From Wallflower to Countess. Janice Preston

mother into the devil of a state. What can you possibly object to in Stanton?’

      ‘I will discuss it with Mama and my guardian.’

      Farlowe’s fingers bit into her arm. ‘We will settle this now. I will not have your mother upset.’

      No, of course you won’t. No doubt it disturbed your sleep. How Felicity longed to throw those words at her stepfather, but she refused to stoop so low. ‘I have no wish to upset Mama either. I am sure we will reach some accord.’

      He dragged her close, glaring down at her through narrowed eyes. Felicity coughed as a wave of Farlowe’s pungent hair oil pervaded her nostrils. The sickly smell contrasted sharply with Stanton’s fresh, spicy scent.

      ‘You’ve been a thorn in my side ever since I married your mother, looking down your nose at me. Why do you not want Stanton?’ He bent his head close to hers, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered in her ear. ‘Is he too much the man for you, miss? Are you scared of your wedding night? Mayhap I can be of assistance? Provide a little tutoring so you will not—’

      ‘Let me go!’ Felicity struggled against his viselike grip on her arm. ‘When Mama hears what you—’

      Farlowe laughed. ‘But she won’t find out, will she? You forget—I know you, Lady Felicity. You won’t say a word to your mama because you hate to upset anyone—’

      ‘Farlowe!’ Stanton’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

      Farlowe looked round, but did not release Felicity as Richard strode towards them, fury pounding his veins.

      ‘Merely a familial misunderstanding, Stanton; nothing for you to concern yourself with.’

      The rogue didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. Richard wondered what he had whispered to Felicity. Judging by her expression, he had not been sharing a friendly word of advice.

      ‘Oh, but I am concerned, Farlowe. Anything that distresses Felicity distresses me. Take your hands from her.’

      ‘We have not finished—’

      ‘Yes, we have.’ Felicity twisted her arm free. ‘I told you, sir, that I will discuss the matter with my mother and the duke. They are my guardians, not you.’

      Richard levelled a long look at Farlowe, who blanched. Good. The savage anger in his breast must be reflected in his expression. He would have dearly loved to draw the scoundrel’s cork, but would not do so in front of Felicity. Next time they met, though, Mr Quentin Farlowe would have a few questions to answer.

      Glancing at Felicity, Richard was struck once more by her forlorn expression. Much as he would like to place all the blame for her dejection at Farlowe’s door, he could not deny she had been troubled even before the incident with her stepfather. Was Leo mistaken? Was a marriage of convenience not Felicity’s choice, but at the instigation of her parents?

      ‘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