Chapter 2 #2
“You have ribbons coming out of your hair,” Celia observed. “They are such a beautiful shade of pink.”
Felicity reached up and pulled down the swirls of silk fabric. She examined them, folded them neatly, and placed them in her pocket. “Thank you.”
“Were you lost?” Celia asked.
“A little bit,” Felicity replied, which Anne suspected was an understatement, given her appearance.
“Eat some more,” Anne urged as she filled the plate in front of her with more food. “Then, we can talk.”
Felicity ate with polished precision, her manners flawless even as her appetite revealed genuine hunger. Anne watched her closely, noting the contrast.
She is not the child of a servant. Her dress alone is a telltale sign, notwithstanding her ribbons and grammar. Even the way she sits exudes elegance.
“What’s your name?” Felicity asked Celia between bites.
“I said it already. Celia.”
“I know. I mean your whole name.”
“Miss Celia Barnet.” Celia considered. “What’s yours?”
“Lady Felicity Redmond.”
Anne’s hand, which had been reaching for her glass, went as still as the looming night. She recognized the name. Everyone in the country with access to a newspaper recognized the name. Redmond.
Oh, the Duke of Dawnhurst!
The scarred duke, who had retreated to his newly built country estate just next door and rarely appeared in Society. He was spoken of in whispers. Not unkind whispers, but whispers nonetheless.
She looked at Felicity. She had beautiful, deep-blue eyes and elegant features, even beneath the dirt and loose hair.
The daughter of a duke!
“Your father,” she said carefully. “He is the Duke of Dawnhurst, is he not?”
“Yes.” Felicity gave a small shrug.
Anne kept her voice even. “And what brings you to our garden this evening, Lady Felicity? Dawnhurst Manor is just next door, isn’t it?”
“Yes, miss.”
“It is very newly built. Have you been there long?”
“Only since the start of the year.” Felicity turned her fork over in her fingers. “I was walking in the woods. I’d asked for a few minutes alone from Miss Grantham. She is my governess, you see.” Another turn of the fork. “And then I kept walking and walking, and I suppose… I got turned around.”
“Does your father know where you are, Lady Felicity?”
A pause.
“No… well, not precisely…”
Anne turned to the footman, who stood at a discreet distance at the edge of the garden, and waved him over. “Thomas! Could you please assist our guest?”
“Yes, miss?”
“It is urgent that you send someone to Dawnhurst Manor. Have them let the household know that Lady Felicity is here and quite safe. And thank you.”
“Of course, miss.” With that, he was gone.
“My father will be very angry,” Felicity mumbled. “I had planned to make my way back when the stars came out. He has taught me a lot about constellations and navigating. I am sure I could have found my way by Polaris.”
“That is understandable and wise,” Anne said. “But I am sure your father must be very worried.”
“He’s always worried, Miss Barnet,” Felicity muttered. “Even when he doesn’t show it. You can tell, though, because his jaw does…” She made a small, tight motion with her own jaw and pointed to it. “Like this.”
Celia stared at her in awe. “Can you really read people’s jaws?”
“I can read Papa’s. I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“I can read Anne’s eyebrows!” Celia boasted with the air of someone matching a credential.
“When they go like this,”—she drew her eyebrows together tightly—”it means she’s worried but pretending not to be worried.
And when they go like this”—she raised them both apart, just slightly—”it means she’s pleased but doesn’t want to say so…
because she doesn’t want to encourage something naughty! ”
Anne looked at her sister and clicked her tongue. “I did not know you were analyzing my expressions quite so thoroughly, Sister.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Celia said with a wink to Felicity.
The girl laughed. It was a real laugh, all bright and unguarded and surprised. Anne found herself unexpectedly charmed by the young girl, so she smiled back.
“You’re going to Scotland,” Felicity said as she picked up a piece of bread.
She was clearly listening when I thought we were alone.
“Tomorrow,” Anne confirmed. “We’re stopping here just for the night, and then we will begin our journey.”
“That sounds most exciting, Miss Barnet. My father’s family has estates in Scotland,” Felicity revealed. “An old one that his family has had for generations.” She paused. “Perhaps you could visit.”
“Perhaps,” Anne said, not quite a promise.
“Or perhaps,” Celia interjected, with the confidence of a child who had no idea she was about to cause trouble, “you and your father could come visit us.”
“Oh, that would be lovely.” Felicity’s bright blue eyes lit up. “We could ride horses and go to the sea!”
“You could stay for a week.”
“Two weeks.”
“Or the whole summer!”
“The whole summer,” Felicity breathed. “Papa always says we should travel more!”
“You’re not going anywhere,” a voice came from behind them. It was low and clear, carrying the tone of a man who was accustomed to being heard.