even when you are nothing.”
“I would have accepted nothing,” Frances said quietly. “When Cleveland first came to the hospital, I had no idea he was a duke. Even then, I was attracted by his mind, despite his attitude. I would have been happy as a baker’s wife.”
Catrina sat with her, disappearing only when Marla came for her. Though she had left the door open, Frances did not want to give her mother the satisfaction of going downstairs, even for food. Her parents were irritated with her in equal measure, spending days trying to coax her down, but she would not be moved.
Meals were left outside her room and she ate but refused to acknowledge her parents. Her father had tried to demand her down, her mother cried, but Frances would marry who they wanted, she did not have to like them for it.
Now that it was time for her husband to arrive, she was terrified.
The knock at the door startled her out of her mood, and she felt her breath quicken, her hands shake as she approached the door of her bedroom. She could hear her mother and father arguing about something in the kitchen and then her father storming through to the door. Frances hovered on the landing, not daring to look over the rail, but heard her father’s biting tone.
“What are you doing here?”
She could not hear who was on the other side of the door, their tone low but demanding. Her father huffed in a breath.
“I have made my terms more than clear. Unless you are willing to meet them–”
Whatever the person said had her father laughing.
“Unfortunately for you, Frances has already left. Her new husband arrived just an hour ago.”
It was not until Frances crept to the window on the landing, peering down to see a familiar carriage, to see Robert waiting on the driving seat, that she gasped, hurrying across the landing. Her mother was on the stairs, holding up her hands, but Frances would not be held.
“Mother, let me go!”
“Stop this!” Her mother tried to grab her, but Frances was already past her and down the stairs.
&n
bsp; Immediately, her father was brushed aside and Cleveland was there, staring at her with wide eyes, a smile on his face that made her chest tight with happiness.
“I feared I would never see you again.”
“You still will not,” Harold snapped. “I will not allow this!”
“I think you’ll find,” Cleveland said, his tone shifting into derision and anger. “That with your house and business on my land, you will stop interfering in your daughter’s life.”
“Both daughters,” Frances amended. Though she and Catrina were not close, the fact that her sister was changing, however incrementally, was worth taking into consideration. Without Harold and Marla’s interference, she might flourish completely.
There was a question on Cleveland’s face, but he nodded. “Indeed.”
Harold was red in the face, hands clenched into fists. “You cannot have a say in what happens between Catrina and her husband.”
“No,” Cleveland said. “But I have a say in what happens to this house and the business you currently own. If you wish for me to retract your ability to inhabit both, I would consider leaving your daughters alone. For as long as I deem it necessary. And,” he added, holding out a piece of paper emblazoned with the Cleveland crest, “I suggest you sign this.”
Marla had a hand pressed to her mouth, torn between anger and despair, and Harold was breathing deeply, furious but knowing when he was beaten.
“You are never to contact us again,” Harold said to Frances, as if that was a hardship for her.
“It would be my pleasure,” Frances said, slipping to the doorway. “Robert?”
Robert turned, looking pleased, and nodded. “Yes, My Lady?”
“Would you help me with my things?” Frances gestured back towards the house.
Hopping down from the carriage, Robert’s smile was almost as wide as Frances’s own. “It would be my pleasure.”
Epilogue
“I believe there is a carriage on the way, Your Grace.” Luther was standing in the doorway to her room, apprehensive.
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