Page 85 of His Arranged Duchess
He sighed heavily, scratching his bald head. “The Duchess of Blackstone has been mentioned in every single newspaper and scandal sheet this morning. People can talk of nothing else. The business must have been discovered overnight.”
Katherine swallowed thickly. “What business? What scandal? Papa!”
Wordlessly, Lord Tockton pushed his crumpled newspaper across the table.
Katherine snatched at it, flicking through the pages. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lower lip hard until she tasted copper.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, no. Papa, I must go to Frances at once.”
Lord Tockton nodded soberly. “I think that might be wise.”
Lucien had not come down to breakfast. Frances had stayed away, too, for fear of running into him, but she had since learned from Gray that the breakfast-room had simply sat untouched, with the food congealing in its trays, forgotten.
Frances felt guilty about the waste. In truth, she wasn’t particularly hungry.
She saw movement out of the drawing room window and watched with relief as Katherine stumbled out of her carriage and bustled up the driveway, out of breath.
Frances was not entirely sure how she would broach the subject of what had gone on between her and Lucien. She only knew that she had to saysomething, that it was building up into pressure inside her that had to be released one way or another, and that she did not want to talk to Mama or Aunt Emily about it.
No, she needed someone cool-headed and impassive, like Katherine. Katherine’s advice was good and unlikely to be influenced by any biases.
Getting to her feet, Frances smoothed down her skirts and waited for her friend to be shown in. The clock read half-past nine. An early hour for Katherine.
There was a brief commotion out in the hall, then Katherine came barging in, tugging off her gloves.
“I came as soon as I got your note,” she gasped, tearing off her bonnet and tossing it to the incredulous Gray without even looking at him. “Oh, Frances, it’s the most awful news. I cannot imagine how you are feeling.”
“I shall bring tea, Your Grace,” Gray said, still looking a little peeved to have clothingthrownat him. He bowed and retreated, closing the door behind him.
Pausing, Frances frowned at her friend. “I haven’t even told you what the matter is, yet.”
There was a brief silence. Katherine stared at Frances for a long moment.
“Everybody knows, Frances,” she said at last, speaking slowly and carefully as though Frances were hard of hearing, or perhaps a little slow.
Frances blinked. “I don’t see how they could. We made a little scene at the opera, to be sure, but they couldn’t know… Katherine, what are you speaking of?”
Katherine narrowed her eyes. “What areyouspeaking of?”
“I have had an argument with Lucien,” Frances responded, swallowing thickly. “I am not sure we can reconcile. I was thinking of going back to Mama’s house or finding somewhere else to live. I wanted to talk to you about it.”
Katherine gulped audibly. “Oh, heavens. Oh,heavens. You don’t know, do you? Papa and I assumed you called me over to talk about the newspapers, but you don’t know, you don’tknow! Of course not, how could you? You sent the note last night, after all, and the papers only came out this morning.”
Katherine was babbling now, and Frances inched closer to her, tentatively laying a hand on her arm.
“Kat, you had better tell me what you’re talking about.”
The taller woman sighed deeply, passing a hand over her face. “Have you read any newspapers this morning, or any scandal sheets?”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, you should. Here, I brought a few of Papa’s. They’re awful to read, but you must read them. It’s terrible, but you must know what they are saying about you. Once you’ve read them, I shall destroy them all.”
For the first time, Frances noticed that Katherine was carrying a selection of crumpled papers under her arm. She’d assumed it was simply another quirk of hers, like keeping tarantulas in her reticule or a gecko on her shoulder.
Swallowing, Katherine handed over the papers, her eyes lingering on Frances’s face.
“What am I looking for?” Frances inquired, trying to keep the wobble out of her voice. A sort of uneasiness had landed squarely on her shoulders, dread crawling up from the pit of her stomach.
