The Three Evesham Daughters: Books 1-3: A Regency Romance Trilogy

by Audrey Ashwood

  But what else was left to her, other than to ask him and pray that he would, a second time, behave like a gentleman and return it?

  Chapter 7

  John’s presence was not only a pleasure for Luke, because they had not seen each other for a long time, but also because his father would now not solely focus his attention on Luke. He had often enough watched them both in the library, putting their heads together, looking at plans or studying documents. Luke, for his part, was glad that John was distracting their father, because in that way he would have time to take a closer look at Lady Felicity, without being exposed to the continued observation of two pairs of parents.

  The Covent Garden Theatre welcomed him with the distinctive scent of ale and oranges. Even before they reached their balcony, they encountered the Duke and the Duchess of Evesham and their daughter. After formally greeting the duke and the duchess, Luke turned towards Lady Felicity. There was no question that it was her. He recognised the defiant shape of her lips (even though they seemed rather sad right now) and the small beauty mark. She was the lady he had helped last night and whose letter was now safely tucked away in his desk.

  She curtsied before him and was about to disappear behind her parents’ backs, however, her own mother ruined the manoeuvre by stepping aside and welcoming Luke’s half-brother. Lady Felicity seemed pale and tense, Luke thought, as he observed her. Her fingers cramped around her bag and her gaze swept everywhere else, just so she would not have to look at him.

  Luke’s chest tightened as he took in her appearance. Once again, he noticed how much she had changed during the relatively short time of a year. Yet, who could know better than he that it sometimes took no more than one or two experiences to initiate a significant change in someone? As for him, he had no desire to reawaken the careless young man he had been, but for Lady Felicity’s sake, he was sorry he could not undo her painful experiences. Although her dress did not differ from those of other marriageable young ladies, she somehow managed to stand out regardless. Was it her watchful eye that seemed to take in every detail of her surroundings, or rather her melancholy countenance?

  It was obvious that the jostling crowd took its toll on her as well. His father had positioned himself in the middle of the vestibule, as he always did, holding court, so that she was pushed to the side by the numerous friends and acquaintances of the Duke of Somerset. Luke thought he read a silent plea in her huge brown eyes, so he asked her mother if she would allow him to accompany Felicity to their loge. Felicity’s mother did not seem to be put out by his request, but instead said that she would leave the decision to her daughter. The duchess had always seemed like a progressive thinker to him, an expert in keeping up etiquette, whilst allowing her daughters things other mothers would not.

  “Would you allow me to accompany you to the loge, Lady Felicity?” Luke held his arm out to her, which she accepted only hesitantly. Her gloved hand barely touched his arm, but she seemed relieved to be able to escape the noise and heat of the vestibule. As Luke guided her towards the wide stairs, he took the opportunity to watch her inconspicuously. She was still as slender as a willow and as graceful in her movements as she had been a year ago. The differences were subtle and mostly showed in her appearance. The last time he had seen her in high society, her choice had fallen on a light-yellow dress, which had been decorated with precious embroidery all over. He remembered as if it were yesterday, when he had wondered how many hours the seamstress had spent applying all those tiny little flowers to the dress, whereas Felicity had not seemed to care whether she soiled the seams or not. The exquisite craftsmanship had not been lost on him – hundreds of tiny pearl-white petals circling the yellow centre, decorating her complete dress. Lady Felicity’s necklace and earrings had been delicate, and the jewels resembled scenes of nature to match the dress. He had even noticed flowers and delicate butterflies woven into her hair, hidden in her luscious reddish-brown braids.

  Tonight, she was dressed no less magnificently. So, what was the difference that he so clearly noticed with each of her steps alongside his arm and yet was so complex that Luke could barely grasp it?

  Was it the colour of the dress, a rich green, that highlighted the fiery red shimmer in her hair?

  “You are so very quiet today, Lord Layton,” she remarked, as they walked up the stairs towards the gallery. “Normally, you are bursting with good advice.”

  “So, you haven’t forgotten,” Luke noted. “Please accept my apologies for words that seemed harsh to you back then, even though they were meant in good faith.”

  She tipped her head back a little, without slowing down.

  “I understand.” The remarkable synergy between her eyes and her hair was enchanting. Her left hand went to her hair and felt in the plain braid for something he did not see – maybe hairpins?

  “If something is wrong with my hair, please tell me so I can adjust it,” she whispered and tilted her head close to him so no one else could hear her words. The smell of soap and flowers brushed his nose.

  “You look beautiful.” He heard himself say. “Your hair is exactly as it should be.”

  “Are you not feeling well, Lord Layton?”

  “I am well. What makes you ask that?” Luke asked.

  “You seem so very kind,” Felicity said, which caused Luke to come to a halt in the middle of the corridor. She clapped her hand in front of her mouth. “Excuse me, I…”

  “No, it is all right,” Luke replied. She had allowed him a glimpse of the cheeky young woman he had met over a year ago, only to retreat again. He attempted a smile to bring her back – with moderate success.

  “Lady Felicity, is there something that is troubling you?” It was meant to be a careful attempt to win her trust, and maybe even to learn something about her trip to St Botolph’s last night, but he failed miserably.

  “I am feeling exceptionally well, thank you. Except for my parents’ scheming. They believe that I need a husband to be happy.” Her rejection was almost as painful as a punch to the face. The question now, was whether she intended to reject all potential husbands, or just him.

  “So, you do not strive to find a husband for yourself, and thereby independence from your parents’ wishes?”

  “Why should I?”

  The attendant in front of the duke’s loge recognised Luke and immediately opened the narrow door to the balcony. Inside, the light was dim. Ever since the original theatre had burned down five years ago, the administration had taken some precautions in dealing with open flames. The few candles that were placed inside the loges, were covered by glass cylinders, which diminished their brightness.

  “If a woman marries, she merely replaces her parents’ supervision with the guardianship of her husband.”

  He helped her sit in one of the chairs on the right side, from where she had a good view of the stage below. Luke took a seat diagonally behind her.

  “I would have to beg my husband for money, I would have to ask for his opinion on all kinds of matters, and whenever he felt like it, he could lock me up and take a mistress, or, if he were of the generous type, ban me to the countryside. How would you like it if you were in my place, Lord Layton?”

  He was silent for a moment. Felicity had turned her face towards him, and she made no attempt to hide her anger. Or did he see something else, something like… desperation? Yearning?

  “It does not have to be that way – if you find the right man,” he offered and spoke quietly. In the intimacy of the loge, Luke felt as if they were cut off from the rest of the world.

  “That is quite possible,” Felicity replied. She had folded her pale hands neatly into her lap and sat upright on the uncomfortable chair. “In fact, I am convinced that not all men are despots. However,” her eyes had taken on an unreadable expression, “I will not find such a rare specimen amongst the nobles. Whether baron or duke, I do not know anyone who has something else in mind than his pleasure. Therefore, I am only willing to give my hand in marriage to a man whose
heart is filled with humility, kindness, and compassion. A clergyman, for example.”

  “And your father agrees to that?” He could not stop his eyebrows from rising with the question. “I do not think you’ve informed him of your plans, Lady Felicity. Why else would you be here tonight?”

  “I was worried that you would be less liberal than you were a year ago, my Lord. But as I see, you are still fired up to give your advice where it is not appreciated.” There it was again, a flash of her fighting spirit. “What is your reason for being here tonight? Most certainly it is not because you want to ask a naughty girl for her hand, as her father wishes. Perhaps he has threatened to disown you if you do not carry on the Somerset name.”

  Instead of withdrawing in humility, she had started a counterattack. Her words hit him in the midst of his heart, in a way that Luke was unable to explain, and a crazy idea took over his thoughts. He would find the man who was blackmailing her, and he would punish him. Then he could go on his merry way with a clear conscience and forget the young woman who had inadvertently crept into his thoughts since their encounter the previous night.

  The only problem was that he could not help her as Lord Layton. She did not like him and would never trust him enough to accept his help. Why would she? They barely knew each other, and she had not the faintest inkling that she had crossed paths with his secret identity. Normally, Luke was not a great advocate of secrecy – however, he also could not imagine that an open talk with Lady Felicity would end in success of any kind. He did not want to worry her even more by telling her about his knowledge of her predicament. No, he needed a different and devious way to help her.

  Could he approach her as ‘the priest’?

  Would she accept the help of the man who had rescued her from the intrusiveness of the unwelcome suitor last night, or would she reject his offer just as she would with Lord Layton? She had clearly said what she thought of noblemen and that she preferred to marry a poor spirit.

  She wanted a priest. She would get one.

  Just not in the way Lady Felicity anticipated.

  When the curtain finally rose and the first notes of the overture filled the large auditorium, Felicity allowed herself to take a deep breath. It was considered polite to listen to the play intently, but in her thoughts, she was somewhere else entirely.

  She remembered how she had taken a trip to Whitechapel, just last summer, where she had worn male clothing to remain undetected, and how much she had enjoyed the incredible freedom it had given her. In hindsight, it had not really served her well. But she sometimes wondered why society was so harsh and relentless in not forgiving a woman’s faux-pas – if at all – whilst men could enjoy so many liberties. It simply was not fair!

  On the stage, a servant was complaining in a very melodious way about his work in the service of a gentleman, who gave him no rest by day and night. Yes, she did feel the same way, even though she did not have to toil for anyone. As the melody of deceptive simplicity faded away, Felicity ventured a cautious glance over her shoulder at Lord Layton. As one might expect from the son of a duke, he was impeccably dressed. Every piece of clothing, from the perfectly fitting spencer to the vest to his breeches, revealed a first-class tailor. He also seemed to have an excellent chamberlain, who had not tied his white necktie neither too pompously, nor too modestly.

  The appearance of the tenor drew her attention back to the stage. The no-longer young and somewhat corpulent singer was confessing his immortal love for the disgraced woman she had seen in the beginning. Was it possible that a man could love a woman who had disgraced herself?

  Felicity had not given in to Greywood’s pressuring, that she had not, but she was still guilty. No, a normal man would never understand what it meant to live with the guilt she had to carry. On the other hand, Lord Layton had been in the navy for a year, as the Duke of Somerset had confided to her father, who had in turn told her mother. Her mother had then relayed this information to Felicity, to prepare her in case the duke’s son turned out to be melancholic or short-tempered. The war did that to men sometimes, the Duchess of Evesham had said. Felicity had only nodded and thought that in this case they would actually have something in common, she and Lord Layton. It made no difference that she only had one human life on her conscience, whereas he had killed many. Did it even matter that she had done it unknowingly and he had done it for a higher reason for his homeland?

  What a shame that she was not a Catholic! She would have been able to go to confession and repent for something that she had never intended to do, but which still burdened her conscience. In her situation, all she could do was to continue to visit the slums of London, once or twice a week, and to do good deeds there.

  Lord Layton leaned forward a little. She could feel the warmth that radiated towards her from his athletic body, and she cautiously glanced towards her left. His interest in the music seemed genuine, as he followed the play with devout attention. Or was it one of the actresses who had captivated his interest? The young farmer’s girl with the high voice was a rather beautiful and exuberant young woman, seemingly fresh and untouched. Even the female lead soprano was a feast for men’s eyes, as Felicity assumed, with her curvaceous figure, burning dark eyes, and raven-black hair, as befitted a true Italian opera diva.

  She would never understand what went on inside a man.

  Felicity resisted her mother’s plea to accompany her outside into the gallery during the break. Even when Lord Layton bid goodbye, under the pretence of another engagement, she still did not feel like leaving the loge. “I wish you a good night, Lady Felicity.” He bowed above her hand. “Maybe you will allow me to pick you and your mother up for a ride through the park tomorrow?”

  Felicity barely managed to hide her surprise. What did he think he could achieve by that? He cared as little for her as she cared for him. Why would he seek out her company? Lord Layton did not give the impression that he was the type of man who followed his father’s instructions if they were not to his liking. Before she could answer him, he said his farewells to her parents and his father. She watched through the open door how his broad back made its way through the crowd towards the gallery, and then he was gone. The Duke of Somerset and the young man (who everyone knew was his illegitimate son), also rose from their chairs. To her surprise, the young baronet offered to keep her company until her parents returned, and he did so in such a kind manner, that she accepted without hesitation.

  “So, how do you like the play, Sir John?” she asked politely.

  “May I be honest?” he asked and gave her a mischievous smile.

  “I would appreciate it,” Felicity replied and noticed that she returned his smile.

  He had such a genuine and friendly demeanour about him that she almost forgot, but only for a heartbeat, why she had come to the theatre in the first place. On the outside, both half-brothers resembled each other, they could easily be mistaken one for the other. The difference between the two lay in their facial expressions. Where Lord Layton was distant, even dismissive, Sir John loved to laugh. He seemed like the type of man, who – in contrast to his brother, who had been born on the right side of the bed – did not take himself or life too seriously.

  “I do like music, but this here” – Sir John gestured towards the stage – “is too indecisive for me. Is this a drama or a funny opera?” He shook his head. “I prefer it when things are exactly what they are supposed to be. However, right now, I do not know whether I should laugh, cry, or be afraid.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Felicity replied. “The people dress up, they get mistaken for someone else, and one wonders what the composer’s thoughts were by setting out a serious topic with ridicule.”

  “What an incredible relief it is to learn that you see it in a similar way. I was worried that it was me and my lack of musical education,” Sir John admitted openly. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened.

  “Oh, no,” Felicity assured him. “I feel exactly the same way. But I do know
a good trick for how you can enjoy the music without being distracted by the plot. Simply close your eyes and focus on what the voices and instruments are trying to tell you.”

  “Thank you, Lady Felicity,” Sir John answered with an expression on his face, which she could only describe as roguish. “I am very pleased to see that we are in unison in our opinions.” Felicity laughed, which only deepened the smile on her companion’s face.

  “In terms of what?” The dark voice of the Duke of Somerset appeared at Felicity’s back. He waved at one of the servants to serve her a glass of champagne, which she gratefully accepted. “Well?” he demanded. “What exactly are you and my son agreeing on?” It was a little shocking, despite all the openness with which the duke treated the existence of his illegitimate son, that he was not afraid to speak about the kinship relationship straightforwardly.

  “We were talking about the music, and I advised Sir John to close his eyes, so that the magic of the notes unfolds all the better,” Felicity explained. She had always felt a little shy in the presence of the duke, even though she liked his direct way. He was still a handsome man, despite his being older than her father, and he could be very entertaining, if he wanted to be. In any case, she liked him more than his first-born son, who did not even have the decency to stay and watch the play until the end. Who was hiding behind the date he had made? A flower girl, perhaps, or one of the background actresses, Felicity thought.

  It was none of her business. Besides, she was glad that he was no longer sitting behind her, watching her. The certainty that she would have to see him again tomorrow and sit next to him in a carriage where she could not evade him, was anything but encouraging. She had enough things on her mind that robbed her of sleep.