Chapter Three #3
“If we are not too weary after the shops, perhaps there will be time for an abbreviated promenade.” Felicity couldn’t help but relent. All the sisters did when it came to Merry. After all, she was the baby of the family.
“Agreed.” Merry swung her reticule at her side. “Mettlestone’s first, then Creary’s Bookshop, then promenade.”
“No treats from Caruthers?” Not that Felicity was hungry, but she adored chatting about recipes with Mrs. Caruthers.
“If we go in there, it will be well past teatime before we leave.” Merry gave her a pointed glare. “You do not know when to stop when it comes to talking about recipes.”
Felicity couldn’t deny the truth in that. “Fine. Only Mettlestone’s and Creary’s, then.”
“Tell me more about this ode to a fair maiden.” Merry’s craftiness knew no boundaries.
“‘Ode to a Fair Maiden’s Coddled Eggs,’” Felicity corrected her.
“Did he expound upon the fair maiden part?”
Felicity sighed, knowing Merry would not cease until she had pulled every shred of information about the poem. “A little. The last two stanzas were quite nice.”
“Recite them.”
“I cannot say that I remember them word for word,” Felicity lied.
“Felicity.”
“What?”
“Did you know that you wrinkle your nose whenever you tell an untruth?”
“I do not.”
Merry bobbed her head. “Yes, you do, and all of us know it. How do you think Chance and Seri always ferret out the truth from you?”
“Well, blast,” Felicity muttered. She must remember that and strive to undo that telltale habit. “If I repeat the stanzas, you mustn’t read too much into them. Understood?”
“Understood.”
After a deep breath and a hard swallow, Felicity recited,
“For not alone thy eggs are warm—
Thy smile too holds a softened charm;
Thy kitchen is a hallowed space
Where hunger yields to art and grace.
So here I sit, with heart o’erthrown,
Beside thy dish, my love full-blown.
Not for the eggs—though rich, divine—
But for the hand that coddles mine.”
Merry squealed in a most unladylike manner. “He likes you!”
“Merry!” Felicity shushed her as they traipsed into the village. “Control your outbursts, or I shall not speak another word to you the rest of the day.”
“Another lie,” Merry said with a giggle. “You know you cannot help yourself, and are you not excited that he expressed such fondness for you? He even mentioned love.”
“He expressed a fondness for the coddled eggs, not me.” Felicity headed to Mettlestone’s shop, which supplied the village with anything anyone desired. If they didn’t keep it in stock, they ordered it. “And as far as he knew, he was flirting with the kitchen maid. You know how lordlings can be.”
“Did he make any untoward advances or say anything he should not have?” Merry sounded uncharacteristically serious.
Felicity pulled open the door to the shop, causing the bell to jangle merrily. “He did not. That is one thing that truly impressed me about his character.”
“Lady Merry! Lady Felicity!” Mr. Herbert Mettlestone came running out from behind the counter, trundling as fast as his portly self would allow.
“I was just saying to Mrs. Beatrice that I hoped for a visit from the Broadmere family today.” He turned and bellowed, “Mrs. Beatrice! Lady Merry and Lady Felicity are here! Mrs. Beatrice!”
Felicity almost covered her ears but refrained from doing so because poor Mrs. Beatrice suffered from hearing loss and so missed being an integral part of any conversation.
Mr. Herbert’s wife came flying out of the backroom, her hands raised in delight. “Ladies! It is so good to see you. What might we tempt you with today?”
“Gossip about the new Earl of Wakefield,” Merry said loud enough for half of England to hear. “What have you heard?” Felicity was ready to kick her.
Both Mr. Herbert and Mrs. Beatrice exchanged meaningful glances, then went strangely solemn. “The young lord is very personable,” Mrs. Beatrice said with a tight smile. “I fear that is all we know of him as yet.”
Felicity smelled a lie but didn’t wish to make the older couple any more uncomfortable than they already seemed to be. “Then tell us about the new modiste. Is she talented?”
“Mrs. Kerr is also quite amiable,” Mr. Herbert said. “Newly widowed, she moved here to Binnocksbourne for a fresh start. She and her daughter are purported to be very talented and up to date with the latest fashions.”
The doorbell jangled again, making Felicity turn to see who had joined them. It was none other than the Earl of Wakefield. She clutched her hands in front of her middle and prayed for the shop’s floorboards to open up and swallow her.
“Well, good day, Miss Felicity,” he said. He removed his hat and offered a proper nod as if he already knew her to be a lady of the ton. His gaze shifted to Merry, and he nodded again.
“Miss Felicity,” Mrs. Beatrice repeated, surprising them all that she had actually heard it. “Surely you mean Lady Felicity, my lord”—she motioned at Merry—“and Lady Merry, sisters to the Duke of Broadmere, one of the most esteemed families here in Binnocksbourne.”
“Lady Felicity?” he repeated, the softest glint of accusation in his expression.
Felicity curtsied. “Yes, my lord. Forgive me for not being more forthcoming with my status. Surely, you understand why I chose such caution.”
His smile broadened, and then he bowed. “No apology is necessary, my lady. None at all.” His gaze lingered on her as he shifted his attention to Merry. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Merry. I failed to meet you at the Atterleys’ party last evening.”
“Yes,” Merry said with a wily grin. “You did.” She didn’t offer any explanation, just stood there looking as smug as the cat who had just eaten all the cream in the larder.
He tipped a subtle nod, taking her unspoken message to return his attention to Felicity. After a glance over at Mr. Herbert and Mrs. Beatrice, he cleared his throat and smiled. “Might I call upon you, Lady Felicity? Tomorrow, perhaps?”
Felicity tried to see through any subterfuge, knowing her heart and her hopes were blinding her. She curtsied again and turned slightly toward the door. “That would be lovely, my lord. Good day.”
“Lady Felicity?” Disappointment dripped from Mrs. Beatrice’s voice. “Leaving already? We have some lovely new ribbons with which to tempt you.”
“I fear we must,” Felicity said. “We are off to visit Mrs. Kerr after your glowing recommendation. We shall return another day for a longer visit. I fear we are short on time today.” She offered the earl a smile, then forced herself to exit the shop at a graceful pace, rather than the breakneck run she wished for.
As soon as the door banged shut behind them, Merry caught hold of her arm. “Why are we leaving so soon?” she hissed. “You should stay and talk with him.”
“I have said quite enough.” The knot of emotions in Felicity’s throat was about to strangle her. “Did you not see his eyes light up as soon as Mrs. Beatrice mentioned Broadmere?”
“His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you.” Merry yanked on her arm. “Slow yourself. You are about to break into a run.”
“He wants the dowry. Not me.”
“Why could he not want both?”
“Because I am me. The fat, unattractive one of the litter, remember?” Felicity clenched her teeth and continued stomping along, hating herself even more for wallowing in self-pity.
Merry yanked her to a halt. “You are not! Just because you overheard that horse’s arse say such cruel things that night does not make them true.
You are beautiful, Felicity, just too blinded by what those idiotic lordlings said and Seri’s constant nagging about what you put on your plate.
And our modiste needs to learn to keep her opinions to herself as well.
Now, stop it this instant, or you shall be the one with eels dumped into your bed. ”
“You are afraid of eels.”
“For you, I will make an exception.” Merry shook her by the shoulders. “You are beautiful. The earl thinks so too. I saw it in his eyes.”
“You saw him gleeful that he had found the solution to his problems.”
Merry released her. “Fine. Be pitiful.” She whirled about and shook a finger not an inch from the end of Felicity’s nose. “What would Mama say? And Papa?”
“They would tell me to spit in those gossiping lordlings’ faces.” Felicity huffed and blinked hard and fast against the stinging threat of tears.
“And what would they say about Lord Wakefield?”
“To give him a chance,” Felicity muttered.
“What?” Merry cocked an ear as if she couldn’t hear her.
“To give him a chance,” Felicity repeated louder. “You are beginning to sound like Chance and Seri. Do you realize that?”
Merry grinned. “There is no need to be insulting.” She shook her finger again. “Now, if I ever hear of you taking to heart what those insufferably cruel coves said, there shall be eels in your bed. Understood? And ignore Seri and the modiste. Do you understand?”
Felicity sighed. “I understand.” Then she lengthened her stride. “But we are going home. No promenade today.”
Merry snorted and looped her arm through hers. “Fine. No promenade. Today.”