Page 65 of From Unwanted to Duchess
CHAPTER 21
Frances
“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” Gideon said two days later as he stood to board his carriage. He kissed Frances’s hand, and she smiled.
The last two days had been lighter than usual. James still insisted on speaking to her only when he deemed it necessary.
Yes, when Gideon had been with them, he had relaxed. He had even bantered with her. It was almost as if he needed his friend to be a buffer between the two of them, but why? She did not understand.
It was so odd, so much so that she almost wished Gideon had stayed longer. Perhaps his continued presence would soften James further, but it was too late now.
“I do hope we will see you again soon.”
“I am certain that you will.” Gideon then turned to James and bowed. “James. As always, a pleasure. Do not be a stranger now. The two of you will come to London soon?”
“We will,” Frances replied. “Next week.”
“We are?” James said, sounding surprised.
“Yes. I told you, my cousin Marianne is hosting a ball in honor of Lucien’s birthday.”
“Oh yes.” He nodded, but it was clear that he had entirely forgotten.
Typical of him to let such matters slip from his mind. Frances glared at him.
Gideon snickered. “Well, I should leave the two of you to marital bliss.” He bowed once more, climbed into his carriage, and then he was away.
Frances rounded on him at once. “I told you at dinner yesterday.”
“I beg your pardon,” James said. “I did not mean to ignore you. I must have forgotten.”
“It seems you have,” she said and walked past him.
This was getting beyond ridiculous. She was quite at the end of her tether. She was quite tired of all of this.
Yes, it was true that she now had her work ahead of her. The tenants were joining forces, but it was somewhat difficult. With such things, egos tended to rise, and it had fallen to her to ensure it did not get in the way of the good work they could all be doing together.
But that wasn’t enough. Yes, she had the company of the tenants, and they often treated her almost as if she were one of them, but she knew she wasn’t.
She had no friends here. She was lonely. Not a soul to confide in, not a friend to call her own. There was not much to do in Somerset beyond going to the market or the park.
But how often could one go to the park on one’s own? If she had a husband who enjoyed walking with her, simply being with her, she might have found it quite different. But she didn’t. Her husband merely ignored her.
“Frances,” James called, and she turned.
“Yes?”
“I will not be home for dinner tonight,” he announced. “I am going into the village with Morrison.”
“So I am to dine on my own again. I understand,” she said. “As always.”
She added nothing further. Instead, she made her way into the house.
This is absolutely ridiculous.
She took a deep breath. There was nothing on her agenda for today. Mr. Sweeting had called for a meeting of the tenants, but her presence was not required. She had read all the books she wanted to read so far, and the latest one she had picked, a tome by Mary Shelley, held no interest for her today.
She spent an hour pacing her chamber and thinking of what she might do when she decided she had to take the air.
