Free A Love Laid Bare by Constance Hussey Page A

better
to have Flora entertained while possible. In any case, it was not
far to the Halcombe town house—a place Frances had never before
seen. In fact, this was her first time in London, and she was sorry
that she had not had time to see something of the city. They halted
before a tall, stoned-faced building, one of a row that lined three
sides of a quiet square.
    Frances stepped down onto the wide pavement. “You can
wait here, Nancy,” she said, reaching for Flora. “I don’t believe
we will be long.”
    “I will take her.”
    The hand Halcombe laid on her shoulder was as
startling as his firm statement. Frances spun around and was gently
moved aside. “She is not used to strangers. She may not come to
you,” Frances said in a low voice that conveyed none of her
apprehension. Why in heaven did he choose to do this now, when
Flora was experiencing so much that was unfamiliar? Frances did not want to meet his mother with a crying child in hand.
Shifting nervously, her breath short, she was ready to intercede at
the first sign of a tear.
    “But I am not a stranger,” Halcombe said in a manner
that relayed his calm conviction that his daughter instinctively
knew him. He waited for Nancy to help Flora onto the top step, put
his hands around her tiny waist, and settled her in his arms.
“Hello, Flora. I see you have another pretty dress today.”
    Her face scrunched up, Flora eyed him warily. “Pretty
dress,” she repeated. She pointed one stubby finger at his chest.
“You.”
    Halcombe hesitated.
    “Father. My name is Father,” he said, and smiled.
    Frances’ breath eased. His smile was sincere and
Flora smiled back.
    “Fa…der.”
    “That will do. Now, it is time you were introduced to
your grandmother.” He glanced at Frances. “You are ready?”
    “Of course.” She picked up her skirts and moved to
walk beside him, then, her voice very soft, said “Thank you.” For being so caring—and careful. How could you have thought
anything else of him, Frances? Sometimes you are an absolute
idiot .
     
    ***
     
    Did Frances think he would harm the child? Halcombe
had not missed the worry in his wife’s eyes. Does she fear you
will blame the child for the parent’s transgressions? Damn it!
Surely she knows you better than that.
    Did she ? The question niggled in his head as
he automatically responded to his mother’s butler. Mason knew they
were expected, and no doubt why. The servants seemed always to be
aware of these things. He could only trust that news of Frances’
return had not yet spread outside this house.
    “Lord Halcombe, Lady Halcombe, if you will follow me?
Lady Halcombe is in the small salon.” Mason gave Flora a quick
perusal and she stared back at him with bright-eyed interest, a
frank curiosity that put two spots of colour on the man’s
cheeks.
    Unabashedly amused by Mason’s discomfort— the man was
as stiff-necked and pretentious as the dowager—Halcombe walked past
him. “I know where it is, Mason. No need to announce us.” Such
informality would further annoy his mother, and to describe
Leticia’s horror at the entire situation was a monumental
understatement. When he told her earlier of Frances’ return, along
with a child, he had feared she might succumb to apoplexy, so
furious was she.
    The dowager’s expression of cold detachment was
exactly what Halcombe had expected. He allowed that she had reason
to dislike the situation. Leticia thrived on scandal, as long as it
was of someone else’s making. Regarding this affair, however, she
would be wise to put a good front on it. To do otherwise would
reflect badly on her.
    “Mother.”
    Leticia was seated regally in a high-backed chair,
her expression as disapproving as a queen faced with a disobedient
subject. Halcombe’s glance at Frances, pacing beside him, caught
the glimmer of humour in her eyes. He suspected his mother was not
going to find this Frances as easy to cow as his young
bride—a suspicion confirmed when