Free Evelyn Richardson by The Education of Lady Frances Page A

being.”
    Frances interrupted this elaborate explanation to ask, “But what of your estates, your lovely chateau? Were they all destroyed in that revolutionary madness?”
    “Ah, my child, who knows? News is so difficult to come by, and so unreliable. Whether they exist or not is a matter of indifference to me because they were no longer mine.” Seeing Frances' look of horror, he hastened to reassure her. “I saw what that stupid Louis and the rest of his crowd were doing to the country. As you know, I never felt comfortable with the life of the so-called ancien regime. That is one of the reasons I left France—that and my wish to study the classical cultures. I left the management of the estate to my nephew Claude. He was a greedy young man and I knew he could be counted on to keep it productive. Soon I realized that he was beginning to consider my lands his own, so I merely formalized it by exchanging them for the family treasures he possessed. He cared nothing for historic tapestries, paintings, jewelry, furniture, but I loved them. He thought he had gotten himself a bargain, poor boy, but I have no doubt it's all gone, and he with it. The way he treated his peasants, I am certain he would have been one of the first to be consumed in the rage of the Revolution. Still, I do not wish such a horrible fate on anyone. Claude was not a particularly cruel man, just unenlightened and rather self-centered, as so many of those people were.” He sighed and turned to her. “But, Fanny, tell me of yourself.” A look of sadness crossed his face. “I was so very sorry to hear about your poor papa, but he and your mother were so very close, such a well-matched team of students, that I am certain, in spite of you wonderful children, his life must have been lonely after she died. He was a brilliant and amiable scholar, and so was she—perhaps the dearest friends I ever had.” He fell silent. “And how do you and Cassie and Freddie go on? You are all still my mischievous little devils, non?”
    Frances answered as best she could, filling in the two years since her father's death. The appearance of Kitty followed by a heavily laden footman recalled her to her surroundings. Presenting Kitty, she bid the comte adieu, begging him to call on them in Brook Street at his earliest convenience. She wondered if he would be at Lady Richardson's ball, and hoped that she would have another friendly face and intelligent conversation to look forward to.
    Frances did not like to ask, but the irrepressible Kitty suffered no such qualms. Extending a small white hand and dimpling up at him with her most enchanting smile, she inquired, “Do you go to Lady Richardson's tonight? I am looking forward to it ever so much, as it's to be my first one.'' The comte assured both of them that he would not miss it for the world, and begged a dance from each of them.
    “If your card becomes crowded. Mademoiselle Kitty, naturellement you will cross out my name and leave me to the dowagers, but if you become weary of inarticulate adoration, overblown compliments, or infatuated young bucks, I am at your service.” His eyes twinkled. “Now, let me escort you to your carriage.”
    As Lady Frances mounted the steps back at Brook Street, she met Bertie Montgomery on the steps, exquisitely attired in a plum-colored coat, jonquil waistcoat, and fawn pantaloons, bearing a delicately shaded nosegay. “Bertie, how lovely to see you!” She smiled, realizing for the second time that day that she knew more people in London than she had imagined.
    “Hallo, Fanny,” he replied, presenting his offering. Her surprise and delight were ample reward for a harrowing afternoon. Bertie had spent the better part of his day trying to deduce what color gown Frances was likely to wear to the ball that evening. Fortunately, he was on excellent terms with Lady Streatham, he hastened to call at Bruton Street, where she was most happy to furnish him with the name of the modiste whose