Page 84 of His Arranged Duchess
Without waiting for a response, Frances walked out of the room. She took her book along with her, but left the rest of it behind.
CHAPTER 27
“For you, Miss Luton,” the butler explained ponderously, leaning down. He carried a comically large silver platter on his flattened palm, with a minutely folded note resting on the center of it.
Katherine bit back a sigh. This was just another ridiculous ceremony that her father insisted upon that ought to be dispensed with. It wasn’t as though they had money and time to waste on polishing ceremonial silver platters. The Luton coffers were depleted of late, and Katherine was uncomfortably aware that she would likely have to start thinking of marriage or something similarly awful.
“Thank you,” she responded, plucking the note from the platter. Henry scrambled up her arm, wanting to jump onto the silver platter and be carried around. The butler often did this, claiming that he was giving the gecko a ‘tour’ of the house. On this occasion, the butler withdrew before Henry could make his leap. The gecko settled himself on Katherine’s shoulder instead, piqued.
Katherine squinted at the note. “Oh, it’s Frances’shandwriting. I declare, I’ve hardly heard from her at all since her marriage.”
Her father, seated across the table and entirely hidden behind a newspaper, grunted.
“I should imagine so. She is a married woman. Married women don’t have time for friends.”
Katherine pursed her lips. “Mama was considered quite the socialite, wasn’t she? I recall our house being packed to the rafters with guests when I was young.”
The newspaper rustled. “That was an entirely different situation.”
Katherine decided to let the subject drop. Her father, Lord Tockton, was never in the best of moods early in the morning. This morning he had risen at the crack of nine o’clock, to attend some serious business meeting at ten.
She cracked open the seal and unfolded the note. It was short, crisply written, and obviously scribbled in a hurry, as the ink had not been properly allowed to dry before it was folded.
My dear Katherine, I am sending this note late at night, and I am sure you will not receive it till the morning. Please come and visit me as soon as you can. Something terrible has happened, and I need a friend. Please come.
Your Friend, Frances.
Katherine bit her lip, sighing.
“Poor Frances. She seems to be in quite a state. That husband of hers must be a wretched man. Do you know, he was accused ofkillinghis own father?”
“I do remember,” Lord Tockton answered, the newspaper rustling as he turned a page. “It was ruled an accident. The boy left the country hastily, of course, but from what I remember of his father, it was a miracle he hadn’t been murdered already.”
“That’s hardly the point.”
The newspaper lowered a little, and Lord Tockton’s shrewd little eyes peered out.
“Are you sure? I would have said that it was entirely the point.”
Katherine sniffed. It was too early for conversations on ethical behavior and morality.
“Well, in any case, I’ll visit her after breakfast. It seems that she’s in quite a state.”
“I would imagine so,” her father retorted. “I daresay she fell into a dead faint at the sight of the headlines this morning.”
There was a brief silence.
“Headlines?” Katherine echoed. “Papa, what are you talking about?”
Abruptly, the newspaper came crumpling down onto the dinner table, and Lord Tockton stared in horror at his daughter.
“Katherine, do you mean to tell me you haven’t heard?”
“Heardwhat?”
“Oh, heavens. I thought you were too calm about the situation.”
“Papa, you are acting strangely. Tell me what you mean.”
