Charles and Ester were there, struggling with a now hysterical Franni. Osbert waded in, trying to help. Every sound faded to stillness as Gyles looked down at her. “Every word.”

He found her hand, raised it, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I never wanted to love-and especially not you. Now I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He looked into her eyes; she saw the change in his-the hesitation, the uncertainty. “And you?”

She smiled beatifically, then lifted her head and touched her lips to his. “You know very well I love you…”-she searched for words, then simply said-“as you love me.”

He bent his head and kissed her, gently, lingeringly-she kissed him back, letting the moment sink into her memories, and his.

When he drew back, she smiled through happy tears. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you would never be dull or boring.”

“Dull or boring?” He shoved the front pew forward, then grabbed the back to lever himself from her so he didn’t crush her further against the floor. “Are those the criteria on which you judge my performance?”

He stood and held out a hand. She let him pull her to her feet. “Among others. But now I know so much more, I have even higher standards.”

He met her gaze. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

The wailing and admonitions had gained in volume. They turned to see Franni threshing furiously, sobbing, eyes shut, mouth wide. Osbert and the two footmen were holding her, trying not to hurt her and getting hurt for their pains. Ester, disheveled, having clearly grappled with Franni herself, was trying to frame her niece’s face, speaking soothingly, trying to reach Franni and calm her.

Charles stood before them, facing Franni, the pistol hanging limply in one hand. As they watched, he drew in a huge breath, then turned and saw them. His face was ashen. He looked at the pistol, then stepped down and laid it on the front pew. Approaching them, he lifted his head; bracing himself, he stopped before them.

“I am so sorry.” The words seemed to sap all his strength. He ran a hand through his hair, glanced back at Franni.

He was more shaken than they were. Francesca exchanged a glance with Gyles. “It’s all right.” She took Charles’s hands in hers.

He returned the pressure of her fingers, attempted a smile, but shook his head. “No, my dear. I wish it were, but it’s not all right.” He glanced again at Franni; her sobs were gradually abating. “Ester and I have been afraid something like this would happen. We’ve been watching Franni for years, wondering, hoping…” He sighed, then looked at Francesca and released her hands. “But it wasn’t to be.” Straightening, he glanced at Gyles. “I owe you an explanation.” Francesca and Gyles opened their mouths; Charles held up his hand. “No-please, let me say it. Let me tell you so you can decide for yourselves. So you can understand.”

Francesca and Gyles exchanged a glance. Gyles nodded. “As you wish.”

Charles hauled in a huge breath. “You’ll have heard that Elise, my wife, Franni’s mother, threw herself to her death from the tower at Rawlings Hall. That’s not precisely true. I was with her. She didn’t throw herself.” Charles’s face grew bleak. “She fell while trying to push me over the edge.”

“She tried to kill you?”

“Yes.” The word was a long, painful sigh. “And don’t ask me why-I never knew. But that’s not the whole story. It doesn’t start there. Elise’s mother, Ester’s mother, too, also… went mad. She was incarcerated for a time, but eventually died. I don’t know the details. I wasn’t told, never knew, not until Ester came to live with us a year or so after Franni was born. After Elise started… changing.” Charles dragged in a breath. “It runs in the women of that family, but not all of them are affected. Ester isn’t. The trouble starts, if it’s going to start, sometime after twenty years of age. Elise…” His daze grew distant. “She was so lovely-we were so happy. Then it turned into a nightmare. Delusions that gradually escalated to derangement. Then to violence. Then it ended.”

Francesca reached for Gyles’s hand, grateful for the warmth when his hand enveloped hers.

Charles exhaled, shook his head. “Ester knew about her mother. She didn’t think it wise for Elise to marry-it’s the reason Ester never has. But our fathers, mine and Elise’s, were set on the match. I’m sure Papa didn’t know at the time. He did afterward, of course. As always, such happenings are hidden away. Ester was sent to an aunt in Yorkshire until after Elise and I were married, and Franni was born.”

His gaze exhausted and bleak, Charles looked at Francesca. “I’m so sorry, my dear, that you were caught up in this-we’d been hoping for so long that Franni would be spared… we just kept hoping. We didn’t realize until we were here, in London, that she was truly deteriorating. You have to believe me-we never imagined she’d go… so fast.”

Visibly steeling himself, Charles faced Gyles. “What will you do?”

Gyles looked at Charles and felt nothing but compassion, saw nothing but a man who had loved his wife and sought to protect his only daughter. Raising a hand, he gripped Charles’s shoulder. “I assume you’ll want to take Franni back to Rawlings Hall without delay. Can you manage? What can we do to help?”

Charles blinked. He searched Gyles’s eyes. “You won’t press charges?”

Gyles held his gaze. “Franni’s a Rawlings. Despite her illness, she’s family, and she can’t help how she is.”

Charles looked down. Francesca squeezed his arm. His throat worked, then he whispered, “Thank you.”

Gyles dragged in a breath, and looked again at Franni, now slumped, exhausted, supported by Ester and one of the footmen. “I’d offer to help carry her to the carriage, but I think it might be best if Francesca and I left. Franni will be more docile with us gone.”

Charles nodded.

“If you can manage it, call at the house before you leave London. We’d like to know all’s well.” Gyles held out his hand.

Charles gripped it. “I will-and again, thank you.”

“Take care.” Francesca stretched up to kiss her uncle’s cheek. “All of you.”

Charles’s lips twisted. He turned away as Osbert came up, looking more serious than Francesca had ever seen him. “I’ll stay with Charles-help get the girl into the hackney.”

Gyles clapped him on the shoulder. “Drop by tomorrow and fill us in.”

Osbert nodded and turned back to the group before the altar. Francesca took one last look at Franni, eyes closed, head back, mouth agape, sagging against Ester, who was gently brushing back her wispy hair.

“Come.” Gyles turned Francesca. His arm about her, he guided her from the chapel.


“I want, I want, and I shall have.” In the dark warmth of the carriage, wrapped in Gyles’s arms, Francesca repeated the litany. “That Franni got from our grandfather. It was one of his favorite sayings.”

Gyles held her close. She’d made no demur when he’d lifted her into his lap the instant they’d started off. He needed to hold her, to reassure the barbarian that all was well and she was here, still with him, safe and unhurt. She seemed equally content to rest against him, her head on his shoulder, one hand splayed on his chest, over his heart. “I thought you never met old Francis.”

“I didn’t. Papa told me-he explained about Grandfather, about how stubborn he was. He wanted me to know just in case…”

Gyles thought of a man farsighted enough to protect his daughter into any possible future. “I’m sorry I never met your father.”

“He’d have liked you-approved of you.”

Never had Gyles felt more conscious of his own happiness, his own good fortune. He thought of all he had-all Charles had not had a true chance to enjoy. “Poor Franni. Not only did she inherit madness from her mother, but she also absorbed old Francis’s peculiar madness.”

“I didn’t say anything before-to Charles. It would only upset him more. Ester told me Francis spent a great deal of time with Franni, and that that had pleased Charles.”

Gyles pressed a kiss to Francesca’s curls. “Best leave him with that memory.”

The carriage rattled on. They’d pulled the leather flaps down over the windows, shutting out the chilly night, creating a dark, companionable cave.

“Thank you for not pressing charges.”

“I meant what I said about Franni being family.”

She’d taught him, made him see, what family in the wider sense was about-the support, the net of caring. After a moment, he added, “In a way, we’re indebted to Franni. If she hadn’t been there to appear as the cipher I thought I wanted to wed, then I would have realized who Francesca Rawlings was before we sealed the matter, and then it wouldn’t have been sealed at all.”

“Would you really not have married me if you’d known who I was? Known that Francesca Rawlings was me?”

Gyles laughed. “I knew the instant I set eyes on you that you were the last woman I should marry if I wanted a meek, mild-mannered cipher as wife. And I was right.”

At her soft humph he smiled, but then sobered. “If Franni hadn’t been there, we wouldn’t be here now, married, in love, expecting our first child. My only regret is that my appearing at Rawlings Hall seems to have acted as a catalyst for her delusions.”

“If not you, then some other.” Francesca was silent for some time, then murmured, “Fate moves in mysterious ways.”

Gyles stroked her hair. “We won’t be able to visit Rawlings Hall. Franni will do better without seeing us again.”

“I feel for Charles and Ester. To have watched and waited all Franni’s life, only to have their worst dreams come true.”

“We can still help-make sure Charles can hire the best carers for Franni. And we can make sure Charles and Ester get away every now and then-we can invite them to Lambourn in summer.”