But when he smiled, it was a different matter altogether. His face lit up and his eyes warmed, and his mouth curved in a most inviting way. It was almost impossible not to smile back at him at such a moment, and, indeed, it made one want to do something to bring that smile out again.
She glanced away quickly, embarrassed at the direction of her thoughts. She hoped that he had not seen her blush or had any idea what had brought it about. It was absurd, of course, for her to be nervous or eager. And even more laughable for her thoughts to go skittering to juvenile maunderings about his good looks or appealing smile. She was long past such feelingsfor Rochford or anyone else. Whatever girlish love she had felt for the man had died many years ago, burned away by long nights of sleepless anguish, drowned in a sea of tears.
She cast about for some topic to bridge the silence. Have you heard from Callie?
I have had a letter from her. Very brief, I might add. Paris is beautiful. Bromwell is wonderful. Looking forward to Italy.
Francesca chuckled. Surely twas not quite so short as that.
Oh, no, there was a bit more description of Paris. But all in all, it was a model of brevity. Their plan is to return to London in another weekif, of course, they do not decide to extend the honeymoon.
Well, at least it sounds as if she is happy.
Yes. I believe she is. Against everything I would ever have thought, Bromwell apparently loves her.
It must be lonely for you without her.
The house is a trifle quiet, Rochford admitted with a faint smile. But I have kept busy. He raised an eyebrow at her. What about you?
Have I kept busy? Or have I been lonely without Callie?
Either. Both. She was with you more than she was at home the last two months before she married.
That is true. And I have found that I miss her, Francesca admitted. Callie iswell, her leaving creates a larger hole in ones life than I would have imagined.
Perhaps you should take another young lady under your wing, Rochford suggested. I have seen a number of women here tonight who could do with an application of your expert touch.
Ah, but none of them has asked for my help. It is a bit rude, you know, to offer ones opinion, unasked, on how another can be improved.
I suppose it would be. Although one cannot help but wish that you might say something to Lady Livermore.
Francesca stifled a giggle, following the direction of Rochfords eyes to where Lady Livermore was dancing with her cousin. She was wearing her favorite color, a strong puce that would show to advantage on very few women. Lady Livermore was not among them. The color would have been bad enough in itself, but Lady Livermore was of the opinion that if something was good, then more of it was even better. Ruffles festooned the neckline of her dress and the bottom of the skirt, billowing out beneath the scalloped hemline of her over-dress. Even the short puffed sleeves carried two rows of ruffles. Silk rosettes marked the upward points of the scallops, each one centered by a pearl, with a swag of pearls stretching from point to point. A pearl-trimmed toque of matching color sat atop her head.
Lady Livermore, I fear, is unlikely to change, Francesca told him. She paused for a moment, then said, Do you know Lady Althea?
Francesca could have bitten her tongue as soon as she said it. How could she have blurted that out so clumsily?
Robarts daughter? the duke asked in a surprised tone. Do you think that she needs help finding a husband?
Oh, no! Goodness. Francesca let out a little laugh. I am sure Lady Althea has no need for any help from me. I just saw her dancing with Sir Cornelius, thats all. She paused, then went on. I am sure that she has no lack of suitors. She is quite attractive, dont you think?
Yes, Rochford answered. I suppose she is.
And accomplished, too. She plays the piano quite well.
Yes, she does. I have heard her play.
Have you? She is much admired, I understand.
No doubt.
Francesca was aware of a distinct spurt of annoyance at his reply. She was not sure why the dukes agreeable admissions of Lady Altheas excellence irritated her. After all, her job would be much easier if Rochford already found the woman appealing. And surely she was not so vain herself that she could not bear to hear another woman praised. Still, she found it hard not to respond sharply, even though she herself had raised the subject.
She turned the conversation to something else, but later, when the music ended, she subtly maneuvered Rochford into walking off the dance floor in the direction that Lady Althea and her partner had taken. She was lucky enough that Sir Cornelius was taking his leave of the lady as they approached.
Lady Althea, Francesca greeted her with apparent pleasure. How nice to see you. It has been an age since we have met, I vow. You know the Duke of Rochford, do you not?
Lady Althea offered them a measured smile. Yes, of course. A pleasure to see you, sir.
Rochford bowed over her hand, assuring her politely that the pleasure was all his, as Francesca cast an assessing eye over the woman. Lady Althea was tall and slim, and her white silk ball gown was tasteful, if somewhat lacking in dash in Francescas opinion. And if her lips were a bit too thin and her face a trifle long for real beauty, she did have a wealth of dark brown hair, and her brown eyes were large and lined with thick, dark lashes. Many men, Francesca was sure, would call her pretty.
She cast a sideways glance at Rochford, wondering if he numbered among those men.
Lady Althea inquired politely after Rochfords grandmother and Francescas parents, then moved on to compliment Callies wedding. It was the sort of polite chitchat in which Francesca had engaged for much of her life, as had Lady Althea and Rochford, and they were able to spend several minutes talking about almost nothing at all.
When they had finished praising Lady Whittingtons ballperhaps her finest, in Lady Altheas opinionas well as commiserating over the sad state of Lady Altheas mothers nerves, which had kept her in bed tonight instead of attending this event, they moved on to the latest play at Drury Lane, which, as it turned out, none of them had actually seen.
Why, we must go! Francesca exclaimed, looking at Lady Althea.
The other woman seemed faintly surprised, but replied only, Yes, certainly. That sounds quite pleasant.
Francesca beamed. And we shall press the duke to take us. She turned toward Rochford expectantly.
His eyes, too, widened a trifle, but he said evenly, Of course. It would be my privilege to escort two such lovely ladies to the theater.
Wonderful. Francesca glanced back at Althea, who, she noticed, appeared more eager about the invitation now that the duke was attached to the expedition. Let us set a night, then. Tuesday, shall we say?
The other two agreed, and Francesca favored them with a smile. She had, she knew, ridden roughshod over them. She was customarily more deft in her maneuverings than she had been tonight. She was not sure why she had been clumsier than usual, but at least neither of the others looked disgruntled or suspicious.
She made a few more minutes of small talk, then slipped away, leaving Rochford with Althea. She made her way across the room, greeting some and pausing to chat with others. She should have felt a sense of triumph, she knew. She had finally set her plan in motion.