She needed it, an awakening. She had to think. Her mother held many members of the ton in disdain. Felicity had always assumed that they did not associate with other peers because her mother did not desire their company. Then her governess led her to believe it was because her mother would not be welcome. But the more Felicity considered her earlier years, the more she suspected she had been initially correct that the distance was motivated by her mother’s choice in company. She’d heard her say, so often, “I wish to associate with people of true valor. Where can we find them? They are all around us here in Haversham.”
And so they had stayed sequestered, enjoying their neighbors, their tenants, her mother’s and father’s true friends.
All the while, Felicity grew restless to make her way in the world, to find a respectable man of the ton to marry, to erase the tarnish of her mother’s family, of their money from trade. Of her nontraditional ways.
Felicity pushed open the door to the outside, and the wind slammed the door back into her. She stepped out into the wind and struggled to pull the door shut once more. A servant approached, a footman, who helped her close it.
Then she turned, welcoming the wild tempestuous weather. What if her governess was more wrong and her mother more correct? What was so wrong about a woman marrying above her station?
She shook her head. Too much to understand in this one moment. She pushed against the wind. The waves crashed furiously, white tips blowing away in the air around them, mist rising up everywhere below. She suspected she’d be drenched the moment she set foot near the water. She turned and walked farther away from the estate, away from the water, toward a grove of trees on the opposite side of the property. She’d heard of a stream, a path, perhaps some shelter from the wind.
The sun had risen but was in such a haze, little warmth made its way through her outer layers. Wind whipped stronger, and the trees ahead of her bent. She felt the first raindrop.
“Oh no.” She turned. Dark clouds filled the sky behind her, moving in. The clouds opened up, and water fell down in sheets. She ran for cover under the trees, slipping on the grass on her way, stumbling up again and scrambling for cover.
She hugged the area closest to a tree trunk and felt fewer drops from above but was hit by a considerable amount coming at her side from the wind. She wrapped her arms around her middle and crouched down at the base of the tree, ducking her head in her elbows. The shivers started within a few moments.
Loud claps of thunder shattered the air around her. She pulled her knees up as close to her body as they would go.
Shouts sounded from the house, carrying as though distant, on the wind. She stood, peering through the trees. A man on horseback came barreling across the open grass.
She ran out from her cover, waving her arms, and he waved back. She squinted. Who had come?
When he came through the rain and she could recognize him, she gasped. “Lord Ridgecrest.”
He brought his horse to a stop, ran to her. “Are you all right? They alerted us to your location just as the rain began to fall. I apologize it’s taken me so long.”
Her teeth chattered. “Th-Thank you.”
He led her to his horse, placed his hands around her waist, and lifted her up. Then he jumped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her to take the reins. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you back and warm.”
She nodded, hoping to feel the warmth of their bodies, hoping to start to warm, but her skin was cold, her insides were cold, and nothing could penetrate. She dipped her head against the rain pelting at her face and pressed her lips together to stop her teeth from chattering and vibrating inside her head.
They rushed to the house and were there in moments. She slid off the horse into the arms of Mrs. Daw. “Good heavens, child. Come inside.”
Mrs. Garvey stood in the doorway, ushering them in. “Please add extra wood to the kitchen fire. We must warm her.” Her face looked pinched, concerned. Felicity paused the hurried steps of Mrs. Daw so Felicity could turn toward their hostess. “Thank you, Mrs. Garvey.”
“You’re welcome.”
They ushered her into the kitchen, sat her right in front of the fire. Soon it was blazing. The added blankets they wrapped around her shoulders and the fire helped the shivering to subside. Mrs. Daw carried over a warmed cup of broth. “There now, my lady. Sip this. It’ll warm you in no time.”
Felicity tried to grasp the cup, soak up its warmth in her fingers, but her hands shook still, and she didn’t trust herself.
“Allow me?” Lord Ridgecrest had joined her. He sat at her side and lifted the cup in his hands. His eyes were caring, concerned. He sat close, lifting the cup to her mouth. “May I?”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off his face. The warmth of the cup at her lips felt comforting; the man, watching her mouth so intently, was intoxicating. But she felt strangely distant. The broth was delicious, and she welcomed its warmth.
Mrs. Dotting arrived, flushed. “Oh, my lady! Good heavens!”
Felicity’s insides twisted in guilt. She should have let Mrs. Dotting know where she would be, should have waited until a decent hour, probably should never have gone outside in the first place.
Mrs. Dotting took in the scene and then wisely hushed while she sat near. “Oh, my poppet. What will I tell your father?”
Lord Ridgecrest lifted the cup again to Felicity’s lips, and she finished the contents of the cup. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For all of it.”
He tucked a wet strand of her hair behind her ear. “I was grateful for the opportunity. The hope that I could spare you motivated me.”
Her heart warmed at the thought. And at last she felt some of the cold dissipate. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come.”
“Your mother did much the same for me, in a manner of speaking.” He rested a hand on top of her head. “I’ll come see how you are later?”
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
He stood.
Mrs. Dotting immediately took his place. “Let’s get you up and in your bed.”
Felicity admitted that sounded like just the thing. As she made her way upstairs, allowed her maid to dress her again for bed, and even as she pulled her coverlet high up to her chin, her mind was alive with thoughts of Lord Ridgecrest. Could she have done it? Won him over?
She closed her eyes, sleep calling to her more easily than she would have thought. But her last thoughts were not of Lord Ridgecrest, but rather of the strong heartbeat of Lord Bolton, pounding against her hand. She wondered what it would have been like if he had cradled her up on a horse, riding through the rain.
CHAPTER 11
A braham entered breakfast, and the room went strangely quiet. Miss Hastings snickered to Lady Anslowe, who refused to respond. Miss Tanning watched him closer than ever. He went to the sideboard and filled his plate with some measly offerings. He felt eyes on him, and no one in the room had yet spoken since he arrived. He turned to take his seat, “Good morning.” He nodded to the room at large.
Miss Tinsdale leaned closer as he lifted the first bite to his mouth. “I’m terribly sorry. Moments like these map our disappointments.”
He swallowed slowly. “Excuse me?”
“Lady Felicity.”
“What has happened?” His alarm grew. “Is she well?”
“Oh yes, I believe so. She’s had quite a time of it, cold right through. I hear she’ll be abed today and they’re hoping she won’t be taken by fever.”
He looked around the room. They appeared mostly sympathetic at his expense.
Miss Hastings leaned forward conspiratorially. “Lord Ridgecrest rode down the property in the rain, placed her on his horse, and rode back. I hear they were together in the kitchen and that he has visited her room asking after her twice already.”
Abraham’s mind was aflood with emotion. And he was well aware of the intent manner in which everyone was watching for his reaction. “I am so sorry to hear it. I hope she will
be well.” He sipped his tea. “We can all be grateful for Lord Ridgecrest. I can think of no man she’d rather have at her side in a moment of distress.”
Miss Tinsdale’s eyes filled with sympathy, and he could not abide another moment of false caring. Then others, including Lord Bellingham, entered the room, and soon the conversation turned to much more neutral topics. But Abraham’s mind was racing with thoughts. Lady Felicity ill. They were worried about fevers. And Lord Ridgecrest. He almost growled in the back of his throat as he imaged that man’s arms around Lady Felicity on the back of a horse. He could not abide the thought, and suddenly, he cared less for his estate and more for himself. The mistress of his estate could also be the mistress of his heart, even if she didn’t bring with her a penny.
It was time he made his intentions clear. He stood. What were his intentions, exactly? He didn’t know. He sat back down. Mr. Cavanaugh, who sat opposite, eyed him, then asked another question of Sir Richard, something about crops in India. Abraham stared at his food and then couldn’t stomach it. He stood again.
Everyone noticed, but he paid them no mind, nodded to the room at large, and then walked with purpose out the door. Once he’d cleared their training eyes, he picked up his pace and took the stairs two at a time. He stopped a passing maid. “Would you tell me where to find Lady Felicity? I hear she is unwell.”
“Aye, my lord. And she’s being doted on, make no mistake.” She pointed and explained which room was Lady Felicity’s and then curtseyed to his back as he hurried away.
He rounded a corner and then slowed immediately. Ridgecrest. Watching Lord Ridgecrest exit Lady Felicity’s room set his blood burning. When he passed, the man’s smirk made Abraham ill. But neither said anything, Abraham’s nod in greeting was the briefest he could muster.
His feet moved slower in the dim hallway, her door barring him from doing anything to alleviate her suffering. Her door that welcomed Ridgecrest. He stood outside, not knowing his purpose. Dash. He should have brought something, anything. Flowers. A biscuit from breakfast? No, that would have cheered no one. A book. He nodded to himself. He would go find her a book to read.
The sounds of movement inside stalled his exit. Really, he just wanted to see her. How was she? Was a fever imminent, like the intrusive Miss Hastings suggested? The door opened, and he moved to get a good view of her bed. He sucked in a breath. Lady Felicity. Her cheeks were rosy, her face flushed, but she appeared to be well enough. His shoulders relaxed in a great sense of relief. Just as the door was closing, her eyes raised to meet his gaze. Then the door shut. Mrs. Garvey cleared her throat.
“Oh, I beg your leave.” He bowed. “Is she well?”
Mrs. Garvey waved her hand. “Perfectly well. Eating the foods I suggest and some of my elderberry wine will restore her much quicker than calling the doctor, who will only swallow up our money, nod a few times, and take his leave.”
Abraham nodded. “Thank you, for your care.” As she turned to leave, he stammered. “Might I?” He indicated the door.
“Enter her room?” Mrs. Garvey’s eyebrows rose up to her hairline, and she somehow managed to look down her nose at his tall person. “I should think not. Not while I cannot attend you.”
He dipped his head. “Just so. Thank you.”
Her face softened. “But if you wish to send in a message or other gift, I’m certain one of the maids would be happy to deliver it.”
“Yes. Thank you.” His heart picked up. A mission to the library to fetch Lady Felicity a book would be just the thing.
He walked through the hallways toward the library with a singular purpose. Somehow Miss Tanning mattered less and less. But what if he followed his heart and Lady Felicity would not choose him? That was a risk he would have to take. He had to try. Dash it all. Dash his chances with Miss Tanning, dash his whole estate, he had to try. He gulped. And hoped that she would accept his suit and hoped she would have something for them to live on in her dowry.
The library was empty, so he made his way down the aisles of books. What would she enjoy? He cursed the fact that he didn’t know. He wished to know everything about her, her whims, her every wish. But at the moment, he would try to find something entertaining. The books were mostly old, scholarly. He was impressed with the library. Mr. Garvey cleared his throat behind Abraham.
“Oh, just the man I was hoping to see.”
“Could I help you find a title?”
“Yes, for a young lady. She’s been caught in this infernal wind and a short downfall of rain.”
“I have just the thing. Have you heard of Jane Austen? Sense and Sensibility was her first.”
Abraham had not, but he grinned. “If you suggest it to be of value to the ladies, I will gladly borrow it in her behalf.”
“It is her newest I think she will most enjoy. Pride and Prejudice.” He moved along a row of books. “Here.” He reached up, dusted off the top of a small volume, and handed it to Abraham.
“Thank you. I’m in your debt. I admit to being at quite a loss.” He glanced up at the books. “I see you are a scholar of war strategy.”
“Yes, I’ve also been following Wellington.”
“That’s a drawing room discussion I’d love to have. Perhaps later this evening.”
“I’ll be here. Join me.” Mr. Garvey nodded to him and left Abraham to his own plans.
He sat at a desk across the room, searched out an inkwell and pen, but was at a loss to find paper. He sat back. What house did not keep sheets of paper in their library desks? He searched further, then eyed the wall of books. Surely, somewhere would be a few sheaves. It was a library, after all. A small voice made him jump. He whirled around to see who else had happened upon him unawares. “Lady Anslowe?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Sorry to startle you.”
“I had no idea a library could hide so many individuals. I thought I was alone.” He bowed. “I apologize for my jump.”
“I couldn’t help but notice you are searching for something.” She indicated his inkwell. “Perhaps a sheaf of paper or parchment?” She held up her stack. “I would be happy to share.”
“Oh, thank you. You’ve come right at the most opportune moment.”
She handed him two. “Are you working on something special?” She walked closer to his desk. “Pride and Prejudice. One of my favorites. Are you reading it?”
He chuckled. What could he say to this? “I would enjoy reading it, but it is a gift. I thought a young lady confined to her room might like something to read.”
“Ah, for Lady Felicity.”
“Are you much acquainted with her?”
“Somewhat. We shared a table with the all-knowing Mrs. Daw the other evening.”
“The housekeeper?”
“The very one.” She tapped her papers together on the desk and then secured them in her arms. “I enjoyed her company very much. I wonder. Would you mind delivering a note from me as well?”
A note from Lady Anneslow might be just the thing to hide his own. “Certainly. I would be happy to oblige.”
She sat at another desk, took out a pen and then searched in vain for ink. “Might I share in the well?”
He scooted his chair over and she dipped her pen, scratching a message across the paper. He couldn’t begin his own missive until she had quite finished.
“I would love to further our acquaintance. She’s just the sort of friend meant for keeping.” She stood again, leaving her letter to dry on the top of the desk. “I will leave you to it, then. I’m here myself to choose a title to while away this abysmal weather we are having.”
“Thank you again for the paper.”
She nodded, an amused glint in her eye and left him alone.
He thought over his words. Did he dare leave this note? Perhaps without his or her name so as not to entrap her. He closed his eyes and thought of her smile, her wit, the beautiful fullness of her mouth. Then he dipped his pen and began to write.
Dear accomplice from the beach,
>
I hope your time to rest is not too tedious and that you return to the party soon. I have walked by your door too many times to count, wishing every time your prison wardens would give me entrance. But they cannot deny this book.
I have struggled, knowing your plans for romance lie elsewhere, or rather, your plans for marriage lie elsewhere. I doubt very much if romance could ever find you in that “other.” But I wonder if perhaps your plans for romance might include me? And I ask, shouldn’t romance and marriage be made for each other, as I suspect you and I are? I find myself at a loss without you. When you are well and can accept visitors, I beg an opportunity to court you properly.
Yours. Entirely yours,
Your now highly improper suitor,
Abraham
P.S. Your handkerchief still smells of lemons, and I thank you for it. I shall never return it.
He read through the letter five times before he felt daring enough to send it. What could he lose? She would either accept the idea of his suit or reject him in favor or her original plan with Ridgecrest. He loathed that man more the longer time passed. One thing he most definitely might lose was an opportunity to court Miss Tanning. But the more he thought about her, the calm, practical choice, he could not even fathom such a choice when there was a woman in the world like Lady Felicity. He suspected she was the only woman of her kind, the only one to make him happy. And he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed straight away and spent every waking moment trying to woo her.
He made his way back to the hallway outside her bedroom. As he approached, Mrs. Daw was closing the door.
“Mrs. Daw?”
“Oh, Lord Bolton. I’m sure she will be so very pleased to see you.”
His mouth dropped open, amazed at his good fortune. “Might I . . . could I be permitted to see her?”
“Naturally. I will join you so that it is all very proper and on the up and up.”
“Oh, I would be most grateful. Is she? Is now a good time?”
“Yes, I think you’ve come at the perfect time, as she’s about ready to revolt in her great boredom.”
Charmed by His Lordship (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 3) Page 8
