Madcap Miss

by Claudy Conn

  “You were unchaperoned,” he said gruffly.

  “His tiger was with us the entire time,” she answered, now nearly in his arms.

  “I don’t call that a proper chaperone,” he answered.

  “You and I are always alone,” she answered, and now she pressed herself up against him.

  His hand went to her waist in spite of his determination not to touch her, and he said hoarsely, “I am your guardian.”

  “Ah, so you are,” she answered and moved her hands slowly up his chest.

  It took everything he had to take her hands and set her apart. All he wanted to do was scoop her up, carry her to her bedroom, and ravage her. He was a cad, he told himself, but he just couldn’t drive such thoughts away.

  “I repeat, I am your guardian,” he said. “Nothing more.”

  * * *

  Had he slapped her, he couldn’t have wounded her quite so thoroughly. She dropped her gaze from his.

  Her heart quivered with pain. His words echoed in her brain, and she couldn’t hear anything else. All hopes were shattered. She had been a stupid fool to think he would ever love her.

  Two words—nothing more. Those two words had ripped her apart.

  She controlled her trembling lips and managed to say, “I am … tired. I think I will go up to my room.” She turned and made the supreme effort to walk, even though her knees wanted to crumble beneath her.

  She took the stairs in ladylike style. She walked down the corridor, aware that he made no effort to stop her … to call her back … to tell her it wasn’t true.

  She opened the door and went to her bed.

  At this point, her world turned black, and she threw herself onto her pillows and sobbed as her heart burst. He had told her he was her guardian, nothing more. He had meant it.

  All dreams were exploded and shattered, and Felicia’s body was racked with her heartache.

  ~ Twenty-Nine ~

  DINNER THAT EVENING proved to be a sorry affair. Both Becky and Scott were present, and although Felicia put on her brightest happy face, she was in a world of contradictions. She was pleased that the duke was not present but at the same time disappointed that he was not.

  She couldn’t change how she felt. She would love him forever. If he didn’t want her, and it appeared that he did not, she would have to keep up her chin and push on. There was nothing else for it.

  She smiled at all the appropriate moments. She laughed when she knew she should. She spoke when addressed and in hearty enough accents to hide her shattered emotions. Even so, she caught Becky eyeing her thoughtfully and knew that Becky was aware something was wrong.

  Idly, more casually than she thought she could manage, she asked Daffy where her brother had gone off to.

  Daffy waved this off and said, “I met him as he left the house in the afternoon, and he was in the devil of a temper.” She eyed Felicia and added, “Said he would not be joining us for dinner and that was all he said.”

  Felicia bit her lip and said nothing to this. Becky touched Felicia’s knee beneath the tablecloth and whispered, “Some of the time, especially when things appear unsurmountable, it only needs the turning of a corner for things to change.”

  Felicia almost burst into tears and shook her head as she tried to respond and found she could not. Instead, she played with her food, pushing it from one side of the plate to the other.

  Scott offered, “I daresay he went out for a night of joviality with his friends.”

  Becky glared at him, and Felicia sighed and said sadly, “Of course. I am sure he was heartily sick of attending me all the time.”

  Freddy looked at her at this and said, “Well, as to that, saw him when I was on m’way home from Sutter’s. He was on his way into the Black Dog and looked as though he was already foxed. Something eating at him, if you ask me.”

  “Dash it, Freddy!” Daffy objected. “You shouldn’t be telling us that now.”

  Freddy looked a bit taken aback. “By Jove, love, you are in the right of it. Forgot myself. Telling tales—not the thing.”

  Everyone laughed, and Felicia attempted to as well, but found she couldn’t as she pushed away from the table and excused herself.

  Becky got up as well and said, “Come, Scott … let’s take Felicia into the library and play a game of cards.”

  Felicia made a valiant effort to concentrate on the game but gave it up at length and said she was very tired and was headed for her bed.

  Her ladyship and Freddy met her in the central hall as they were on their way out to visit friends, and Daffy took her arm and stopped her. “Felicia, I don’t know what that devil of a brother of mine said to you, but I have a feeling things will right themselves very soon. Men often say the wrong things … without understanding just how it will be taken.”

  Felicia eyed the duke’s sister and nodded but could not respond any further. Trying desperately to maintain her composure, she turned, took the stairs, and headed for her room.

  In bed, she tossed, turned, and finally fell asleep, but no sooner had she when she was sharply awakened by the sound of someone stumbling just outside her room.

  She got up and ran to open her door to find the duke, one shoe on and the other held in his hand as he leaned into the wall. He smiled absurdly at her and said, “Hallo, madcap. What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” she returned in shocked accents.

  “My house …?” He frowned. “Should be here.”

  “No, it isn’t. This is Waverly.”

  “Waverly? What the devil?”

  “Yes, you are here at Waverly,” Felicia answered and started to smile. She loved him so, and he looked absurdly, foolishly like an adorable boy.

  “Ah, so that is why Jeffries opened the door. I wondered at it,” he said and grinned. He showed her his shoe. “It came off somehow.”

  “You are foxed! Badly dipped,” Felicia accused on a giggle.

  “So I am,” he agreed merrily.

  “Oh! Isn’t that just like a man? You do and say awful things and then go and … and … well, it is the outside of enough!” She had a very good mind to let him slip to the floor as it appeared he was about to do and leave him there. Instead, she said, “Come on, then, we’ll put you in the guestroom down the hall.”

  She took his arm and with something of a struggle managed to get him into the room, where she allowed him to fall backwards onto the bed.

  He smiled and promptly passed out. She silently wagged a finger at him, made a few angry sounds, and stomped off to her own bed feeling oddly … hopeful once more.

  “Felicia, you are an idiot. Why should his being in his cups have you hopeful? ’Tis absurd.” She did, however, feel her lashes lower. Sleep, she knew was about to take her. How could it not, she thought, as the world slipped away. He was just down the hall.

  * * *

  Morning breakfast proved to be a strained affair, for neither Daffy nor Becky was present to help Felicia.

  Felicia found herself exchanging clipped remarks with the duke, even after Scott had arrived and had happily served himself a large plateful of food and sat beside her.

  He looked from Felicia to the duke once or twice and arched a brow but added nothing to their already too hotly sparked conversation.

  “Right then, you never did tell me, Flip, how was your ride with that Reinhart fellow? Heard tell his matched four grays are quite something to look at,” Scott asked innocently.

  Felicia’s eyes glittered with cold shafts of light as she answered, “Indeed, Scott. They are beautiful and move together superbly. That he managed to find four so closely resembling one another is, I think, remarkable.” She smiled and said sweetly, “James is a whip with great skill. I enjoyed watching him handle the driving reins. It was certainly something to see.”

  “Humph!” the duke uttered irritably. “James, is it? A great whip, is he?” He threw down his napkin on the table. “Let me tell you that I know Reinhart’s
style with those horses, and it is all flash. If he met real trouble, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. The man can drive, but not to an inch.”

  “Oh, really?” Felicia retorted, color in her cheeks. “And you can?”

  He eyed her. “You know I can, don’t you, love?”

  Scott’s eyes were open wide, and he offered, “Of course, she knows it. We have both seen you with the driving reins. Right, Flip?” He looked at her hopefully.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Felicia shrugged her one shoulder. “Some men are all talk.”

  Scott choked on his coffee and attempted to repair this uncomfortable conversation by stammering out a few disjointed sentences. No one paid him any mind.

  Felicia and the duke glared at one another.

  “Is that what you think—that I am all talk?” the duke asked her, his voice edged with fury.

  “What I think is that you are probably in a vile temper with a vile head because of your convivial evening,” Felicia said, sidestepping.

  “And even so, I can outdrive, outride, and outdo, your wonderful Reinhart!” he snapped.

  “You have a very high opinion of yourself,” she snapped right back. “Do others share it?”

  “What matters is that you will share it when I am done!” he shouted, got up, crossed the room, and pulled the bellrope.

  A moment later, Jeffries appeared, and the duke said in forceful terms, “Send to Somerset stables and have my high-perch phaeton and my bays—the four of them—brought to Waverly.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Jeffries made a quick exit.

  He turned to Felicia. “Go and get your cloak.”

  She threw down her napkin as well, glared at Scott, who sat back and put up a hand as though to fend her off, and then promptly stomped out of the room.

  * * *

  When she had left, Scott turned to the duke and asked, “Zounds—what the deuce is wrong with you two?”

  “Never mind,” the duke responded sharply.

  It was some forty minutes later that the duke was coldly but gallantly helping Felicia climb into his high-perch phaeton. He turned to his young groom and lightly dismissed him, telling him to go into Waverly and ask Cook to fetch him something to eat.

  Felicia eyed him sardonically and asked, “Don’t we need your groom … as a chaperone?” And then with a wave of her hand, she said airily, “Oh, how silly of me, no, we don’t, do we? You are my chaperone!”

  He said nothing to this as he climbed up beside her. His lips were set in hard lines, and he avoided glancing her way. That she was looking stunning in her black velvet driving ensemble with the gold frogging was something he did not want to dwell upon. Instead, he gave his full attention to his team and the bend of the road as he pulled away from the curbing and eased into traffic.

  He cast a look in her direction as she adjusted her matching black velvet top hat over her cascading dusky curls. Then she surprised him by exclaiming, “Faith, but I must say, your bays are magnificent. James’ snowy grays are flash, yes, but your bays are certainly every inch blood!”

  He didn’t answer this, though he felt slightly mollified. The streets they had just passed were quiet ones, and though he handled his reins skillfully, nothing yet had called for the precision driving he had spoken of. He did, however, after a moment say, “You know Reinhart’s vehicle is not designed for the speed mine can produce when tested.”

  She shrugged a delicate shoulder and said, “No? He seemed to take the avenues fast enough.”

  “Did he, by God!” thundered the duke, absurdly enraged by her defense of Reinhart. He was irritated by the fact that she appeared to be taken by the scoundrel, who he was convinced would hurt her.

  He put his grievances aside as he whipped up his four horses and managed the traffic ahead, crossed the intersection, and avoided a collision with a man whose horse and wagon had gotten away with him.

  Felicia lost herself as she watched him. He was correct. Reinhart was nothing when compared to his skill with the driving reins. She sighed to herself. Everything about him met and matched her soul. She waited for him to execute his turn and allowed him in an animated tone, “Oh, Ashton, you are most certainly a notable whip!”

  “Ah, I am back to Ashton. Well, I’m glad of it. It isn’t Glen, but at least you aren’t calling me ‘Your Grace’.”

  She dimpled. He saw what she was at and chuckled, noting that she immediately brightened as she looked up at him and said, “You do outshine him … at everything.” She blushed and looked away at this juncture.

  “And you consider yourself judge enough to know?” he teased.

  “Indeed, I do,” she said on a laugh. “My father was such a fine whip. In fact, there was none like to him … until, of course, you.”

  “And you learned a thing or two at his side?” the duke pursued.

  “I did,” she answered promptly.

  “Well, then, my little one, here!” He shoved the driving reins into her gloved hands.

  “No, oh no,” she objected, appearing horrified even as she tooled the team through the busy traffic.

  “Show me what you can do,” he demanded softly.

  “Not in this traffic.” She shook her head and handed him the reins back to him.

  He relented, but only a bit, and said, “Right … we’ll move to a quiet road.” He made his way to the Post Road and out of the heavy hubbub of London’s morning traffic.

  He kept up a steady stream of conversation by asking her about her father and what the two of them used to enjoy. She spoke freely and with great affection of her parents, and they went on comfortably for the next twenty minutes.

  The sun was just beginning to peep from a clouded sky, and Felicia exclaimed that she couldn’t believe such a beautiful landscape was just a short distance from the hub of the city.

  “Don’t you like London?” he asked, brow up.

  “Well enough, but I rather think I miss the country and the freedom the country allows,” she answered wistfully.

  “Then after your ball, we shall have to go to my lodge in the New Forest. I think you will enjoy that.”

  “Yes, but after the ball, your guardianship will be over, and I have no doubt if you haven’t managed to see me engaged to some suitor who meets with your approval, you shall wipe your hands of me.”

  “Do you think that, by God? Do you really?” He pulled a face at her and then handed the reins once more. “Here, vixen, show me your stuff.”

  ~ Thirty ~

  IT WAS THE night of her ball.

  Felicia studied herself in the long looking glass. Her gown of white and gold suited her provocative curves. The pearls threaded throughout her black curls made her feel exotic. Pearl drops at her ears and from the gold necklace finished off this touch.

  She pouted over her reflection. Would the duke think she looked too young? Did she look too young? She wished her neckline was even lower … although she had to admit the scoop of the lace showed a great deal of her full breasts.

  If she were more sophisticated, would he find her more desirable?

  She hadn’t seen him in three days—not since he had allowed her to drive his team. They had enjoyed one another so very much, but she had not been able to break through the barrier he had put up. It was as though he had never kissed her … over and over, had never made wild and passionate love to her. All that was gone.

  When he took her hand, he immediately withdrew it as though he had touched a flame.

  What was she to do?

  James Reinhart had been courting her now even more intently and diligently than he had before. She didn’t want Reinhart. There was only one man she wanted.

  Now, she would have to descend the stairs and take her place among the beau monde officially.

  The lilting sound of the music came sweetly to her ears. She could hear the buzz of the festivities below … it only wanted her entrance.

  “Felicia?” Lady Daphne opened her bedroom door and stuck her head in. “Oh, oh,
my dear, you are simply stunning.”

  “Am I? Do you think the duke will approve?”

  “My brother will be speechless with awe,” Daffy said. “Now come, it is time.”

  She released a long sigh and followed Daffy out of her room. Daffy then took the stairs to stand below beside the duke and Freddy.

  In black velvet with a white brocade waistcoat and an intricately tied cravat, his black layered hair framing his handsome face, the duke took her breath away.

  He had not yet looked up, but as though he felt his eyes on her, he did at that moment, and their gazes locked.

  It was a frightening thing to have to make one’s entrance for the first time with all the fashionable world watching and ready to find fault.

  She was sure she would trip and falter … but she did not. With one lace-gloved hand she touched the railing, and with the other she lightly held her gown just a few inches up as she made her descent.

  The duke came forward to receive her, and the nervous smile she had worn vanished, in its place a warm smile of gratitude. On his arm, there was nothing and no one to fear.

  Everyone else faded away.

  He led her to the ballroom and he said, “You beauty, you. I don’t think I was alive until I met you.”

  She looked at him sharply. What was this? What was he saying?

  A sudden, short hush swept over the ballroom as the duke and she were announced. She was aware, vaguely aware of the admiring stares as he led her onto the dance floor and requested a waltz.

  How daring he was. He had asked for a waltz and claimed her for it.

  She was sure that more than one dowager was heartily shocked. As he moved with her in perfect grace, she smiled breathlessly at him and said, “Ashton … Ashton, I can’t breathe.”

  His silver eyes twinkled. “It seems we are both overcome with the same malady. I lost my ability to perform that necessary function the moment I saw you at the head of the stairs.” He shook his head, and his tone was despondent as he said, “I will lose you tonight.” He indicated with a lift of his chin quite a number of young gentlemen ready to claim her hand.