Dearest Felicity
I regret to inform you that I must leave London for a few days to attend to some urgent business. I am sorry to cancel our visit to Cheapside, but I shall contact you upon my return to rearrange the outing.
Your friend
Harriet
Felicity read it again. What had happened between when she had left Harriet’s house last evening and this morning? Self-pity loomed, but Felicity thrust it away, impatient with such selfishness. Rather she should feel sympathy for her friend, for good news rarely forced such an abrupt change of plans. She hoped it was not very bad news, for Harriet’s sake.
Stanton House was too large and, somehow, less colourful without Richard’s presence, and the days stretched dully before her. She called upon Cousin Cecily and Olivia, Cousin Leo’s daughter, and the few other acquaintances in town this early, but was aware she was merely passing the time until Richard came home. He wrote to her once, and she broke the seal, hope burgeoning. She scanned the contents, praying for news of his return, only to subside at his words. After the first few days of indifferent scent, he wrote, the weather had improved and the hounds were running sweetly, so they had decided to stay a day or two longer. He hoped she would forgive him, and that she missed him as much as he missed her.
Irritated to have become so dependent upon him, Felicity forced herself to keep going out. She had heard nothing more from Harriet and could only hope she was all right.
* * *
‘When is my cousin due to return?’ Charles enquired one day, just over a week after Richard had gone away, as he escorted Felicity to Hookham’s Circulating Library to exchange some books.
‘I know no more than I did yesterday when you asked.’ Felicity was immediately riven with guilt for snapping.
‘I merely asked,’ Charles said, with a lift of his fair brows and a touch of affront in his tone, ‘because I understood you to say he went with Cheriton.’
‘He did. Why do you ask?’
‘Is that not the duke in his carriage over there?’
Charles indicated a carriage, bearing the Cheriton coat of arms, at the head of a line of vehicles trailing behind a slow-moving coal wagon.
‘Yes, but...’ Felicity peered closer. Charles was right. She recognized Leo’s profile. ‘Oh!’
‘You will tell him I need to see him urgently as soon as he gets home?’
‘I will,’ Felicity promised, although she knew it would not be for a few days. She had only received Richard’s letter the day before.
Suspicion reared its head. If Leo was back in London, where on earth was Richard?
Chapter Forty-Seven
Four days later, Richard finally arrived home. He sent Dalton ahead to instruct Felicity to be at the front door at three o’clock sharp. Dalton waited with her on the front step and, as the longcase clock in the hall struck the hour, a gleaming phaeton, drawn by a pair of chestnut high-steppers, swung around the square and came to a halt in front of Stanton House.
Felicity’s interest, however, was reserved exclusively for the driver. Richard grinned down at her: rich chocolate eyes creased at the corners, lips parted to allow a glimpse of white teeth.
‘Well, Wife?’ he said, removing his hat before leaping to the ground with the grace of a cat. With a deep laugh, he swung her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips.
‘Richard.’ Felicity struggled to free her arms to push him away although, secretly, she was delighted with his show of affection, her heart full to bursting. ‘What will people think?’
‘That I am a most fortunate fellow, to be welcomed home with a kiss from my lovely wife,’ Richard responded, with an aplomb that made Felicity giggle. He tugged her around so they were both facing the phaeton and pair. ‘Well? What do you think?’
Felicity studied the phaeton—midnight blue with gold-painted trim—and the beautifully matched ponies. They were glossy chestnut geldings with eye-catching flaxen manes and tails, identical white blazes, and four white socks apiece.
‘They are exceedingly handsome,’ she said.
‘A bit like your husband?’
‘Exactly like my husband. What are their names?’ She felt Richard’s eyes on her as she spoke, and she glanced up at him. ‘Oh, how I have missed you, my love.’ The words burst from her lips before she could think what she was saying.
‘And I have missed you too, Felicity Joy. And their names are Nutmeg and Spice, although you may wish to change them.’
‘Oh, no. It’s unlucky, and I think their names are perfect.’
‘And so, my sweet, are you. Come, let us go indoors. Dalton, will you take care of these two, please?’
‘Can I not drive them?’
‘Not now, my sweet. I am weary, and I make no doubt they are too; we have been on the road since yesterday. I did not wish to hurry them. Besides, Dalton will be keen to settle them into their new homes. We will take them to the park tomorrow morning, I promise. Tomorrow morning, eleven o’clock.’
‘Lord Stanton!’ A man, dressed in an ill-fitting brown suit, hurried across the road towards them.
‘Turner, any news?’
‘Yes, milord.’
‘At last. You’d better come inside.’ In the hall, Richard said, ‘I shall join you in the drawing room shortly, my dear. This should not take long.’
Felicity hid her irritation at being dismissed. This Turner had clearly brought news important to Richard and, therefore, it was important to Felicity. She paced the floor.
* * *
Before fifteen minutes had passed, Richard came in.
‘You look pleased, Richard. I must presume Mr Turner brought good news. Might I be allowed to share in it?’
Richard gathered her into his arms and nuzzled her neck. ‘I should rather share something else with you, sweetheart.’
She wrapped her arms around his neck as her insides swooped but, despite the involuntary responses of her body, her mind still fretted over Turner and his errand. Why would Richard not tell her? His reaction had suggested news of some importance. She pulled away, tilting her head to study his expression.
‘Is it a secret?’
A crease appeared between his brows, then relaxed as he huffed out a sigh. ‘You are not going to let the subject drop, are you, Felicity Joy?’
‘Should I? It sounded important, and you seem pleased. I admit I am curious, and I do not like feeling something is being kept from me.’
‘Very well.’ Richard led her to the sofa. ‘It was...well, not quite a secret, but I did not want you to worry about it. I was set upon by...’
Set upon? The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the panicked clamour in Felicity’s brain. ‘Are you all right?’ She twisted to face him, cupping his face between her hands. ‘Are you injured? What about your ribs?’
Richard grasped her wrists and pulled her hands away from his laughing face. ‘Calm down. It happened last time we came up to town.’
‘Where? When?’
‘I was attacked and robbed by three men in Sackville Street on our very first night in London in October. I hired Turner to investigate. He tells me there have been several similar attacks since. Evidently one of the waiters at White’s has been passing information to the gang, telling them who had won at the tables, so they knew who was likely to have a heavy purse.’
‘I wish you had told me.’ Felicity stroked Richard’s hair back from his brow.
‘And what would you have done, Felicity Joy? Worried on my behalf? Now, tell me how you have been spending your time whilst I have been away.’
‘Oh, the usual round of morning visits and walks in the park,’ Felicity said. ‘And...oh, I nearly forgot. Charles is very anxious to see you. He asked me to tell you most particularly.’
‘I will spe
ak to him tomorrow. I am going nowhere tonight. It is good to be home.’ Richard cupped Felicity’s face, brushing his thumbs gently under her eyes. ‘You look tired, my love.’ Heat swirled in the depths of his darkened eyes. ‘I prescribe bed rest before dinner.’
Pulse quickening, Felicity leaned into his touch. ‘I am not so very tired, Husband, but I think a lie-down might help restore my spirits.’
‘Your spirits?’
‘Mmmm.’ She raised her lips to his. ‘They have been feeling neglected.’
‘Are your spirits the only part of you suffering from neglect?’
Long fingers trailed down her neck to play with her neckline. Her pulse pounded as their lips met. She relaxed into Richard’s strength, his masculine scent pervading every cell of her body: comforting, enticing, exciting.
He took his mouth from hers. ‘I missed you too, Wife,’ he murmured, before claiming her lips again.
* * *
That night, Richard came to Felicity again, took her in his arms and made love to her with such intensity she could barely catch her breath. His lips and his hands caressed every inch of her skin, his body moved over her and inside her with such tenderness she had to blink back tears for fear they might be misconstrued.
When she reached for him—to show her love for him the way she always had, with her body—he pinned her hands above her head and slowly, relentlessly, brought her to the brink of ecstasy once more, driving her until she shattered into a thousand million stars, and flew free, scattered into the infinity of the night sky.
‘Richard...I love you!’
Richard rose up on his forearms, sweat glistening on his forehead. ‘I love you, too, Felicity Joy.’
His deep voice reverberated through her as the tremors racking her body subsided and she drifted off to sleep in his arms, secure and content and loved.
* * *
Felicity awoke the following morning to the sun filtering through the curtains, still clasped in Richard’s embrace, and felt her heart would burst with happiness.
He had become her whole world. Within her heart, her soul, her mind, there was only him. He fulfilled her, he completed her. He had become an intrinsic part of her, and she could not imagine how her life could be better.
Chapter Forty-Eight
‘I’m sorry, Felicity, but we must postpone our drive until this afternoon,’ Richard said as he came out of his study at eleven o’clock that morning and found her waiting in the hall. ‘I have to go out on urgent business.’ There was a letter in his hand.
‘I am sure it cannot be helped, Richard,’ Felicity said. She was disappointed, but it would not hurt to wait a little longer to drive Nutmeg and Spice. Nothing could spoil her mood today; she felt as though she could fly if she wanted to. She suppressed a smile. She had certainly flown last night.
After Richard had gone out, Felicity sent for Yvette, to go shopping in Bond Street.
As they left the house, a familiar figure approached.
‘Good morning, Charles. What a pleasant surprise. I am just on my way out, as you can see.’
Charles tipped his hat and flashed a brief smile at Felicity before his gaze slid past her, to the front door.
‘Good morning, Felicity. I hear my cousin returned yesterday. Is he in?’
Taken aback by his abruptness, Felicity said, ‘I’m afraid he was called out on urgent business. I did tell him you wish to see him. Can I not help?’
‘No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know.’ Charles swept the hat from his head and raked his fingers through his already dishevelled curls before replacing it again. He glanced at Yvette. ‘Might I have a word in private?’
‘Why, yes, of course, Charles. Shall we go back inside?’
‘No. Thank you. This will be easier if we walk and talk at the same time. That way, I shall not have to read the disdain in your eyes.’
‘Disdain? Oh, no, Charles. Why should I look at you with disdain?’ His blue eyes were filled with worry. ‘Please walk on ahead, Yvette. We shall be right behind you.’
‘Thank you.’
Felicity took Charles’s arm. His tension was tangible.
‘Will you not tell me what troubles you? If I can help, you must know that I will.’
‘I should not discuss such matters with a lady,’ Charles muttered. ‘Stan would have my guts if he knew, but I can wait no longer.’ He fell silent, and Felicity waited. Eventually, he drew in a ragged breath. ‘It’s these debts. I don’t quite expect you to understand, but I have borrowed against...against...’
‘Against the expectation of the earldom, and all that goes with it?’
A sidelong glance revealed a flush on Charles’s cheeks as he fixed his gaze on the pavement ahead of them. ‘Put like that—so baldly—it sounds so very heartless.’ He spun on the spot, clutching Felicity’s hands. ‘I have to...I am sorry to ask, but could you lend me some money? I wouldn’t ask,’ he added hurriedly, ‘but there are some unpleasant coves after me for a debt, and I must pay them something.’
‘Money?’
They began to walk again, crossing Oxford Street into New Bond Street.
‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Richard refused me last time I came down to Fernley. It was a blow, I don’t mind telling you. He’d barely notice such a paltry sum.’
‘Lend? Have you ever repaid anything you have borrowed?’
Charles huffed a short laugh. ‘No. I take your point. And I have changed, I promise you. I’ve been careful, I swear. This particular debt...it is of long standing. Truth be told, I had forgotten about it, until the duns came knocking.’
‘How much do you need?’
‘Five hundred guineas should be enough.’
‘I’m sorry, Charles, but I do not have that much at my disposal.’
‘Will you talk to Richard? Please? Tell him this will be the last time, I promise.’
‘You invest too much faith in my powers of persuasion, I fear, but I will...oh, look, there is Harriet. I did not know she had returned. Come, I should like to speak to her.’ She called to Yvette, ‘Please wait there, we will be back very soon.’
Felicity urged Charles across the road. A sweeping boy hurried to clear their path, and Charles tossed him a coin.
‘That is most obliging of you, Charles, as you are so short of money yourself.’
‘Oh, it was only a farthing. That barely counts as money, does it?’
And therein lies much of your problem.
‘Harriet turned down here,’ Felicity said, as they turned the corner of Brook Street. Time appeared to slow as Felicity’s lungs seized. Harriet had stopped next to a waiting carriage, its door standing open. Richard stood close to her, gazing down into her face as she spoke earnestly, her hand on his lapel. As Felicity watched, Richard took Harriet’s hand, lifted it to his lips, then handed her into the carriage. He climbed in behind her and slammed the door.
‘What the...!’ Charles trapped Felicity’s hand in his elbow and towed her back around the corner.
She couldn’t summon the strength to resist. Richard? And Harriet? The intimacy of the scene scorched her brain.
‘Come, my dear.’ They paused to wait for a break in the traffic to cross back to Yvette, waiting on the opposite side. ‘I am sure there is a perfectly...they are old friends, after all.’
Old friends? Then why has neither of them ever said? Aware she was clutching Charles’s sleeve, Felicity loosened her grip.
‘Old friends?’ she asked lightly.
‘Oh, yes,’ Charles continued airily. ‘Don’t worry. I’m certain Richard must have ended their friendship as soon as he married you.’
Harriet was Richard’s mistress? All Felicity’s old doubts and suspicions charged to the fore. ‘Urgent business,’ he had said. That letter...from Harri
et? Stomach churning, nausea crowding her throat, Felicity fought to keep control. What a complete and utter fool, to be taken in by their lies. She cringed when she remembered how she had confided in Harriet. Her husband’s mistress.
When had Harriet returned to London? Had she been out of town with Richard? Felicity herself had told the scheming hussy where he had gone. Is that what he had been doing after Leo came back to town?
Oh, dear God...
‘Steady on, Felicity. You almost fell then. I say, you don’t look... Hoi! Girl! Drat it, what the blazes is that girl called?’
‘Yvette,’ Felicity whispered. She dredged up a memory. The attack he had told her about. In Sackville Street. Harriet’s street. That was the night he had not come home, and the servants had lied to cover his absence. He had gone to visit Harriet. No wonder he had objected to Felicity becoming involved with the house in Cheapside.
Pain knifed through her, and she gasped, suddenly terrified for the baby.
‘Yvette!’
Heads turned to see who was shouting. Charles’s grip on Felicity’s arm was painful, and she could feel his panic, but it helped clear her head. As the pain subsided, she forced her head high, gritting her teeth. She refused to provide fodder for the gossipmongers. The pain had not struck her womb, but higher. Her heart. Five months ago she would have scoffed at such a fanciful notion, but not now. Her heart was shattered. Every beat was agony.
Yvette hurried to join them.
‘Quick, girl, your mistress is taken ill. I think she should—’ he waved urgently at a hackney coach ‘—return home forthwith.’ He handed Felicity up into the coach. ‘Should I come with you?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Thank you. Yvette will look after me. Charles?’
‘Yes?’
‘Please, not a word, about...about...’
He pressed her hand. ‘I shall be the soul of discretion. Never fear.’
‘Thank you. Oh, and Charles? About that other matter? Give me a few days, and I will see what I can do to help.’
‘You, my dear, are an angel. Please, do not fret about...that.’ He waved a hand in the general direction of Brook Street. ‘I am certain there must be—’
From Wallflower to Countess Page 23
