Tempting The Rival (Scandals and Spies Book 3)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Felicia had noticed that the dowager remained in half-mourning, wearing shades of gray, lavender, and black. “I don’t mind wearing an older dress.” Especially if it would be one that Evelyn wouldn’t miss because she didn’t wear it.

  The dowager shook her head. “Oh, those old rags? They wouldn’t do. Here, try this one on.” It was a muted yellow so light, it almost appeared to be an off-white color.

  Any dress would be better than the one Felicia currently wore. “Thank you, that seems perfect.”

  “Try it on first,” Evelyn admonished. “I’m not terribly taller than you, but you are thinner and I’m afraid it will look like a sack on you. Come here and I’ll help you undress.”

  Without much of a choice, Felicia obeyed the command. As Evelyn undid her buttons, she said, “Perhaps once we’ve found you a dress, I can fashion your hair. I used to do Lucy’s all the time, before we hired her a lady’s maid for her come out.”

  She sounded wistful. Felicia couldn’t deny her. In fact, she didn’t want to. Spending time alone with a woman as loving and maternal as Evelyn was… nice.

  Too nice, perhaps. The raw feeling in her chest didn’t entirely have to do with her injury. Spending time with Evelyn made her wish for things she couldn’t have.

  Like the mother that she’d never known.

  Like the promise of a husband and children that she had turned her back on when she’d run away from home so long ago.

  19

  Catt caught Giddy admiring Felicia’s figure as she leaned across the work bench to reach for a jar. With a smirk, Catt leaned his hip on the corner of the work table and crossed his arms.

  “Having trouble concentrating, Giddy?”

  Gideon glared at his friend. Why would you say that? Catt had witnessed the hostility between Giddy and Felicia firsthand; he knew how rare a moment’s peace was while they were working. Now was not the time to insinuate that Gideon found his partner attractive.

  Even if it was true.

  He plucked at the cravat that was uncomfortably tight around his throat as he struggled to think of a witty reply. Unfortunately, with Felicia near enough for him to smell the clean scent of her soap, he could barely remember his own name, let alone formulate words. As difficult as it was to maintain his distance while they were at odds, after hours alone together working peacefully, he couldn’t remember why she’d frustrated him to begin with.

  Or nearly alone. Catt, after all, had made himself at home in the orangery despite Giddy’s speaking looks. Felicia didn’t seem to mind.

  In fact, she took his friend’s teasing comment in stride and feathered her hand over Catt’s arm. “Who wouldn’t have trouble concentrating with you batting your eyelashes over there? That is why you removed your jacket when you came in, wasn’t it—to draw the eye?”

  Giddy clenched his hands as a surge of emotion raked his chest. Felicia delivered the quip with a touch, a flirtatious smile that brought color to Catt’s cheeks, and a musical tone of voice. For one small moment, Catt was the center of her world.

  Then, in the next breath, she turned away to add one more ingredient to the serum and adjust the beaker over the brazier, for all the world like she’d never flirted at all. Catt adjusted his position on the edge of the bench, looking uncomfortable as he divided his gaze between Giddy and Felicia.

  The hot, jealous feeling in Gideon’s chest persisted as Felicia ignored him. A week ago, she’d teased him just as mercilessly as Catt. Now… he didn’t even get a smile. Had something changed? When she interacted with him, she was professional, serious, sometimes even cold. He shouldn’t be craving the flirtatious glances and remarks that had irritated him at first.

  But, at the same time her smiles should be for me, not Catt.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. You, sir, are an idiot. Fortunately, Felicia had her back turned to him as she hunched over the work bench. In fact, she had a death grip on the edge. Alarm spiked through him and he straightened his spine. Was she having trouble breathing again?

  “Perhaps you should sit.”

  She didn’t argue, which spoke volumes in itself. He pulled the stool closer to her so she didn’t have to walk as far. Her lips were parted. She looked unnaturally pale, her skin a contrast to her dark hair. Her chest, her bodice a periwinkle blue lined with delicate lace not suited to the task at hand, rose and fell with steady breaths.

  “You’re over-exerting yourself.” He should have guessed. Although the servants had returned to work, Felicia had been exposed to the smoke for longer than anyone else. Not to mention, even his mother hadn’t been able to convince her to take a few days of rest. She had been up, keeping herself busy even when working in the orangery had been impossible.

  She cast him an irritated glare. “I’m fine.”

  “Perhaps I should leave. You two seem busy.”

  They’d been busy with the project, refusing to disclose its purpose, for the last hour, not that that had mattered to Catt then.

  Giddy didn’t bother answering his friend. He was more concerned with Felicia. It was getting late, but he knew better than to suggest they retire for the evening just yet. “Some water, then.”

  He blindly reached for the handful of flasks they had lined up on the edge of the work bench. His hand bumbled against the lot, knocking them over. The cap of one, not shut tightly enough, sprung open and the contents drenched the tan tailcoat hung over the edge of the bench.

  “My jacket,” Catt exclaimed.

  “It’s only clothing.” He found the water flask and held it out to Felicia.

  Catt, unfortunately, didn’t consider the matter settled. “Easy for you to say! You don’t have to walk back to the village in nothing but your shirtsleeves.”

  “Take my spare coat.” Giddy gestured at the neatly folded bit of fabric tucked between two pots. It was one of his formal coats done up in the ducal colors, that he’d worn into the orangery months ago and forgotten here ever since. He didn’t particularly like it, for all that it represented the family. Matchmaking mamas and debutantes who didn’t know him by face but who recognized the ducal seal tended to latch onto him when he wore it. Hence why he’d conveniently lost it.

  “I can see I’d best take my leave before I have to return home naked.”

  Giddy rolled his eyes. “I’ll have your blasted coat washed and returned to you. It probably won’t even stain.”

  In a huff, Catt shoved his arms into the jacket and left by means of the garden door. The orangery, so humid in relation to the crisp outdoor air that wafted in, was encased with glass windows that were completely befogged. He couldn’t even discern the light of the setting sun or moon—depending on how late the hour had grown.

  Felicia finished with the flask and leaned forward to thrust it onto the work bench. “He gets cranky when he’s tired.”

  The observation startled a laugh out of Gideon. “You could say that.”

  After releasing a deep, audible breath, she slipped off the stool to resume work. Her complexion didn’t look as wan. In fact, spots of color had returned to her cheeks. Her gaze twinkled with good humor. He moved the stool out of her way and set in to help her.

  Their hands brushed, the burn of bare skin searing him. He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Before she teased him again, he grabbed an empty flask and fetched more water to boil for their experiment. Although he’d taken to keeping two full buckets on hand from the well, she still insisted on purifying any water before using it in their experiment.

  When he straightened from filling the flask, he caught her gaze on him. She averted it instantly. The air charged with something he dare not name.

  She coughed into her fist as he returned to her. Not the rough, ragged cough that had plagued her immediately following the fire, but a lighter one as if she had a persistent tickle in her throat. He set the flask on the work bench next to the others as she reached for the beaker to remove it from the heat.

  He frowned. Was it supposed to be frothi
ng like that? None of the others they’d tried had done so. Perhaps he ought to try harvesting some oils from the new roots of the cutting he’d taken. He’d noticed the beginning only this morning through the clear glass and water solution. Every time he checked back, even if only an hour had passed, more of the roots had come through. In a couple days he would feel confident transplanting the clipping.

  With a disgusted sigh that led into another little cough, Felicia poured the mixture into a jar, corked it with perhaps more vigor than was necessary, and started to move away from the bench.

  He stepped in her path. “What do you need? I’ll get it.”

  She had more color—in fact, the flush over her skin now reached to her chin and forehead—but he didn’t like that persistent cough. Better she didn’t strain herself yet again.

  Fortunately, she didn’t fight his help. “The pen and ink, please.”

  He fetched it from her side of the work table. He held the vial as she scrawled on the label in large, easily decipherable letters: DO NOT DRINK.

  Ah. So the frothing hadn’t been desirable, after all.

  Once she finished and capped the ink once more, she used a handkerchief to clean the nub of the pen. She set them both down on the work table, which was where Giddy added the useless serum. He didn’t quite understand why she wanted to keep their failures, but they already had a wide array lined up on her half of the work bench. She insisted.

  Looking weary, she rubbed her head. “I don’t understand how it was contaminated. It shouldn’t have done that.”

  Since he didn’t have any insight to offer, he didn’t say anything at all. Instead, he reached past her for the beaker. “I’ll rinse it outside. Maybe that will help.”

  As his hand closed around the warm neck of the beaker, his body brushed against Felicia’s. She wasn’t the only person to have trouble breathing—but in his case, the lack of breath was due to her proximity. His head clouded. Reason fled as her lips parted. He couldn’t think of a single reason not to kiss her at that moment. He lowered his head.

  This is a bad idea. He squashed that thought as he pressed his mouth to hers. As he abandoned the beaker and wrapped his arms around her, he realized that she’d risen on tiptoe to meet him.

  Gideon’s mouth was warm. Hot, even. It scorched her. Felicia wrapped her arms around his neck, pinning him in place against her. Not that he seemed willing to part ways any time soon. He kissed her with an intensity that stole her breath. His hands roved over her back and hips, fitting her against him. She ignited at his touch.

  Her throat burned as she inhaled through her nose and she broke the kiss. She turned her face to the side in order to cough. As apt as the analogy was, she shouldn’t actually smell smoke right now, should she? Had they knocked into the brazier?

  Her eyes watered as she opened them. The orangery was humid but it hadn’t been this foggy when they’d started kissing… had it?

  Gideon plucked at his cravat as he started to cough, too. The uncomfortable sting in her throat wasn’t just a byproduct of her injury. She spread the coals in the brazier to encourage it to cool.

  “I need some air.” The fog in the orangery was so thick, she could barely choke out the words. Gideon’s face had become indistinct, never mind that it was only a foot away from her.

  “Agreed.” His voice was strained. He took her by the hand and led her to the nearest door, into the marble corridor leading to the abbey. Her head spun due to the sharp stench of smoke, but his hand in hers anchored her. For a brief moment, she felt safe.

  The door wouldn’t budge. Gideon dropped her hand in order to try with his dominant hand. “It’s stuck,” he said, his voice sharpened with surprise and disbelief. He turned away. “Let’s go out the other door.”

  That one wouldn’t open, either. Felicia’s heart throbbed painfully in the base of her throat as she used the sleeve of her borrowed dress to wipe away some of the moisture fogging the glass. A long stick had been shoved through the handle, barring the doorway. Someone had shut them in here.

  If so, the smoke was not a byproduct of the brazier. It was something else entirely. And it didn’t bode well.

  Gideon shoved at the door with his full weight, though what he hoped to accomplish, she didn’t know. She backed away, struggling to think. It was as though the fog had clouded her brain as well. She coughed into her fist.

  Giddy took her by the shoulders. “It’s going to be all right. I’ll get us out.”

  He didn’t sound as though he thought it would be all right. He maneuvered her, still coughing, back to the work bench. Here, the smoke was thicker. It stung her eyes. She pulled her bodice up over her nose and mouth as she squinted.

  Gideon disappeared into the smoke. His form became no more than a silhouette. Before long, even that was hard to discern. A sickly sizzling sound caught her attention. She peered around for the source. There—by the vent. The air was too foggy around the sound to discern color, but it looked like a pool of liquid slowly spreading across the ground. The smoke wafted from the areas where the liquid touched plant matter, devouring it. Felicia stared as it slowly inched closer. What chemical had that reaction? An acid?

  Thank God she’d left Chubs with the women tonight as they entertained a couple of the ladies from the nearby village. That hazardous liquid pooled exactly where her dog usually chose to lay. Was someone trying to kill her dog?

  Or her.

  A shattering crash rang through the air, startling her from her slow thoughts.

  20

  The smoke clouded Giddy’s mind. He tried not to breathe in it, but that only made his lungs throb and his head spin. Someone had shut them in the orangery. He had to get Felicia out before she suffered more lung damage. She’d come so close last time…

  The thought of her granted him clarity. The moment he turned away from her, he found himself enclosed by fog, unable to escape due to the glass walls. If he broke them, his plants would die upon being exposed to the elements. If he didn’t, Felicia would die.

  He groped for the stool, took a step forward, and hurled it at the nearest wall. The glass shattered with an almost musical lilt. He stepped sideways and turned his back, hoping to shield Felicia from the spray. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t spot her silhouette.

  “Felicia?”

  “Here.”

  She’d moved away from the work table. He reached out, fumbling until he found her hand. The moment he did, he drew her to him and lifted her into his arms. Her shoulders shook as she battled a cough.

  “I can walk—”

  Like hell she could. “Don’t struggle. There’s broken glass. I don’t want you to get cut.”

  Using his body to shield hers, he stepped sideways through the opening he’d made. Jagged edges of glass sliced through his jacket and into his shoulder. A scratch. He ignored the sting.

  The fresh, clean outdoor air was like Heaven. But they still remained too close to the smoke now wafting from the opening. His knees weakened, but he walked as far as he could and set Felicia on her feet before he lowered himself onto the crisp, dry grass.

  The cold air burned his throat as he rolled onto his back. Felicia collapsed next to him, coughing hard. He battled a tickle in his throat as he sat up and rubbed her back.

  The moment her wheezing eased for a moment, he glanced back at the orangery. The lantern inside only provided an indistinct glow against the dissipating fog. The night air, at the very least, tore the mist to shreds without mercy. It didn’t reach Felicia and Giddy.

  “What was that?” His throat was raw from the sting of the smoke. He still tasted the bitter undertone.

  Felicia slumped against him, gulping for air. “I think… someone poured something… into the vent.” She swallowed and took several breaths before she added, “It’s corrosive. I saw the way it was eating through your plants, creating the smoke. We have to stop it.”

  When she started to stand, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pinned her next to hi
m. It took an astoundingly small amount of strength to hold her. She was still weak from the smoke and her injury.

  “Don’t. Let the smoke dissipate first. It isn’t safe.”

  “But your plants—”

  “Who cares about the bloody plants?” He rested his forehead against the top of her head.

  I do. Or, at least, he used to. But he cared about Felicia more. When had that happened?

  When he stretched out against the grass, Felicia followed. The chill of the air, granting clarity at first, soon penetrated his jacket to seep into his bones. Felicia wore even less, only a borrowed dress better suited to summer than fall. If he didn’t rouse himself and get them indoors, they might catch their death. His limbs trembled with weakness. One moment more, he promised himself. Then he would stand.

  As his body recovered, his mind whirled a mile a minute. The crisp air sharpened his thoughts.

  “This was no accident.”

  Felicia shifted next to him to look him in the eye. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

  Finally. How long had Felicia been trying to convince Giddy of the truth? She hadn’t wanted it to take the destruction of the orangery to convince him, but now at least they were on the same page. They could handle this situation together. Strength flooded her at the thought that she wouldn’t have to face such a daunting task alone.

  But first, she had to move them from the lawn. Night surrounded them, the temperature plummeting from earlier in the day. They had to go inside before they caught a chill.

  She hadn’t quite caught her breath—but, ever since the fire, she hadn’t been able to, anyway. Steeling herself, she rolled onto her hands and knees and started to stand. Giddy tried to pin her down with his arm, but she used it to haul him into a sitting position.