From Wallflower to Countess. Janice Preston

      ‘Would you be so good as to escort me to my mother, Lord Stanton?’

      ‘My pleasure, Lady Felicity.’

      When she took his arm, Richard noticed she leant on it a little more heavily than before as they headed back to the Abbey.

      ‘Are you quite well, Felicity? Farlowe...he looked a little rough back there.’

      Felicity’s fingers tightened on his sleeve. ‘He is not a particularly nice man,’ she said. ‘It is one of the reasons I asked Mama to find me a husband.’

      So it was her choice. Her doubts, then, were definitely about him.

      ‘Your mama is happy with him, though? He is not...cruel in any way?’

      The faintest of sighs murmured past his ears and he had to tilt his head to catch her words. ‘No, not overtly cruel. But there is cruelty and there is cruelty.’

      Richard pondered that statement. After half a minute, when he was no wiser, he said, ‘I fear that statement is a little obscure for this early in the morning. What do you mean?’

      Felicity’s head snapped round, her eyes stricken. ‘Oh,’ she gasped, ‘I am sorry, I had quite forgot...that is...what I mean is that Mama has high expectations of my stepfather. I do not think he has the character to meet those expectations. Does that make sense?’

      ‘I suppose it does. Your mother, if you will forgive me for saying so, is a lady who would require her husband to dance attendance on her. I surmise, from your explanation, that Farlowe does not view his role in quite the same way?’

      ‘No, indeed. His role—in his opinion—is to live as high as possible, doing precisely what he wishes, with Mama’s money. Oh! I do beg your pardon. That was most unbecoming in me... I’m afraid my stepfather brings out the very worst in me, despite my best intentions to let his shortcomings fly over my head without comment. Somehow—’ she smiled, ruefully ‘—my basest nature seems to rear its head whenever he is involved. I think we shall never live comfortably together.’

      ‘Which is why, as you say, you seek a husband. And, yet, you seem reluctant to accept my suit. I am beginning to feel quite deflated, Lady Felicity.’

      ‘Oh, no.’ She stopped walking and turned to Richard, her eyes big with concern. ‘Please, no, I do not want you to think...to believe... Oh.’ Her protestations ceased and her eyes narrowed. ‘This is quite ridiculous as well you know, my lord. We both know very well that no other woman would view your suit with the slightest hesitation. The reasons for my indecision are...well, they are... Oh, I cannot say more than I have already. You said you would wait for my answer until later this morning, and I must ask you to honour that.

      ‘Thank you for your escort. I shall be quite safe from here.’

      Richard stood at the bottom of the main staircase, watching as Felicity climbed the sweep to the next floor.

      ‘Good morning, Stan. Enjoying the morning air with your betrothed?’

      Richard did not turn to look at Leo. ‘I am not sure “enjoying” is quite the right word, Leo. And neither, if I read the lady correctly, is “betrothed”. I must confess to a certain bemusement. Lady Felicity—if I have understood our, at times, quite muddled conversation correctly—is about to turn me down flat.’

       Chapter Eight

      ‘Now hear this, young lady, and hear it well.’

      Lady Katherine stalked up and down her bedchamber, gesticulating. Until this very minute, Felicity had not dreamed she might fail in her attempt to avoid marriage to Lord Stanton. She sank onto a chair by the window, her legs unaccountably shaky, as her mother continued to pace.

      ‘You asked me to find you a husband.’

      ‘Yes, that is true, but—’

      ‘No buts. I have found you an eminently eligible man, one who must be far beyond anyone you could have hoped for.’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      Her mother quelled her with one look. A feeling of unreality washed over Felicity. This determination in her normally persuadable mother was new, and she knew who to thank for it. Why, oh, why did Mama marry that man?

      ‘I have spoken with the duke this morning—yes, already, at this unearthly hour—and he has confirmed his belief that you and Stanton will suit. He knows you both. He will hardly match one of his closest friends with someone unsuitable.’

      ‘I do not believe Stanton and I will be compatible, Mama.’

      ‘I have discussed this with Farlowe...’

      Felicity sprang to her feet. ‘I might have known he was—’

      Her mother continued as though Felicity had not spoken. ‘...and we are agreed. You have a choice.’

      ‘A choice?’ Felicity stared at her mother, hope stirring. ‘Who?’

      ‘Not who. What. Our conversation last night left me vastly unsettled, Felicity, and I was still awake when my dear Farlowe retired. I told him of your stubbornness, and he suggested—’

      ‘Did I hear my name mentioned?’

      ‘Farlowe. My darling. Such a valiant but wasted effort on your part, searching for this wretched girl. But no matter, for she is here now, and I am about to reveal her options.’

      Felicity caught Farlowe’s smirk. Cold sweat prickled over her back. He wanted her out of their lives as much as she did. What was her mother’s alternative? A nunnery?

      Oh, please. We are not living in the pages of a Gothic novel. ‘Very well, Mama. What is my alternative?’

      ‘You said you wanted a family and we have found you a perfectly eligible suitor. You either accept Stanton or you will never wed. You will end your days living with us as my companion and, after I have gone, you must depend on the charity of your dear brother. You will forever be the poor relation.’

      Felicity’s knees threatened to buckle. She grabbed the back of a chair.

      ‘You cannot prevent me finding a husband of my own,’ she said.

      ‘And you have proven yourself oh-so successful in that endeavour to date, have you not, Felicity?’ Farlowe said. ‘And do not think you will be permitted to squander good money on those urchins and thieves you are so fond of. You will have no need of such a generous allowance as your mother’s companion.’

      She could not win. In order to find herself a husband, she would have to allow herself to be courted. She must risk her heart whichever way she chose. The alternative: remaining with her mother and Farlowe—to have to endure his leers and his constant crude remarks about virgins—was simply intolerable. And she would not even have the release of involvement with Westfield.

      She must capitulate. Her choice was, in reality, no choice. But she would move mountains in order to protect her heart. On one thing she was adamant: she must never fall in love with Lord Stanton.

      * * *

      Richard turned from his contemplation of the portrait hung over the mantel and watched Felicity approach.

      ‘Lady Felicity. I am honoured you have consented to hear my address.’

      He scanned her features. She looked no more enthusiastic than she had earlier. Her eyes refused to meet his as she curtsied.

      ‘The honour is all mine, my lord.’

      Richard gave himself leave to doubt that. The hopeless resignation in her voice matched her whole demeanour. He felt a scowl crease his brow and hastily smoothed it away. Not that she’d noticed; her eyes were fixed on a point somewhere beyond his right ear.