Mrs. Green slipped out but left the door open as was proper. A maid would likely arrive soon to provide an added layer of propriety.
“William.” Felicity allowed herself the intimacy of so personal a greeting during this brief moment of privacy. “How are you faring? I know you anticipated your return home would be difficult for you.”
“It has been,” he admitted. “Some aspects have been easier than I’d expected; some have been harder.”
“Do have a seat.” She motioned to the cluster of chairs and sofa nearby.
They moved to the gathered furniture. She sat a mere breath before he did the same. And there they remained for a long period of awkward silence. She felt the discomfort of the moment acutely. Never before had conversation with her dear friend been anything but easy and natural. Love, it seemed, had the unnerving ability to empty one’s mind and tie one’s tongue.
“I am attempting to discover a means of introducing a topic without doing so too abruptly,” William said, “but I find myself at a loss. Therefore, I will simply dive directly at the heart of my purpose here.”
A topic he found difficult to introduce? An aching sort of hope rose in her chest. She, too, had a secret and withheld declaration. Could his topic be the same one she felt horribly reluctant to introduce? Could newly discovered feelings for her be tying his tongue?
“I want to host a ball.”
Her heart dropped at those five words that would have, mere days earlier, been a source of delight. She’d let herself hope for a more personal confession. Still, it was not in her nature to be easily devastated.
“I think that is a wonderful idea,” she answered, proud of the calmness in her voice. “Though that is a great deal to take on while your burdens are not precisely light. I don’t imagine you have ever put on an event of such magnitude.”
“I have never put on an event of any magnitude.” That he could laugh at that admission told her clearly he was not truly overwhelmed at his undertaking. “That, my dear friend, is why I am here. I am hopeful I might find some assistance at Banbury House.”
Warmth tiptoed over her at the tenderness in his tone. She would allow herself to believe that regard was for her in particular. “I am certain we will do all we can.”
His posture visibly relaxed. “My vision for the ball is ‘An Evening at Almack’s.’”
“Almack’s?”
He nodded. “I hope to recreate, to some degree, the look and feel and experience of that famous London landmark. It will not be an exact replica, of course, but I hope it will be near enough the real thing to be an acceptable substitute.”
In an instant, she understood. “You are helping Angelina tick one more wish off her list.”
A touch of sadness entered his eyes but did not erase his smile. “I am. Your parents can likely arrange some kind of musical evening with the local families. Between that and my Almack’s offering, Angelina will have had the Season she’d hoped for.”
Felicity reached across and took his hand in hers. “Thank you, William. I don’t know what I would have done without you these last weeks.”
His fingers wrapped more firmly around hers. “I know enough of your capability to believe you would have managed the thing.”
“Managed, perhaps, but not enjoyed nearly as much.”
Was that a hint of a blush she saw steal over his features? A good sign, it seemed to her. Whether or not he felt the same heart-tug she did, he was, at least, not entirely indifferent to her.
A maid slipped into the room. Felicity pulled her hand from William’s and resumed her proper distance once more.
“I will convey your suggestion of a musicale to my mother. I believe she will enjoy planning it.” No one listening could fault the propriety of Felicity’s tone or words. “Do let us know what we can do to assist you in your endeavor.”
“As this is meant to be a particular treat for your sister, I would appreciate knowing what aspect of Almack’s in particular she would wish to experience, as well as how long of an evening she would be able to endure. I would very much wish for those things she longs for to occur at a point in the evening when she would be able to enjoy them.”
Her William, always so thoughtful. “The earlier in the evening the better. Her energy lasts longer than it did those last few days in Town, but it is certainly not boundless.”
William nodded. “And would she prefer we recreate the less-than-satisfactory food and beverage offerings Almack’s is so famous for, or ought I to allow my cook to create something edible? In other words, which matters more: accuracy or palatability?”
The maid in the corner barely managed to stifle her laugh.
Felicity allowed her own smile to spread. “I suspect everyone, and their stomachs, will forgive you the deviation from precision.”
“Do you know, I harbor the same suspicion.” He winked at her.
He’d never done that before. She would have remembered the way it sent her insides fluttering about.
“The other aspect of this I need assistance with is the choosing of a date on which to hold this Evening at Almack’s ball. I would appreciate your parents informing me of any conflicts they anticipate in the next few weeks.”
Considerate of him, but unnecessary. “With Angelina’s health what it is, we have no immediate plans to travel or be away from Lindsworth. I will, of course, have my father send word to you of anything I am not aware of.”
William nodded and rose but made no immediate move to exit. “Would you— Would I be asking too much to ask if we might take a turn about the knot garden?”
“I would enjoy that immensely.”
He offered his arm as she rose. The maid didn’t look at them as they passed, but Felicity felt certain she saw a smile tug at the girl’s mouth. Perhaps the hope she felt at William’s kind and unexpected offer was not entirely unfounded.
The weather was everything pleasant: bright, cheerful, warm without being hot, a cooling breeze that didn’t hold an uncomfortable chill. She kept her arm through William’s, something he did not object to.
“You seem in better spirits than last I saw you,” she said.
“That is, in fact, the reason I wished to have a private moment of conversation. I want to thank you for your presence as I made my return home. The weight of my grief was less crushing with you beside me.”
“The fates were smiling on us both that afternoon. I had been standing at the Carlisle Manor gate, wishing you would return.”
He looked down at her. “Have you missed me?”
“For years, William.”
His gaze returned to the path in front of them as they continued their meandering walk. “Leonard said much the same thing, though he and I have been in company with one another often in the years since I left home. I didn’t think I was so absent as all that.”
She leaned her head against his arm, reveling in the warmth of him so nearby while simultaneously hoping he derived some pleasure, or at least some comfort, from her touch. “The vicar once said that grief is like a fog from which one struggles to emerge.”
“I have been fighting that fog for far too long, Felicity.” She felt him take a deep breath. “I am ready to find my way back into the light.”
She stopped walking, so he did as well. Slipping her arm free, she turned to face him directly. “You can make that journey far better, William, if you are here, if you are home. London holds many diversions, and I am certain there are many other places you might go, but being here, no matter how difficult, will help. I know it will.”
To her great surprise, he reached for her, brushing his fingers gently along her face. “Being here has already helped.”
She closed her eyes and simply breathed through the moment. “I’ve missed you.” She’d made the admission before but did not attempt to stop herself from repeating the feelings of her heart.
His hand slipped from her cheek to her back, holding her closer to him in a tentative embrace. She rested her head a
gainst his chest, and his other arm joined his first, embracing her fully.
“I didn’t understand until recently how much I was missing being away from home,” he said. “I had cut myself off from your friendship, your support, your company.”
It was not quite the admission of love she would have preferred, but it tiptoed close enough to give her hope. That he was holding her so affectionately added to the reassurance she felt.
“Then you mean to stay for a time?” She stood very still in the circle of his arms, awaiting his answer.
“I do. I have a great deal of time to make up.”
That was enough for her. He had held her, expressed a longing for her company in particular, and he meant to remain. Love could easily grow on such a sturdy foundation. She would do all she could to nourish it.
“I likely shouldn’t push the bounds of propriety much further.” He sounded genuinely regretful as he dropped his arms away and took a step backward. “I know your parents worry a great deal over decorum.”
She opened her eyes once more, letting the lightness she felt show in her expression. “Our scandal-free weeks in Town helped ease a lot of those worries.”
He nodded. “Then I will do nothing to diminish the confidence they feel as a result.” He offered a small dip of his head. “Do have your parents send me word of any evenings that won’t be convenient for your family to attend the ball and see if you can’t finagle for me an invitation to a musicale evening here at Banbury House.”
His teasing tone inspired an identical one in her. “It may be difficult to procure, but I will manage the thing somehow.”
“As difficult as vouchers to Almack’s?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“Have you not heard? We need not plead for entrance to that famed establishment; Almack’s is coming to us.”
“Aren’t we fortunate?” He offered one final bow, then turned and made his way back toward the house, no doubt on his way back to Carlisle Manor.
Felicity’s sigh echoed inwardly. “We are fortunate, indeed.”
Chapter Eleven
“You, William, are a milksop.” Leonard’s declaration, dropped as it was without warning during their carriage ride to Banbury Manor while William was making a difficult admission of discomfort at the prospect of seeing Felicity again, prompted a momentary silence between them.
“What has inspired this observation?” William asked at long last.
“Ten minutes of you bemoaning your uncertain situation with Miss Felicity.” Leonard eyed him with humor-tinged annoyance. “The lady allowed you to embrace her, embraced you in return, and expressed a longing for your company. Those aren’t exactly reasons for discouragement.”
The man wasn’t entirely wrong, and yet some uncertainty was warranted. “I hadn’t intended to lay bare so much of what I feel and still didn’t admit to all. She said she missed me and was grateful I’m back, but she didn’t say she loved me, or was beginning to, or—”
“In the words of the Bard, ‘Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear.’ You love her, and I am very nearly convinced she returns your regard. Don’t let doubts convince you that you’ve reason to be afraid of pursuing that love.”
William let his shoulders slump. “When did you grow so wise?”
Leonard shrugged. “It is easy to be wise when advising someone in a crisis that the advice-giver need not pass through.”
“In other words, someday, when you are rendered a mass of spineless jelly by love, I can lord it over you as you are doing now to me.”
Leonard laughed. “I give you full permission to do so, though I will likely not thank you at the time.”
The carriage stopped at the top of the drive at Banbury Manor. It was the night of the musical evening Mr. and Mrs. Banbury had quickly arranged. Owing to Angelina’s continued poor health, the evening was to be an abbreviated one. William hoped it was successful, for the entire family’s sake, and relatively private, for his own. Though he was nervous at the prospect, he was in need of time with Felicity in which to determine where things stood between them and how best to proceed.
Mr. and Mrs. Banbury greeted their guests in the generous entry hall. Leonard and William took their place in the short but slow-moving line, awaiting their turn. The longer they stood there, the more nervous William grew. Perhaps Leonard was correct, and he truly was a milksop.
By the time they reached the head of the reception line, he felt entirely tongue-tied. He stumbled through his expression of gratitude at the invitation, offered an awkward bow, and only just managed to prevent himself from blurting out his desire to see and speak with Felicity. Knowing the Banburys were particularly concerned with exactness of propriety, he wished to be careful in that regard.
He and Leonard slipped into the formal drawing room where the musical evening was to be held. Familiar faces filled the space—a few years older than he remembered, yet still well-known. He was greeted with very real pleasure, most expressing great delight at his return to Lindsworth. William found himself able to return the sentiment sincerely.
At long last, he made his way far enough through the gathering to spot Felicity sitting beside her sister on a sofa nearest the pianoforte. Angelina appeared to be in good spirits. Her coloring, while not ideal, was not so worrisome as it had been the last time he’d seen her in Town. Being in the country was proving beneficial for her, and he was glad of it.
His gaze did not remain long on her, though. Felicity pulled his attention, as had happened with increasing fervency each time he was near her. She was watching her sister, both enjoyment and concern touching her features. While he did not wish to distract her from her purpose, he did hope she would look at him, even if only a glance. He hadn’t the first idea how she looked back on their unexpectedly intimate moment walking in the gardens of Banbury House. Her eyes, no doubt, would tell him a great deal. Felicity possessed the most expressive pair of eyes he’d ever encountered.
A couple approached the Banbury sisters, offering their greetings. Then an area family. And another. William was undeterred. He remained nearby, watching his sweet Felicity easily converse with whoever approached, all while maintaining a noticeable awareness of her sister.
How did I not realize before what a gem she is?
In his defense, she was only thirteen when he’d last been in Lindsworth, and he’d been mired in grief.
“I’ve never seen you so patient,” Leonard whispered to him, more than a hint of amusement in his words.
“Some moments are worth waiting for.”
“As are some people?”
William didn’t look at Leonard; he didn’t have to see his friend’s face to know the man would be silently laughing at him.
“I will find us a place to sit,” Leonard said. “You can wait here and pine.”
He didn’t bother correcting the description, though he didn’t feel he was “pining.” He preferred “patiently hoping.”
His patience, however, did not pay the dividends he’d have liked. Before he had even a moment of Felicity’s time, the evening was called to order. Everyone moved to his or her chosen spot. The younger gentlemen, himself included, were required to stand along the edges of the room, allowing the ladies and the aged to occupy the sofas and chairs gathered around the pianoforte.
From his position, William was able to see Felicity. Perhaps, if he were fortunate, he would manage to catch her eye at some point. He was not near enough to see the tiny nuances that might be there, but at least he ought to be able to differentiate between horror or pleasure at the sight of him. He likely could even identify indifference, should that be the emotion written on her face.
The music began. All eyes were on the musician. William tried not to be too obvious in his differently directed focus. He didn’t wish to embarrass her, but neither did he want to pass the entire night without even a momentary connection.
Watching her as she listened to one musical offering after another proved a treat. Her
mouth settled into a captivating whisper of a smile. Her eyes unfocused, all her attention on the notes floating about the room. He found himself less frustrated at the distance between them. A gentleman would count himself fortunate to spend his years finding ways to bring just such a look of contentment to her face.
Just as he was allowing himself to imagine that very future as his own, she turned her head, and their eyes met. For the first time in his life, he fully understood what the poets meant when they spoke of having one’s breath stolen by a glance.
A hint of color stole across her cheeks. Her smile didn’t fade. That seemed to him an encouraging sign. As he’d assumed, he couldn’t see her eyes in enough detail to ascertain anything further.
If he managed nothing else that evening, he would make certain she knew how he felt at seeing her again. He offered a soft and tender smile and the smallest upward twitch of his brow. She responded with a tiny increase in her own happy expression.
He would accept that as encouragement.
It was the extent of their interaction that evening. As soon as the last performer completed her piece, Felicity rose, her arm around Angelina, and the two slipped quickly from the room, leaving their parents to make the necessary farewells and expressions of regret.
The carriage ride back to Carlisle Manor was quieter than the one they’d made to Banbury House. Leonard allowed him silence in which to contemplate his situation.
He was no wiser tonight than he’d been the previous evening, but he was more determined. His mind had filled with the vision of a future he could not easily let go of, one he found himself eager to pursue. If Felicity shared any of his feelings, if she would consider having him in her life, he would do all in his power to prove himself worthy of any bit of her regard.
* * *
“Was it a mistake to plan such a tiring evening?” Felicity worried not only about her sister’s recovery from that night’s festivities but her ability to attend the Almack’s-inspired ball at Carlisle Manor. The family had decided to keep the ball a secret—both because Angelina would enjoy the surprise and to save her from disappointment should her health decline too quickly for her to attend.
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