Chapter Fifteen: Casual Wedding Conversations

Franny did not get much sleep, which was not at all surprising considering the events that had transpired in the afternoon. However, the next morning when Annabeth came to wake her up, she sprang up from the bed as fresh as a daisy.

"Are you quite all right, Miss?" Annabeth inquired with a concerned expression on her face.

"Of course, Annabeth, why do you ask? I am thrilled to bits about the wedding."

"Good morning dearest," came Lucy's tinkling voice, followed by her pixie head, "This has just arrived fresh from the modiste, I had it made for you."

"Hmm, absolutely exquisite, Auntie!" Franny exclaimed as she ran her hands over a light blue dress embroidered with small white flowers on the top and laced with a layer of silvery threads.

"You had it made without me?"

"Yes, Genevieve knows your measurements and we both agreed that your presence would considerably slow the process down."

"Hmm, I'll let that slip, because she did a wonderful job. She is very talented, and she runs her own business. Maybe I should get better acquainted with her. I have to admit even that fake French accent of hers is a smart coy."

"Franny."

"Why Auntie, after being forced to endure endless hours of French classes with that terrible Governess Boileau to cultivate my French heritage, the least I can do is recognise a fake accent."

"Well, Madame Delacroix is certainly a woman of many talents, but for now you should concentrate on making a good impression on the Bridgertons, especially the Viscountess, she runs the family after all."

"Anthony would disagree."

"Franny please," Lucy shot an all-knowing look at her.

"Annabeth, do you think you can braid my hair into a coiffure? I don't want it let down, I feel this wedding calls for more elegance."

And of course, last night had demonstrated that Benedict found her hair up to his liking.

"May I presume that things are going well with Mr. Bridgerton?"

"Well, yes, I think I genuinely like him, Auntie."

Lucy smiled lovingly at her niece, "I am happy for you, Franny. Henry also speaks highly of him, he mentioned that he has great potential and that you all had a wonderful time last night."

Franny could not help but blush, and that, of course, did not escape Lucy's attention. She sighed.

"Was Mary there?"

"Yes, she was, why?"

"Then I don't need more details," Lucy murmured, taking her leave, turning back from the door, "I suppose we will have some matters to discuss once we are back from the wedding."

And then she left, with the promise lingering, leaving Franny confused.

✦

The wedding was simply perfect. From the delicious food, through the dainty and classy decorations to the excellent music, everything was beyond compare. The Bridgertons have outdone themselves, not that Franny, or any member of the ton, would have expected otherwise. She almost felt guilty for taking a piece of cake thus breaking up the masterful composition, but it looked too appetising not to taste it. Not to mention that she avoided making eye contact lest some gentleman decide to chat her up.

"Good afternoon Miss Granville, I am glad to see you," Lord Wetherby walked by Franny's side with a polite smile on his handsome face.

"Lord Wetherby, what a pleasure. How have you been lately?" Franny inquired.

"Fine, thank you," he replied curtly, but not unkindly.

"Except, of course, the onslaught of matchmaking mamas, I reckon."

Lord Wetherby's smile widened, revealing his perfect teeth, "Occupational hazard, I suppose."

For a minute they stood in silence, drinking their champagnes and Franny finishing her cake.

"Miss Granville," as Lord Wetherby started to speak, Franny heard the hesitation in his voice, "I believe I owe you an apology. Now that you have all the pieces together you must think of me as cruel and selfish."

"Not at all, Lord Wetherby. Your proposal was sensible and indeed would have been beneficial for both of us. But for the time being, I would like to give the Marriage Mart a chance."

Lord Wetherby nodded with a small smile, suspecting what, or rather who the Mart really meant.

"And if you ever need an escape from vulgar mamas, you can always count on me. Indeed, it has been way too long since I delivered a punchline," Franny added.

Lord Wetherby chuckled, "That is most gracious of you, Miss Granville. Naturally, I shall reciprocate the offer should you ever need me to."

After a moment of hesitation, he continued, lowering his voice, "And Henry also assured me that you have no problem with our . I am beholden for that too."

"Nonsense," Franny waved her hand, and lowered her tone, adopting an encouraging smile, "Who am I to judge who one can and cannot love."

Lord Wetherby nodded gratefully, then added, "I see Mr. Bridgerton approaching us, so I shall take my leave. I wish you a pleasant afternoon, Miss Granville."

"Thank you, and I for you too."

"Miss Granville," Benedict flashed a smile at Franny which was enough to make her knees tremble, "may I remark that you look exceptionally lovely today."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. You too are a sight for sore eyes."

Benedict leaned over Franny to take a piece of cake and made use of his position to add in a whisper, "Although I am missing the shade of red that inhabited your cheeks last night."

Franny blushed, her ears burning.

"Hmm, and here it is," Benedict's brazen grin widened, enjoying the effect he had on her.

"So," Benedict asked nonchalantly, but Franny could sense his anticipation in his calm tone, "did you have a nice chat with Lord Wetherby?"

"Yes, we discussed what kind of cake we shall have at our wedding,"

Benedict gulped on his champagne, coughing loudly.

"I am sorry," Franny apologised worriedly, "That was uncalled for. Truth to be told, I will not be marrying Lord Wetherby."

"I am delighted to hear that."

"You certainly call a spade a spade."

"Well, you did say that you found honesty an admirable quality in me."

"I am not responding to that."

"Also, I do hope that I played a role in your consideration of turning down his offer."

"I don't know," Franny tilted her head insolently, raising a provocative eyebrow, "Have you made a counteroffer, Mr. Bridgerton?"

"Hmm, I do not think that would be appropriate at my sister's wedding, do you? Albeit," he sipped his champagne with deliberate slowness, enjoying the tension, "that doesn't mean there shall never come an appropriate time."