The Highwayman's Lady (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Karen Lingefelt

  Yet because of a prank, Felicity might have to marry this man.

  But would she rather have married Renton?

  She decided not. Still, she didn’t like the idea of marrying Captain Jordan or any man because of a prank gone awry.

  She still wished to marry for love.

  “So it was a prank,” she finally said. “As for how I figured it out so easily, I don’t believe you tried all that hard to dissemble. Indeed, you seemed determined to let me know in painfully obvious dribs and drabs that you were the culprit.” Enjoying the rather comical expression of astonishment on his face—to include a mouth ready to receive flies—with great relish she added, “And because of that, I thought it would be amusing to play the fool with you, just to see how far you would go to betray yourself!”

  “Quite far, apparently,” he choked out.

  And never so far or as apparently as last night, she silently added.

  “So when you asserted to me your belief that Renton was the highwayman, you were only funning me?” he asked.

  “A little bit. For a moment there I was afraid, and I do mean deathly afraid, that he might’ve been the highwayman, and I was ever so relieved to learn he wasn’t. Still, I was fascinated to watch your reaction as I gave my reasons for believing he was guilty.” She couldn’t help smiling. “Except for that moment when I reminded you of Howland’s stray sheep, you acquitted yourself quite admirably, Captain!”

  “And you proved an able barrister in arguing your case against him. For a moment you almost had me believing Renton was the highwayman.” This time, to her consternation, he did not use a possessive pronoun. “And perhaps you should stop calling me ‘Captain’ all the time and address me as Jack.”

  “Jack,” she said softly.

  He sighed as he gazed down at her, his expression contrite. “When I say I’m sorry for what happened, Felicity, I really mean I wish we could’ve met under different circumstances.”

  But if they’d met under different circumstances, they wouldn’t be where they were now, compelled to marry only to save her reputation and thus validate his honor. Of course he wished they’d met under different circumstances.

  “I don’t like the fact that I stole your betrothal ring, thus giving Renton an excuse to jilt you,” he added. “Because I know that’s what he did, and I know that’s why he did it.”

  “But you did us both a favor. He and I never wanted to marry. His father and mine decided we would, and all because the two of them had served in the army together.”

  “Ah, then your father was a soldier like mine?” Captain Jordan—Jack—brightened at that.

  “Yes, and you’re probably wondering why Renton never followed in his father’s footsteps.”

  “Not really. Not all sons follow their fathers, and despite our brief acquaintance, Renton didn’t strike me as the soldiering type. He likes comfort.”

  “That he does. I also had two brothers, one older and the other younger, who followed our father.” Felicity averted her gaze as she felt a familiar ache in her heart, an ache that wasn’t as persistent as it had been in recent years, but that still made itself known in moments like this, when she had occasion to remember they were gone and would never return.

  “I notice your use of the past tense. Your father, too? All of them on the Peninsula?”

  “But on different battlefields. Corunna, Salamanca, Vittoria,” she rapped out. “They’re all such pretty names but I hate them.”

  Just like that he was sitting next to her. He took both of her hands into his, and that simple gesture kept the threatening tears at bay.

  “I’m sorry, Felicity,” he whispered, the same whispered voice she’d heard last night, only more sorrowful. “You must despise me all the more for having survived those battles.”

  “You were in all those places?”

  “Yes, though I don’t recall any soldiers named Griffin, just as I don’t recall any soldiers named Burton. That would be my sister’s new husband.”

  She kept her hands enclosed in his. She didn’t want him to let go of her now, not for any reason. “Why did everyone come back but my father and brothers?”

  “It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it? But my dear Felicity, thousands of brave British men like your father and brothers will never come back. I saw too many fall, and wondered every day why I was still alive, and if tomorrow would be my turn to fall. I don’t know why, but I do know I can never take the place of any of those men you love but will never see again.” He paused for a long moment before adding, “Dare I ask if that’s why you balk at the idea of marrying me?”

  “No. It’s just that Renton never courted me. There was no need for him to do so, since our marriage had already been decided by our fathers. I was engaged to him all my life, and would you believe I never had the chance to get to know him any better? We were strangers from the very start to the very end. He could’ve been dallying with another chit all these years for all I knew.”

  Jack offered her a wry smile. “Is that why you were so quick to assume he was the Lord R the Brothers Pitt were seeking?”

  She gazed at the swans now gliding around the pond. “Maybe. I made quite a cake out of myself the other day, didn’t I? Though certainly not as big a cake as I made with the highwayman.”

  “What you did was impetuous, but I hardly think you’re a fool. You may be one of the brightest ladies I’ve ever known, next to my sister and cousin. But that’s one of the things I like about you.”

  At least he liked her. But she wasn’t certain that was enough to appease the yearnings of her heart. “I thought men preferred women to be featherbrains.”

  “Not this one. And not my brother-in-law. Maybe Renton prefers a wife with no brain, and that’s why he seized the chance to be free of you. You couldn’t have loved him, since you say you barely knew him.”

  But Captain Jordan—Jack—didn’t love her, either. Because he barely knew her?

  He squeezed her hand. “Do you really wish to be courted, and perhaps enjoy what’s left of the season?” He sounded as if he, for his part, really wished he didn’t have to court her. How to tell him the real reason she wanted him to court her was the hope that he might fall in love with her—as she was beginning to think she was doing with him? “What about those hens who traveled with you yesterday? Didn’t you say they’d already heard rumors about the highwayman down in Brighton—the same rumors we left behind at Howland Hall? By now those rumors must be flying around London. My aunt has probably heard of them by now, and I haven’t even seen her yet.”

  “Only at Howland Hall do they connect my name with the highwayman,” Felicity replied. “Who else would’ve left the house party and carried tales to Town?”

  “Lord Rollo,” Jack said without hesitation. “But since the whole highwayman lark was his idea, I expect he’ll stay quiet about it. Besides, by now he should be fully occupied with marriage to Miss Pitt.”

  She let out a long, tremulous sigh. “What about the rest of your family? Clearly your uncle doesn’t approve of me.”

  “I suspect it’s not that he doesn’t approve of you, in particular. I daresay he wouldn’t approve of my marrying anyone who isn’t my cousin Grace.”

  “Why do you not wish to marry her?”

  “We’re fond of each other as cousins are, but she and I have always resented the notion of having to marry each other just to keep her dowry in the family, and also because her parents think no other man will marry her. She’s headstrong and a bit of a hoyden, just like you.”

  Felicity smiled. “In that case, I think I’d like her very much!”

  “I do believe you would, and I think you could be very good friends with my sister as well. Samantha is recently married herself, to the Earl of Ellsworth.”

  “And I certainly didn’t know you were heir to a viscount!”

  “Does that matter?”

  “Not at all,” she assured him. “My opinion of Renton certainly never changed for bett
er or worse once he became an earl. Maybe if he’d kissed me…”

  “Then will you permit me to kiss you?” he asked, his voice low enough it was like a breath so barely audible that she thought she must’ve imagined the words.

  She peered at him questioningly, as if doing so might confirm her suspicions. “Did you just request permission to kiss me?”

  He gifted her with a tender smile that melted her heart, even as it continued to throb against her rib cage. “I know I didn’t the first time, and regardless of what drove me to do it, it was wrong. I should have asked first. That’s why I’m asking now.”

  Yet why couldn’t he ask her to marry him? Perhaps if she let him kiss her again—for she did want him to kiss her—a proposal would follow. As he brought his lips to hers, she wondered if she was going to taste his breakfast or more of last night’s wintergreen, when a pair of high-pitched voices yanked them away from each other, and Felicity turned to see Aunt Dolly and Lady Lockwood scurrying across the lawn, handkerchiefs fluttering. Jack immediately let go of her and rose to his feet, as if he didn’t want to be caught trying to take advantage of her again.

  “Is this the gentleman?” asked Dolly.

  Felicity finally stood up and introduced Jack to the Duchess of Halstead.

  “Have you proposed to her already?” That was how Lady Lockwood greeted her nephew after he’d been away for five years.

  An awkward pause followed before Felicity said, “As a matter of fact, he hasn’t.”

  “I saw no need to do so,” he said, to her dismay. “I already know I must marry her, and would prefer to do so without delay, but she seems…well, she wishes to be courted first.”

  And to receive a proper marriage proposal, Felicity thought furiously. Otherwise this wasn’t all that different than the arrangement she’d had with Renton.

  All she wanted was to be asked, instead of told, as if what she wanted or even thought was of no consequence.

  “Then everything is settled?” Lady Lockwood looked rather anxious.

  Before Jack could respond in the affirmative—because she didn’t doubt he would, given the chance—Felicity said, “As I’ve not accepted him—since he hasn’t asked—I daresay nothing is settled.” She impaled him with a sharp look, yet he only stood there, expressionless, showing not the slightest inclination to rectify matters, the presence of his aunt and hers notwithstanding.

  Lady Lockwood suddenly looked relieved.

  “Splendid!” Dolly clapped her hands together. “I never had a daughter of my own to launch into society, and since my niece hasn’t even received a formal proposal from Captain Jordan, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to give her a dowry and a season—what’s left of it.”

  Felicity was almost too stunned to speak. A dowry—and a season! Perhaps her aunt and cousin hadn’t brought her here to force a marriage, after all. Still…

  Dolly took her by the hand. “Come, my dear, we haven’t a moment to lose. We must get you to the modiste posthaste.” She lowered her voice as she practically dragged Felicity away from Captain Jordan and his aunt. “You needn’t settle for Lockwood’s nephew just because he happened to steal a kiss from you, especially if he won’t even deign to tender a proper proposal. You’ll have your pick of bridegrooms!”

  A week ago Felicity would have leaped at that. But not now.

  Not when she knew which bridegroom she wished to pick.

  If only he’d deign to tender that proper proposal.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Consider that you’ve dodged a bullet,” said Uncle Crispin. “Most men aren’t as lucky as you are.”

  Jack didn’t even look at his uncle as he sat on the other side of the dining room table at Ellsworth House that evening. He was lucky, all right, but not for the same reasons Crispin thought. And he hadn’t dodged a bullet so much as he’d dodged the hangman’s noose. Now that Felicity knew the truth—or at least admitted to knowing the truth, since it turned out she knew it all along, the clever vixen—he felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  “I still don’t understand,” said Samantha. “Why did she refuse your offer of marriage when her aunt and cousin went to Lockwood House specifically to demand that you marry her?”

  “I never even had the chance to offer her—”

  “There was no need for him to offer it, since they were already there to demand it,” Crispin cut in. “And here I was hoping the duke might’ve come to offer for Grace.”

  Aunt Marcella finally spoke. “I don’t think they understood the ramifications of what they were doing when they called on us this morning—the dowager duchess in particular, but then she’s American, so what can one expect there?”

  Jack glowered back at Marcella. “And you wait until this evening to inform me that it was really your idea that Miss Griffin be dowered and launched and duly dangled in front of other bachelors who don’t have relations as officious as mine!”

  “All I did was ask why her niece had no dowry and had never been out. She explained about all the family deaths in recent years, and that Miss Griffin had been betrothed to Lord Renton from infancy until they decided to end it, presumably because he caught you kissing her and preferred not to call you out. But then, just like that, the Duchess of Halstead said I’d just given her a splendid idea, so she decided to dower Miss Griffin and give her a season since she’d never had a daughter of her own. And I do think it a splendid idea, especially since that would leave you free to marry Grace if the duke didn’t offer for her.”

  “Which he didn’t,” Crispin growled.

  “Why didn’t Grace and Charlotte come to Town?” asked Samantha, in an apparent attempt to create a diversion before someone—like Jack—started throwing food at their aunt and uncle. “Do you realize I’ve never even met them?”

  “Maybe they’re hiding from me,” he surmised. “Or maybe they’re not allowed to come to Town lest they catch the eye of men other than me.”

  An awkward silence fell over the table. Neither Crispin nor Marcella deigned to contradict what Jack just said, in which case he was right. Despite the understanding he’d reached with his uncle earlier today, he was still glad he’d chosen to stay with his sister at Ellsworth House instead of at Lockwood House.

  “My dear Samantha, you have no idea how much I regret not playing a greater part in your life when you were growing up.” Marcella threw a quick glance at Gabriel. “And yes, my lord, I know it wasn’t till after she became your wife and Countess of Ellsworth that we finally crossed paths, and that it looks exactly like you think it does.” She turned back to Samantha. “But we already had two daughters and we thought if you went to your other uncle down in Devonshire, it might motivate him to finally take a wife. That was probably a grave mistake on our part, wouldn’t you agree, dear?” Now she glanced at Crispin, who only ignored her as he concentrated on the contents of his wine glass.

  “Not too grave,” Samantha replied. “Or I might never have married Gabriel. Anyway, perhaps we should all put the past behind us and look forward. I’m sure Jack would like to, now that the war is over?” She offered him a warm smile. “I’m certain you can win Miss Griffin’s heart and hand on your own merits.”

  “You’ll only be competing with every fortune hunter in London,” Crispin said. “Halstead’s father might’ve married an American, but at least she came with a vast fortune of her own to make up for her other shortcomings—not to mention Miss Griffin’s. Yes, I daresay she’ll have her pick of husbands after this. Or do you still mean to do the honorable thing, even if all you did was kiss her?” As if he thought his nephew wasn’t capable of doing anything else with a woman.

  Jack remained silent as he fought to keep his temper under control. He didn’t want to marry Felicity simply because he’d compromised her. His foray as the highwayman might have been the most foolish thing he’d done in his life, but at least some good might come out of it. He realized now that from the moment of their first enc
ounter, he’d been immediately drawn to her lively spirit. Naturally she reminded him, in some respects, of his cousin Grace, of whom he was very fond but had no wish to marry because she was more like a sister to him, like Samantha. He felt none of the desire for his cousin that he felt for Felicity, especially after last night when she’d been naked in his arms. He felt a tremor in his loins and took another sip of wine as if that might subdue it, even though he knew it wouldn’t.

  But he also felt something else deep in his core, something other than lust. Something that filled him with a rare sense of rightness and joy whenever he thought of her—and he was thinking of her quite a bit lately.

  He knew her already, and no other man in London did. All other men would know her only for the fortune her ducal relatives were about to settle on her. They wouldn’t care about anything else, and once they learned of her lively, impetuous spirit, whoever married her would only break it by any means possible. Lord Renton and Lady Tyndall had tried doing so already.

  Felicity didn’t deserve that. And Jack couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.

  * * * *

  The following week, as Felicity stood in the ballroom of Halstead House in her new white gown, a frothy meringue of lace and ruffles and bows, she found herself wishing she’d acceded to Captain Jordan’s—Jack’s—declaration that he would marry her at once for honor’s sake.

  It seemed as if every time she tried to seize the day and assert some independence—whether by popping out of her aunt’s carriage to confront the highwayman or insisting to his alter ego that she wouldn’t marry him without a proper courtship and proposal, she was reminded of the old adage to be careful what you wished for.

  She could not muster a shred of interest in any of the gentlemen attending the ball this evening, especially since almost all of them, according to Blake, were fortune hunters, only here because they’d heard about her recently bestowed dowry. Without it she realized she was nothing but damaged goods, a jilt who’d thrown Lord Renton over for a highwayman.