Chapter 5
Victor Grant stood in the shadow of the trees watching the schoolteacher’s house.
Lady Felicity Belvoir had been inside for well over an hour.
Furthermore, the lights that still showed were upstairs, in what must be the bedchamber.
He had just returned from a meeting with the smuggler’s leader when he saw her and Lord Somerville’s care-for-nothing brother emerge from the manor house.
Just as well she has not developed a tendre for that scoundrel.
Her brother might have approved the match.
A second son, but from a good family, Captain Somerville might have been a rival. But Lady Felicity would not throw herself away on a country schoolmaster. She knew what was owed to her bloodlines.
Victor had seen her let Captain Somerville out of the cottage—had heard her insist she could nurse Weatherall on her own, and he need not send anyone from the manor.
So, she was playing lady bountiful again, as she had in Brussels.
She had been praised for her dedicated nursing, and no doubt it had gone to her beautiful head, and now she thought she could do as well as a doctor.
Women were so predictable.
He thought of waiting for her to emerge, and confronting her immediately, but she might be there all night.
Indeed, she probably would be! Victor Grant did not wait on the whims of a woman!
He would go back to Normanton Hall, and to bed.
He would have a busy day, tomorrow, with a proposal to make and a visit to Brighton to tell those fools the Fenians that he needed them in two nights’ time.
And then he must be up late again that night, possibly for most of the night, to pay the second half of the smugglers’ fee and to watch the Fenians take delivery.
Yes, a few hours’ sleep, and his valet warned to wake him early.
His valet! That was an idea. Victor would wake the man and tell him to watch for Lady Felicity’s return and then wake Victor. He would speak to Felicity before he went to Brighton. It would be good to have the question of his marriage settled.
There was no scandal in Felicity nursing a sick man, but perhaps the threat of scandal might be useful.
He could tell her he’d keep her presence here secret, but in return, she must marry him.
Or better! He could tell the Earl of Hythe.
He would have time to visit the man during his day in Brighton.
He growled at the memory of his recent interview with the Earl of Hythe.
Pay your addresses, Grant. Felicity will accept or refuse you, as pleases her.
It would serve the dastard right to be among the casualties when that ornate monstrosity the Prince Regent was building near the Brighton foreshore blew to smithereens.
If the Fenians managed to pull it off, which would be a miracle.
Whoever heard of a woman being able to make up her own mind about an advantageous match? A proper lady would be guided by her family, of course, as it should be. Not what pleased her. Not her own feelings. Ridiculous.
Hythe would have to change his tune when he realized that Lady Felicity had been alone with Lieutenant Weatherall. In his bedchamber, furthermore. And once Hythe ordered Felicity to marry Victor, Victor would have it all. Her wealth, her social connections, and her delightful body in his bed.
The Fenians needed a week to set in place the explosives he was supplying.
It would be as well to marry the chit before the explosion, for he did not know who was likely to take over as her male guardian, and that might cause delays he could not afford.
He needed to get his hands on her dowry as soon as possible.
And if she wanted to marry Weatherall instead?
Unlikely, but Victor liked to cover all possibilities.
He smiled at the memory of what he had found in the schoolhouse sheds, which he had examined closely after Somerville rode away.
Yes, Victor had the evidence he needed to make certain that Weatherall was locked away, and—all going well—hanged by the neck until dead.
And Robin Somerville, too. The impertinent dolt.
Vincent had never liked Somerville, and the scoundrel had the nerve to dislike Vincent, and to show it.
He was polite to his brother’s guest, exquisitely so, treating Vincent with the kind of punctilious courtesy that shaded into mockery, and all with a twist of amused contempt.
How dare he!
It wouldn’t do to be too hasty, however.
Perhaps Weatherall could keep his miserable life—a threat to tell what he knew might be just what Victor needed to force Lady Felicity’s compliance.
He chuckled to himself. The same applied to the captain.
Sir Peter Somerville, unless he missed his guess, would pay handsomely to keep his brother’s impudent neck out of a noose.
* * *
By the time the sun rose, Felicity was content that Justin’s injuries were as minor as he had claimed. “Uncomfortable, but not dangerous or even disabling,” as he himself said.
He had told her a few of his adventures with Robin as Captain Moonlight, had slept a little, and they had kissed a little.
At Felicity’s request, admittedly, but Justin had agreed that, since they had kissed in Brussels, a few more kisses would not go amiss.
In fact, they had done more than they had in Brussels, when he had drawn back from their first gentle and relatively innocent kiss, declared himself unworthy, and left for Brest and his ship.
The discipline of a naval officer could be annoying, Felicity decided.
The thought made her smile, for he had drawn the line firmly again last night, but she had persuaded him to move it, not once, but several times.
She was walking back to Normanton Hall a virgin because she chose not to push him further—she was confident of that.
It would not have been fair to use his own desire for her to force him into actions he would later regret.
It was, in any case, wise, although wisdom had been the last thing on her mind while he showed her how much pleasure her body was capable of, and how much she could give him. They had not, to her understanding, gone very far at all toward the point of no return—but how glorious it had been!
Had he taken her fully, she might not have had the willpower to stop him.
She had no reservations about anticipating her marriage vows, but he had not proposed, and if he had changed his mind about how unworthy he was, he had not told her.
She supposed if he had fully bedded her, he would have married her despite his reservations, but it would be wrong to trap him like that.
In any case, they should avoid doing anything that would result in her conceiving a child without a wedding ring, for there was many a slip between cup and lip, as her old nanny used to say.
Felicity had known several ladies left with child and alone after a much-loved would-be husband had unexpectedly died.
She wanted Justin’s children, and would delight in having them. After they were wed. If they were wed. His kisses and caresses had given her hope, but she was by no means certain that he would not elude her yet.
“One more kiss,” Justin said. He had insisted on coming downstairs with her, and escorting her at least as far as the kitchen door. “I am still not happy about letting you walk home without me.”
“I shall go straight back to Normanton Hall,” she said. “I have my muff pistol and the sun is up. And you shall go back to bed, Justin.”
“Even so,” he protested.
“Go back to bed, Justin. I’ll escort Lady Felicity back to Normanton Hall.
” It was Robin, leaning nonchalantly against the side of the shed that ran along one side of the schoolhouse’s small kitchen courtyard.
He straightened. “But first, I need to catch… a… rat!” During the last sentence, he had prowled along the barrels, old furniture, and other items littered along the base of the shed’s outside wall.
With the last word, he pounced, and then stood tall again, a struggling figure dangling from his hand by its neck.
No, by the back of her dress, which he held at the neck.
“What do we have here?” he asked. “Is it a rat? It seems to be a girl. But not a well-behaved girl, or she would not be creeping around the schoolyard in the early morning light.” He shook the girl, who threw back her head to shriek.
Felicity, catching sight of her face, said, “Put her down, Robin. Miss Stone, you are early for school, but you might as well go home. Let the village know that Mr. Weatherall has suffered a blow to his head in a fall, and will not be teaching today.”
Miss Stone, dropped on her behind, scrambled to her feet and glared at Felicity. “So what are you doing here, then? In the middle of the night with two men. Some lady you are!”
“Miss Stone, you will apologize to Lady Felicity,” Justin thundered a moment before Robin snapped something similar. Miss Stone cringed. Felicity almost felt sorry for the poor girl.
“Go home, Miss Stone,” Felicity commanded.
“Mr. Weatherall would have married me if you never came,” Miss Stone insisted. Really? The girl was utterly deluded.
“No,” Justin said. “As I have told you before, Miss Stone. I will not marry you under any circumstances. I shall, I think, need to have a conversation with your father.”
“And so shall I,” Robin said. “My brother will not be pleased to know about your behavior, Miss Stone.”
Oh dear. They meant well, but the two men were just making things worse. The chance of her keeping quiet about Felicity’s presence here this morning had already been slender, but they had just narrowed it to nothing.
Miss Stone stamped her foot, expelled an angry shout, and stalked away.
Robin raised his eyebrows. “It is good to know that Normanton village has all the usual amenities,” he commented, “for there went the village idiot.”
“Poor girl,” said Felicity, with a surge of fellow feeling. After all, like the village beauty, she had reached out for the man she wanted. Unlike Miss Stone, he wanted her, too. And Felicity intended he should have her.