But she couldn’t.
Miss Merewether ignored her and quizzed Gideon on his mysterious love, but no matter how she prodded him, he refused to answer the question.
Felicia’s amusement died a quick death as Miss Merewether loosed a frustrated scream. She shoved the barrel of the gun into Giddy’s temple—viciously hard, judging by the way he winced.
“It should be me! I’ve whiled away my marriageable years waiting for you Graylocke boys to come up to snuff. I’ve turned down offers for you, you know. Now I am finally going to get my due, Gideon Graylocke. You will marry me or so help me…”
As with Mr. Keeling, Miss Merewether couldn’t seem to contain her words. Felicia’s jaw dropped as the deranged woman recited every glance the Graylocke brothers had ever given her, the way Tristan or Anthony had occasionally flirted, the way Morgan or Gideon had offered to escort her or carry her bag or open a door for her. By the time she rattled on about Evelyn and Lucy’s clear preference of her, Giddy’s eyebrow started to twitch.
Heedless to the gun pointed at his temple, he interrupted her. “I will never marry you.”
For a moment, Felicia’s heart stopped as she feared their captor would shoot him. Thankfully, Miss Merewether seemed to recall that she wouldn’t be able to marry a dead man. She aimed her pistol at Felicia’s chest.
“It didn’t work. Make another.”
The nozzle of the pistol wavered. If she pulled the trigger, where would she hit? Felicia tried desperately to swallow against a paper-dry mouth.
She grappled for some excuse, any excuse to stall the threat of violence glimmering in Miss Merewether’s eyes. Unfortunately, Felicia’s thoughts turned to mist when she reached for them. She couldn’t think.
Her gaze lit on the remainder of the serum. Some of it had evaporated, but there were a few drops circling the outer rim of the beaker. Not quite the sip Felicia had taken, but enough.
“You should feed him the rest. Then he’ll tell you the truth.”
No. That is a terrible idea. Even Giddy, whose response to Miss Merewether’s aggression thus far had been suspect, looked at Felicia as though she’d grown a second head. Maybe she had. She certainly wasn’t thinking with the one she had. Gingerly, she touched her forehead, hoping that by proving to herself that it still existed and her brains hadn’t spilled out that she would regain her faculties. No such luck. She still saw no way out, except to bide her time and overpower Miss Merewether if she found the chance. Her head grew foggier by the minute, so it would have to be soon.
And yet, when the spinster held out her hand, Felicia thrust the beaker into her palm. It nearly slipped out, but Miss Merewether managed to catch it by cradling the beaker between her forearm and her body. She focused on Gideon.
He turned his face away. “I won’t drink it.”
“You will or you’ll die.”
The threat had no effect on Gideon save for the clench of his jaw. He glanced at Felicia, something indecipherable entering his green eyes.
Miss Merewether turned the gun on Felicia. “Drink it or she dies instead.”
Giddy’s chin wobbled before he firmed it. He nodded. When the villain raised the beaker to his lips, he opened them to receive the liquid. Some of it dribbled down the side of his mouth. When Miss Merewether turned away to return the beaker to Felicia, he surreptitiously wiped his mouth against his shoulder.
Had he drank any? Would he lose his common sense as well, the way Felicia had?
Miss Merewether tapped her toe, impatient, as she waited for the serum to kick in. She soon grew tired of waiting. She rounded on Gideon.
Her back was turned to Felicia. What had Felicia wanted to do, again? The wood of the counter felt cool against her palm. She ran her fingers across it a few more times.
Miss Merewether asked, “Why won’t you marry me? We were meant for each other.”
“No, we weren’t.”
That was a mean thing for Giddy to say. Felicia giggled. His nickname was Giddy. Did his family call him that because of his walking-on-air personality? She laughed harder.
“Giddy.” That was fun to say. No wonder Antonia repeated it so often.
Miss Merewether started to turn toward Felicia again, but Gideon raised his voice and drew her attention. “I was meant for someone else. I love her.”
“Who?” Miss Merewether’s arm trembled as she levered the gun at him.
“Felicia. I’ll never marry anyone but her.”
Felicia’s hand slid away from the counter as her jaw dropped. He loved her? Actually, truly, deeply loved her? He must, if he was under the influence of the truth serum. He couldn’t lie. Her eyes filled with tears as she battled a wash of emotion.
The world seemed suspended for an instant. When she blinked, Miss Merewether turned around, a murderous expression contorting her face as she threw herself at Felicia. The gun dangled in the air between them. Felicia reacted on instinct, throwing herself at her attacker and knocking her arm upward. A shot fired as Felicia grabbed Miss Merewether’s wrist to keep it pointing skyward. Their momentum knocked them into the wall. They wrestled for supremacy.
Miss Merewether, a bit taller than Felicia, used her height to her advantage. When she thrust the smaller woman away, Felicia stumbled into the counter. The impact jarred her, but her head cleared somewhat. She grappled for a weapon as Miss Merewether flung herself at her, swinging the pistol as though it was a club. Clearly under the influence of the serum, the young woman swayed and stumbled. Felicia ducked under her arm and raised the weapon she’d grabbed. When she swung at the back of Miss Merewether’s head, the glass shattered and the spinster dropped to the ground.
Felicia stared at the jagged edges of the beaker spout still in her hand. Oh. She broke her beaker. Those were expensive, too.
Giddy pulled the broken glass out of her grip. When had he gotten free? He pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips into her hair. “Thank Zeus. I was so afraid.” He held her tight.
Moments later, when Miss Merewether started to stir, Felicia stomped on her like she would a cockroach that wouldn’t die. The villain lay still once more while Giddy checked her pulse. She must still be living because he said, “Let’s find something sturdier than your twine with which to restrain her.”
Felicia agreed, but her head was still spinning so in the end, she slipped out of the wagon and endured the kisses and snuffles of her dog as he checked her for injury. She was fine—she thought. Her head swam and her heart… she couldn’t begin to decipher that.
30
Over an hour later, and Giddy was still haunted by the fear that had clawed into his chest when Miss Merewether had lunged for Felicia. For a moment, with the gun flailing in the air, Giddy had petrified with the certainty that he would lose the woman he loved.
Even after turning Miss Merewether over to be delivered to the local magistrate—she had attacked the son of a duke at gunpoint and confessed to acts of sabotage, after all—he still couldn’t draw a deep breath. If she had died, he felt certain he would have died with her.
Although he’d mourned his father with the rest of his family, he’d never understood why his mother had felt the loss so acutely that she seemed to lose a part of herself. Now he understood, because if Felicia had died, he would have suffered the same fate. Earlier in the week, he’d been so cavalier about the concept of facing life without her. He’d thought, with time, that he would heal and move on. Now, he knew there was no woman for him but her.
But did she feel the same? With all the matters that needed their attention in the wagon and the wooziness that had gripped Felicia following her ingestion of the serum, they hadn’t had a chance to talk. He’d had little enough of the serum that the mind-muddling effects had worn off, leaving him with a throbbing headache. The events in the wagon were a bit fuzzy, but he was certain at one point that he’d confessed his love for Felicia while under the effects of the truth serum. Hell, he’d all but begged for her hand in marriage! Did she remembe
r or were her memories of the time in question slipping away like his?
He had to catch her before they did. He had to know whether she felt the same. Leaving Miss Merewether in the hands of the slowly-recovering Keeling and his trusted underlings, Gideon searched for Felicia. He found her sitting on the front step of the abbey. Chubs had all but crawled onto her lap in an effort to remain near her.
When his shadow passed over her, she glanced up. She huddled beneath her pelisse. Her thick eyelashes fluttered in front of her eyes as she blinked.
He tucked his hands in the pockets of his tailcoat. Maybe he should invite her inside, out of the chill. When he opened his mouth, the only words to tumble out were, “I love you, Felicia. I don’t want to spend a day without you. Could you… do you feel the same?”
Her eyebrows knitted together but she didn’t speak a word. Instead, she grimaced and touched her hand to her forehead. Not answering the question—the way Keeling had acted while he was under the influence of the serum, but before it had fully taken root. Felicia’s dose must have worn off. Her silence spoke for itself.
He took a step back, then another. He didn’t trust himself to stay or else he would drop to his knees and beg her to have him. Did he want to marry her if she didn’t feel the same about him? She might develop feelings for him over time. They hadn’t known each other for that long.
He needed to think. Needed to rid himself of the numb feeling encroaching on his body. Turning on his heel, he strode away to find the farthest, most remote place in Tenwick Abbey. Maybe there he wouldn’t feel as though his world was crumbling around his ears.
Felicia stared at the spot where Giddy had stood as the sky turned darker and darker. From time to time, Chubs whined and adjusted his position. He was the only thing keeping her warm. Her feet, her hands, her rump felt like ice. It matched her heart.
She hadn’t been able to say anything. Her head throbbed, dredged up new, temporarily forgotten memories with each blast of pain. With each ebb, they disappeared, and she was able to breathe again. Until the next pounding brought them back. Giddy confessing he loved her. Giddy holding her. Giddy asking if she loved him. All Gideon.
She could leave. Pack up her wagon, ride into the sunset, and never look back. Running away was what she did best, after all. It’s what she’d done when her father arranged a marriage. It’s what she’d done when one of her lovers wanted more from her than she was willing to commit.
Like Giddy did, now. Did she love him?
Yes. If that raw, frightening feeling in her chest could be called love. This time, she wanted more. It petrified her. As much as she knew that she should stand and make a decision, she couldn’t. There were too many doubts, too many what-ifs.
The click of footsteps hailed a woman’s approach. When Felicia glanced up, she met Lucy’s gaze. She looked away. The young woman sat next to her and pet Chubs.
For a long time, they didn’t speak.
“Are you going to marry my brother?” Lucy’s breath puffed out in clouds. They would both catch a chill if they continued to sit out here. Felicia couldn’t muster the desire to move.
She stared at her wagon and tried to imagine her future. “I never wanted a marriage. I ran away from one when I was your age, you know.”
“You aren’t my age anymore.”
Lucy delivered the words casually as she scratched behind the mastiff’s ear, but they rang in Felicia’s ears. She didn’t answer.
“Do you still not want one?”
Felicia stared at her hands, fisted in her skirts for warmth. “What if he wakes up one day and doesn’t want me?”
“Then you hand him his spectacles, because he’d have to be blind not to see what’s in front of him.”
A smile ghosted across Felicia’s lips. She laughed. As low and hollow as it was, it reminded her of what living was like. Dear Lord, she was going to do this, wasn’t she?
Slowly, she stood. She winced at the twinge of pain from muscles stiff from disuse. Wiping her clammy palms on her skirts, she muttered to herself. “This is ridiculous. I’ve stared down highwaymen. I just grappled with a madwoman. I can do this.” She swallowed and admitted, “This is the scariest thing I’ll ever do.” But she could do it—she would.
Lucy beamed as she got to her feet. “I’ve seen the change in my brothers since they’ve found their wives. It will be worth it.”
Felicia hoped so. What if she’d hesitated too long? She squared her shoulders and started walking.
It was only when she reached five paces that she realized that she had no idea where to look.
“Giddy is in the orangery,” Lucy called, her hands cupped around her mouth.
Felicia waved in thanks. She couldn’t speak.
Trembling, she marched toward the ruined hothouse. Chubs nearly tripped her several times, with his unwillingness to move away from her for even an instant. His presence calmed her, settled her. No matter what, she would always have his love. Even if it wasn’t quite the same as Gideon’s.
Her heart quickened, thundering in her ears. The flutters in her stomach increased as she approached the jagged silhouette of the orangery. She found Giddy plucking dead weeds out of the mounds of dirt that had once held thriving plants. When her shoe crunched on a stray shard of broken glass near the gaping hole by which she entered, he raised his head.
He didn’t say anything, not even hello. Just as well. It was her turn to speak.
“I’ve never been in love,” she confessed. “Until you.”
Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them away. She balled her fists. She could get through this.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t leave you. I—” She swallowed. “I want a life together and that scares me.” Her chin trembled but she didn’t break eye contact with him as he unfolded his frame and wiped his hands on his breeches.
He stepped toward her and in an instant, they were in each other’s arms. Her fears melted away, replaced by the warmth that infused her with his touch.
“You don’t have anything to be afraid of, I promise. I will love you until the day I die.”
She drew away to look him in the eye. “What if I waited too long and can’t have children? What if word gets out about my past and it disgraces your family? What—”
He placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. “It doesn’t matter.” Gathering each of her hands in his, he lifted them one by one to his lips. Then he kissed her on the mouth, long and lingering.
When he drew away, he whispered, “None of it matters, as long as we have each other.”
Epilogue
One month later
“What is this supposed to say?”
“What do you mean?” Giddy asked. He spared her a brief glance as he checked on the progress of their brugmansia clippings. With winter setting in, it didn’t seem likely that their shipment from South America would arrive before spring. That left them with nothing to do but try to grow their own and tend to their own research.
Felicia waved the sheaf of papers in her hand. The rustle of the page echoed against the stone walls of the room they’d been temporarily allotted until the orangery could be repaired come spring. Long wooden benches ate up the space in the narrow rectangular room, two long rows facing the bank of windows at the end to allow the sun to shine onto the pots clustered there.
“This,” she said, pointing to a line near the top. “This chicken scrawl right here.”
He barely glanced at the page. “That reads ‘Rate of Growth.’”
She examined the page again. “It does not.”
“It does.” Wiping his fingers on a handkerchief, he stepped closer. He pointed to the line in question. “It’s clear as day right next to these numbers, the results.”
“You call those numbers? It looks like you doodled a pumpkin.”
He raised his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought not to laugh. “That is two zeroes and the number two.”
She squint
ed. “It looks like a pumpkin to me.”
Wresting the notes from her grasp, he laid them on the tabletop and wrapped his arms around her. She squealed as she was enveloped by his embrace. He lowered his mouth to her ear, placing a tantalizing kiss there.
“Remind me never to write you a love letter.”
She chuckled, but twisted her head to give him greater access. “From now on, I’ll take the notes.”
“Whatever my beautiful wife wants.”
The moment was interrupted as Catt and Rocky, huddled across the room near the pots, burst into one of their many arguments. She gestured madly as she spoke, inching closer and closer to him all the while. He gave as good as he got, his expression intense.
“Do you think they have feelings for each other?” Felicia mused, her voice soft.
Giddy laughed. “Of course not. They always rubbed each other the wrong way. Once they let off some steam, they’ll be fine for a while.”
She shrugged, her shoulders brushing his chest as he adjusted his hold around her. “I remember when we used to fight that way.” She tilted her head to smile at him. “Am I wrong in thinking you wanted to end one of those arguments with a kiss?”
With a fond smile, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’re delusional, my dear.”
She scowled at him.
At least until he added, “I wanted to end them all that way. But Catt and Rocky are not us.”
The spat reached its crescendo. Rocky turned on her heel and stormed from the room, her skirts swishing.
Felicia extracted herself from her husband’s hold. She bent to open a cabinet built into the bottom of her work bench. The bench had been commissioned as a wedding gift from Gideon.
When she plucked out one of her perfumes, her husband sighed. “What are you doing?” He sounded resigned.
Tempting The Rival (Scandals and Spies Book 3) Page 27
