Lord Wastrel (The Curse of True Love Book 2)

by Donna Cummings

  A nursemaid dashed around the open door and then bobbed a quick curtsey. "I apologize, my lord. I turned around for one moment to fetch Miss Lucinda's tea, and then she was gone."

  Lucinda's lips formed into a pout, and her tiny eyebrows descended into the most adorable scowl. Hugh had to bite back a smile, for the minx was a miniature version of him when he was displeased, although he was able to incite fear rather than joy with that same expression.

  "I was just thinking I could use some tea," he said. "Would you like to join me in the nursery, poppet?"

  Lucinda nodded so vigorously, her head nearly caught him on the chin. "Yes, Papa. That is why I came up here, to bring you with me."

  "Is that so?"

  He gazed at her with his eyes wide, informing the little liar he did not believe her for a minute. She was a stalwart, though, returning her own wide-eyed expression, without blinking.

  He cleared his throat, to keep from laughing. Being a father would always provide challenges, but some days the biggest one was maintaining a straight face while disciplining this high-spirited creature. He could definitely use a helpmeet for that task.

  "In future, when you decide to leave, for any reason, you must first ask permission—"

  Lucinda opened her mouth to protest, but he did not let her speak.

  "—or at the very least, you must inform Nurse where you are going. Will you promise me that?"

  "Yes, Papa."

  Her pout subsided, but only slightly. He nearly sighed. He did not want to break her spirit, but she would have a much easier life if she learned there were rules and boundaries to follow, and they were for her benefit.

  He chuckled. His own life would be much easier if she learned that lesson, and quickly.

  "Let us go have our tea," he said, giving her a little squeeze.

  "Yes!" She gave him a wet kiss on the tip of his nose. "I love you, Papa."

  "I love you too, Lucinda."

  "And I really was going to tell Nurse that I was leaving. Only I forgot, and—"

  He tilted his head down, giving her a frown. Her mouth stayed open for two full seconds and then she clamped it shut.

  Another valuable lesson learned. His daughter would continue to fight for her cause at a later date.

  Where had she possibly discovered that tactic?

  ***

  Hugh stretched his left leg. He rubbed a spot on his thigh, hoping the cramp would subside soon, or he might not be able to get up from the tiny nursery chair. He lifted the miniature tea cup to his lips and pretended to drink it for the longest time. His daughter's delighted giggles made him smack his lips and declare, "That is the best cup of imaginary tea I have ever had."

  She lifted a teapot with all the grace of a duchess. "Would you like some more?"

  "Oh, yes," he said with relish, holding the cup towards her.

  She poured a large portion of air into his cup, her tongue out to the side while she concentrated. "There," she said, beaming.

  "Thank you," he said with a nod. He raised the cup and bobbled it, and then tried to catch it, his hands fluttering everywhere. Her mouth made a big O of surprise and then she started whooping with laughter. How could he not be the clown for his little treasure?

  "Oh, dash it all, now I've spilled it on my waistcoat." He made a big show of wiping at the spot with one hand—the hand that had the cup in it.

  "Papa!" she squealed before covering her mouth to contain the laughter.

  "What?" He gazed at her as if he had no idea what was causing her mirth.

  "You're spilling it even more!"

  "Oh, no." He carefully set the cup, upside down, on the table, and then proceeded to dab at his waistcoat with a napkin.

  "No!" She raced to pick up the cup and turn it right side up. She clucked her tongue as she looked at him. He half expected a finger wagged at him for his naughtiness too.

  "Come here," he said.

  She skipped over to him, and the absolute joy in her face was almost too much for him. He had never expected anyone to feel for him as she so obviously did, and it made a lump appear in his throat.

  He was the luckiest of men, even if he had not thought so the day she had appeared on his doorstep. Her life had started out so inauspiciously—she had not even known she had a father—but it was clear whatever hardships she had experienced had not left a mark, and for that he was eternally grateful.

  He set her on his knee, knowing the joint was likely to protest when he climbed onto his horse on the morrow. But she was too delightful for him to worry about that now.

  "What would you like to do next?" he asked her.

  Her brow wrinkled while she put a great deal of thought into the question. Then an "aha!" expression appeared. "I would like to ride a pony. My own pony."

  He nearly groaned. He should have known better than to ask such a question. Just as he knew he could never really deny any request of hers.

  It was another timely reminder why he required Miss Lansdale's assistance in raising his boisterous child—before he lost the ability to withstand his daughter's strong will entirely.

  "We shall see about getting you a pony some day, my love, but until then, how about we go to the stables and feed the horses. Will that do instead?"

  Lucinda's delighted "Yes!" nearly shattered his eardrums.

  Chapter 6

  "What a pleasant day it has turned out to be," Penelope commented, shielding her eyes as she glanced down the path of Rotten Row.

  "Quite pleasant," Hugh agreed.

  Penelope had suggested they both ride that day, instead of driving in his phaeton, and he had been grateful for the suggestion. Sitting in a carriage did not suit his mood at all.

  It should have pleased him that Penelope knew what he needed without him even saying a word. He could not have asked for a more perfect woman to be his bride.

  Hugh rubbed his jaw, surprised it was so tight. He had begun clenching it lately for some reason. It had been ages since he had gone to his club, or taken his chances at the gambling dens. Perhaps he should talk to Julian and Tony about a small gathering, just for old times' sake, before he found himself permanently ensnared in parson's mousetrap.

  He swallowed uncomfortably. Perhaps he also needed to speak to his valet about tying his neckcloth too tight. That also had been occurring much too often of late.

  "My lord, isn't that your friend, Lady Felicia?"

  Penelope nodded in the direction of a large assembly of riders and their mounts. His betrothed's beautiful face had no genuine emotion displayed on it, no hint of curiosity, and none of the spark that Felicia's equally beautiful face constantly exhibited.

  He must cease this constant comparing of the two. He was marrying Penelope. Felicia was merely—

  He caught his breath when the crowd parted, displaying Felicia on her horse in the middle of the admiring throng. Her face lit up at a quip from one of her devotees, and she laughed with abandon. She was overflowing with life, and joy, and vivacity.

  Hugh's body stirred, drawn to her despite his brain's strictures to concentrate on his betrothed instead. Felicia did everything to excess, enjoying herself in a wild and unrestrained fashion, flouting all of Society's rules. . .

  She was the female version of Lord Wastrel! Hugh nearly laughed aloud at that revelation. It explained so much.

  Still, in a tiny corner of his heart, and an insistent area much further below, he could not help but wonder what it would be like to enjoy every one of life's pleasures with Felicia, knowing she possessed as great an appetite for them as he did.

  Or rather, as he had.

  "Are you quite all right, my lord?"

  "Of course," he answered smoothly. "Why do you ask?"

  "You are scowling quite fiercely," Penelope said. "I became concerned for you."

  He loosened his features, taking his cue from Penelope's smooth unemotional visage. He turned his gaze away from the cheerful gathering and swept his hand out in front of him.

 
; "Shall we ride this direction?"

  Penelope nodded, the plume on her hat bobbing in a delightful fashion. She sat her horse with a great deal of grace, and she smiled at him as though pleased by what she saw. He sat a bit straighter, knowing he cut a dashing figure in his bespoke riding habit. Being the source of her pleasure made him happy, and helped to erase some of his earlier guilt.

  Yet he struggled to keep his eyes straight ahead when he heard a burst of joyful laughter from the crowd behind him. Felicia was likely deciding which of the hapless young bucks would be her next elopement victim.

  He clenched his jaw again. Perhaps he would call on Julian this evening and warn him about Felicia's flighty behavior. Not that Julian was unaware, or any less than a devoted sibling. Hugh knew what a difficult task it was to keep all that boisterous joie de vivre under wraps. Most likely Julian had given up trying to do so.

  Hugh heard the hooves of another horse hitting the dirt path, and did not have to look to know Felicia was trying to catch up with them. He could sense her presence, and in the next instant he caught her scent, something light and floral, a great deal more tantalizing than it should be to a man betrothed to another.

  "Lady Felicia," Penelope said. "I am so happy to see you."

  Hugh glanced at her, to see what happiness looked like on her face. It was pleasant, and polite, almost regal, whereas Felicia—

  Her cheeks were rosy from the brisk ride. Several auburn curls flew about her face, emphasizing the brightness of her blue eyes. How could he keep his eyes away from the laughter spilling from her gorgeous red lips?

  "Felicia," he said, his voice filled with disapproval. "You must be more circumspect."

  She blinked, and her expression dimmed slightly. It caused him a pang that he had affected her so, especially since he was aware he was actually chiding himself.

  "I meant only that you should take more care," he said, more kindly. "I do not wish for you to come to harm." He turned towards Penelope. "I have known Felicia since she was a mere sprite, so I tend to think it is my responsibility to rebuke her for her riotous behavior."

  "Oh, he is quite horrible," Felicia said with a laugh, her customary spirit restored. "And bossy. You have no idea what you have agreed to, Miss Lansdale."

  Penelope smiled, almost indulgently, at Felicia. "Perhaps you can call on me tomorrow, so you can enlighten me as to my future husband's qualities."

  Felicia's smile appeared to droop for a moment, but she rallied. "I would be delighted. If you are amenable, I could bring Great-Aunt Aurore with me, as I am certain she will know even more about him as a young lad than I do."

  Hugh cleared his throat. "I can see what a disaster this will be if I am not there to censor appropriately."

  "Appropriately?" Felicia said. "That's hardly a word we ever applied to you." She leaned toward Penelope and added in a stage whisper, "I have many stories you shall find entertaining."

  Hugh could not stop the grin. "I believe you are confusing me with another who is renowned for inappropriate behavior."

  Before Felicia could retort, a pair of riders joined their group. He did not recall seeing them previously, but Felicia's eyes lit up with recognition. "I have been seeking you out since the betrothal ball," she said to the woman. "I have something I wish to speak with you—"

  In the next instant, Felicia's horse shuffled to the side, as if desperate to get away from the newcomers. It snorted, shaking its head, making it difficult for Felicia to keep it under control, even though he knew her to be an excellent horsewoman.

  She tugged on the reins in an effort to settle the horse, but it resisted, bumping its nose into Penelope's mount. Hugh grabbed Penelope's reins to ensure she remained safely seated, but he could not reach Felicia, much as he wanted to.

  Her horse reared up, its forelegs clawing at the air, and then shot forward, nearly throwing Felicia from her saddle.

  Chapter 7

  "Felicia!"

  Hugh took off after her, without a word of explanation. He could not let her come to harm. And he could not give her a scolding since it had not been her fault. The horse had become skittish for no good reason.

  Hugh saw her clutch the reins in both hands, pulling in an effort to slow the horse, but it would not be stopped. The animal galloped down the pathway, scattering the other riders before they could be trampled. Felicia clung to the horse, her body low over its neck.

  Hugh's heart raced as they dashed down the path, but he reminded himself of Felicia's excellent riding skills. She would likely see this as yet another grand adventure. He would have too, if he was not envisioning her crumpled body on the ground after being thrown off the speeding animal.

  He spurred his horse into an even faster gallop. Fortunately Felicia's mount was beginning to tire, because Hugh was gaining on them. Just a little further, just a little closer, and then he could pull the animal to a halt. He reached his right hand out, ready to grasp the harness. He looked ahead once more and his heart nearly stopped. There was a stand of trees ahead, straight in their path.

  He wished he could simply grab her by the waist and pull her onto his horse. But that was even more dangerous with both of them on horses flying at breakneck speed.

  "Felicia, grab the pommel and hold tight."

  When he saw her do just that, he grabbed the horse's harness, yanking it to the left, cursing Felicia's sidesaddle and praying it would stay in place. The horse followed the harsh command, gradually slowing as Hugh turned both of them away from the trees looming ahead.

  He halted both animals, their sides heaving from the impromptu race. Hugh was panting, too. Relief that Felicia was safe made him incredibly lightheaded.

  "Dear God, Felicia, you scared the wits out of me."

  In the next instant, she reached for him and he did not hesitate to pull her from her horse onto his own. She wrapped her trembling arms around his neck, holding on tightly. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest. Or perhaps it was his own thundering heart.

  "Do not ever frighten me like that again. I beg of you."

  Felicia blinked, as if dazed, and that's when Hugh noticed her eyes filling with tears. This stalwart chit never cried. She was likely in shock. She had yet to utter a single word.

  "I'm not angry with you," he said in a gentler tone. "I was never so terrified in my entire life, which no doubt made my words harsher than I intended—"

  Felicia's mouth was instantly on his, hot and determined, insistent. He opened his lips, desperate for her kiss. He cradled her head in one hand, pulling her closer, absorbing the heat of her passion.

  "You had me so worried," he murmured, kissing her eyelids, and her cheekbones. "I could not bear to lose you."

  "I have been worried too," she said, breathless. She clasped his face with both hands, her face alight with joy, and then she pressed her lips to his once more.

  He nearly groaned at the sheer perfection of it all. She was an innocent, he was certain of that, for her movements were unpracticed, but her passion flared up so quickly, and so intensely. God, how he needed her.

  But she was the one thing he could not have.

  Somehow he managed to pull away from her too-tempting mouth. "Felicia, I cannot."

  "Why not?"

  He buried his face in her neck, treasuring the pulse that beat there so rapidly, assuring him she was safe, alive. It also made him think of carrying her to their bed, her hair spilling over her shoulders while he placed her beautiful body onto the sheets.

  "No! I must not. I cannot," he repeated, though his voice was gravelly, weak from the effort of denying himself.

  He tried to tug her arms away from his neck, but it had been easier stopping a racing animal than to persuade his body to cooperate.

  He momentarily gave up the fight, knowing it was foolhardy to do so. Felicia, the very embodiment of temptation, was atop his lap, and soon she would comprehend exactly why he needed to get away. He could bathe in freezing water for the next sennight and woul
d never be able to remove her from his thoughts.

  He leaned in for one more kiss. The last one, he promised himself. He could relinquish these inconvenient feelings for good once he had indulged a final time.

  "Hugh, I love you."

  His eyes flew open. He pulled back to stare at her. Surely she did not imagine herself in love after one passionate moment?

  In the next instant, he realized her shocking words were merely a response to him saving her from certain disaster. Of course.

  Before he could puzzle out why he felt so disappointed, Hugh heard thundering hooves behind them, and then they were completely surrounded by Felicia's concerned admirers.

  As well as Hugh's betrothed.

  Penelope raised an eyebrow slightly, as if aware of more than Hugh wanted to admit, especially to her. He turned away, making sure Felicia was safely on her feet before he dismounted, then he busied himself with retrieving her horse.

  Felicia laughed and made light of the whole episode, although Hugh noticed she did not look at him even once throughout the retelling. Her laughter was a little too bright. Her gaiety was a bit forced. But he was the only one who seemed to notice. He knew her emotions and gestures as if they'd been lovers for years.

  He shook off the notion, along with his body's continued reactions to Felicia. Fortunately he would be married soon, and no longer susceptible to such irrational sensations.

  He strolled toward Penelope's horse, grabbing the bridle and glancing up at his betrothed.

  "You are quite the hero, my lord."

  Penelope smiled serenely, as she always did when he looked her way, but this time there was a small crease in her forehead.

  Hugh stroked the horse's flank to avoid looking at her, not wanting her to uncover his inner turmoil. Only a wastrel would crave one woman while betrothed to another.

  No! He would not let this bolt-from-the-blue, wildly impractical desire for Felicia ruin his plans for his daughter's future.

  His jaw tightened. Penelope would be his bride.

  It was the only choice possible.