by Cheryl Bolen
“Were you always so serious?” His voice was gentle. “Before you were wed?”
“Not really,” she said. “But then I married. I was a morose bride, always fearing for Michael.” She looked into her lap. “It seems my fears were founded. Then—after Michael was killed—I returned to England to learn that Papa had lost everything except Hornsby Manor, which was entailed, but we couldn’t afford to live there.” She looked back at him and laughed an insincere laugh. “And since then I’ve had to be the ogre with George and Glee.”
“You’re not an ogre,” he said in a soothing voice. “As the firstborn, we must wear the mantel of authority.”
She favored him with a smile. “You once told me you never were an idle lad. Did you never have any vices, Mr. Moreland?” As soon as she uttered the words’ she thought of the Indian woman.
He thought a moment before he answered. “Greed, I suppose. But I’ve always tried to be fair to those I’ve dealt with.”
“And generous, as you’ve been to my family.” Now why did she go and say that? The man hadn’t been generous to his own Indian family.
He was looking at her with an overpowering tenderness. “You really should wear color,” he said throatily.
She wished he would stop looking at her like that. And why did he continue to refer to her mourning? “I owe it to Michael—”
“ ‘What’s gone and what’s past help should be past grief.’ ”
She glared at him. “How conveniently you quote Shakespeare, Mr. Moreland.”
“There are no feelings or occasions that he has not addressed far more eloquently than ever I could.”
She simply had to get him to stop looking at her as if he would ravish her. “I’m very concerned over Glee,” she began. “She has not at all been herself lately. At first I was glad, but now . ..” She wondered once more if Glee could be in love with Mr. Moreland. And, more than that, she wondered at her own ease in sharing family worries with Thomas Moreland. After all, she had only known him a few weeks.
His brows lowered. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about her.”
Had the two of them an agreement? Her heart pounded frantically.
“She has been having clandestine meetings with an unsuitable gentleman.”
Relief rushed over her. Then it wasn‘t Mr. Moreland. “Who?” she demanded.
Thomas frowned. “Would that I could tell you his name.”
“You have seen him?”
“Yes, I saw the two of them on a bench at Sydney Gardens.”
The insufferable, arrogant, conniving upstart persisted in spying on her family! She whirled at him. “So you still spy on my family! I know Glee is impetuous, but she would not conduct herself with such impropriety. She’s a lady, the daughter of a viscount. I’m sure you only thought the girl was Glee.” Felicity shot him a haughty look.
He took up a blade of grass. “I don’t mean to pry. I just thought you should be aware.”
The sound of laughter and the drumming of hooves was a welcome respite from her confrontation with Mr. Moreland. She turned to watch her brother and sister and their newly cherished friend reign in and dismount. George leaped to assist Dianna, leaving Glee to get down on her own. His hands cinched about Dianna’s tiny waist, George looked down at her with laughing eyes. “I say, this has been great fun, Miss Moreland. We must do it again. Only next time, don’t allow me to win.”
She looked up at him, wonder in her porcelain perfect face. “I assure you, Lord Sedgewick, you bested me with no help.”
He offered her his arm and guided her to the shade of the tree where her brother and Felicity sat. “Drat, Miss Moreland, I do wish you’d call me George, as much time as we spend together.”
Before sitting down, she met her brother’s gaze with a questioning look.
“I have no objections to you calling Lord Sedgewick by his first name, though I’d as if he didn’t address you by your Christian name in society.”
“How glad I am not to be the only ogre,” Felicity said to Thomas.
Glee threw herself on the grass, tossed off her bonnet, and glared at her sister. “You are such a positive stickler for propriety.”
What had come over Glee of late? She never used to speak to Felicity with such resentment. It was as if the bond that united them had suddenly snapped.
Her thoughts flitting to Thomas Moreland, Felicity told herself she should see less of him. After all, she had kept her part of the bargain. He and his sister were accepted everywhere. Even without Felicity, their standing in society was assuredly secure.
Then why did he continue to spend every free moment with Felicity? Were it not for his respect and gentlemanly conduct toward her, she might almost believe him enamored of her. But his desire for her companionship bore no resemblance to Colonel Gordon’s naked lust for her.
Most likely, it was just as he had said. She was the daughter of a viscount. Having a friend on the fringes of aristocracy could certainly boost his credit. Hadn’t that been the whole point to their unusual bargain? But now—knowing him as she was beginning to—his hunger for social standing was at odds with the man she knew him to be, though she supposed he did long for Dianna’s acceptance in the haute ton.
She smiled as she thought of what a kind brother he was to his younger sister, of the lengths he had gone to assure her a gentleman for a husband.
But he continued to spy on Felicity’s family.
Once again, she remembered the poor Indian woman. And she grew even angrier. Another juxtaposition of the man she knew him to be and the man he was.
Thomas had mistakenly hoped George could keep the younger girls occupied longer and was disappointed when they returned before he had been able to penetrate Felicity’s armor. Not only had he not penetrated it, he seemed to have thickened it with his well-intentioned remark about Glee’s clandestine meetings with a man who could not be worthy of her since he was exposing her to scandal.
Just when Thomas was beginning to thaw the ice around Felicity’s heart, he had once again managed to anger her. And instead of gaining a hungered-for kiss from her, Thomas had drawn her ire.
One remark that had slipped from her lovely lips cut him deep and wide. She s a lady, the daughter of a viscount. Would he ever be able to cross the gulf that separated his kind from hers?
He got to his feet, brushing grass from his breeches.
“We had best take the ladies back before they get too much sun.”
Disappointment flashed across George’s face, but he, too, stood up, then assisted Dianna. As had become the pattern now, Thomas helped first Felicity, then Glee, mount the horses he had provided them. He watched with favor as George rode ahead next to Dianna and Glee while he held back several feet with Felicity next to him. Her bonnet shaded her face from the sun’s brightness but did nothing to prevent her hair from bowing to the direction of the stirring breeze.
Birds chirped from nearby trees and the sun warmed him. It should be a glorious day. It had begun with so much promise. He’d run his eyes over a reclining Felicity and been nearly debilitated with want He had longed to stretch out beside her, to feel her softness pressed to him, to feel his lips on hers. Then he had sabotaged himself, and it was no longer a splendid day.
Before, when he’d ridden his vast acreage, he’d swelled with the pride of ownership. These fertile orchards and sweeping pastures and nurturing lakes all belonged to him. Bought and paid for with money earned as a result of his own cunning. But today, there was no pride. What good was all this without the woman he loved and his own progeny to hold it all in trust for generations to come?
The sound of laughter ahead cheered him. Dianna, at least, was enjoying herself. “Please don’t laugh over your horse, I beg you,” Dianna implored George, “for my brother bought him specifically for you. In fact, the horses the three of you ride were purchased as gifts for you.”
He hadn’t wanted them to know that. At least not yet. He glanced at Felicity and was sickened
over the outrage that blazed on her face.
“If you think to buy us,” she said through clenched teeth, “you are grossly inept.” With that remark, she dug in her heels and rode like the wind toward Winston Hall.
Chapter Ten
Dressed all in black, save for the snow white linen of his shirt, Thomas stood before the open carriage door and offered Felicity his hand. She felt utterly self-conscious. Her unease increased when she gave him her hand. Must he hold it so firmly?
Once in the carriage, she saw Dianna sitting alone, and a wicked smile alighted on Felicity’s face as she seated herself next to Miss Moreland while Thomas instructed the coachman to take them to the Upper Assembly Rooms. I’ll show him, Felicity thought. Mr. Moreland had grown smugly used to having Felicity always by his side in the carriage. In fact, the man was used to having whatever he wanted, she thought with anger. Did he think to add her to his lists of conquests? Did he think to purchase her? His latest bribe—the gift of the horses;—she had been unable to refuse because her siblings had been so thrilled over them. She had wished to refuse them with all the haughtiness her mother had taught her to use with upstarts. Unfortunately, she couldn’t crush his pretensions. To do so would hurt his lovely sister. Dianna didn’t deserve the pain such an event would cause. But somehow Felicity would thwart him.
Dianna looked lovely in a saffron-colored gown, Felicity thought “I regret that Glee will not be able to accompany us tonight,” Felicity said to Dianna. “I fear she has gone to bed with a bad head.” Felicity felt guilty leaving Glee. Her sister had to be very sick to miss an assembly. Why, Glee had never had a headache before.
Miss Moreland expressed her sympathies as her brother climbed into the carriage, saw that Felicity chose not to sit by him, then tossed a chilly glance at Felicity.
A pity Miss Moreland would not have Glee to keep her company tonight, but Felicity brightened upon remembering that ogling young bucks would keep Dianna so busy standing up with her that she would scarcely have time to realize Glee’s absence.
Which proved to be the case. Dianna had barely set her well-shod foot into the Assembly Rooms when a circle of admirers formed around her. Felicity and Thomas, standing ten feet away, watched with amusement, and Felicity was pleased when one or two young men inquired about Glee’s absence.
Felicity caught a whiff of lavender water and stiffened. Carlotta.
“So good to see you here, Mr. Moreland,” Carlotta said to Thomas, then nodding at Felicity, “and you too, Mrs. Harrison.”
Mrs. Harrison! Since when had Carlotta called her by that name? Not in the past five years, to be sure. While Carlotta made every effort to capture Thomas’s attention, Felicity pondered Carlotta’s attraction to Mr. Moreland. For it was an attraction, despite Carlotta’s attempts to disparage him to Felicity. Could it be she was afraid Felicity sought to snare him for herself? That could explain why her friend referred to her as Mrs. Harrison. Carlotta most likely wished to remind Mr. Moreland of Felicity’s matrimonial state.
For even though Michael was dead, Felicity would always think of herself as his wife. Surely Carlotta realized Felicity had no interest in any other man.
Thomas attempted to draw Felicity into the conversation. “Mrs. Ennis has remarked on your sister’s absence, Mrs. Harrison.”
“Yes,” Felicity said, agonizingly aware that Mr. Moreland would not remove his eyes from her. “Poor dear has a dreadful headache. She went to bed immediately after dinner.”
Carlotta actually looked at her, which she rarely did when Mr. Moreland was present. The raven-haired beauty’s eyes, like all the gowns she wore, shone in lavender. Why couldn’t they be brown? Felicity lamented. “I would have wagered your sister would have dragged herself here—headache or not,” Carlotta said. “The girl absolutely thrives on the company of gentlemen.”
Must Carlotta reveal Glee’s impetuous nature to Mr. Moreland? “It is my belief,” Felicity countered, “that Glee is beginning to show remarkable maturity. Methinks you will find that she has become much more levelheaded.” She glanced at Thomas as if to demand his agreement. “My sister is far less flighty of late.” She felt a compunction to defend her sister, especially to Mr. Moreland, who had implied that Glee might be involved in an unequal relationship. He, of course, had to be mistaken. Despite her immaturity, Glee was a lady and simply would not act with such impropriety.
The memory of his accusation against Glee sent Felicity’s stomach dropping while an unexplainable sense of fear gripped her.
“I daresay you’re right,” Thomas said. He moved closer to Felicity and lowered his voice. “I believe the orchestra is playing a waltz. Would you do me the goodness of standing up with me?”
She had an odd feeling there was no one else in the noisy room save the two of them. The way he gazed at her only reinforced this feeling.
Though her first instinct had been to refuse to dance with him—to prevent any further intimacy—she could not Because of the man’s kindness to her family, Felicity put her hand in his. She dared not glance at Carlotta, who was sure to be livid.
Now that Mr. Moreland was used to dancing with a real live woman instead of a foppish dancing master, his steps were smooth and unfaltering. And Felicity confessed that if she had to dance with a man, Thomas Moreland was her preferred partner. After all, he was surely the tallest man in the room and undoubtedly the most handsome.
What Felicity could not understand was why the man persisted in seeking her out—knowing she was completely unattainable—while snubbing the exotic-looking Carlotta, who was equally as pretty as she knew herself to be. And decidedly attainable. Felicity decided the man must aspire to the coattails of nobility.
She pondered Mr. Moreland’s hunger for nobility a moment but was not at all convinced of her accuracy. Other than his aspirations for his sister, Mr. Moreland was surely the most unaffected man of her acquaintance. He, more than anyone she knew, never pretended to be something he was not.
Her flat hand barely touching his sleeve as they danced, she was keenly aware of the solid feel of his well-muscled body. She did not doubt he could seduce some poor Indian woman out of her virtue. Men of her class also fathered illegitimate children on their mistresses, but it was a practice Felicity abhorred.
Michael would never . . . but he had died so young, she could not say for a certainty what he would have done given a long life. Nevertheless, men of quality provided for their indiscretions. They didn’t just abandon them.
I must not think on Mr. Moreland’s virility, Felicity willed herself. Think of something else. “Why must you persist in snubbing Mrs. Ennis?” she asked.
Felicity gazed up into his sun-burnished face and noted the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Me? Snubbing Mrs. Ennis? Are you telling me I am not behaving as a gentleman ought to? For, of course, I should like to be a lump of clay for you to mold appropriately.”
She whacked him with her free hand. “You know very well what I’m speaking of, Mr. Moreland. Why could you not waltz with Carlotta?”
“I prefer to waltz with you.”
“Pray tell, why?”
“You are shorter, and therefore make me feel taller and stronger.”
The corners of her mouth lifted in mirth. “I do not believe you for a moment, Mr. Moreland. It has been my observation your self-confidence needs nothing further to inflate it. You must know half the women in this ballroom—and indeed all the maidens—would not hesitate to dance to your bidding.”
“I did not come to Bath to launch myself,” he said seriously.
Felicity glanced at Dianna, who was dancing with a naval officer. “You must be delighted, then, with how well your sister has taken.”
“I am, though I am cognizant that such success could not have been attained without your sponsorship.”
How could Felicity be angry with him when he behaved with such humility? She started to respond to him but decided she did not want to acknowledge the covert bond that united them. She wa
s beginning to think she would have befriended the Morelands even without the generous inducement. “I would be proud to call Miss Moreland my friend had I never met you.” She felt compelled to change the subject. “Pray, you must ask Mrs. Ennis for the next set.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
It suddenly struck Felicity that Mr. Moreland always managed to seek her—never Carlotta—for the waltz. How very odd. Carlotta’s buxom beauty rendered her a far more desirable dance partner, especially for the waltz.
Another odd thing occurred to her as they swept from the dance floor at the conclusion of the waltz. Mr. Moreland held her hand the entire distance from the dance floor to the spot where they had left Carlotta, then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. His touch was unexpectedly sensuous. Shocked, she gazed up at the intensity on his face, and she quickly withdrew her hand. She was so shaken, she barely heard it when he asked Carlotta to join him for the next set.
A surging quake overtook Felicity’s body as she watched them walk onto the dance floor. He did not hold Carlotta’s hand as he had held hers. For some unexplainable reason, she was happy that he did not.
When the colonel joined her several minutes later, the inner quaking in her body had not subsided.
“Ah, Mrs. Harrison,” he said, “how fortunate I am that you are not dancing. Please do me the goodness of sitting with me.”
The prospect of sitting with him held no allure. “Of course, Colonel,” she said, giving him her hand as he hobbled—assisted by his ever-present cane—to some nearby chairs.
She sat beside him, then noticed that George and his chum Blanks had entered the room. She smiled at how handsome the pair of them were. George was scanning the crowd, then he scowled. Felicity followed his line of vision and saw that he was displeased to see Dianna dancing with another naval officer, this one taller than George but not as good-looking.
Though George had avoided the Assembly Rooms for most of the two years they had resided in Bath, something in them now attracted him most heartily, and Felicity knew without a doubt the attraction was the lovely Miss Moreland.
