Page 82 of From Unwanted to Duchess
Frances smiled. “I suppose there was. He has always vexed me, but at the same time, he has always fascinated me. I cannot quite explain it, but we have certain ways that we can understand each other. Our strained relationships with our fathers, for example. There is much that we have in common. He is far less haughty than I initially thought.”
“I told you. He is a good man. He cares. And he clearly adores you. I saw the way he looked at you at the ball, both before and after you returned from the park.”
Frances’s cheeks reddened at that.
Could this really be true? Could this be the beginning of something she had never thought possible? A true marriage between herself and James? Could she really not only be a duchess but also be a wife who was loved? Could she become a mother one day? Could she have the family she had always wished she had, the one she might’ve had if her mother hadn’t died?
Her heart swelled at the thought, and she linked her arm with Marianne’s.
“You know, perhaps I will be the second duchess in your set and the forth cousin married to a titled gentleman, after all. And more than just in name.”
“That’s the way of it,” Marianne said.
They parted ways shortly after, and Frances made her way back toward Mayfair. The walk wasn’t long, and she was glad for it. She needed time to think. To prepare.
What would she say to James? How would she begin?
Perhaps she would simply walk up to him and kiss him again. Show him that she wasn’t afraid. That she wanted this. Wantedhim.
Or perhaps she should be more measured. More careful. Tell him that she understood his fears, but that she was willing to face them together.
She passed a flower stand at the corner and paused. Daffodils. Her mother’s favorite. She bought a small bunch, thinking she would put them in her room. A reminder that spring was coming. That new beginnings were possible.
Her heart was beating faster as she approached their townhouse.Theirtownhouse. Not his. Not hers. But theirs.
She had to keep reminding herself that things were different now. Everything had changed last night in the park. When he had kissed her, he had shown her what he truly felt. And she knew with absolute certainty that he cared for her.
She just had to make him see that it was all right to care. That loving someone didn’t mean losing them.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the doorknob. This was silly. She was being ridiculous. He had kissed her. Everything was fine. Better than fine. So why did she feel so nervous?
“Don’t be foolish,” she whispered to herself. “He loves you. You know he does.”
And she did know it. She had seen it in his eyes last night. The fear, yes, but also the love. The desperate, terrified love.
