by Candace Camp
Certainly, Lady Francesca had a look about her that reminded one of the proverbial cat who had consumed a canary—and gotten away with it unnoticed, as well.
At the wedding party, Francesca stood to one side of the ballroom, observing the bridal pair as they waltzed around the floor. Dominic was smiling down at Constance, his blond head lowered to catch what she said. Constance’s face was turned up to him, and there was a glow on it that made Francesca’s heart stumble a little in its beat.
“You have done it again, my lady,” said a deep male voice just behind her.
Francesca turned to face the Duke of Rochford. She was not surprised to find him there, though she had not seen him since the house party here over a month earlier. He had traveled to one of his other houses to oversee some business or other, as he was wont to do, and Francesca had gone to London to help Constance choose her wedding gown and trousseau. But she had known the Duke would be at the wedding and would seek her out. He was always a gentleman, even when he lost.
Indeed, perhaps even more so when he lost.
She smiled at him. “Yes, Your Grace, I have.”
“Not only engaged before the end of the Season, but even married before then, as well,” he went on in his usual sardonic tone. “Perhaps I should give you a bonus.”
“What we agreed upon will be enough,” Francesca responded.
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a square box. She took it and slipped it into her reticule.
“Not even going to look?” he asked.
“I trust you.”
“Do you?” He looked at her consideringly for a moment.
“Of course. You can be quite odious about many things, but you always pay your debts.”
“Mmm. Some take far longer to pay than others, I fear.”
“You are in a very cryptic mood,” Francesca said.
He shrugged. “I may pay my debts, dear lady, but I never like to lose.”
With a polite bow to her, Rochford left. Francesca looked after him until he disappeared in the crowd. Her fingers were itching to dig the box out of her reticule and open it, but it wouldn’t be seemly. She had to wait until she could retire to her room. And that meant waiting for the bridal pair to leave.
Fortunately Dominic and Constance seemed eager to begin their honeymoon. They did not linger at the wedding supper, but slipped upstairs to change their clothes, then left the house. Francesca watched them climb into the carriage, a lump in her throat.
She watched through the window of the carriage as Dominic leaned over and kissed Constance and her hand came up to curve around his cheek. For a moment they were lit by the setting sun slanting through the window, and their faces glowed with a golden light.
Francesca had to press her lips together hard to keep the tears from overflowing her eyes.
She waved until they had disappeared out of sight down the drive. Then she turned and made her way through the crowd of well-wishers and up the stairs to her room. The party would continue, but she had done her duty and could retire.
Maisie was in her room when Francesca entered, and she came over with a smile. “Surely you’re not done yet, my lady.”
“Actually, I think I am. I’m a bit tired, Maisie.”
“And no wonder. Shall I take down your hair?”
Francesca nodded, and Maisie went to work on the hair pins, removing them and setting them aside in their crystal dish. Soon the heavy weight of Francesca’s blond tresses tumbled down, and Maisie picked up the silver-backed brush and began to pull it through her hair.
Francesca took the box from her reticule and set it on the vanity table in front of her. She opened it and drew a sharp breath when she saw the bracelet.
It was exquisite, a dainty concoction of sapphires as blue as her eyes, strung with diamonds in between. She ran a finger over the precious stones.
“Ooh, my lady,” Maisie breathed. “That’s beautiful, that is.”
“Yes, it is,” Francesca agreed absently. Rochford’s card lay inside beneath the bracelet, his strong, angular hand clearly visible.
She took out the bracelet and laid it over the back of one hand. The diamonds caught every stray bit of light, flashing it back at her. The sapphires were dark and mysterious. It was beautiful, and clearly expensive. Exactly what she would have expected from Rochford.
“Shall I take it to the jewelers to sell for you?” Maisie asked. It was their custom after Francesca was gifted by the grateful mother or father of the bride whose path to the altar Francesca had been instrumental in clearing.
“No,” Francesca said after a moment. “I believe I will keep this one.”
Maisie looked down at her mistress, somewhat shocked. But Francesca did not notice her. She was too busy gazing at the bracelet.
Francesca rose and walked over to the dresser, where a large teakwood box lay. She opened the lid and moved the shelves out, revealing the wooden bottom of the small jewelry chest. Pressing a rosette carved in the bottom of the front of the box, she slid out the thin wooden layer that appeared to be the bottom of the jewel case. Beneath it lay a compartment.
Inside the compartment were two sapphire-and-diamond earrings. They were as beautiful as the bracelet, though they were years older. They also clearly matched the new piece of jewelry.
Francesca laid the bracelet gently in the compartment beside the earrings, then slid the wooden layer closed, concealing it.
“I think it is time, Maisie,” she said as she pushed the shelves back in and lowered the lid of the jewelry case. “We must start considering who we shall take on next.”
ISBN: 978-1-4603-0218-7
THE MARRIAGE WAGER
Copyright © 2007 by Candace Camp
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