An Independent Miss Page 10

  But then Upton had given up on Lady Bea arriving, and left too early to hear of the fiasco of the night.

  So Andover headed toward the window to be alone, half hoping to see his friend ride up the drive.

  “I am Lady Redmond, Felicity’s aunt, Beatrice’s mother.”

  He faced her then, bowed, taut as a bowstring, ready to be slain with words, as her daughter had slain him with a glance. “I’m sorry, madam, I was woolgathering. Pleased to meet you, Lady Redmond.”

  “A betrothal announcement would cut the air. We could all feel suitably festive instead of so morose.”

  He snorted. The men had discussed that very issue over port, with all but Thomas agreeing.

  Thomas, ever contrary. If not for him, a betrothal would have been announced the night before and they wouldn’t be in this predicament. “Unfortunately, the young lady needs time to come around. Once she will speak with me, I hope to convince her.”

  “Wasted effort. In my day, we didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, I do believe things are a bit different these days.” But they weren’t, not really. If it came to that, her parents could put tremendous pressure on Felicity.

  Except, Andover did not want to win his wife by forfeit. He wanted the Felicity who had trembled at the mere touch of their hands.

  By the time the evening drew down, he still hadn’t had a single moment alone with her.

  Too edgy to retire to his own rooms, Andover headed outdoors. Humphrey helped him on with a waxed cotton coat, to repel the rain. “I will have a footman at this door, for your return, Lord Andover.”

  “Surely you can leave a side door unlocked. Save anyone needing to stay up.” He put his hat on. “I’ve no idea where I’m going or how long I will be.”

  The cold damp night drew him toward the gardens, a bright three-quarter moon as lantern through clouds breaking after their dosing of rain. Extensive grounds and a brisk pace failed to dispel the rage and frustration roiling through him. He wasn’t even certain what he hoped to gain until he heard a lone horseman on the drive.

  Rupert had returned. A man full of ridiculous solutions to life’s problems.

  Andover could use some ridiculousness.

  CHAPTER 9 ~ PLANS MADE

  “You did what?”

  Andover sank another ball and rounded the billiards table. “I didn’t do anything, Rupert. Her Aunt Vivien did it all.”

  “Good God, man, that is low.”

  Another ball sank into its target. “Your loss at this game or what happened last night?”

  “Both,” Rupert moved closer. “Though I must say, this loss isn’t so bad. At least we can play again and I can trounce you. But Lady Stanfield doing what she did. You think it was planned?”

  It was a thought. Andover crossed to a side table where he’d left his scotch. “I don’t know. I don’t think she actually knew Felicity would come to my rooms.”

  “But she knew the footman would talk.”

  It always surprised Andover when Rupert said something astute. It shouldn’t. Rupert did it often enough, but those comments were usually tucked amid a load of rubbish. They were easily missed.

  Not this time.

  “That is exactly what she was playing at. I’m certain of it, but can’t, for the life of me, figure it out.”

  “There was that nasty business in your youth,” Rupert teased. “When we first went down to school, first love and all.”

  Andover snorted. “I wouldn’t use the word love. The first bedding, yes, and we shouldn’t be discussing it.”

  “Because you’re a gentleman and gentlemen do not discuss their conquests?”

  Sometimes that was a hard rule to abide by. “In reality, it was her conquest, not mine.”

  “And you were nothing but a randy young boy. Seems to me,” Rupert looked around for his cue, “that a boy of fourteen needn’t be held to a man’s code of honor. In a situation like that, a boy should be crowing. It’s a rite of passage, after all. And maybe that’s what has her in such a snit. Maybe in your craven boyishness you didn’t please the sow.”

  “Sow? That’s harsh.” Andover countered, though he tended to agree with the terminology. Thank God he’d asked that Rupert be included in the house party. It had been a horrific day, between Felicity avoiding him, her cousin giving him evil glares, her brother on the verge of calling him out, and the other guests, who hadn’t taken their leave, whispering incessantly.

  Not to mention the look of disappointment in Lord Westhaven’s eyes. Andover respected Westhaven. He didn’t like to feel he had let him down.

  Rupert, on the other hand, knew Andover’s history. They had, after all, grown up next door to each other before going off to school. More important, Rupert knew all about Vivien. It was Thomas and Rupert who had found Andover, bloody and beaten outside the stables after Vivien’s late husband had gotten to him. Rupert and Thomas were probably the only people in the world who would truly believe that Andover had not invited Felicity’s aunt to his rooms.

  “I need your help, Rupert.”

  “Let me get a shot in this game, and you just may get it.”

  With a toss, Andover handed over a cue. “Lady Felicity is heading to London.”

  “You will go as well, won’t you?”

  He should, he knew he should, but there were other matters, just as pressing. “I’ve been away from Mother for too long. She is still fragile.”

  “Ah.” No more needed to be said. Upton well knew how ‘fragile’ Andover’s mother was.

  “That damned physician, and the damned apothecary. I swear it is the elixir they give her. I try to take it away, forbid the servants from allowing her any. She becomes desperate, it’s an awful thing. I can’t seem to refuse her.”

  “Mother’s been to visit her.”

  Andover studied his cue, searched for some semblance of straightness in his own life. “I would rather she didn’t.”

  “She won’t, again.” Upton promised, but it was ill won. “She is not comfortable with such things.”

  “Yes, well, no one is which makes my decision more difficult. Do I pack Mother off to London, so I can watch over her, or do I leave her in the country and away from uncomfortable brushes with society?”

  “The city might offer diversion.”

  “The doctors worry that it will excite the nerves, but what do they know? A bunch of quacks, the lot of them. I just don’t know what to do. I must get to London, to offset any more snubs.” Carefully, he laid the cue down. “It was awful, Rupert. Felicity didn’t bend or break, but her eyes… I will not soon forget that look.”

  Upton hesitated, his eye on the table, cue in hand.

  “Go ahead,” Andover slapped his shoulder. “See if you can best me.”

  With a slight smile, Upton lined up a shot, and sank the ball. The break from the tension settled deep inside Andover as he watched his friend bend to the task of lining up his next attempt.

  “So what can I do to help with your betrothed?”

  “Begrudgingly betrothed. If she had her druthers, the whole thing would be called off.”

  Rupert stood up. “That’s rich. She has the most eligible bachelor in all of England proposing and she would rather face scandal than marry you? She can’t be in her right mind and give you the brush-off.”

  Andover shook his head. “For a sweet and agreeable young lady, she has a very sturdy backbone. Not at all what I would have expected.”

  “Still waters and all.”

  “So it seems.”

  “Does that worry you?”

  Andover sipped his scotch. “Not terribly. She’s intelligent so I never took her for a pushover, and she’s practical. We just never ended up on opposite sides of the same issue before. She is building a very friendly wall around herself. I need to figure out how to breach it. But you know women … there is no figuring them out.

  “Do you know her side of things yet?” Having missed his shot, Rupert went over to the drinks t
ray and poured himself a brandy. He looked into the liquid depths, as Andover bent to take his shot. “I think I know of a way to get to Lady Felicity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Jane, my sister Jane. She’s always had a soft spot for you and she went to school with Felicity.”

  Andover thought for a moment. Rupert had so many sisters it wasn’t easy to tell them apart. “Wasn’t she the one who spilled wine down Felicity’s dress?”

  “That was an accident. She wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

  Andover nodded. “No, not red wine on a white dress.”

  “She can be a bit of a gossip, but she wouldn’t really do anyone any harm.”

  “Come to think of it, Rupert, didn’t she spook Felicity’s horse in the park that afternoon?”

  Upton looked down at his boots, as though considering. “No. She couldn’t have done that. She’s not much of a rider. She just didn’t know what one can and cannot do. Where did you hear these things? You weren’t even in town last season.”

  “We were in mourning, Rupe, not out of communication. Mother received all the gossip from town. A much needed respite from her own thoughts. For a time those correspondences were the only thing that kept her going.” Not even that worked anymore.

  “Ah, of course.”

  “Your sister, do you think she’ll be supportive to Felicity, help me get a word in with her?”

  “Don’t see why not.”

  “Good. Right now the only inside track I have is Beatrice, who would love to run me through with a dagger.”

  “Shame, that. I rather like Beatrice.”

  Andover snorted.

  ****

  “Oh dear,” Lady Westhaven stood with her husband and daughter as they waved off the last carriage full of guests. “Everyone left so quickly, William. We must get to London soon, dear, very soon, so we can stem the gossip.” She turned on Felicity. “Which you aren’t helping, Felicity.”

  “What do you mean? I was friendly last night.”

  “You did not single him out.”

  “Mother, what do you expect from me?”

  “Enough.” Lord Westhaven stepped in. “Felicity is coping the best she can at the moment. People left because the season is back on track. It was time they were off. No one, other than the Chandlers, changed their plans.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Lady Westhaven sighed. “And Lady Singleton promised she would staunch whatever bleeding comes from Lady Chandler. Wretched woman. You didn’t let her pious little act trouble you, Felicity? She was merely trying to make her girls look better than they ever could.” She fanned her face.

  Felicity didn’t answer. The Chandlers’ actions, giving her the cut in her own home, revealed what her mind had refused to acknowledge. She would not be the only victim of her wayward actions. Her parents maneuvering the Chandlers from their home, in the night, before dinner was even served, would have repercussions for her entire family.

  Marriage to Andover would staunch that tide.

  “Could I not marry someone else?”

  “No.”

  Felicity expected that from her mother, a tirade of how no one else would have her. That her father had said it, so emphatically, robbed her of an argument. She was reduced to asking why.

  “You never showed any interest in the men who courted you last year. I doubt you will find others, of any more interest to you, this year.”

  Her mother snorted. “As if there would be others.”

  Her father shot her mother The Look. A gentle, soft-spoken man, not prone to anger, no anger now, but a steady intelligence that could cut a tirade in its midst. “Her dowry is enough to pull attention.”

  “Unwanted attention,” her mother snapped, and was then held back by another of The Looks.

  “I could settle with one of the suitors from last year.”

  “No.” Her father shook his head. “It has to be Andover.”

  The ostracism meant little to her, she was not that fond of society, but her family would insist on rescuing her. It wasn’t in their nature to let it go, let her deal with the situation. Which meant they, in turn, would be ostracized. Her father would not be troubled by the lack of society, but for the rest of them, who thrived on the outside world, it would be crushing.

  She looked at her father then, all the hurt and confusion evident, for he opened his arms. She went into them, her mother joined them, wrapping her arms around the two.

  Sniffing back tears, Felicity pulled away, looked to her parents. “You don’t know the worst of it.” She whispered.

  “Ah,” her father nodded, dropping his hold, “but I do.” He turned, headed back up the stairs. “Thomas told me about Lord Andover’s aversions to apothecaries and doctors and foraging.”

  “What?” Lady Westhaven snapped. “He disapproves of Felicity? How dare he!” She exclaimed, as if she hadn’t been fighting Felicity’s works for years.

  “I could just do that, dedicate my life to my work. I don’t have to marry.”

  Her father gave her The Look.

  She never should have gone to Andover’s rooms.

  ****

  “Felicity?”

  Felicity dropped the newspaper, flustered by what she had been reading. Andover, along with Lord Upton, were supposed to be on their way home. Her betrothed had ‘things to see to’ before their marriage.

  She hadn’t seen him off. In fact, she had avoided it. She needed more time to build barriers, yet there he stood and there her heart went, ratcheting up its beat, totally forgetting the alarm set off by what she saw in the paper.

  “Lord Andover.” She nodded, picking up the newspaper, placing it on a table, as she tried to focus on what was more important than her own troubles.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “Bad news, I’m afraid. We were informed at dinner the other night. Our neighbor, Jack Marshall, of Homslee Hall, was injured in France. It is worse than I thought.” Gaining distance she crossed to the window. The weather was horrid. “I should have gone over there by now, but we heard they weren’t receiving. Now the weather, it’s so wild, I don’t think we could get there today.”

  “Your father went early this morning. I went with him.”

  “You did?” She looked over her shoulder.

  He nodded but, thankfully, remained near the door. “Not an easy visit to make. Word is he is not doing well. His older brother has gone to him.”

  “Robbie would go. That is very much like him. Robbie is a man who likes action. Jack preferred the settled predictability of home.”

  His voice grew closer. “Jack was a particular friend of yours, I gather.”

  “Yes,” Felicity mused, ignoring his approach, even as she wished him away. “He always made one laugh and he was so interested in the land, how things grew. We shared much.”

  “But you did not have an attachment?”

  “Goodness, no!” Even the thought jolted her. “He was like a brother. We shared interests.”

  Jack loved fields and crops and all manner of plants. “I’m sure his parents will feel better knowing Jack won’t be alone.”

  “Yes, I believe so. Information in the paper often lags.”

  She looked back at the broadsheet, as though that would offer answers, and saw Andover nearly upon her. “I’m sorry we did not know the extent of it before now. I would have gone with Father.” She moved to the chess table.

  “No one would expect less of you.” She heard his smile and wished he had not found her at such a vulnerable moment.

  “The weather has halted my travels, as well.”

  “Of course.” How foolish that she hadn’t considered that. “I’m sorry your plans were thwarted.”

  “No doubt.”

  She looked back, drawn by the irony in his tone. “I didn’t mean that, I mean, I didn’t mean…”

  “Please don’t avoid me, Felicity.”

  “I haven’t,” she lied, becoming more used to such thi
ngs.

  “You are.” He stopped her wanderings, placing his hands on her shoulders from behind.

  If she had seen it coming, she would have slipped away, finding it absolutely unfair he affected her so deeply, yet felt nothing himself.

  “Why did you come to my rooms? It wasn’t like you.”

  “You think not?” She turned, regarded his quizzical look.

  “Despite what you say, your visit was not to end our betrothal. You meant to save it from ending. Why did you suppose it was at risk?”

  “No,” she persisted. “I wanted to end it.”

  “Felicity, did you know, when you avoid the truth you look to the left, as if the confessor is standing off somewhere out there.”

  “I don’t.”

  He laughed. “You do, and I shouldn’t have told you, for now you will fight to hide the evidence.”

  She blushed.

  “And when we are married and you come in from the shops and I ask, ‘Did you purchase anything, my love,’ you will look to the left, then to the right, then up and down before you say ‘No, dearest.’”

  Except she was not his love and he was not her dearest. What a faradiddle, because this marriage, if it were to take place, would not be based on love.

  But if not love, then what?

  He took her hands, which answered one question … he was as affectionate as her family, for this was not the first time she looked at their clasped hands. Confused, she pulled free.

  “Please, Felicity, tell me.”

  If he wanted to badger, she would make it work for her.

  “A truth for a truth,” she told him.

  He tilted his head to the side. “A marvelous idea. Shall we sit?”

  But just as they took seats opposite each other, Bea and Lord Upton rushed into the study, with Bea calling for Felicity.

  “Oh!” They both stopped short.

  “What are you doing?” Bea quizzed, breathless, her wild hair flying free from its confines.

  Lord Upton had Bea by the shoulders, urging her out of the room. “Whatever it is, shall we let them get on with it?”

  Bea pulled free. “No.” She stood firm, giving Felicity an excuse to leave with them, if she wanted to. “We have pulled all the blinds in the breakfast room and are playing shades. Will you come, Cis? You are the best at silhouettes.”