The Bridal Quest. Candace Camp

card room. “Now what?” she muttered.

      Sir Lucien glanced over at her and then toward the duke. He chuckled. “It could be worse. It could be Lady Pencully.”

      Francesca rolled her eyes in her friend’s direction. “Curse your tongue, Lucien. Now she is certain to appear.”

      Lucien smothered a laugh and said to the approaching duke, “Rochford. Dear fellow. Pleasure, as always, to see you.”

      “Sir Lucien. Lady Haughston.” Rochford stopped beside Francesca, nodding to them both. “I must say, my lady, you do not look at all pleased.”

      Francesca gave the man a frosty look. “That depends on whether you brought Lady Pencully with you.”

      “No, I did not, I am pleased to say,” Rochford replied. Then he smiled faintly and added, “However, I do believe that I saw her in the card room a moment ago.”

      “So that is why you left it,” Francesca retorted sourly.

      “But of course,” Rochford admitted without a trace of guilt. “You may think yourself reluctant to see her, but you do not have the misfortune to be tied to her by blood. If you were, you would know just how craven you could be.”

      “What nonsense you talk,” Francesca said reprovingly. “You have never been afraid of anything in your life.”

      He studied her for a moment, a quizzical look on his features, then said, “If only you knew, my lady.”

      Francesca made a face and turned away from his gaze. She was aware of a faint heat rising in her cheeks, and she was not even sure why. Rochford had the most damnable talent for unsettling her.

      As her eyes swept across the room, she noticed the Earl of Radbourne entering the ballroom through the other set of doors. He looked, if anything, even more thunderous than Irene had. Francesca sighed inwardly. Obviously that opportunity had been lost for good. Perhaps she should not have introduced them so early. But he would have had to talk to Irene at some point, and it would simply all have unraveled then. Better, she supposed, to have gotten it over quickly instead of wasting her time on the match.

      “Your Lord Radbourne seems a trifle fierce,” she commented to Rochford.

      “Hardly mine,” Rochford protested mildly. “But I imagine he can be rather…hard. I suspect that is the only way he could survive the streets of London. He grew up in a very different world from the one in which we did, Lady Haughston.”

      “Indeed. But ours was dangerous, too, in another way.” Francesca glanced toward him, and Rochford turned to look at her, his eyes sharp.

      He made no answer, but Francesca looked quickly away from him, suddenly aware of Sir Lucien’s curious gaze.

      The duke shifted, then said in a low voice, “Fair warning, my friends. Lady Pencully is approaching.” He bowed toward them. “I fear I must take my leave of you.”

      “Coward,” Francesca whispered.

      He merely smiled and strode away. Beside her, Sir Lucien made a move, but Francesca turned and pinned him with a look. With a sigh, he remained where he was and forced a smile onto his face.

      “Lady Pencully.” He swept her an elegant bow. “What an unaccustomed pleasure to see you.”

      “Don’t try your folderol with me, Talbot,” Lady Odelia said bluntly, though Francesca saw that she could not keep her face from softening a little. “Go sharpen your skills on someone else, why don’t you? I need to talk to Francesca.”

      “Of course, my lady.” Sir Lucien cast an amused glance at Francesca as he bowed to them both and strolled away.

      “I’ve decided what to do,” Lady Odelia went on without preamble. “We shall have a party at Radbourne Park.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “To search for a mate for the earl,” the older woman said with some asperity, as though Francesca were a bit dim. “That is what we are about, remember?”

      “Of course I remember. I just, um, I wasn’t sure why a party—”

      “It will be the best way to present him to the girls we pick. I am convinced that we will never find him a spouse in London. It is too elegant, too sophisticated. He is bound to stand out here among men of Talbot’s sort. Too smooth by half, that one, if you ask me, but he’s the sort that women like, you know. Or Rochford. Though, of course, women would fawn on him if he were as rough as an old boot. Only stands to reason, being a duke and all. But that is neither here nor there.”

      She looked accusingly at Francesca, as if she had been responsible for her wandering off subject. “The point is, if we separate these women from civilization, they will no doubt find my great-nephew more acceptable.”

      “I think there are a number of women who would feel the earl’s title and fortune make him acceptable enough anywhere,” Francesca replied wryly.

      “Yes, perhaps, but I am unwilling to take the chance. So I shall get Pansy to arrange a house party. We will work on a guest list. Go over the girls who will do. Then you will come up early to Radbourne Park, so you can work on Gideon himself. Smooth out some of his rough edges, if you can. You know what I mean. I am sure that he will receive suggestions better from you. He seems to resent the hints I give him.”

      “Surely not,” Francesca murmured.

      Lady Pencully gave her a narrow look. “Don’t think I don’t know when you are being facetious, girl. I am well aware that any man would much rather get instruction from a winning girl like you than from an old lady who doesn’t couch the truth in sweet-sounding phrases.” She gave a short nod, ending the matter. “When will you be at Radbourne Park?”

      As always, Lady Odelia’s commands rankled, but Francesca had to admit that the older woman’s idea made sense. And a visit to Radbourne Park for a few weeks would also take care of her problem with maintaining her household for a while.

      “I am not sure. A few days, surely, to pack and set things in order,” Francesca told her.

      “Well, don’t dawdle, girl. We need to set this thing in motion.”

      “Of course, but—” Francesca broke off as she saw Lord Radbourne approaching. “Ah, Lord Radbourne. Good to see you again.”

      It was a lie, of course. She did not look forward to talking with him. He looked decidedly put out, and Francesca suspected that he was about to ring a peal over her head for whatever had transpired with Irene Wyngate.

      He nodded shortly to Francesca and then to his great-aunt. “Lady Haughston. Lady Pencully.”

      “Gideon,” Lady Odelia responded. “Saw you talking to Lady Irene a few minutes ago.” She looked at him hopefully.

      His lips tightened. “Lady Irene Wyngate is arrogant, stubborn and a snob. I am certain that she would not do for my wife.”

      Even Lady Odelia seemed unable to find a response to that.

      Francesca jumped into the silence that followed his statement. “I see. Well, all the more reason to move forward with other plans. Your great-aunt and I were just discussing having a party at Radbourne Park. I hope you will find that agreeable. It seems a good way for you to meet several young women and get to know them, and for them to get to know you. A week or two allows one many more opportunities than attending rounds of balls and such here in the city.”

      He nodded. “No doubt. I will leave it in your capable hands. And my aunt’s, of course.”

      “Very well.” Francesca relaxed. At least he was not going to make a scene or, apparently, even blame her for whatever Irene had said to him.

      “I will take my leave of you, then. I have business to attend to. If you will excuse me?”

      “Of course.” Francesca was quite content to see him go, though she could not help