She saw the lord even before he noticed her. His straight posture made his shoulders appear twice as wide in the midnight-blue spencer, and his blond hair, which was cut a little too short for the current fashion, accentuated his muscular neck. Lord Layton sat with his back towards them and was accompanied by his brother. Oh, dear, if only her parents had chosen Sir John instead of the lord to become her future husband, then maybe she could come to terms with the marriage! Her mother followed the attendant and she followed her mother, like a flock of geese, straight to Lord Layton’s table. Sir John saw them first, got up at once, and gave Felicity a smile that warmed her heart. The man who her parents wanted her to marry, rose from his seat, as well. Sir John offered his brother his hand as if he meant to support him, but Lord Layton rejected the offered help with a brusque gesture. Slowly, as if he were suffering from a backache, he turned to face them.
The restless light of the many candles threw dancing shadows across his face. His blue eyes looked at her in a strangely intense way, as if he were trying to send her a hidden message. The expression on his face was a peculiar combination of agitation and affection. She would not have been able to stop looking at him, even if she had wanted to – the lord seemed so familiar and so foreign at the same time.
Suddenly the candles in the chandeliers on the wall behind him went out. Lord Layton’s face, which had been bathed in a warm glow mere moments ago, was now covered in half-darkness.
Her throat immediately went dry. Her mouth tasted of dust and her pulse began to race. Ignoring the servant and her mother, who were moving excruciatingly slowly, she pushed past all of them to debilitate her terrible suspicion. It could not be! It was not possible!
He stretched his hand out to her. Felicity stepped before him and turned her face upwards. There it was: the scratch that the second bullet had caused last night. She knew that she was causing a sensation as she stood there, staring at him, and making no move to grasp the offered hand, but Felicity felt as though she were frozen. She tried to open her mouth, but no noise came out, as her head tried to bring ‘the priest’ into line with Lord Layton.
Lord Layton fought with bare fists in a rundown drinking den in Whitechapel.
He stood by her against the blackmailers.
He had risked his life to protect her from harm.
She had kissed him!
She felt more than saw her mother stepping beside her. Did her mother say something? The noise in her ears drowned out every other sound. Felicity raised her hand, uncertain whether she wanted to hit him or stroke his cheek. He must have seen something in her face that warned him, because he foiled her attempt, grabbed her hand, and squeezed it.
The emphatic touch, which felt almost painful, immediately brought her to her senses. Felicity managed to perform a wobbly curtsy, and she would have lost her balance like a clumsy debutante, had it not been for Lord Layton’s powerful grip.
“I know it is rather unusual, but may I ask your daughter to accompany me on a stroll in the gardens? She looks a little pale and the cool evening air will make her feel better.”
Her mother gave her a questioning look under lowered eyelids, and Felicity answered with a barely noticeable nod. “That is exactly what I told her,” the duchess replied, giving her permission with a slightly strained smile.
“Then I have the honour of keeping you company over tea, Duchess,” Sir John said gallantly and offered her mother his arm. Felicity did not hear her mother’s reply, for Lord Layton was already leading her outside.
She refused to look at him and kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.
“You owe me an explanation,” she said, when they finally got outside.
“Allow me to explain my intentions to you,” Lord Layton said, choosing the same moment as she, to open the conversation. “Please come, we will be undisturbed over there.” He pointed towards a small arbour with inviting cushioned benches. Supposedly, this area had been an achievement that the talkative Sarah Villierys, Countess of Jersey, had managed to push through against the will of the other patronesses of the club. Although she did not like the chinwag-mongering lady (which was what Felicity secretly called her), she was grateful for the opportunity to rest her shaking legs. Lord Layton sat down opposite her. All that separated them was a low table.
Now that she knew his secret, it all started to make sense. The boxer, who spoke like a gentleman, and the lord, who moved like an athlete, were one and the same person. Even the way he tilted his head to look at her was exactly the same. She would have recognised him by his mouth, if Lord Layton had smiled more often, but, most of all, she should have noticed his eyes. What she had deemed as condescendence from the lord, she had considered as confidence in the face of her saviour. Which of these men was the real one? Before she would find out, there was a question she wanted answered first.
“How are you feeling? How is the wound in your side?”
“Lady Feli… city,” he said softly as he leaned forward. “There is so much we need to talk about, and the first thing you want to know is how my health is?”
She straightened her back, even though the soft plush cushions tempted her to sink into them. “I wish you would answer one of my questions just for once instead of replying with a counter question,” she returned briskly. “Do not try to distract me. How are you feeling?”
“Surprisingly well.” He gave in. A smile flashed across his face. “Thanks to your swift intervention, I did not actually lose much blood, and was quickly provided with expert care.”
“Are you in any pain?”
“A little. I can bear it. But… why don’t we talk about something else?”
“Why? Is it your personal condition that you do not want to disclose, or do you think that blood and pain are not suitable subjects for a well-brought-up young lady?” She did not wait for Lord Layton to reply. “Then let me tell you this, my Lord. I have had my experiences with both of these things and nothing I saw yesterday was as bad as what…” The bottled-up tension inside her gave way. Felicity felt an insane laughter bubbling up inside her chest threatening to burst out, and she knew that if she gave in, they would immediately transport her to Bedlam.
Chapter 15
Horrified, Luke watched Felicity losing her composure right in front of his eyes. Without thinking about whether what he was doing was considered appropriate or not, he jumped up and sat beside her, pulling her slender, trembling body close to his chest, until her head rested on his shoulders.
He held her there until she stopped crying.
“I do not know what came over me,” she said, when she handed him back his handkerchief.
“But I do,” he replied, enjoying her soft warm body clinging trustingly against his. “It was all too much. Believe me, you have already proven more courage than many men would have done in your situation.” He took the liberty of dabbing one last tear from the corner of her eye.
“You do not even know half of what I have done,” she whispered.
“No, and it is time that you tell me everything.” The scent of her hair rose to his nose.
“You can trust me, Lady Feli.” These words managed to do what he had not been able to do so far. Felicity smiled, if only briefly.
“Before I am able to trust you with my secret, you will have to answer me one question. Why did you not tell me sooner that you and ‘the priest’ are one and the same person?” She looked him straight in the eye. “You know how grateful I am for everything you have done for me, but you owe me this answer.”
“I did not want to burden you with too much,” he began, but when she gave him a sceptical look, he knew better than to try to appease her with an evasive answer. “I knew that you would not accept the help of Lord Layton. So, I preferred to help you as a stranger.”
“I realise that,” Felicity replied with a touch of impatience in her voice. Her somewhat-mocking smile hit him straight in his heart. “Maybe I should rephrase my question. Why did you want to help me in my unfort
unate situation at all? Just a year ago, you left no doubt that you considered me an immoral, rotten and silly girl.”
“That is not true,” Luke replied. “I admit that my words back then were unfavourably chosen, and that I treated you in a condescending manner. But did you not for one moment think that I would never have warned you about the viscount, if I did not care about your fate?”
Her brown eyes widened in astonishment, and a light redness covered her pale cheeks. “Back then, I merely acted out of impulse, Lady Felicity, but I do not regret one second of it – nor what has come of it.” Her slightly opened lips trembled, and she looked away to the side. “One year ago, you were a different person, much as I was,” he continued. “I do not want to forget what happened, but maybe it is time for a new beginning. Why don’t you tell me what really happened that night when Greywood died?”
“I… it is… I do not even know where to begin,” she stuttered nervously and meant to turn her head away again, but he foiled that attempt by gently putting his hand on her still-teary cheek. Carefully but firmly, he turned her head towards him, until she was looking at him. Her deep-brown eyes shimmered, revealing so much of her vulnerability that it almost broke his heart.
“Then let me tell you what I have come up with so far, and you correct me, whenever necessary.” He paused for a moment, wishing he had thought of ordering some lemonade or tea. He had been so impatient to speak to Felicity, that he had not thought of such trivial things.
“I assume that Viscount Greywood tried to abuse your innocence and that he wanted to entangle you in his intrigues,” he began, whilst he pondered what sort of information he had about the man. “He died under unspecified circumstances, just as the Countess of York did shortly afterwards, and there are rumours that the two deaths were connected to each other. Taking into account that you are being blackmailed, I conclude that you were either directly or indirectly involved.” He noticed how her shivering turned into a shaking of her entire body, so he took off his spencer without letting go of her and draped it over her shoulders.
“It is true, I am responsible for Greywood’s death.” Her words were barely audible, partly because she had only whispered them, but also because she was speaking into the side of his neck.
“That evening, when you warned me about him, I was already lost. He… could be very charming and very persuasive, when he wanted to be. Greywood never… there was never a time where we…”
“I understand.” He interrupted her to put an end to her agony.
“No, I do not think you do.” She sat up straight and pulled his spencer closer around her body. As she continued, she raised her chin. “He persuaded me to elope with him to Gretna Green.” As soon as she had uttered the sentence, she was visibly relieved, and when she arrived at the end of her unfortunate story, she almost looked like the unwavering Lady Felicity he had met a year before. There was still a shadow of sadness in her eyes, but he swore that he would banish the last of the gloom in her.
“The only good thing that came from the affair, was the love between my sister Annabelle and her husband St. John.” She pressed her hand against her heart. “You cannot imagine how happy I am that Annabelle is not suffering because of my reckless mistakes.”
Luke thought of Lady Annabelle, whom he had met even before she had become the Duchess of Grandover. “I did not get the impression that your sister was the kind of woman someone could impose a decision upon. I believe that you can shake off that supposed burden, Lady Felicity.” His thoughts revolved around potential suspects. Luke thought that the dubious Lady Madeline, and Finch, the personal manservant of St. John, whom Felicity had mentioned, were obvious candidates for the role of the blackmailers. Nevertheless, this solution seemed too simple. According to Felicity, who in turn had gathered her information from her sister, both had vanished from the face of the earth and they would not dare to return to London. The Bow Street Runners as well as St. John, with his connections to the ministry of internal affairs, were searching for the two. Lady Madeline and Finch would continue to keep a low profile.
Felicity lowered her head. “I want to thank you for your kind words,” she began. “But…”
“No.” He interrupted her. “Stop it. That is enough!”
He realised that he had spoken too harshly and too loudly, when she tilted her body backwards to escape the reach of his hands. “Stop blaming yourself. Your sister is not only happy, she is very much in love and well cared for by her husband. As for the viscount, let me tell you one thing… I am glad that the man is dead. Otherwise, I would make sure that he takes his last breath after he has begged for your forgiveness!”
Felicity’s eyes grew big, but the expression of fear was no longer there. “You do not know what I have done.”
“I can imagine it,” he answered, trying to keep his voice calm. “I believe that you wanted to confront him about his despicable behaviour towards you, and then…” Luke spoke slowly, following an inkling. “You wanted to end your own life, am I right? But instead, it was Greywood who died in your place, accidentally.”
“How… do you… know this?” Her words came off choppy.
“Because the Lady Feli whom I know, would never harm a living soul,” he urged. “Because she prefers to stay with a wounded person than get herself to safety. Because she employs a former prostitute as a maid and puts a roof over the head of a street urchin. Because my Lady Feli would much rather go to the Black Heart to talk to a boxer herself than to send a servant. My Lady Feli has the heart of a lioness and would rather harm herself than let someone else be harmed.”
He paused. She seemed just as surprised as he was at his sudden vehemence. What on earth had gotten into him? Yet, it felt right to say all these things about her and watch her cheeks blush.
“My Lord, I do not know what to say, except that you think far too well of me.”
“No,” he repeated again. “These self-doubts must end. I won’t allow you to denigrate yourself the way you do.” He paused to give his words time to have their full effect.
“You will have to show your strength, if we are to overcome those who are blackmailing you. Since we are not in the position to negotiate the terms, we at least have to give the impression of being unwavering. I know that you can do that, my Lady.”
“We?” Her eyes were still huge, as she whispered the single word.
Luke nodded. “We,” he repeated firmly. “You do not think that I would leave you alone now, do you?”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?”
“Does it matter?” He raised his hand. “Let us leave the answer to that question until another time. First and foremost, tell me what the man and woman said to you. Take your time and try to remember exactly. Every detail could be important.”
She took a deep breath, but no words came out of her mouth.
In his presence, she was unable to remember anything of the catastrophic evening. Her confusion concerning the revelation that Lord Layton was ‘the priest’ had subsided, at least in her mind. Inside her heart, however, the confusion had only increased. How could she associate the lord, of whose disdain she had been certain for so long, with ‘the priest,’ who had only ever shown her kindness, and that, despite the scandalous circumstances of how the two of them had met?
“Close your eyes and think back to the time when you were walking towards the portal of St Botolph’s,” Lord Layton said so quietly that she had to strain her ears to be able to hear him. Her heart pounded inside her chest. The intimacy of the situation alarmed her almost more than the memory. “Remember the cold of the night and the smells. What do you see?”
Obediently Felicity closed her eyes and thought about how the comforting presence of her three allies had calmed her that night. The knowledge of not being alone, had been like a fire to warm herself and to show her the way out of the darkness. “The clock tower rang midnight,” she began to tell. “The bells were so incredibly loud in my head that their ringi
ng sounded like an accusation.” She closed her mouth. Right now was not the time for the excesses of her exaggerated imagination. Facts, she reminded herself, he only needed to know the facts. “I saw the woman coming towards me. The first thing I noticed was her smell.”
He waited patiently. A shiver crawled down Felicity’s spine, and it had nothing to do with her memories.
“She had bad breath. It smelled of old food and decay. The rest of her appearance was very unkempt.” She remembered and frowned. “From the distance she looked like a… prostitute, but the closer she came, the more confused I got. Her dress was dirty, but not so much her face.” She recalled what Brigid had advised her before their first trip to Whitechapel – to stain her face with dirt, so that she would not arouse suspicion at first sight. “In the moment, I did not even think about it, because I was far too nervous, and I just wanted her to keep walking. But it grew even stranger.” Her stomach tightened when she remembered the words the woman had spewed at her. “She acted like a fortune teller, asking if she could read my hand. I refused.” Felicity swallowed and yearned for a cold drink. “She wanted to take my hand regardless, but I backed away from her. That was the moment when I knew that something was not right, but she only said that the dead would come to take revenge.” Felicity looked at Lord Layton, trying to read his thoughts on his face. It was in vain. His expression was almost as if he had turned to stone. “I was scared, but not because I feared that the viscount would rise from the dead and drive me insane.” A smile spread across his face, and she returned it. “My younger sister is very perceptive to those kinds of horror stories,” she continued, “... but after everything I have experienced, I know that the living pose a bigger threat than the dead ever could, may they rest in peace.”
“You said earlier that something was not right,” Lord Layton said quietly. “Can you say exactly what it was?”
The Three Evesham Daughters: Books 1-3: A Regency Romance Trilogy Page 35
