Francesca grinned, as did Lady Elizabeth. They followed the others into the hall.

"I think we deserve a soothing cup of tea." Lady Elizabeth raised a brow at Francesca.

She went to gesture to the drawing room, then caught herself. "The back parlor?"

Lady Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, dear."

Francesca glanced around. "Wallace?"

"Ma'am?" The dapper little man stepped out of the shadows.

"Tea, please. In the back parlor."

"At once, ma'am."

"And check if Lord Walpole needs anything."

"Indeed, ma'am."

Together with Lady Elizabeth and Henni, Francesca strolled to the back parlor, the room the family used when free of social company. Although elegant as were all the rooms Francesca had thus far seen, the back parlor was furnished with an eye to comfort rather than style. Some of the pieces were quite old, woodwork lovingly polished to a lustrous hue, cushions showing the indentations of age.

With identical sighs, Lady Elizabeth and Henni sank into what was clearly their accustomed chairs, then Lady Elizabeth's eyes flew wide. She started to rise. "My dear, I should have asked-"

"No, no!" Waving her back, Francesca crossed to a daybed. "This is more my style." Sitting, she swung her legs up and relaxed against the puffy pillows.

"Very wise," Henni said with a grin. "No sense in not getting what rest you can."

Francesca blushed.

Wallace brought in the tea tray and placed it on a small table before Francesca. She poured, and he handed the cups around, then she dismissed him with a smile and a gracious word. He bowed and departed.

"Hmm." Henni eyed the door through which Wallace had gone. "He's a cagey one, but I think he likes you."

Francesca said nothing, aware that gaining the approval and thus support of her large staff would be essential to maintaining a smoothly running household.

Lady Elizabeth set aside her cup. "I can't see that you'll face any difficulties. Wallace will be the hardest to win over, but if he'd taken you in aversion, we'd have seen the signs. The rest are very manageable, and Lord knows, you'll be able to cope with Ferdinand much better than I."

"Ferdinand?"

"Gyles's chef. He travels between London and Lambourn, wherever Gyles is in residence. Ferdinand's Italian, and on occasion reverts to his native tongue." Lady Elizabeth shook her head. "I can rarely keep up with him. I just let him rave until he runs down, then I start again in English wherever I left off. Speaking Italian as you do, you'll be able to deal with him directly."

Francesca leaned back. "Who else should I know about?"

"All the others are locals. You met Mrs. Cantle briefly yesterday."

Francesca nodded, remembering the very correct, black-garbed housekeeper.

"I'll take you over the house and introduce you to everyone tomorrow morning. We all need to sit and catch our breath today, but tomorrow everyone will be eager to meet you, and as we'll be leaving later in the day, we'd best set the morning aside for'the grand tour.'"

"Leaving?" Francesca stared, first at Lady Elizabeth, then at Henni; both nodded. "If Gyles has asked-"

"No, no!" Lady Elizabeth assured her. "This is entirely my idea, dear. Gyles would never dream of giving me my marching orders."

Henni snorted. "I'd like to see him try. But we're only going to the Dower House-it's just across the park."

"You can easily visit-come anytime." Lady Elizabeth gestured. "We'll be there, like as not."

"What she means," Henni said, "is that we'd be only too happy to hear the latest, whenever you have anything you'd like to share."

Francesca smiled at the older ladies' hopeful expressions. "I'll visit often."

"Good." Lady Elizabeth sat back. Henni sipped her tea.

Francesca relaxed into the daybed's cushions, touched, somewhat relieved. Just a little comforted.

She'd been feeling a little betrayed. By Chillingworth, although she couldn't justify that, at least not in words; from the first, he'd made his position clear and, despite all her hopes, he hadn't altered his stance. Not in the least. She'd felt more betrayed by Lady Elizabeth. The Dowager Countess had seemed so kind, so... like-minded. She'd written so warmly, so openheartedly and with such welcome, that Francesca had, at first unconsciously, then rather too consciously, started to weave dreams.

Letting her head fall back against the cushions, she let her mind touch on that-her dream, the most central of her dreams, the dream that now would not be-for the first time since descending from the tower.

Sometime later, at the edge of her vision, she saw Lady Elizabeth stir, saw the dowager exchange a questioning, concerned look with Henni. Lifting her head, Francesca looked down and saw her knuckles white about the teacup's handle. She'd relaxed, and her mask had slipped. She eased her grip.

Lady Elizabeth cleared her throat. "My dear"-her voice was very gentle-"you seem rather... fragile. Is anything amiss?"

Summoning a polite smile, Francesca briefly met their worried gazes. "I'm just a bit tired." She wasn't; she was disappointed. The realization prodded. If she wanted to understand her husband... and neither Lady Elizabeth nor Henni deserved her prevarications. Lips firming, she looked at them. "Pray excuse me, but I feel I have to ask. Did you know Gyles wanted, still wants, a marriage of convenience?"

Henni choked, then spluttered.

Lady Elizabeth's eyes grew round, then rounder. "What?" she demanded, her tone rising. Then she recollected herself and in more dowagerish tones stated, "What utter nonsense. Where did you hear that?"

"From him."

Henni waved a hand to attract her sister-in-law's attention. "Horace mentioned something about that last night," she wheezed. "About Gyles organizing his marriage of convenience, and how it was all a hum."

"But that's ridiculous! Marriage of convenience, indeed!" Two spots of color flew in Lady Elizabeth's cheeks. Francesca had no doubt that had her errant son walked in at that moment, he would have been severely taken to task. Then Lady Elizabeth looked at Henni. "But you said it was all a hum?"

"Horace said it was a hum. Easy enough to see why he'd think so. But as to what Gyles thinks, I suspect Francesca would know better than Horace."

"We discussed it this morning," Francesca said. "He's adamant it be so."

Lady Elizabeth waved commandingly. "Tell me. If I've raised a son ignorant enough to go that route, I deserve to know about it."

Adhering faithfully to his words, Francesca repeated Gyles's specifications for their marriage. She omitted all mention of his mistake-that was strictly between them. Lady Elizabeth and Henni hung on her every word. When she concluded her recitation, they exchanged looks, eyes bright, lips pressed tight, then, to Francesca's amazement, they both burst out laughing.

She stared at them in astonishment.

"Pray excuse us, my dear," Lady Elizabeth gasped. "Rest assured, we're not laughing at you."

"Or at your situation," Henni added, mopping her eyes.