by Darcy Burke
Felix was—that was where his mistress, the incomparable Meggie, lived and worked. “Yes.”
“Excellent. I’ve a mind to visit a certain redhead.” Anthony waggled his brows and chuckled.
“I’ll see you at the ball.” Felix turned and went to the platform—rather, where it had been—where his footman was waiting for him.
“I’ve already put the platform in the coach, my lord,” Glover said.
“Thank you.” Felix started toward the coach, and Glover walked alongside him.
“A shame to see how your hard work ended today.”
“Yes.” But Felix wouldn’t dwell on that. He was already too fixated on the secret race. First, he had to decide where to hold it. Dartford’s estate came to mind. It was less than a day’s ride from London, and Felix was certain he would enthusiastically agree.
He’d talk to him at the ball tonight or maybe at Brooks’s afterward. In between dancing with his best friend’s sister and spending the night in his mistress’s arms.
Chapter 2
Sarah made sure her mother was busy speaking with Mrs. Kyle at the front of Marsden’s Millinery before stealing to the very back corner of the store where Mr. Marsden’s primary assistant, Dorothy Hinman, stood. She’d been eyeing Sarah since her arrival.
“Good afternoon, Dolly,” Sarah said with a smile. Since the races several days ago, she’d been looking forward to seeing Dolly.
“Good afternoon, Miss Colton. I’m so pleased to see you.”
Sarah could tell that Dolly was trying not to look expectant, and that she was also failing miserably. Her light brown eyes were alight with anticipation, and the barest of smiles curved her lips.
“I’ve done it,” Sarah whispered after casting a look over her shoulder toward her mother. “I have enough saved to start the shop!”
Dolly’s mouth opened, and a small gasp escaped before she clapped her hand over her lips. “My apologies.” She looked toward Sarah’s mother in horror and then glanced toward Mr. Marsden, who was consulting with another client at the counter.
“Don’t be concerned,” Sarah said softly. “They can’t have heard anything, and it is exciting, isn’t it?”
“I can hardly believe it.” Dolly shook her head as tears filled her eyes.
Sarah touched the woman’s shoulder. “Now, don’t cry. They’re bound to notice that.”
“You’re quite right.” Dolly sniffed and pushed her shoulders back with a determined smile. Though she was in her early thirties, Dolly looked younger than that. However, the fierce look in her eye at present gave an air of maturity—and experience.
Good, they’d need both in this new endeavor.
“I still have much work to do,” Sarah said. “But hopefully, we’ll have the shop up and running by fall.”
Dolly shot a glance toward her employer and winced. “I hope Mr. Marsden isn’t terribly cross with me.”
“How can he be after all your years of service? Besides, he can’t possibly fault you for wanting to better your position and increase your income.” It would be Sarah’s shop, of course, but not as far as anyone could tell. Dolly would be the outward face of Farewell’s—that was the name Sarah had chosen. It sounded dignified, and she hoped they would “fare well.” Behind the scenes, Sarah would manage things. But most of all, she would design hats to her heart’s content. And best of all, she would get paid for it.
Husband hunting be damned.
Her parents would hate this enterprise, which was why Sarah hoped to keep them ignorant of it until it was far too late for them to stop it. Or to ignore how lucrative it was. Which would in turn nullify the need for Sarah to marry. Though she suspected her mother would still want that.
It was more than the financial aspects. The viscountess took it as a personal failure that her daughter hadn’t yet wed.
Sarah’s gaze drifted to her mother. She took that moment to look toward Sarah too, and their eyes connected. Mother’s brow furrowed, which meant it was time to end this brief but necessary meeting with Dolly.
“I must go,” Sarah said. “I’ll send word when I’ve property for us to tour.”
Dolly nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll look forward to it.” Her focus moved upward to Sarah’s hat. “I like this design very much. That’s an excellent interpretation of a cavalier.”
The brim on the right side was low, but pinned up on the right in the cavalier style. However, instead of installing feathers where it was pinned, Sarah had affixed them to the top, which added height and volume. “I’m pleased you like it. I’ve attracted a few stares. I was worried it was a bit daring.” She grinned, then left Dolly before her mother came to interrupt.
Sarah joined her mother and chatted with Mrs. Kyle for a few moments before they made their excuses and left the shop.
As they walked to the coach parked just up Bond Street, Sarah’s mother glanced in her direction. “Were you discussing your new hat with Mr. Marsden’s assistant?”
“I was. She was very complimentary.”
“It’s rather fetching.” Her mother’s blue-gray eyes kept fixating on Sarah’s hat. “I still can’t believe you made that entirely on your own, but then I know you didn’t purchase it. Come to think of it, when was the last time you purchased a hat?”
“It hasn’t been that long,” Sarah said. It had, but she tried to distract her mother from realizing how long Sarah had been creating her own hats. At first, she would purchase the basic hat and trim it herself as many women did, but in the last couple of years, she’d taken to making them entirely herself. Forming the hats without attracting more than her maid’s notice was the most challenging part.
“I might ask you to make me one in that fashion,” Mother said as they reached the coach.
Sarah’s chest swelled beneath her mother’s praise. Typically, Sarah disappointed the viscountess in most ways and was glad to know she didn’t do so in everything.
They returned home, and as soon as they stepped into the hall, Sarah’s good mood was torn to shreds.
Mother announced, “Sarah, please join me in the library with your father.” Summons like these were never good.
After handing her gloves and hat to the footman, she dutifully followed her mother to the library at the back of the house. Expecting to find her father seated in his favorite chair near the fireplace, she was surprised to see him standing instead. And he wasn’t alone.
Anthony sat in a chair near the window that looked out to the garden, and Felix—Felix?—stood near the corner wearing a look that could only be described as confused.
“Ah, there you are.” Father glanced toward the clock on the mantel before straightening to his full height. “I’ve an appointment in a little while, so let’s get right to it.” He looked toward Sarah. “It’s time you—”
“Let her sit down first,” Sarah’s mother said with a touch of heat before ushering Sarah to the settee.
Sarah didn’t really want to sit. She wanted to flee. In compromise, she perched, her backside barely grazing the edge of the cushion so she could slip off and run at a moment’s notice.
Mother took the space beside her, although in a much more secure manner. “Now you may proceed,” she said, smoothing her skirt and looking up at her husband with a bland expression, as if calling their daughter in for a lecture were an everyday occurrence.
Well, it wasn’t unusual, Sarah had to admit. However, this time felt different somehow. Because Anthony and Felix were here. She could almost understand Anthony’s presence, but Felix? Sarah slid a glance toward him and saw that he continued to appear befuddled. Or perhaps uncomfortable was a better description. Yes, she’d feel uncomfortable too if she were him.
As if that mattered. She wasn’t him, and she still felt uncomfortable.
“It’s time for you to marry,” Father said, surprising no one. Or so Sarah assumed. Anthony knew how desperately they wanted her to marry, and she had to think Felix did too. Of course he did. Sarah was the fir
st person to complain about the pressure they applied.
“Past time, one might say,” Sarah murmured and tried not to send an exasperated look toward her mother.
“There’s no need to be saucy,” Mother said tartly.
“Why must Felix and I be privy to Sarah’s humiliation?” Anthony asked.
Humiliation? Sarah had been annoyed, mildly embarrassed even, but not humiliated. At least not until now. She tossed a withering stare at her brother. He had the grace to wince and look away.
“There is a reason,” Mother said before inclining her head toward Sarah’s father.
Father coughed. “Er, yes. We wondered if it might make sense for you, Felix, to wed Sarah.”
Humiliation didn’t begin to describe the emotion swirling inside Sarah and erupting in her cheeks. Surely they were about to catch fire.
She would have snapped at her father or mother or both, but words simply wouldn’t come.
Anthony stood. “You can’t ambush Felix like that!” At Sarah’s intake of breath, he added, “Or Sarah.”
Sarah didn’t bother sending him another acid glare.
Their mother pursed her lips at Anthony. “We’re not ambushing him. Felix is like family. He’s well aware of Sarah’s sad state.”
Oh, this was just getting better and better. Now she was in a sad state?
“Furthermore, Felix is in need of a wife. Your father and I discussed it, and we think this is an excellent match.”
Sarah couldn’t bear to meet Felix’s gaze, so she stared at the floor. Had the patterned carpet always had that odd mushroom shape next to the leg of the settee?
“I’m glad you discussed it,” Anthony said with a great deal of sarcasm. “You might have discussed it with Felix, however.” He looked toward Felix. “Did they?”
Now Sarah chanced a look at him. Felix shook his head. To his credit, he didn’t look surprised or annoyed or pale or anything other than what he’d appeared since she’d arrived: uncomfortable.
Father frowned at Anthony. “Never mind your outrage, Anthony. In fact, you don’t really need to be here.” He looked toward his wife. “Why is he here?”
“We thought he might help us persuade them of the match. It doesn’t look as if he’ll do that.”
That they’d thought he would almost made Sarah laugh. In fact, why would they have thought that? She opened her mouth to ask, but Anthony beat her to it, practically leaping from his chair.
“Whyever would you think that?” Anthony shook his head. “I’m not going to match my best friend—who has no desire to wed—with my sister.” He turned a pained expression toward Felix. “Please accept my deepest apologies for this…error.”
Mother stood. “Why not think about it, Felix?” she asked. “Sarah would be the perfect wife for you. You already know each other quite well. There will be no awkward expectations or discomfort.”
Sarah snorted. There was already awkward discomfort. “Mother, please don’t put Felix—or me—in this position.”
“You, my girl, are already in this ‘position.’ I simply do not understand why you aren’t married. You’re pretty, you dress exceptionally well, you possess many talents, and you’re of at least average intelligence.” Mother placed a hand on her hip, and her neck turned pink with agitation. “Felix, you’re a man—and apparently one of many who won’t marry our daughter. What is wrong with Sarah?”
Oh dear God. Sarah prayed she would simply melt into the floor, into very oblivion, and never emerge.
“There’s nothing wrong with her.” Felix turned his attention to her. “She’s beautiful, exceptionally talented, and brilliant.”
A bright sense of pride filtered through the horror of the moment and filled Sarah with warmth. Brilliant? She looked toward Felix, who gave her a subtle nod.
“You’ve just convinced me you should marry her,” Sarah’s mother said, looking pleased.
“Mother.” Anthony growled the word.
The viscountess shot an irritated glance toward her son. “Since you aren’t going to help, this doesn’t concern you.”
Sarah had suffered quite enough. She stood from the settee, and now they were all standing. “I’m not marrying Felix.”
Mother and Father swiveled their heads toward Sarah and gave her matching expressions of annoyance. “What’s wrong with Felix?” Father asked. “He’s an earl.” Nothing about his looks or talents or intelligence. Apparently, a title was all a man needed to be marriageable.
“We don’t want to marry each other,” Sarah said. “Don’t you think we would have done so already?”
“It’s not a question of want, dear.” Mother’s tone held a note of condescension. “You’re both in need. It’s a perfect solution, you must agree.”
“It isn’t. And I mustn’t agree to anything. You can’t force me to marry him. You can’t force me to marry anyone.” And with that, Sarah was finished with this farce of a discussion. She turned on her heel and exited the library through the closest door. Which meant she was heading to the garden.
Anger and frustration raced through her, making her shake as she propelled herself into a circuit of the small walled garden. The roses had begun to bloom, and they filled the air with a lush, spicy scent. She took several deep breaths in an effort to calm her racing heart.
On her second time around, she saw Felix leave the house and walk toward her, his expression pulled into a somber mask.
When he caught up to her, she said, “I’m sorry about that.”
“No more than I am.” He steered her to a bench that was situated next to her mother’s favorite rosebush. They sat, and Sarah arranged her skirt around her ankles.
She glared at the plant as a proxy for her mother. “That was absolutely humiliating. And unnecessary. Who says I have to marry at all.” It wasn’t a question but a defiant statement. More than ever, she wanted to open her shop and become a truly independent woman.
“Your parents, but I would argue their opinion is not all-important,” Felix said softly.
Sarah rotated herself to face him. “But you think it’s somewhat important.”
Felix lifted a shoulder. “I don’t have parents anymore, so don’t ask me. I know you love them, and they love you. That’s all I meant.”
“Parents can be a pain in the arse.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to suggest you were better off.”
His mouth curled into a half smile. “I didn’t take it that way.”
“I’m sure you miss your parents very much.” She realized he never mentioned them. Perhaps he didn’t miss them.
“My mother died when I was born. How can I miss what I never knew? And my father…” He glanced away, and she found herself waiting expectantly for the rest of what he would say. Only he didn’t continue.
“Your father what?”
He looked back at her, his green gaze carrying an edge of steel. “My father has been dead a long time.” When he said nothing more, she accepted that was all he wanted to express on the subject.
“I’ll help you find a husband,” he said, startling her. “If that’s what you want.”
She blinked at him, surprised at the offer. “Why? Did my parents ask you to?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“No. I did suggest it, and they were both relieved and pleased. It at least alleviates the pressure they’ve put on you.”
“Why, because now I’m your problem instead of theirs?” She let out a soft snort.
“You’re not a problem. I meant what I said about you earlier. You’ll make some man an excellent wife.”
Some man. “I don’t want to marry ‘some man.’”
“Whom do you want to marry?” He tipped his head to the side. “No, the first question you must answer is whether you truly wish to marry at all. You told me at the races yesterday that you were planning for spinsterhood, and just a bit ago, you wondered why you had to marry. It sounds to me as if you might prefer to remain unwed.”
“I�
�d be a pariah—particularly in my mother’s eyes.”
He hesitated before answering. “Not necessarily. Plenty of women never marry.”
She exhaled. “Yes, and aren’t they pariahs?”
“I admit I don’t know.” He shifted his gaze to the side. “My experience with, er, spinsters is rather limited.”
“Is it? And here I thought you’d carried on with a few.” She noted his discomfort and laughed. “I’m teasing. But you are a bit of a rake.”
“I suppose I am.” He looked at her without apology.
“Yes, you should not be ashamed. We should embrace who we are. Would you like to know who I am?”
He leaned toward her, his gaze a bit…rapt. “Tell me.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m a hat designer, and I only wish to marry for love.” There, she’d said it out loud. She turned away from him, readjusting herself on the bench so she faced straight toward the garden. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“Not even Lavinia?”
Lavinia was her dearest friend, so of course it seemed she would have. Or should have. “She knows I like hats. And she knows I want to fall in love, especially now that she has.” Watching her with Beck had transformed love from an intangible dream into a real possibility.
They were both quiet for a moment. Both staring at the garden. Or so she thought from the limited view she had of him from the corner of her eye. He’d come out without a hat, so the breeze stirred a lock of his dark hair, brushing it against his temple.
Then he turned his head toward her. “How about I try to help you find a gentleman to love?”
“Beck tried this with Lavinia. He introduced her to his friend from Oxford.”
“Yes, Horace. I don’t mean like that,” Felix said. “I don’t actually have anyone in mind. But if I go out of my way to invite every single gentleman in London to one of my entertainments, then you’ll at least have a better field to choose from.”
