Emily Greenwood (21 page)

She was in his thoughts constantly, and memories of their night together had been tormenting him sweetly all morning. That had been the most magnificent episode of lovemaking he had ever experienced, and he was eager to expand upon it, which would likely not be easy in London with Miranda chaperoning. Maybe if they were very careful in Town, he mused, allowing his thoughts to wander along possible scenarios for further seducing Felicity.

They must set a wedding date, he decided, pulling out a calendar for July. In August he would have to leave for Spain, but now he no longer felt concerned about what trouble Miranda might get into with him gone, because by then he and Felicity should be married, and she could look after Miranda for the months he would be away. Things were working out very well indeed.

Felicity sat at the vanity table in her richly appointed room in Sir Robert Dunlop’s elegant London townhouse. She was already dressed, and the maid James had engaged had just left after arranging Felicity’s thick hair in a high, regal coronet with a few strands curling teasingly around her face. She was wearing a beautiful ball gown of Lady Dunlop’s, of lavender silk for mourning, but such a rich, blue-purple color that it was almost pale hyacinth. It was a good color on her; she knew she looked her best. All of the clothes Lady Dunlop had lent her were cleverly designed to fit the idea of mourning while still looking fashionable and flattering.

A knock sounded at her door.

“Come in.”

James stepped inside her room and closed the door. He focused on her and a slow smile spread over his face, the candlelight dancing in his eyes. He looked the very quintessence of a noble English gentleman in a bottle green coat and crisp white cravat, someone whose ancestors had surely contributed materially over the centuries to the prosperity of the country. His Spanish tan had faded now, under the weak English sun, but his dark looks were no less intensely appealing.

He would always have the power to take her breath away, she thought as she took in his dark, masculine presence, his broad shoulders that seemed ready to bear any weight. She loved him, though he did not know this. He didn’t need to. And the past week in London—a week filled with parties and trips to the theater and sightseeing with Miranda—
had
been wonderfully, dazzlingly fun. If it had also been tinged with the bittersweet knowledge that however much he wanted her, he did not love her, well, that was her own business.

She watched him in the mirror as he came to stand behind her, and he bent to press a kiss where her bare shoulder met the rise of her neck. He rubbed his lips slowly there, gently exhaling, all the while enveloping her in a cloud of Jamesness, of his intoxicating scent and the force of his energetic self.

He had something behind his back—one arm was behind him—and now he brought it forward and held it over her shoulder for her to see. It was a flat box, like one used for jewelry, and she looked up at him, feeling her throat constrict with pleasure.

He smiled. “Open it.”

She took it, the dark wood a luxurious weight in her hand, and slowly undid the clasp and opened it. Inside was a pendant of a large, jewel-cut amethyst set off with tiny diamonds. She gasped in pleasure.

“Oh, James, it’s beautiful.”

Looking pleased with her response, he took the necklace out and fastened it around her neck. It hung low, nestling near the top of her décolletage, a sparkling dark counterpoint to the lighter purple of her gown. His hands, done with their task of fastening, flattened against the tingling skin of her bosom and slowly crept downward to tease the exposed tops of her breasts.

Shivering with pleasure, she cleared her throat. He lifted his head to look at her in the mirror, and she said reluctantly, “We really ought to leave. The others may be waiting to go.”

James screwed up his lips in frustrated desire. Living in the same house as Felicity for the past days had been an exquisite torture that was leaning more toward just torture hourly. He desperately wanted to throw her on the bed immediately and ravish her, then do it again at least five more times, in five different ways, to make up for all the blasted curbing of urges he’d been forced to do since they had arrived at the Dunlop home.

“Right,” he said abruptly, trailing a hand up along her neck and cheek, then dropping it and stepping back. “Let’s go then. The delights of the Wilkington soiree await.”

She stood and took the arm he presented, and they walked out into the hall. “But I do want to mention, my dear fiancée,” he said in a ridiculously sober tone, “that you must be certain to save me more than one dance tonight.”

She turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised irreverently. “Oh?”

They started down the marble staircase that led to a handsome foyer. “Yes, my sweet, innocent country miss. Or rather,” he lowered his voice seductively, “not so innocent.” She blushed furiously and he chuckled. “Anyway, there’s no need for you to be quite so accommodating to the young bucks. You’ll give them the idea they have a chance of engaging your affections.”

They had arrived at the bottom of the stairs. She stepped off and turned to look at him over her shoulder. “And don’t they?” she teased.

“They had better not even consider it if they don’t want to find themselves facing a dawn appointment,” he pronounced in his haughtiest tone.

She laughed. “Even I, country mouse that I am, know it’s perfectly acceptable for young ladies and gentlemen, married or not, to flirt more outrageously than we do in the country. I have just been getting used to it.”

“Well, then, get unused to it,” he ordered gruffly. “I don’t fancy my wife having a collection of suitors while I am off in Spain.”

“But we’ll be married then,” she said. “We’ll be together.”

“Well, yes. But you’ll have to stay here, while I go. I’ll need you to look after Aunt Miranda.”

Felicity stilled at James’s words.

So. He planned to leave her in England while he was in Spain. She knew that he was to go to Spain at the end of the summer, but she saw now that ever since that one night they had shared, and through all the happy times they’d had since in London, she’d assumed they would not be parted.
She
couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from
him
. But apparently he didn’t feel the same way. He considered her as being more necessary as a companion for his aunt. However much she liked Aunt Miranda—and she did, infinitely—she knew that no man who cared for his wife would rather see her with his aunt than himself.

“Well,” she said, tipping her chin upward, gathering her pride and turning away from the hurt squeezing her chest, “I don’t imagine you’ll be much the wiser one way or the other, all the way in Spain.”

His eyes flashed at her, but before he could say anything Miranda appeared on the stairs, followed by Sir Robert and Lady Dunlop. The party left promptly, with Sir Robert and Lady Dunlop in one carriage and Felicity, Miranda, and James in the other, making further conversation impossible. Felicity stared out the small window and knew she would behave as if she didn’t mind at all what James decided. And perhaps, if she acted well enough, she would learn to believe it herself.

Lord and Lady Wilkington’s ball was in full swing by the time they arrived. The mansion was buzzing with a general hum of conversation and the melodic sounds of an orchestra. Felicity paused when they reached the ballroom and took in the scene, the whirling dancers like animated, bejeweled flowers weaving an ephemeral pattern that was constantly being recreated and disintegrating. The room was lit by several high crystal chandeliers, each stuffed decadently with what looked like a year’s worth of candles, and producing a glorious glow of soft, sparkling light. She had yet to accustom herself to the extravagance of the moneyed set of people who were James’s London friends. She’d half expected his friends to be like Lila, sneering at James’s provincial, unknown fiancée, but in fact everyone had been kind.

A tall man of perhaps forty emerged from the crowd and came forward.

“Ah!” he said, a huge grin lighting his thick features, “Collington, this is lucky! The very man I was wanting. Just got back into Town.” He winked at James.

She noticed that James looked startled at the sight of the man, but he merely nodded once and presented Mr. William Dover to her and Aunt Miranda. Mr. Dover bowed to Miranda first, and when he got to Felicity, introduced as James’s fiancée, his eyes twinkled and he bowed with extra flourish. She then saw him glance at James and wink at him again, and her brow furrowed in puzzlement. Who was this man to James? There seemed to be something other than friendship between them.

Someone touched her arm from behind, and she turned to find Hal, resplendently handsome in a coat of midnight velvet that made a striking contrast with his fair hair. She smiled. She’d not seen him since their carriages had parted ways near London. But ever since she’d arrived, she’d heard him being referred to by a nickname by which he was apparently known among the
ton,
a name that made her smile: Lord Perfect.

“So, I finally have the pleasure of seeing the belle of Longwillow here in London. And I was right—you are by far the finest woman here.”

She blushed. “Hal, you are an irredeemable rogue.”

“But exactly, my dear,” he said with that familiar wicked twinkle in his eyes. Tonight, after hearing of James’s plans for her, Hal’s insouciance cheered her. “That means I can’t be expected to be held accountable for my actions.” He spoke teasingly as always, but she knew he was no wastrel.

“Might I have the pleasure of this dance with you?” he asked.

“Me?” she teased. “To dance with Lord Perfect? That must surely be the height of any young lady’s aspirations.”

He allowed his eyes to glitter at her mischievously, and she laughed, ignoring the sinking feeling that had clung to her ever since James had told her of his plans for the summer.

James was deep in low conversation with Mr. Dover and did not look likely to wish a dancing partner soon. She looked away from him as her heart tightened with the knowledge that he would soon be leaving her so easily. And maybe she wouldn’t want to dance with him at all, she thought petulantly, knowing she was being ridiculous and that she would soon get over it. She must simply learn to care less. And Hal was here, the perfect partner for a lighthearted turn around the dance floor. She accepted his invitation.

From the corner of his eye, James watched Felicity dance with his cousin. Lord Bloody Perfect in his element. While Dover continued to gush about the delights of his visit to Tethering, James wondered what the devil Hal thought he was doing, resting his hand on the bare skin above the back of her dress. He didn’t like the way they were dancing—Hal was holding her too close, moving her about with the familiar suavity James was well aware made the ladies swoon. Hal was now closer to Felicity than James had managed to be since they had left for London. Damned waltz. It ought to be reserved for married and engaged couples only. He screwed up his lips in displeasure and tried to focus on what Dover was saying.

“Yes, I am convinced that the Tethering estate will suit me admirably!” Dover was becoming more animated than was wise in a room full of people who delighted in gossip. “I’d like to take possession as soon as possible and get to work clearing out a portion of that lower orchard to make way for a horse track.”

James cringed. Pray God Felicity never heard about the demolition of her beloved orchard, never mind how she was going to react now that it was certain Dover would buy the estate. James’s plans were otherwise coming together perfectly. She still had no idea, even though the circle of people who did would widen exponentially after tonight, with the garrulous Dover trumpeting it about. Miranda, Hal, and Josephine already knew, though they also knew not to mention it.

He resolved at that moment that he would tell Felicity that night about the sale of Tethering. He would cozy up to her after the ball, find a pretext to be in her room and seduce her into a state of delicious acquiescence before he carefully broached the subject. She needed to know about Granton Hall, what a magnificent old estate it was. Granton would make up for the loss of Tethering. She could establish a bigger, better orchard there, and anything else she liked.

But he couldn’t have anyone else hearing about Dover’s imminent purchase before she did. Fortunately, the man excused himself then to visit the gentlemen’s retiring room, and James suggested they rejoin in the library to resolve the details of the sale.

Alone, he scanned the room casually, his eyes eventually drawn to a group of dowagers who were unmistakably stealing glances at him. When they perceived his eyes on them, they turned away, though he could tell they were giggling. Sniggering, more likely, he thought with a twist of his lips. No doubt gossiping about the Collington scandal again, now that he was here to remind them of it. Well, soon enough he would redeem the Collington name.

The waltz was over and Hal was bringing Felicity back to where James stood. When they arrived, Hal bowed low over her hand and kissed it, eliciting a girlish laugh from her.

“Hal, you blackguard, that will do,” James said in what he meant to be a lighthearted tone.

“Will it?” Hal replied impishly, releasing Felicity’s hand. Her cheeks were rosy with the exercise, her eyes sparkling. “I suppose it will have to, for now,” Hal continued with a familiar deceptive look of laziness about his lips, a look that had fooled many a man at the gambling tables into parting with his coin. “Though if Felicity were my fiancée, I would certainly not bring her to a ball then spend my time blathering with Dover. Or desert her while I gallivanted about Spain.” He sighed theatrically and smiled. “But when you are out of the country, dear cousin, you can rest assured that I will be happy to escort her around.”

James clenched his teeth.

Felicity laughed. Had he noticed before how musical her laugh was? The sound of it made him want to smile, though he was not feeling happy at the moment.

What the hell was Hal doing? Dammit, he didn’t know now whether he liked the idea of her being in London without him. True, not long ago he’d thought she would benefit from leaving Longwillow and coming to Town. But now, seeing her happy and fashionably dressed, he found he did not like the idea of her being there without him. She was far, far too appealing to escape notice.

Watching her banter and flirt with Hal, he was struck with how easily she moved among society. And as his wife, she would be invited to many of the best parties and balls. He had a strong suspicion that the combination of her beauty and her honest lack of interest in currying favor would make her irresistible. And he would not be there to guard her from the scores of men who loved nothing so much as the challenge of a beautiful, seemingly neglected married woman. The thought made his blood boil.