Chapter 2 #2
“Come this way. This is how I live. It is what I can afford, Lady Felicity.” During most of their acquaintance in Brussels, they had been on first-name terms, but he needed the reminder of her social status, far, far above his.
“It comes with the position—one bedchamber upstairs, a small parlor that doubles as the schoolroom, a kitchen. I have enough for my needs, but any wife and family are far outside of my reach, let alone a wife like you.”
He expected another sardonic comment, or perhaps an explosion of temper. She had one, as he had cause to know. Her question was asked in a contemplative tone, however. “An expensive wife, you mean?”
“Any wife, but particularly a well-born lady used to every elegance and comfort.” And what was wrong with that?
He lived in three rooms and was paid very little.
Not enough to feed a wife as well as himself.
And certainly not enough to pay a servant to cook and clean, even if he had room enough to house one.
And yes, he had savings. But they would soon diminish if he tried to live beyond his means.
Just in case she had missed the point, he repeated it. “I cannot afford a wife.”
There went the eyebrow again. “And this is the reason you abandoned the field? And me? Justin, whether I might agree to live in a three-room cottage with you is not a question we need to entertain. Or, at least, I had not thought you one of those arrogant fools who refuses to allow his wife to spend her own money on her own comfort and his.”
So, Hythe had not told her. “Hythe will not pay your dowry if he does not approve of your husband,” he explained. “And he made it very clear that he does not approve of me.”
Both eyebrows shot up, signaling her surprise. “Hythe told you that?” She narrowed her eyes and her right hand drifted up to the desk, where she set one finger drumming, a single slow beat, as if setting the time for a funeral march. Hythe’s funeral? Or Justin’s?
“I cannot decide whether I am more cross at you, Justin, for discussing marriage with Hythe but not with me, or with Hythe, for telling you fairy tales.”
Both of us, then.
She sighed. “If you had told me this in Brussels, two years ago, I could have explained that yes, Hythe could be silly about my dowry, though he would catch cold at that soon enough, but he does not control the bulk of my fortune. Or, at least, he is one trustee of three. And even if all three agreed to withhold my principal, the income has been mine absolutely since I turned twenty-one, and both dowry and principal come under my complete control when I am twenty-five.”
With a casual wave of the hand, she dismissed his living conditions as an argument. “Your poverty is not an adequate argument for ignoring the promise of what we had together. You said you loved me, Justin, and that you wanted to be with me forever. I believed you meant it. At the time.”
And to this day. Only the most iron of control kept him from falling on his knees at her feet and repeating his promises from two years ago. But his eyes must have spoken for him, for her expression softened. “You still have feelings for me,” she said.
It was not a question, but he answered it anyway. “I cannot be your kept man.”
“Good. Because I do not need a pet.” She stood with a rustle of skirts, and picked up her parasol and reticule. “I have an opening, however, for a partner, a friend, a lover, a spouse.”
“Justin! Just!” It was Robin Somerville’s voice, and a moment later, Justin’s dearest friend and former captain poked his head around the door from the schoolroom. “I beg your pardon. Oh, it is you, Lady Felicity. Good day.”
“Good afternoon, Captain Somerville.” Felicity had retreated behind her company manners. “You wanted Lieutenant Weatherall. I shall leave the two of you to your business. Lieutenant, we shall resume this conversation.”
Justin bowed. “Lady Felicity.”
She inclined her head to each of them in turn, and then left the room. Justin followed her out, and watched her exit the cottage and shut the door behind her. Robin prowled after him. “I thought you said she was no longer interested in you,” he commented.
“That is what her brother said. Apparently, he was mistaken.”
“Be careful,” his friend warned. “I remember what you were like after Brussels. I’d hate to see her take you up and drop you again like last time.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Justin protested. “I left her. Her brother said… But I was wrong not to tell her I was going. The fact is, Hythe was right. She is not for me, Robin. A lovely lady like that? An earl’s daughter, and independently wealthy?” He shrugged. “She doesn’t understand.”
“I cannot say that I do. If she wants to marry you and you want to marry her, why not?” Robin waited for Justin’s response, but he didn’t have one. After a moment, Robin continued. “I just found out she had arrived, so I came to tell you. And I’ll tell you something else that will interest you.”
Justin didn’t think he was likely to be interested, but Robin clearly wanted him to ask, so he did. “What?”
“I told you that Victor Grant was invited. My sister-in-law tells me that he is here as a suitor for Lady Felicity.”
“Bloody hell.” Not Victor Grant. Of all the people on the planet, Grant was the last man Justin ever wanted to see again, and he certainly didn’t want the man anywhere near Felicity.
“My thoughts exactly,” Robin said.