Emily Greenwood (22 page)

A young buck appeared then at her side, as if conjured by his imagination, and spirited her away for a quadrille.

As soon as she was gone, James turned to Hal. “What the devil are you up to with Felicity?” he asked.

Hal lofted a single eyebrow. “I wonder why you care, since you are so soon to desert her. Clearly her daily life will be of little import to you in Spain. Someone ought to look after her interests. Why not me?”

James pressed his lips together. “I will look after her interests.”

“You? You’re practically her jailer.” Hal looked remarkably animated, a rare occurrence in a man who cultivated the impression that he did not care too deeply about anything. “How can you in all conscience marry this beautiful young lady and then abandon her to a future of months at a time spent alone in the country?”

“I’ll only be gone a few months a year. And she won’t be alone,” James said firmly. “She’ll live with Miranda at Granton Hall. They already get along famously.”

“I’m sure they do,” came the dry reply, “but she’s a young woman. A desirable, vibrant young woman who deserves to be valued and cherished. She shouldn’t be sentenced to a spinster’s existence. And equally important,” he persisted, “have you told her about your plans for Tethering yet? About who Dover is?”

James, whose face had flamed at the word “desirable,” was irate. “No, dammit, I’m waiting for the right moment. And who appointed you her champion?”

“Somebody has to look out for her.”

“And somebody is doing that. Me.”

They were still glaring at each other when Josephine approached them. “Well, and what has the two of you looking like a couple of rams locking horns?”

A muscle twitched in James’s jaw. Hal looked away from his gaze at last. “Nothing too serious. Just discussing the couple’s plans for the future.”

Josephine’s eyebrows shot up with interest and she turned to James. “And what are your plans, James?”

“Devil take it, you know my plans. I’m going to clear the debt and move back into Granton Hall. Then I’ll return to Spain while Felicity stays at Granton with Miranda. Once things are settled at the bodega, I will come back and prepare for the election.”

She regarded him steadily. “Ah. You will not take her with you to Spain? Have you told her about Granton yet, and the changes it will mean for her?”

He sucked his teeth angrily. Why the devil were his cousins harassing him?

“I see,” she finally said, when he didn’t reply. She glanced at Hal, who shrugged.

“What is it with you two?” James demanded. “And Miranda too? People get married all the time and live apart. Nabobs. Sea captains.”

“Yes, James,” Josephine said gently, “but anyone who’s in love would never do it by choice.”

“Well, I am perfectly capable of making my own choices,” he returned, heartily sick of this conversation. Why were they standing here, giving him a hard time and talking about love? Whatever feelings he had for Felicity were completely his own affair.

Josephine regarded him, composed as always. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Of course, James. These are your own affairs.”

She smiled politely, then linked her arms with his and Hal’s, forcing them all to be agreeable. “Let us not quarrel.”

Looking out toward where the dancers were coming to the end of their set, James caught Felicity’s eyes, and something grave in them tugged on his heart. Confound it all, he
was
growing uneasy. He had not wanted to think about her likely reaction to the selling of Tethering. He’d told himself he had solid plans for a future they could both enjoy, but now he was beginning to wonder about those plans for the very reason his cousins were suggesting. This made him feel as if he didn’t know his own mind. He should be thrilled—all that he’d been working toward these last three years was about to bear fruit.

Annoyed and unsettled instead, he left the room to finish his business with Dover.

***

After another hour and a half of dancing, during which time Felicity saw no sign of James, she sought out Miranda, who was sitting at a small table near the edge of the dance floor.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?” the older woman asked.

“Yes, I am,” Felicity replied truthfully. Dancing was great fun, and she’d had no occasion to do it for years. “But it’s tiring.” She noticed that Miranda looked fatigued.

“Would you like to leave, Aunt Miranda?” she asked.

Miranda looked regretful. “I’m afraid I do feel more tired than I would have expected, dear girl.” She flicked a glance around the room. “But I don’t believe Robert and Josephine are ready to depart, and I haven’t seen James for some time.”

“Hmm,” Felicity said. “Perhaps if we make for the cloakroom, we will see him on the way.”

An acquaintance of Miranda’s whom they encountered on the way out of the room mentioned having seen James going into the library, so the two ladies inquired of a footman as to the location of that room.

Felicity pushed open the library door, and there was James, standing over a table with Mr. Dover, both of them looking at something on the tabletop. Behind Felicity, Miranda sucked in her breath.

The two men turned as one to see who had opened the door, and their faces were a study in contrast. Mr. Dover’s meaty visage held a look of triumph mingled with pleasure, while James looked… strange. As if something were disturbing him. Mr. Dover’s incipient smile widened hugely.

“Miss Wilcox, Miss Claremont, you may congratulate me. I am to be the owner of my very own country estate!”

“Indeed?” said Miranda, her glance going to James.

Felicity looked on with a creeping, sick feeling. One look at James, whose attention was suddenly intensely riveted by the large gold watch he had pulled from his pocket, told her all she needed to know.

“Yes, Tethering Hall, of course!” Mr. Dover chuckled. “Collington and I have just shaken hands on the agreement.”

“I see,” Miranda said slowly. “I guess we must congratulate you then.”

No one else said anything. Felicity stood perfectly still, staring at James, pinning him with her eyes, but his expression was unreadable.

“Yes, yes!” Mr. Dover gushed on, oblivious to the tensions rising in the room. “Won’t take possession until the end of the summer, but the deal’s been fixed. Mrs. Dover will be happy as a child on Christmas morn when I tell her. She’s always wanted a country home, and now we have the very place to establish the Dover line.”

James could see that Felicity was upset. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said in a voice that seemed impossibly small. Damn! Not in a million years would he have wanted her to hear about the sale of Tethering this way. Of course, he was sorry that Tethering had to be sold, but there was nothing for it. And a quick cut was best, would be the least painful. So maybe it was for the best that she knew now.

Except that the way she was looking was making him feel almost ashamed. She was pale, like someone had just died. It was only a house, for pity’s sake, he wanted to shout at her as she turned away, refusing to meet his eyes now that he suddenly felt that they must connect. And in the next moment, before he could even assay one syllable, she was gone from the doorway. Forgetting Dover, James began to rush in the direction of the door when he heard Miranda clear her throat.

“James, Felicity and I were coming to see about leaving. But you go ahead now and I’ll return with Josephine.”

Still striding toward the door, he stopped a moment and blinked, distracted by this mention of mundane details.

“Oh, yes, good idea, Miranda.” He turned and bowed to Dover, who, thank God, was such a thick-headed clod he seemed totally unaware of the undercurrents in the room. “As we agreed, then, Dover, we’ll have the lawyers sort out the details and you can take possession at the end of the summer.”

“Excellent!” James heard as he turned to make for the door. And then he was down the hallway after Felicity, desperate to talk to her.

He could see her ahead of him, weaving efficiently among the groups of people standing about in the lightly crowded hallway, leaving a trail of men bowing after her with pleasure as she swept past them. She had a head start and so was out the door and down the wide, torch-lit front steps before James could get close to her. A light rain had started, and the steps were wet and slippery so that he had to slow his pace. He called her name but she did not acknowledge him, save to accelerate her steps. He finally caught up with her several yards along the drive, where the guests’ carriages—one of them his—waited, their drivers leaning against them or standing in groups talking.

He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her around to face him.

“Let go!” she demanded, her delicate features screwed up, her hurt and anger evident in the glow of the torchlight. Droplets of mist clung to the curls around her face, making her look dewy and young. She had trusted him. He closed his eyes, ashamed of himself for causing her pain. He should have said something earlier. But now he would apologize and beg her forgiveness.

“Felicity, you can’t just run off,” he said in a quiet but firm voice. The last thing he wanted to do was put on a show for the coachmen arrayed in the drive around them.

Her eyes blazed at him. “I can and I will,” she said, her voice choked. “Let go of me this instant!” She was somewhere between begging and ordering him, and her desperation cut him to the bone. Damn it to hell, he had been a bastard. But he couldn’t let her go, couldn’t let her leave furious with him. And he knew her—she’d think up something crazy to do. Perhaps she’d go to Dover’s townhouse and stir up trouble there, maybe tell her ghost stories to his wife. Or something else devious—his mind supplied a vision of her lying draped across the front steps of Collington House in protest.

“No,” he said, and in response she tugged her arm hard, trying to escape his grasp. Her gown was growing damp; he could feel it sticking to her under his fingers. He didn’t want to hurt her by holding her too tightly, but he couldn’t loosen his grip or she’d be gone. “We have to talk. You have to hear me out.”

He began pulling her toward his carriage, which was, mercifully, only about fifteen feet away. She resisted, digging her heels in so that they scraped up muddy pebbles from the drive as they went.

“Stop this!” she demanded in a low, angry voice. “I never want to see you again, you traitor! I’m going my own way!”

He stopped pulling her a moment, glanced around warily to see if their scene was drawing unwanted attention, and turned to look at her. “Oh really, and where would that be?”

“That’s not your concern.” Her finely defined lower lip trembled, and he longed for her to be simply happy with him again, happy as she had been for the last few days. If he could just get her to listen, if he could soothe her, she would see how well everything would turn out in the end. She would love Granton, he was sure of it. If only she would be reasonable, which at the moment seemed like a big “if.”

“It blasted well is my concern what you do, but we’re not going to discuss this out here, for all the world to see. Get in the carriage.”

“No.”

“If you don’t come with me reasonably to the carriage, I’ll just have to pick you up and carry you there.”

She squinted at him, the mist darkening her eyelashes and forming them into little groups, as if she’d been crying. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Of course I would.” He shrugged. “I’ll simply announce that you’ve taken ill.”

She gave him a ferocious look, then gazed away from him. She allowed him to lead her to their carriage but refused to look at him again.

Once he had her installed in the carriage, on the seat facing him, he knocked on the roof and the coach took off with a jerk.

Felicity stared out the tiny carriage window, oblivious to everything save the occasional glow of the coach lantern lighting the raindrops that gathered on the window as the carriage passed along the dark, rainy city streets. She was wet and wilted, cold now in the late evening air. It echoed the miserable state of her feelings.

James sat across from her but she didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see him, handsome, smooth, confident James, so good at getting things accomplished. James, who’d just accomplished the sale of her home. Her chest and throat were constricted, weighted down, making anything but shallow breathing difficult. She closed her eyes as her chin seized up in a spasm of emotion, and she forced it to stop quivering and be still. She would not fall apart. And maybe there was still a chance.

“Is the sale final?” she asked in a flat voice.

“Yes, it’s final. You know it’s perfectly legal for me to sell my house,” he said, hard words though his voice was gentle, kind. His kindness was wasted on her now.

“It looked like a very casual exchange.”

He cleared his throat. “We agreed to terms and shook hands on the deal. A gentleman’s handshake. We won’t sign the papers until the lawyers have sorted out their part. He’s to take possession at the end of August.”

Her head snapped toward him. “You haven’t actually sold it yet?”

“Felicity,” he said, his voice a warning. He must be damp too—his hair looked wavier than usual, giving him a wild appearance. “We shook hands on it and he gave me a note. That’s as good as a legal document as far as a gentleman is concerned. The lawyers’ contribution is just a detail.”

She said nothing and returned to looking out the window.

Across from her, he slumped forward and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Felicity, I’m sorry.”

She stared out the window, knowing she would refuse to accept whatever smooth explanation he would offer.

“Lis my sweet,” he said, urgency creeping into his voice. “Look at me. We are engaged. We have to talk about this.”

“I am no longer engaged to you,” she said to the curtains. Velvet curtains, she noticed. They looked to be old but of good quality. Like the blasted Collington family.

He did not acknowledge what she said. “I made a mistake, not telling you earlier about selling Tethering. I’m sorry. But we have to discuss it. You’ll see it’s for the best. We—”

“There is no more we.” She turned to look at him, her anger overcoming her hurt. “I’ve told you, the engagement is ended. Let me off at Josephine’s and I will pack my things and leave in the morning.”

He pressed his lips together and inhaled forcefully. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t break off our engagement now. And you haven’t
listened
to what I have to say.”

James looked at her, delicate and ferocious at the same time, his angry fairy queen, capable of terrible magic.

She said nothing and he took it for an indication to proceed. “I had to sell Tethering, I had no choice. I must pay off a very large debt that was called in much sooner than I expected. That’s the only reason I’m in England and not at my bodega. That’s why I was gambling with your uncle in the first place. And I risked everything to get Tethering. I had to sell Tethering from the moment I was fortunate enough to win it. Can’t you see, my love? I had no choice.”

She stared fixedly at the floor, no emotion showing on her face.

“I know about your brother and the debt,” she said.

“You do?” How the hell did she know?

“Josephine told me.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms tightly, feeling attacked, though it wasn’t as if she were accusing him of anything. He didn’t like that he hadn’t been the one to tell her. And that his troubles were common knowledge.

“I don’t know how much she told you, but my brother tricked me into signing for a debt he ran up that I assumed for him on what was to be a temporary basis. He died a few days later, and I was left owing ten thousand pounds. An old family relative, Admiral Beene, paid off the creditors and gave me six years to pay the ten thousand while he held Granton Hall as surety and collected the income from the estate. But now the admiral is dead and his heir has called in the debt. I have only until the end of the summer to pay him or I lose Granton forever.”

He leaned toward her again, resting his forearms on his knees and praying she would see reason. “Granton Hall has been the family seat of the Collingtons for three hundred years. Kings have dined there, treaties have been negotiated over our dining table. It’s an irreplaceable part of my family’s connection to the country. An indispensable part of what we will do in the coming years.”

“Tethering was my home, James. It may not have hosted kings and treaty-signings, but it has been no less important to me than Granton has been to you. But I see that this is more important to you than anything else.”

Her words stung like a slap. Why was she being so damned obtuse? She was like a dog with a bone, and Tethering was the bone. She just couldn’t see past it.

“Felicity,” he said with more patience than he felt, “Tethering estate is a sweet place. I understand your reluctance to part from it. But can’t you see beyond it, to something greater? Granton Hall is important, significant in a larger way.”

“Oh.” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “You understand nothing about me.”

“What do you mean?” he demanded, knowing he was growing angry, feeling control slip away.

But she didn’t answer him. Instead, she lifted her hands up and undid the clasp of the necklace he had placed on her hours ago.

“Here,” she reached out and held the pendant between them. He looked at her pale, set features, his heart thudding in his chest. He wouldn’t take it back. When he didn’t, she simply let it fall to the floor between them.

“It’s just as well,” she said. “This never would have worked. I’m not from a world where Granton Hall and its trappings mean much of anything. What I care about is a happy home. About the changing seasons and how they affect growing things. About whether my father’s proofs have printing mistakes. About whether Simon is happy at school. What’s going to be cooked for dinner. I care nothing for dynasties.”

Caught in a swirling cloud of whys and why nots, he focused on the one detail that would anchor them. “You can’t break off the engagement. You could be pregnant.”

He could tell by her stillness that she hadn’t considered that.

She shrugged. “So we won’t make a public change for a few weeks. But privately, we’ll know.”

“I agree to nothing of the sort,” he burst out. “We are still engaged. You will stay at Josephine’s tonight as planned and we will travel together to Granton tomorrow.”

She said nothing for a long minute. “Very well,” she said at last, coldly. “I’ll come with you and stay for as long as I need to. But don’t expect anything else. You can’t manage me into being your fiancée.”

“Oh, yes I can,” he asserted, ready to do just that, to badger her, if need be, into submission. But at that moment the carriage jerked to a stop because they had arrived, and then the coachman had the door open and was unfolding the stairs. She was down them in a heartbeat, leaving him to follow.

When he stepped out of the coach, though, determined to catch hold of her, his coachman required his attention. One of the new horses in the team appeared to be going lame. James could only watch in frustration as Felicity swept up the townhouse stairs, the silky length of her gown briskly kissing the steps as she ascended and passed through the lantern-lit front doors being held open for her by a servant.

Inside her room in the townhouse half an hour later, Felicity sat on the edge of her bed in her new chemise. She was listening in spite of herself for the sound of James’s footfalls in the hallway as he passed, but he did not come. Perhaps he’d gone out, or perhaps he was somewhere in the house, she thought as she lay back on the bed and stared up in the moonlit darkness at the filmy canopy of her bed. She must learn not to care.

***

James worried that Felicity would defy him and refuse to come with him to Granton after all, but she and Miranda were both packed and ready by late morning the next day. Though really she had little choice anyway, with the possibility that she might be pregnant and no easy way to return to Tethering without him.

James left the women to themselves in the carriage and rode ahead, so that when Granton Hall finally came into view he was the first to see it from the wooded rise that dropped down to meet the vast front lawn. Beyond the house he could see the estate’s fields and farms, whose proceeds had by the agreement been going to the admiral. No more now, he thought with a growing feeling of triumph.

He stopped his horse to revel in the sight of his ancestral home laid out below him. It was a grand Elizabethan manor, strong and graceful, built in a C-shape with a central courtyard. Ah, home at last. With a happy shout of anticipation, he kicked his horse into a gallop and set off along the path toward home.

The carriage brought Felicity and Miranda to the front door of Granton Hall. Miranda, who’d been a quiet passenger, had pointed the manor out to Felicity from the rise, when it came into view as they passed, and Felicity would have felt churlish not looking. It was grander than Tethering Hall, of course. Handsome, in a closed-off, arrogant way, its precise lines suggesting nobility, its historical appearance proclaiming enduring importance. There was nothing at all welcoming about it. It had a long pebble drive, and fields stretching away behind and to the side, and it gave the impression of dominating the valley.

And now James was opening the door to the carriage and handing them down. He looked searchingly into Felicity’s eyes as she descended the few steps, her hand in his for the moment that was necessary before she took it back. His eyes were aglow with eagerness and excitement.

The front door opened and a servant emerged to meet them, a droopy older man who seemed excited by the arrival of James. His hands fluttered to clasp his wrinkled face in astonishment and then plunged into his white hair.

“Sir!” he burst out. “Welcome home!” Then his old eyes took in the two women. “And Miss Claremont!”

“Partle,” James said warmly. “Thank you, it’s very good to be back. I’ve brought my fiancée as well, Miss Wilcox.” He indicated Felicity and the servant bowed politely. James glanced beyond the man, toward the open doorway. “Is Mr. Farnsworth in?”

“No, sir, he’s from home today. But we expect him back early tomorrow.”

James nodded once. “Very good. Have someone bring in our bags.” He screwed up his lips. “I suppose we’ll all be in guest rooms, at least for tonight, until I’ve sorted things out with Farnsworth. By Jove, but it’s good to be back!”