Page 62 of His Tempting Duchess

“You may keep your disapproval to yourself, Cass,” Margaret said, not turning around. “How I choose to get through life is my decision and mine alone.”

“Perhaps now that Frances is home for good, you’ll think of turning over a new leaf,” Cassian responded, before he could stop to think whether it was a wise thing to say or not.

Margaret turned back sharply. “Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter, Cassian. Heaven knows you don’t visit her nearly enough.”

Cassian got to his feet. “And you know exactly why that is. I love Frances, for her own sake and the sake of my brother, but if the truth of her parentage comes out, she’ll be ruined. I won’t risk that, and I won’t letyourisk it either. Don’t you think it pains me, knowing that she cannot call me ‘Uncle’in public?”

Margaret pressed her lips together, turning away. “And don’t you think it painsmethat she’s never known her father? Never met him for one minute? Oh, she’s so much like him that it hurts at times. He was the best man in the world.”

Cassian swallowed thickly, composing himself.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was harsh. Let’s not compare our grief over Matthew.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, almost angrily. “Quite right. And this is Frances’s day. She was a little upset at leaving her friends behind at finishing school, but I’m glad to have her home.”

“Here I come!” Frances called, skipping into the room with a wide grin.

Cassian had been sure to get her measurements from the seamstress she and her mother regularly employed, and it seemed that he’d chosen well. The dress fit her beautifully. The material was expensive, heavy and rich, and would likely stay in fashion for a few Seasons at the very least.

Frances beamed, spinning around so that the voluminous blue skirts swirled around her.

“What do you think?” she chirped, holding out her arms to either side. “It’sbeautiful, Uncle Cassian. Beautiful! What do you think, Mama? I could wear it for my coming out, couldn’t I?”

“Lovely, my darling,” Margaret said, smiling. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, probably due to the mention of Frances’s coming out and the marriage that would surely follow. “Not blue for your coming out ball, though. White is traditional.”

Frances pouted a little. “Well, if you say so, Mama. I prefer blue, though. If I don’t marry during my first Season, I can wear this for the first ball of my second Season, can’t I?”

Margaret’s smile wavered. “But of course.”

“I hate to remind you of this, Frances,” Cassian interjected, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “but you mustn’t call me Uncle Cassian.”

Frances blinked. “I know.”

“I really do mean it. It’s rather serious. Officially, I am not a relation of yours, and if you’re to inherit the baron’s money…”

“I’m not sure that I want the baron’s money, though,” Frances blurted out, staring down at her feet. She was pinching the fabric of her gown between her fingers, folding and pleating it over and over again. “It would be a false pretense, wouldn’t it? Because I am not his daughter.”

Margaret and Cassian exchanged a look.

“Now, darling,” Margaret said carefully, “we’ve talked about this, haven’t we? You deserve the baron’s money. As his widow, it ought to be mine, but he tied it all up in a most disobliging way. And you aren’t coming out yet—you’re barely home from finishing school. We need not talk about this yet.”

“No, I suppose not,” Frances murmured. Some of the joy had left her eyes.

A lump formed in Cassian’s throat. He couldn’t bear to see that hollow look in her eyes. It was too much like the look he’d seen on Matthew’s face that fateful night.

“Come, come,” he said, as jovially as he could, getting to his feet. “All these sad faces on Frances’s birthday? I should think not! Go and change out of that gown, Frances—I know how clumsy you are—and we shall play some games. I believe there is cake and jelly in the kitchen, just waiting to be served. We shall play games and eat sweets all afternoon. How does that sound?”

Frances’s face lit up. She was still of the age where sweets and games could make her happy. It would not last long, though. She was on the cusp of womanhood, teetering on the edge of becoming a grown woman. A lady.

She gave one last twirl in her new blue gown and then hurried out of the room, leaving the door swinging.

“Where does the time go?” Margaret said wistfully. “It seems like only minutes since she was a fat, little baby in my arms.”

“I wish Matthew could have seen her,” Cassian murmured, almost without thinking.

As always, a shutter came down over Margaret’s face, as it always did whenever Matthew was mentioned.

“I know you think I should have defied your father and married him anyway,” she murmured, “but it would have ruined us both. Matthew was… he was soft. He could never have survived a rough life. I thought he would forget me and marry someone suitable. I thought he would be rich and titled one day, and I would be nothing more than a passing memory. I never thought I’d bear a lifetime of this guilt.”

---