Lord Wastrel

by Donna Cummings

  “It would be a better use of my time to open an academy,” Felicia said with a laugh, “instructing young ladies on how to elope.”

  Great-Aunt Aurore’s eyes widened with interest. A flurry of excited whispers confirmed the debutantes’ approval of the idea.

  “I jest! Besides, who would attend an elopement school with a spinster as the headmistress?”

  “Spinster?” Great-Aunt choked out, as if she had swallowed the smelling salts she now desperately needed. She tried to utter the word again, but could not get it past her lips.

  “You must admit,” Felicia said, giving her aunt a sympathetic look. “Love has proved most elusive for me. Perhaps it is finally time I admit defeat—”

  “Oh, no,” a woman said. “You must not give up on love.”

  Felicia twisted to see who had just spoken so fervently. She was struck by the woman’s regal beauty, her air of classical elegance, as well as a most beguiling smile. Her graceful long neck was set off by a stunning piece of coral jewelry, along with several strands of exquisite pearls.

  Felicia could not recall ever being introduced to the woman, but ignoring her would have been impolite, since they were all crushed together in the antechamber.

  As if divining Felicia’s thoughts, the woman said, “Surely we can forego the formalities this once. I am Lady Aphrodite Carramont.” At Felicia’s gasp, the lady’s eyebrows lifted in a knowing fashion. “Now you can understand why I am such a staunch champion for love.”

  Felicia made the rest of the introductions before confessing, “I, too, have been a staunch champion, until recently—”

  “You have merely had a run of bad luck.” Great-Aunt Aurore harrumphed, and would have crossed her arms across her massive bosom if there had been room in the crowded foyer. She had to content herself with frowning instead.

  “I am certain love will find you soon,” Lady Aphrodite said. “When you least expect it.” Her eyes were filled with kindness, as though she could see the doubt mingling with hopefulness in Felicia’s heart. “And where you least expect it.”

  Felicia was eager to hear more details. It seemed her prayers had been answered, at last. But the crowd surged forward unexpectedly, jostling everyone en masse. Lady Aphrodite bumped into Felicia, and grabbed her hand to stay upright. Felicia felt a tingling race from her fingers, up her arm, and straight to her heart.

  The room seemed to tilt and then spin around, making Felicia as lightheaded as when she twirled during a lively waltz.

  She blinked several times, anxious to dislodge the dizziness. She turned to inquire if Lady Aphrodite was experiencing the same sensation, but she had disappeared.

  “Great-Aunt, did you see where she went?” Felicia stood on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd, but there was not a trace of her anywhere.

  “No, I did not. But it cannot be so difficult to find a woman as beautiful as she is.” Great-Aunt’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “You know, I am quite sure I have seen her previously.”

  Felicia squeezed her aunt’s arm affectionately. “You say that about everyone you encounter.”

  “Lest you forget,” Great-Aunt Aurore said, her lips set in a prim line, “I have seen one or two generations come and go.”

  Felicia was about to tease her some more, but the sensation of being submerged in champagne bubbles nearly overwhelmed her. She rubbed her nose, unable to breathe properly.

  What was happening to her?

  She was tempted to find her way to the card room, to ask her brother Julian and cousin Tony to fetch the carriage so she could return home. But then she felt her heart slow down, beating with increased purpose.

  Her true love was near.

  Somehow she fought off the urge to push her way through the endless throng of people. Her true love was there, in the ballroom. How childish her previous attempts to find him seemed now.

  Was he impatient to see her? Had he despaired of not appearing in her life before the curse took effect? She smiled as she imagined him greeting her, with unabashed longing in his eyes, followed by a passionate declaration of undying love.

  Finally, with her limited patience stretched beyond endurance, Felicia stood at the landing, gazing at the ballroom below. It appeared brighter than usual, as though a thousand candles had been added to illuminate this fateful moment. The music swirled around her, bursting with romantic intensity, matching her own heightened emotions.

  The dance floor was crowded with numerous handsome men, some in elegant evening attire, others in military uniform.

  Felicia took an excited step forward and then halted. How would she know which of them was hers?

  Her heart squeezed, and she placed her palm over it, fancifully imagining she had been pierced by Cupid’s arrow. Her pulse raced with unbearable excitement at finally seeing the man she would love forever—

  “Oh, no,” she moaned, her knees close to buckling. “Not him.”

  Great-Aunt Aurore’s brow wrinkled with concern. She turned to follow Felicia’s outstretched hand. In the next instant, Aurore shrieked and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

  Chapter 3

  Hugh shifted his weight onto his right foot, his left one already numb. He was so dashed bored with the proceedings, not to mention the endless felicitations being heaped on him that night.

  He knew half of London was here to confirm that Lord Wastrel was truly getting himself leg-shackled. He bit back his discomfort and smiled at another guest who was clearly dying of curiosity, yet too well-bred to actually voice the question everyone had in mind: “Why now?”

  Not that he had plans to sate their curiosity anytime soon. Perhaps once Lucinda had reached the age of majority he would be willing to let the ton know of her existence. Until then he would keep her safe from their insatiable need for fresh gossip.

  A commotion on the steps leading down into the ballroom caught his attention, but he kept his mind, and his gaze, on the perfect woman by his side.

  Miss Penelope Lansdale was biddable, and from a good family. Her voice was soft, her bearing serene, and her demeanor elegant. She was blessedly free of the spectacle accompanying every batch of debutantes that descended upon London each Season.

  In short, she was everything he had sought in a wife.

  He bit back a yawn. If only she possessed some spirit, even a hint of a backbone.

  No, that was not at all fair. He had deliberately excluded any young women exhibiting such qualities. His daughter needed parents who could help her overcome the difficulties of being born on the wrong side of the blanket. She did not need a mother who had a scandalous reputation to rival that of her father.

  “What is happening upstairs?” Penelope asked, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil.

  “I have no idea. Though I am confident Haselton will set everything to rights.”

  Penelope glanced up at him, shyly, and he returned a tight smile. He would surely grow to love her. One day. After all, hadn’t he been surprised at how deeply he loved his unexpected daughter?

  It was worth it to wed a woman he merely admired and respected. There was no need to expect anything more of their union. If only his parents had respected and admired each other. Their lifelong love of scandal had precluded that, however.

  His thoughts were interrupted by an imperious throat clearing.

  “Lady Thornham.” Hugh stifled a grin as he bowed over the dowager’s hand. “I am honored you decided to attend my betrothal ball.”

  “I had to see for myself that another scoundrel has been reformed. First Lord Rakehell and now you.” She leaned forward and examined him through her lorgnette. “You are the one they call Lord Wastrel, are you not?”

  “Indeed.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Though I have been called that, and much worse, before this evening.”

  The Dowager bristled, trying to decide if he was mocking her, and then she studied Penelope for several moments. She gave a sniff of approval before returning her sharp gaze to him. “Marriage is precis
ely what you need to curb your wild ways, young man.”

  “I could not agree more.” He lowered his voice. “Though it is a pity you are no longer on the marriage mart.”

  Her shocked inhalation made his grin widen. Lady Thornham slapped her fan on his forearm and then scuttled off, muttering about his impertinence, although she managed to sneak another glance at him over her shoulder. Hugh chuckled, nearly missing the announcement of Flighty Felicia’s arrival.

  Before he could wonder who she might try to persuade into an elopement this evening, she was standing in front of him. He had known Felicia, and her family, for years. Yet he still caught his breath at the vision she presented, her bright blue eyes and auburn curls setting off her vivacious manner to perfection, more so than usual.

  He was always happy to see her, to hear the latest on dit, especially the ones she laughingly related about herself. She was bound to enliven this evening’s duller moments, making it even more memorable for all who attended.

  Unfortunately, he realized with a frown, she was the precise opposite of the female he wanted his daughter to emulate. He would do well to keep the two of them apart for as long as possible.

  “Felicia.” He gave her a quick nod. “I would like you to meet Miss Penelope Lansdale, who has consented to be my wife.”

  Felicia smiled warmly as she clasped his betrothed’s gloved hand. “It is a genuine pleasure to meet you, Miss Lansdale. I must congratulate you—” Her smile seemed to dim momentarily. “Such a happy occasion.”

  “Thank you,” Penelope answered serenely. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, as well as honored to have you in attendance at our celebration.”

  Felicia turned to Hugh, and he waited for her to extend her congratulations to him. To his surprise, she hesitated before saying, “Hugh, could we speak privately for a moment? It is rather important.”

  “You can say whatever you wish, Felicia. Miss Lansdale and I have no secrets from each other.”

  Felicia heaved a big sigh, her eyes wide, and he knew a moment’s dread. What was he thinking? She had not earned the nickname “Flighty Felicia” by being circumspect.

  He opened his mouth to excuse himself, intent on hustling her away before she could blurt out something outrageous, in front of Penelope, and the avid onlookers—

  “Hugh, I need you to marry me.”

  ***

  Felicia held her breath, and noticed Hugh doing the same, his face the picture of complete shock. She had kept her voice low, not wanting anyone but Hugh to hear her beyond-the-pale—but completely necessary—proposition.

  Fortunately, just as the words tumbled from her lips, another guest had claimed the bride-to-be’s attention. Miss Lansdale chatted pleasantly with the new arrival, unaware of the unusual conversation going on a few steps away.

  Felicia sighed her relief. Especially when she saw a slow smile appear on Hugh’s handsome face. Soon he would be on bended knee, clasping her hand, his eyes filled with adoration as he said—

  “You minx! Did Tony wager you would not be brave enough to utter that proposal? You must thank him for providing a much needed moment of levity.” He chuckled. “Never mind, I shall tell that scoundrel myself.”

  Now it was Felicia who was the picture of complete shock. Why had Hugh not fallen instantly in love with her? Had the curse malfunctioned? If so, it had chosen the worst possible moment to do so.

  “There is no wager, Hugh. I can assure you I am quite serious.”

  “About marrying me?” He laughed with such vigor, her fingers itched to give him a good pinch. “Not even Flighty Felicia would try to elope with a man at his betrothal ball.”

  Felicia frowned at his patent disbelief, as well as his description of precisely what she was trying to do.

  Everything was supposed to fall quickly into place once she had finally found her one true love. Instead, she would have to somehow convince Hugh of her deep and abiding love for him, even if it had appeared out of nowhere, mere moments ago. There was also the difficulty, completely unforeseen, of him being promised to another.

  Apparently falling instantly in love was the easy portion of the family curse.

  “I can explain—well, at least I can attempt to. You see—”

  His eyebrows raised slowly, while his lips continued to twitch with amusement. “Why does this call to mind you trying to enlist me in yet another illfated adventure when we were children?”

  She grinned at the memory of the escapades they had shared as mischief-making youngsters, something which he clearly remembered with fondness as well.

  “Those were merely suggestions of things I knew you were interested in too,” she replied. “I cannot be faulted for your willingness to accompany me.”

  “Hah! I only went along to ensure you did not find yourself in more trouble than you could handle. And to avoid you ‘pinching some sense into me’, as you liked to say.”

  “I am astounded at your ability to revise the history of our youth,” she said with a grin. “Though you did require more pinching than anyone else of my acquaintance. I suspect you still do.”

  His delighted laughter made Miss Lansdale shoot a glance their direction. Even though she smiled pleasantly, it was a reminder to Felicia of how untenable this falling-in-love-with-Hugh business was.

  “I must return to my hosting duties,” Hugh said, and perhaps it was only her imagination that made his voice sound reluctant. “But I must offer my gratitude, once more, for making this event a great deal more pleasurable than it was before your arrival.”

  He gave her a brief bow and started to return to Miss Lansdale’s side. Felicia felt an instant of panic. How could she convince Hugh, before it was too late? She stepped forward, clutching his arm to halt his leavetaking.

  She marveled at how firm his muscles were beneath the perfectly fitting black coat. Even more astounding, the simple contact caused her heart to pound forcefully, as if it meant to pierce her skin and land on the marble floor at Hugh’s feet.

  “Hugh, I—”

  “Yes?”

  His gaze lingered on her hand, where she continued to touch him. She nearly apologized for the bold gesture, but then he let his dark eyes roam upwards, slowly, as though he were memorizing every intimate detail along the way. It was impossible to tear herself away. Nor could she remember why it was unseemly to touch him with such familiarity.

  His lips lifted in an appreciative smile, one that made Felicia shiver, as though she had forgotten her underdress and was clad only in a sheer silk overskirt. Her skin prickled. One moment she was chilled, the next heated beyond bearing.

  “Felicia?” he murmured.

  She gripped his arm more tightly, though she was not certain if it was to keep herself steady on her feet, or to keep from throwing herself into his embrace. If only he would lower his head closer to hers. She wanted to breathe in whatever irresistible essence it was that enveloped him, even though it thoroughly jumbled her thoughts.

  What had she been about to say?

  A burst of laughter nearby startled her, reminding Felicia they were not inhabiting their own private world. She reluctantly let her hand slip away, before anyone, particularly Hugh’s bride-to-be, noticed anything untoward.

  In the next instant, the intimate spell was broken. Hugh shook his head slightly, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. A bemused smile took the place of the seductive one that had completely bewitched her moments before.

  Felicia drew a shaky breath. She hoped Great-Aunt had recovered from her fainting episode, since she needed to quiz the woman, at length, about the inner workings of this family curse. Nothing was proceeding as she had been led to believe.

  With any luck, her aunt also had some suggestions on how to assuage Felicia’s guilt at desiring a man betrothed to someone else. A perfectly lovely young woman she could befriend—if only Miss Lansdale were not betrothed to Felicia’s one true love.

  “I sincerely wish the best for you, Hugh. And Miss Lansdale.
” Felicia’s heart clenched, but she managed to add with a bright smile, “Please give her my warmest regards.”

  “Thank you, Felicia. I will.”

  Hugh lifted her hand to his lips and deposited a brief, almost brotherly, kiss. She could feel the skin start to sizzle beneath her kid glove. Heat blossomed in her chest and rose up her neck. Other startling, yet quite delectable, sensations commenced in her nether regions.

  She almost gasped. Were these the stirrings Georgiana had described with such enthusiasm?

  If so, Felicia had been doubly cursed.

  She tugged her hand from Hugh’s and darted towards the open door leading onto the terrace. She did not want to see his puzzled expression, or try to decipher what he might be thinking about her flighty behavior.

  She had plenty to puzzle out herself, namely, why had falling instantly in love made everything so difficult?

  ***

  Hugh watched, mystified, as Felicia headed outdoors, her fashionable silk skirts flying behind her. He had always enjoyed the lively exchanges with Felicia, along with her willingness to speak her mind with him. She never pulled her punches, verbal or otherwise.

  He grinned at a long-ago memory, one which had hobbled him for several days.

  But this was even more unusual than ever. Insisting he marry her? When his duties in the receiving line were done, he would seek out her brother and ask what the devil Felicia was up to.

  “What a dashing young woman,” Penelope commented.

  Her lips pursed, just slightly, as if she was unwilling to exhibit any more displeasure than that. For some reason, her response rankled.

  “She is an old family friend,” Hugh said. “I have known her since we were children.”

  “She seems quite spirited.”

  He shot a glance at her, hoping to see some kind of emotion. Envy perhaps? There was nothing, however. He had to chide himself once more for wanting Penelope to be anything other than what she was. He had selected her to be his child’s mother precisely because she was nothing like Felicia.

  Then why was he so bedeviled all of a sudden?