The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory

      ‘Then he should have hired a deeply religious servant to take with him rather than dragging you off to deepest Africa!’

      Felicity laughed at that.

      ‘But he didn’t! We only got as far as northern Spain! Poor Uncle Philip, he convinced himself that the Spanish Catholics were as much in need of saving as any African tribe, but I have always suspected the truth was he could not face another sea journey.’

      ‘Well, it was very wrong of him to take you away instead of giving you the opportunity to marry and have children—’

      Felicity put up her hand in a little gesture of defence; she did not want to contemplate what might have been.

      ‘What’s done is done,’ she said quietly. ‘I am very happy here at Souden, and I would much rather stay here while you go to London.’

      ‘But I shall need you!’

      Lydia’s plaintive tone carried Felicity back to their schooldays, when her friend had often begged her for company. Poor Lydia could never bear to be alone. Now, as then, Felicity found it impossible to resist her. Sensing her weakening, Lydia pressed her hand.

      ‘Do say you will come, Fee—you are so good at organising parties.’

      ‘But you will not expect me to attend any of these parties.’

      ‘Not unless you want to, my dear.’

      ‘You know there is nothing I would want less!’

      ‘Then you may remain behind the scenes, invisible.’

      Felicity laughed at her.

      ‘But I cannot possibly be your paid companion if I never leave my room. Sir James will not countenance such a thing!’

      ‘I shall tell him that you have a morbid fear of strangers,’ said Lydia. ‘He will understand that, for he has a cousin who is very much the same, only because he is a man, and rich, it is quite acceptable for him to be a recluse. And James knows how much I rely upon you, especially now that I am increasing.’

      ‘Perhaps you should not go at all,’ said Felicity, clutching at straws.

      Lydia gave a little gurgle of laughter.

      ‘But of course I should! I have never felt better, and the doctor says I must not pamper myself but carry on very much as normal. Oh, do say you will come with me, Felicity: you are very necessary to my comfort, you know.’

      Felicity could not resist Lydia’s beseeching look.

      ‘You have been so kind to me that I cannot refuse you.’

      ‘So you promise you will come to town with me?’

      ‘Yes, I give you my word.’

      Lydia gave a huge sigh.

      ‘I am so relieved!’ She linked arms with Felicity again and gave a little tug. ‘Come along, now: we must keep moving or we shall grow too chilled. It is only April, after all.’

      They walked on in amicable silence for a few more minutes.

      ‘Is that what you wished to say to me,’ asked Felicity, ‘that we are to go to town?’

      ‘Well, yes, but there is a little more than that, my dear.’

      ‘Now, Lydia, what mischief are you planning?’

      ‘None, I promise you, but there is something you should know.’ Lady Souden gave her arm a little shake. ‘Remember, Fee, you have given me your word!’

      ‘Very well. Tell me.’

      ‘The Earl of Rosthorne will be in town.’

      Felicity’s heart lurched. The Earl of Rosthorne—Nathan Carraway, her handsome hero. The man who still haunted her dreams, but had proved to be a master of seduction. She swallowed nervously, trying to remain calm.

      ‘How do you know that?’

      ‘James wrote to me—’

      ‘Lydia, you haven’t told him—!’

      ‘Of course not, I promised I would not give you away. No, his letter was full of the plans for the celebrations. He said that Carraway had been ordered to London, not only because he is now Earl of Rosthorne, but because he is—or was—a military man and Prinny is quite desperate to impress. The royal parks are to be opened, there will be displays, and fireworks, and—oh, Felicity, it will be so exciting—are you not the teeniest bit curious to see it all?’

      ‘Not if there is the teeniest risk of meeting Lord Rosthorne!’

      Lydia turned her wide, blue-eyed gaze upon her.

      ‘I know he treated you badly, my dear, but are you not curious to see him again?’

      Felicity hesitated. Nathan had rescued her, given up his lodging for her, bought her new clothes. He had taught her to love him and then broken her heart.

      ‘No. I have no desire to see him again.’

      ‘Felicity, you are blushing. You still care for him.’

      ‘I do not! It was five years ago, Lydia. I am over him.’

      ‘Well, perhaps you no longer cry yourself to sleep every night, as you did when we first took you in, but at times, when you are sitting quietly, there is that faraway look in your eye—’

      Felicity laughed.

      ‘Lydia, you are too romantic! That faraway look was most likely exhaustion, having had the care of two energetic boys for the day!’

      ‘Well, it does not matter what you say, I have the liveliest curiosity to see the man who—’

      ‘Lydia!’ Felicity stopped abruptly. ‘Lydia, you promised me when I came to you that you would respect my secret.’

      ‘And so I shall, my love, but—’

      ‘Pray let us say no more about the odious Lord Rosthorne! If you insist upon my coming to town with you then I will do so, but pray understand that upon no account must he know I am there. It would be embarrassing to everyone.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I am dead to him now.’

      Lydia threw her arms around her, enveloping Felicity in a warm, scented embrace. ‘Oh, my dear friend, you know I would do nothing that would make you miserable!’

      ‘No, of course you would not. Not intentionally, that is.’ Felicity glanced up. ‘The rain clouds are gathering. The sun will soon disappear; I think we should go indoors now.’

      They did not speak of London again, or of the Earl of Rosthorne, but when Felicity retired to her room that night he was there, in her head, as close and as real as ever.

      ‘The Earl of Rosthorne, sir.’

      The butler’s sonorous tones filled the small, book-lined study, investing the announcement with considerable gravitas. Nathan squared his shoulders. After twelve months he was still not comfortable with the title. The gentleman sitting behind the large mahogany desk jumped up immediately and came forward to meet him. Nathan regarded him with interest. He knew Sir James Souden only by reputation but even if he had not heard that the man was an active supporter of Lord Wellesley, he would have been disposed to like him, for there was a look of intelligence and humour in his face and an energy in that lean body. Here was a man who was used to getting things done. He was smiling now at Nathan and waving him towards a chair.

      ‘Welcome, my lord, and thank you for coming so promptly.’

      Nathan bowed.

      ‘Your message was waiting for me when I arrived in town this morning, Sir James.’

      ‘Ah, but knowing the object of this meeting I would not have been surprised if you had put it off.’

      The