Francesca by Joan Smith

lie, I will take her to court for the lying thief she is.’Those were his last words. I wouldn’t stay to hear more. I am not a violent man, Mrs. Denver, but it was all I could do to keep my fists off him.”
    Mrs. Denver’s face was ashen. “What can the poor girl do?”
    “Nothing. Maundley is the guardian of her trust fund. He will dock it for five thousand and put her out of this house. How will that leave Fran fixed financially?”
    “Just five thousand left. She hasn’t another sou in the world, and she would never approach her papa for more. But can Maundley take her money? That was her dowry. It didn’t come from Camden. He gave her nothing but his title, and a life of misery.”
    “When she married, the money became Camden’s by law. Fortunately Sir Gregory got a promise out of Camden that if anything happened to him, the money would revert to Fran, no strings attached.”
    “This is so unfair!”
    “Indeed it is. Justice is an illusion. And the whole town will believe Maundley’s lies if they don’t already. It quite kills Fran’s chance of ever making a respectable alliance. I think the only thing to do is take her home to her father.”
    “She’d never go, Mr. Caine. Nor could I ask her to. She was not happy there, and with this new twist her papa would rag the poor child to death. No, we must manage to live somehow on the interest of five thousand pounds.”
    “That will hardly pay her rent, to say nothing of servants and daily living expenses.”
    “She must cut her coat to fit the cloth. She could eke out a respectable existence in the country, I expect.”
    “Yes, in hired rooms, or a little cottage,”he replied glumly. He took a deep breath and said, “Do you think I ought to offer for her?”
    The question obviously cost him something. Mrs. Denver shook her head. “You have already done more than enough, Mr. Caine. Marriages of that sort never work out. I’ll let her sleep tonight and give her the bad news in the morning.”
    “I’ll come around to see if there is anything I can do to help.”
    “You have been very kind. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
    Her desolate expression was a tacit admission that even with him, affairs had reached an impossible state. Mrs. Denver went up to bed and spent a sleepless night trying to make plans for the future. Some secret corner of her heart was half relieved that Fran would have to leave London. The girl would be bitter, of course, but at least she would be away from the sort of fast company encountered here. The sort of company that could bring a simple country girl to utter ruin. Company like Lord Maundley, and Lord Devane.
     

Chapter Nine
     
    Lord Maundley was in a fury, and in his wrath he did not hesitate to blacken Lady Camden’s character as she traduced the memory of his son. He did not believe a word the lying thief said against David. She had been nothing but grief to his family. A nobody out of the country, when David might have had a duke’s daughter, and she hadn’t even given him a son. He went straight to his solicitor in the morning and instituted the legal proceedings to seek payment for the necklace. He would not see the woman again. It was all up to the law now, and the sooner the world knew what she was, the better.
    Lady Camden went down to breakfast late that morning. Her face was pale, and purple smudges below her eyes spoke of a sleepless night. She seemed strangely apathetic, even when Mrs. Denver admitted that Mr. Caine had called on Lord Maundley.
    “I’m sure you both meant it for the best, Auntie,”she said in a flat voice. Her eyes snapped when she heard the names Maundley had called her, but even that she took without resorting to hysterics. “One always considers the source of an insult,”she said with one of her shrugs.
    Mrs. Denver did not point out that the source, in this case, was the highly prestigious Lord Maundley. Mr. Caine came to call, as promised.
    After a few