The Bet

Chapter 1: Wellington Ballroom, London

Frances was trying to escape into the Ladies' room and take refuge there for an hour, but no! As if on cue her mother appeared in front of her; Frances was sure her mother could hear her thoughts.

'Frances! I hope you are not planning on spending this evening in hiding,' admonished her mother.

'Mama! How can you accuse me of such a thing? You know how much I like London Balls,' said Frances, her innocent act fooling no one. They both knew she hated the London season. Frances was a country girl; she didn't do well in the polished society.

'Come along, Viscount Waymound asked for a waltz with you,' said her mother Mrs.Sophia Hill.

Mrs. Hill was not an ambitious mother like the rest of the mothers in town; she didn't want her daughter to be married to a wealthy gentleman. She just wanted her to be married before Frances did any permanent damage.

'Not Lord Waymound Anne said,' Frances started to moan before her mother quelled her with a glare.

Mrs.Hill groaned inside and thought, 'What has Anne done again! If Anne doesn't shut up, Frances is going to end up a spinster, although Frances can manage it all by herself.'

Frances was one and twenty and a breathtakingly beautiful brunette with green eyes. This was her first London season. She was considered the season's diamond. Her dance card was always full. When she said she was thirsty, there was a mad rush to the lemonade stand to fetch her a drink. Their sitting room was filled with bouquets.

Others may think Mrs.Hill's worries were baseless, but she knew better. Mrs.Hill's plan was to get Frances married to a decent gentleman while he is befuddled by her beauty before he stumbles upon her 'problem.'

They traveled all the way from Liverpool as Frances managed to scare away every gentleman there. Mrs. Hill once hoped that Lord Kenworthy would marry Frances, he was friends with her and mostly kept her problem in check, but he married the all mysterious Indian girl Sanah James.

'Remember the London rules, Franny,' ordered Mrs.Hill.

'Yes Mama!' Frances sighed.

'Lord Waymound,' curtsied Frances.

'Miss Hill, you look as lovely as ever. Shall we?' asked Lord Waymound.

Frances counted to ten and said 'The weather seems to be pleasant today, Lord.'

Lord Waymound offered his hand. Frances took it as he led them to the dance floor. Frances was a good dancer, but she preferred Scottish reel to Waltz.

They bowed as the dance ended and Frances sidled toward the Ladies' room but was ambushed once again not by her mother but her aunt. Her aunt Lady Mary Smith, Baroness of Nottingham was notoriously famous for her gossiping and she knew everything happening in London.

'Come girl, we need to find your mama, I have important news for her,' said Lady Smith.

'Mama is near the lemonade stand, I need to use the Ladies' room,' said Frances. Lady Smith gave her the you-don't-fool-me-for-a-second look, took Frances's elbow and frog marched her.

'What happened Mary? What did Frances do?' asked Mrs.Hill looking mortified.

'Relax Sophie, Frances is well-behaved, and am sure she remembers London rules,' said Lady Smith giving a stare which Frances knew to mean 'I'm an adult, I know what I'm doing and you should do well to remember it.' Frances nodded, barely managing to roll her eyes.

Aunt Mary was excellent at giving messages through her eyes. You can't mother nine children without learning a thing or two, Frances thought.

'I saw Frances dance with Lord Waymound. We should stop his advances, he is not a good match, I heard he is a drunk and gambler,' said Aunt Mary.

'But he seemed sober when we danced,' said Frances, thankful she didn't have to reject him. She knew if aunty Mary said he was a drunk, he must be.

Mrs.Hill said, 'As long as he doesn't get violent, I think it would be better if he is drunk. Mostly, it would keep his mind off you know -,' she lowered her voice and said ' -Frances's problem.' This time Frances did roll her eyes.

Frances believed in love. She did not want to marry anyone as her mother would like for her to. She missed George, he knew her better than she did herself. She would be forced to call him Lord Kenworthy if he was here. But he couldn't come as his wife Sanah was 7-months pregnant. Frances hoped she could be back home before Chundu, Master Kenworthy, arrived. What a weird nickname to call a kid! Sanah had explained that it was a nickname for mice in her native language. Frances smiled again - who would call their kid a mouse? But George, to her astonishment, went along.

'Frances! Frances! Are you listening?' asked Aunt Mary, giving her the what-are-you-doing-not-hanging-to-every-word-I-tell-you look.

'Sorry Aunt Mary, what did you say?', Frances apologised.

'Lord Vandam is attending today,' said Aunt. Seeing Mrs.Hill's incomprehension, 'Earl of Brentwood' explained her Aunt.

'I thought he didn't attend parties,' said Frances.

'Stay clear of him, avoid him by all means.'

'Why? He is quite vocal in parliament. I read reports that under his stewardship agriculture production tripled and he was appreciated by the King himself. And he is friends with Prince Philip. Such a person can't be a bad person. I really hope you would introduce me,' concluded Frances.

'No!' her aunt nearly screamed, and many people turned in their direction.

Aunt Mary smiled apologetically, lowered her voice, and said, 'He is a beard-.'

'Mary!' admonished Mrs.Hill glared at Aunt Mary the way she usually reserved for Frances. 

'-splitter' finished Aunt Mary.

Frances was amused to watch this exchange, though she didn't know what was wrong with spitting bread. It was obviously a bad thing, she supposed wasting food is wrong.

But one thing was clear: if Lord Vandam could induce such a reaction in Aunt Mary, she should avoid him.

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