Page 21 of His Arranged Duchess
This seemed to soothe Mama a little. Her expression relaxed, and she leaned back in her seat.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that, since snagging a duke is far beyond what I could have dreamed of for you. Yours is a fate that a thousand girls would die for. You must remember that.”
Frances sighed. “Dying to be a duchess? That would rather defeat the purpose, don’t you think?”
Mama gave her a pointed look. “Very funny, Frances. Listen, I don’t mean to be unkind, but you really must buckle down and concentrate here. You are married, but now you have to make itwork. I certainly had to, with the Baron. Marriage wasn’t at all what I expected. And you know, of course, that I spent a few years working as an opera singer.
“To this day, there are still people who won’t receive me in their homes, although thankfully I have more friends than enemies… I know what it is like to struggle through life, and to feel as though one is alone with no prospects. I willnotsee you struggle as I did, Frances.”
Frances bit her lip, swirling her spoon in her tea. Gunter’s was renowned for its ices, and she had rather fancied one. However, Lucien’s sister’s gown was digging into her waist, and she could hardly breathe. Eating did not seem like a comfortable pastime.
I must get my own gowns.
“It’s odd, Mama,” Frances began slowly, “but Lucien said that his sister was the same size as me, yet her gowns are entirely too tight. I wonder why she had them cut in such a way. It can’t have been comfortable.”
Mama sniffed. “Don’t change the subject. Perhaps she wanted a tiny waist. Young women do tend to fuss about things like that. Now, tell me more about the duke.”
Frances sighed again. “I know nothing about him, and I know nothing about being a duchess. All he wants from me is my dowry and an heir. I hate it.”
Mama’s face softened a little, and she slid her hand across the table, placing it on Frances’s wrist.
“Oh, my darling. I wish you could have been in love, but truly, making asensiblemarriage is so much better in the end. Love… it eats you up inside and leaves nothing else. I couldn’t bear to see you hollowed out the way I was when…” she broke off abruptly, clearing her throat. “Well, enough of that. As to the duke wanting only your dowry and children, I’m afraid that is simply what most men are like.”
“I thought he was sent from above to save me,” Frances muttered, giving a short, mirthless laugh. “How foolish. Still, I suppose it was the lesser of two evils. I was thinking…” she paused again, glancing at Mama. “I was thinking of having the marriage annulled.”
Mama drew away her hand, eyes wide with shock. “You are thinking ofwhat? Oh, Frances, you must be mad.”
“No, Mama, think it over. Once he has my dowry, he’ll be happy. With the marriage annulled, he can marry again if he wishes, and I’ll be free to live as a spinster.”
There was a long, icy silence between them.
“Now Iknowyou are mad,” Mama said at last, her voice tight and cold. “Frances, let me be clear. If you think I will let you throw aside your dowry, the only gift the baron ever left you—supplemented, I might add, by your Uncle Cassian—then you are greatly mistaken.”
“But…”
“No buts. That money is the only thing standing between you and destitution. We are not highly born, Frances. I am a commoner, and I will always be one, despite being a baroness. And as for you, Society will be quicker to consider you my daughter than a baron’s child. They will turn their backs on us faster thanthat.”
She snapped her fingers a little too loudly for the genteel chatter in the teashop. A few people glanced around, eyebrows raised, and Frances flushed.
After all this time, I still hate being looked at.
But not when Lucien looks at me. How odd.
She decided not to pursue that thought.
“Uncle Cass wouldn’t let us become beggars,” Frances tried at last.
Mama gave a harsh laugh. “No, he wouldn’t see us starve, but your uncle has his own reputation to safeguard. And wouldyou like living on your uncle’s money for the rest of your life? Spinsters live for a long time. Believe me, you’d find living a friendless existence difficult, to say the least.”
“Mama…”
“No, listen. Let me spell out what will happen to you should you get this marriage annulled. It’s entirely possible, by the way, that the duke will not allow it. Annulments are not to be had on every street corner, you foolish girl. If the annulment is granted, you will be a pariah. Nobody will marry you. Nobody will call on you. If they have any regard for their own reputations, Uncle Cassian and Aunt Emily will avoid us both like the plague. You would live with me, in straitened circumstances, living a dull, boring, and friendless life.
“When I die, you would lose the house. My widow’s jointure would end. You would be entirely penniless. And yes, yes, perhaps Uncle Cassian would support you financially. Picture that, you silly little thing. Imagine living in a house paid for by an uncle you rarely see—as he will have the reputation of his own children to guard, and you would besmirch them simply by being in the same room as them—and making do with a modest allowance that never quite stretches far enough. There’d be no money for books, I can tell you that.”
When she finished this speech, a little breathless, Mama sat back in her chair, folded her arms, and waited for Frances to respond.
“Well,” Frances managed at last, her voice wobbling. “It does sound rather bleak when you say it like that.”
