Lord Wastrel

by Donna Cummings

  Felicia could not hope to stop her thoughts from racing towards that particular evening, since it had been the commencement of many delightfully decadent nights with her husband.

  She tapped her fingers on the table. What was Hugh doing at that moment? Did he spend as much time contemplating these insatiable stirrings as she did? Perhaps—

  “Felicia!” Great-Aunt Aurore leaned forward, her mouth open to repeat her niece’s name.

  “My apologies!” She struggled to remember what they had been discussing. “You mentioned the woman from the betrothal ball—”

  “Yes. She was at a masquerade—that is where I had seen her previously. Although it was many years ago, which is why I could not place her immediately.”

  “How can you be certain it was her? She was no doubt in costume then.”

  “True. She was dressed as a Greek goddess, complete with a long sweeping white gown, and a gold headdress. It was quite brilliant, since her actual name is Lady Aphrodite—” Aurore halted, her mouth open in shock.

  Felicia grasped her aunt’s hand. “Are you quite all right?”

  “I cannot believe I forgot. That masquerade was the night Frederick and I fell in love.” She blinked, as if trying to see that long-ago night more clearly. “It was mere moments after a conversation with this same woman.”

  Felicia gasped. “That is what happened to me! You cannot think—is she—”

  “I am not quite sure what to think,” Great-Aunt Aurore admitted. “Yet there are remarkable similarities in both our situations.”

  “She is so youthful,” Felicia said. “Surely it cannot be the same person. How could that be possible?”

  Great-Aunt merely shrugged.

  Was this woman the source of their family curse? Felicia had not seen her since that illfated horse ride in Hyde Park. Perhaps all of it was an odd coincidence. But if it were not, if Lady Aphrodite was the reason they had been cursed with true love, they needed to seek out the woman, to discover what she could offer as a resolution for the two pairs of lovers.

  Felicia laughed at the strange turn of events. It had been a complete surprise, one that would be hard to top, that was for certain.

  “Lady Weyson?”

  Felicia glanced up, half expecting to see Lady Aphrodite standing at their table, as if their conversation had conjured her into appearing. She nearly laughed at such a flight of fancy. Instead, it was a young woman Felicia had never seen previously. Yet the woman gazed intently, as though she were well acquainted with Felicia.

  It was not entirely unexpected, since she was still quite notorious, despite her intentions and recent wedded state.

  “Your ladyship, might I have a word with you? I have need of your help.”

  Felicia was torn, not wanting to appear ill-mannered. Still, it was one thing when people of her acquaintance asked for elopement assistance. She knew just how displeased Hugh would be once he learned it occurred with people to whom she had not even been introduced.

  She did not want to incite his displeasure, not when he was finally beginning to trust her.

  “I am sorry—”

  Though it pained her to do so, Felicia gave the woman a regret-filled smile and turned away. She gave her attention to Great-Aunt Aurore once more, and waited to hear the disappointed woman’s footsteps heading for the door.

  Instead, she heard, “Your ladyship, I am Lucinda’s mother.”

  ***

  Hugh brought the stallion up short, right in front of the Enfield stables, and dismounted. Once he was done here, he would stop for a visit with Felicia’s brother. Hopefully Tony would be there too, though he could only imagine what the man would have to say about his last encounter with Felicia.

  Hugh laughed. He could not remember ever feeling so content. With himself. His life. And most especially his wife. Several lust-filled thoughts immediately surfaced. On the morrow he would show Felicia a variety of reasons for staying abed much later than was her custom.

  Until then, he had another surprise in mind for her.

  He glanced around and finally noticed an older gentleman demonstrating to some younger stable boys the proper method for brushing down the horses. It was just the man he sought.

  “Frederick,” he said, clapping the coachman on his shoulder. “Might I have a word with you?”

  “Yes, your lordship,” he answered with a nervous gulp. “Of course.”

  They walked to the back of the stables, towards an empty stall, where they could speak freely without the other men overhearing them. Frederick’s eyes darted anxiously, but Hugh waited until they were quite alone before saying anything further.

  “I understand you will not make an honest woman of Great-Aunt Aurore.”

  The man started, and then blushed to the tips of his ears. Hugh did not know it was possible for skin to turn such a deep shade of red.

  “Your lordship,” Frederick said, his eyes lowered slightly, but his voice defiant. “It would be unseemly for her to marry a lowly coachman such as myself.”

  “But you do love her.”

  “Of course I do. I will love her until my dying day.”

  Hugh gnawed on his lip to keep from smiling. “I hope you will not take offense, Frederick, but you are no longer a young man, so your dying day may be sooner than you anticipate.”

  Frederick blinked a few times as he mulled that thought.

  “And while I suspect Great-Aunt Aurore will manage to outlive all of us,” Hugh continued, “there is no guarantee of that.”

  “I cannot disagree with you, my lord. But what am I to do? I have no way of providing her with all the niceties of life. I can scarce afford even one of those bonnets she loves so much.”

  Hugh felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Clearly he wanted to give the love of his life everything she deserved, but he did not want to be put in the position of denying her those luxuries. A man’s pride was very important, and easily bruised. How could he help the man maintain his pride and still have the woman he had loved for close to half a century?

  “If I can find a way, you will be willing to marry her?”

  Frederick’s eyes lit up with hopefulness, but he managed to tamp it down. “It would be such a scandal.”

  “Well, as I have learned, thanks to my bride, there is scandal, and then there is Scandal. Felicia and her aunt will always have scandals around them. It is part and parcel of who they are. I doubt your marriage would be a Scandal. But even if it were, I am convinced it can be weathered.”

  Frederick continued to look doubtful.

  “Will you at least consider this? So I can inform Felicia you have moved, even the slightest degree, from your previous stance? She is convinced her happiness cannot be complete until the curse on her aunt has been reversed.”

  Frederick swore under his breath. “Your pardon, my lord,” he added in a rush.

  Hugh laughed. “This curse business has caused me no end of consternation. I’ve heard plenty from Felicia, but I feel the need to add to my education from a male who has actually experienced it.”

  Frederick’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I do not know that I believe in a curse, my lord. But I can tell you one thing for certain: I have been nothing but blessed knowing that Aurore loves me.”

  It was Hugh’s turn to blink. He felt the same way about Felicia. At first he had considered the effects of the curse an inconvenience, an annoyance, even the harbinger of unwanted scandal.

  But now he realized how empty his life would be if Felicia were absent from it, and she was there in large part because of that curse. He loved her sprightly chatter about it, even if he was not a believer, as well as her enthusiastic plans to make sure the curse was fulfilled, both for herself and her beloved aunt.

  “We are lucky men, Frederick. Quite lucky indeed.”

  “You will hear no argument from me, my lord.”

  “I can count on you to reconsider your position?”

  Frederick took a deep breath and held it for a momen
t. “I will indeed consider it, my lord.”

  Hugh nodded. He had hoped to tell Felicia he had convinced Frederick to make a race for the border with Great-Aunt Aurore, but at least he had made a small amount of progress.

  Both of them grinned, bound together by the family curse, and the women who loved them.

  “Thank you, Frederick. You have made my day a great deal brighter—”

  “My lord!” One of the Enfield footmen rushed up, out of breath. “I have been sent to fetch you. Miss Lucinda has been hurt.”

  Chapter 22

  Felicia gaped at the woman calling herself Lucinda’s mother.

  The woman who had died many months previously. For the first time in her life, Felicia understood Hugh’s dislike of surprises. This one quite eclipsed any she had been able to produce.

  “You are Marguerite?”

  The woman nodded.

  “And you are not dead.”

  The woman shook her head.

  “Why did you say you were?” Felicia blurted.

  Marguerite burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. “Because I am the most dreadful mother in the world.”

  Without a second thought, Felicia pulled the bereft woman into an empty chair at their table. Since Gunter’s was considered an appropriate place for unmarried men and women to meet, surely the ton could forgive Felicia for publicly comforting Hugh’s former mistress and the mother of his illegitimate child.

  Great-Aunt Aurore dug through her reticule and produced a lawn handkerchief which she handed to Marguerite. She also gestured to someone nearby, asking them to bring some tea and a pastry.

  “Thank you,” Marguerite said, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. “You are too generous.”

  “Perhaps you could explain—” Felicia began. “This is all quite a shock.”

  “I understand, and I apologize, but I had no other choice. I am not like you, milady. I am not meant to be a mother.”

  Felicia’s heart swelled at the praise, even if it was from someone confessing their complete lack of maternal skills. “How can you say so? Lucinda is a delightful child, so obviously she has been raised with a great deal of love.”

  “Oh, I do love her, more than you will know. But I cannot give Lucinda the things she needs, and deserves. Her father can provide her with all of those.”

  It had been a gamble to send Lucinda to a man who did not know he was a father. Felicia nearly shuddered at what could have been the outcome if it had been anyone but Hugh.

  Marguerite lifted her chin defiantly. “I need things too. And it may not be right to say so, but I deserve them.”

  Felicia blinked. She could understand wanting something desperately, and pursuing a course of action that no one else could find sympathetic. However, she struggled with Marguerite’s decision involving Lucinda.

  “There was no other way to accomplish your heart’s desires?”

  She said it as kindly as possible, but Marguerite still cringed.

  “I did not believe so, no. Yet I did not want Lucinda to see my selfishness, or worse, to become like me. She is young, so she will not remember the hurt for long.”

  Felicia bit back a retort. While it was an ache that might eventually fade for Lucinda, Hugh was proof that losing a parent at a young age did not disappear entirely.

  “I am glad you are there to be her mother, your ladyship. I saw you with her at Astley’s. She loves you already. She may not even remember me now.” Marguerite fought off a fresh batch of tears. “Still, it is better this way, for both of us.”

  Felicia grasped Marguerite’s hand, her heart breaking at the false bravado. She may not have been able to make the choice Marguerite did, but she did sympathize in a way.

  “What will you do next?” Felicia asked. “If you stay here in London, it increases the chance that Lucinda will see you.”

  She did not want to think of the distress and confusion it would cause the little girl, seeing the mother she believed to be dead walking around the town instead.

  Marguerite straightened her shoulders. “I am going with a traveling troupe, to do theatrical shows in the colonies, and later perhaps on the continent.”

  “It is dangerous in both places,” Great-Aunt Aurore said.

  “Perhaps.” Marguerite gave a watery smile. “But I have already died once, you know.”

  “No! Do not say such things,” Felicia cried out. “We will find a solution to this situation. I shall speak with Hugh—”

  “No, milady, I would prefer if you did not. He will not be happy that we have met like this. I can only imagine his displeasure once he learns I lied about my death.”

  Felicia sighed at the truth in that statement. No, Hugh would not be at all pleased. He would see it as a betrayal of his daughter, and he could forgive just about anything but that.

  Yet Marguerite needed Felicia’s expertise in elopements to help spirit her out of the country, before Lucinda learned of her existence.

  She looked at her aunt, wanting some advice on what to do. Great-Aunt shrugged, but her eyes were filled with sympathy, both for Felicia, and Marguerite.

  Felicia opened her mouth to offer her apologies. How could she sacrifice Hugh’s trust, after all she had done to gain it? Once that was lost…

  Marguerite gazed at her hopefully. Despite the young woman claiming she was not a good mother, Felicia believed otherwise. What kind of future would Lucinda have had, growing up with an opera singer dependent on a succession of protectors? Marguerite had seen what the outcome would be and made an impossible decision, all to preserve a bright future for her daughter.

  Felicia had no choice but to do the same.

  Chapter 23

  Hugh rocked Lucinda in his arms, comforting her while her sobs slowly subsided. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. It caused him such anguish when his daughter cried, but it was even more distressing when she cried piteously for her mama, who was nowhere to be found.

  “Dash it, Felicia,” he murmured. “Where are you?”

  “I am right here,” she answered, from the open doorway. She rushed to Hugh’s side. “What happened? Is she hurt badly?”

  Hugh sagged with relief. “Her pride has suffered the most grievous injury,” he admitted. “Attempting to stand on the back of her rocking horse did not achieve the same stunning result she saw at Astley’s.”

  Felicia brushed the hair away from Lucinda’s forehead and placed a tender kiss there. “You are an adventurous one. As well as exceedingly brave.”

  “Yes,” Lucinda said with a ragged inhale. “I really am.”

  While Hugh was relieved his daughter had not come to harm, he could see that her bold spirit was likely to produce many more such incidents in the future. He groaned at the mere thought of it.

  “Is your tummy hurting, Papa?”

  “No, poppet, it is not.”

  “But you made a tummy hurting sound.” She demonstrated for him, somehow managing to make it twice as loud as his had been. The little actress even clutched at her stomach to add to the dramatic effect.

  Felicia coughed, covering her mouth, but her eyes watered from the effort of not laughing.

  “My tummy is fine, but I am glad for your concern. As well as utterly astounded at your theatrical skills.”

  Lucinda beamed, rewarding him with a juicy kiss. He returned it with a loud smacking sound, designed to make her giggle with delight.

  “I know you are feeling better, Lucinda, but I want you to go find Nurse and let her know you are to rest for a while.”

  Lucinda’s brow wrinkled as she sought an alternate plan.

  “We shall have a treat later, after your rest,” Felicia said. “Something delicious to celebrate you being on the mend.”

  Lucinda smiled brightly at that suggestion. She climbed down from Hugh’s lap, her recovery a near-miraculous one, and scampered out the open doorway while calling loudly for her Nurse.

  “I had hoped to surprise you,” Hugh said, sinking back a
gainst the sofa.

  Felicia sat next to him, and he instantly wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, comforted by her presence. “You did, indeed.”

  He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “I meant in another fashion entirely. I had no idea Astley’s had made such an impression on her.”

  “I did not either. Perhaps we should remove the rocking mechanism from the horse.”

  “And wrap her in feather pillows for the next time she attempts a daring bareback ride.” He sighed. “For I have no doubt she will attempt it again, and soon.”

  Felicia tilted her head to look at him, her eyes shining with mischief. “Can I admit to admiring her stubbornness?”

  “Only if I can admit I do as well.”

  Felicia snuggled closer. He could not have been more content in that moment. His life was well nigh perfect. His wonderful wife. His enchanting daughter. He was indeed the luckiest man in all the land.

  “I had a surprise for you as well.” Felicia’s voice sounded a little nervous, not the typical brash tone he was accustomed to from her.

  He leaned forward so he could look into her face.

  She studied him for a moment and then blurted, “Marguerite is not dead.”

  ***

  “Marguerite is alive? That is impossible.”

  Hugh could not conjure up a good reason why Felicia would utter such a thing if it were not true. Perhaps she was mistaken. There had never been an acceptable reason, or occasion, for their paths to cross in the past.

  “You are certain it was Marguerite?”

  “There can be no doubt it was her.”

  His amazement continued during Felicia’s vivid recounting of being approached by Marguerite, in broad daylight, as well as the shocking announcement that Marguerite was not dead as she had made everyone believe.

  “She delivered a letter saying she was dead. She made her own daughter believe she had died.”

  The anger began to roil in Hugh’s chest. Lucinda had been afflicted, as he had, with a mother who cared so little for her child’s needs. There seemed no end to this family curse of theirs.

  “I regret that she chose to approach you,” he said, holding Felicia a little more tightly. “It must have been unsettling.”