Chapter Four #2
Hissing at the sting of the brandy against his cuts, Uncle George groaned. “What of her now? Has she promised to come cook for us for free?” He winced again. “No offense, Mrs. Pepperhill.”
“None taken, my lord.” The housekeeper added more brandy to the cloth and continued cleaning.
“As sweet as she is, she more than likely would, if I asked her.” Drake flinched in sympathy for his uncle as the butler and housekeeper cleaned away additional blood and grime. “But I doubt Lady Felicity, sister to the Duke of Broadmere, would wish to fill the post permanently.”
“Broadmere,” his uncle repeated, arching his brows higher over his swollen eyes. “Truly?”
“Truly.” Drake drew closer to the bed. “I saw her in Mettlestone’s today, and Mrs. Beatrice properly introduced me to Lady Felicity and her sister. I believe her sister’s name is Lady Merry.”
“Then why are you still here, standing in my bedchamber?” His uncle coughed and grabbed his ribs with a pained groan.
“You should be calling on the lady, fool. Waste no time. By our reckoning, there is naught but three of them left, and you said the eldest one wished to have nothing to do with you.” He cringed and bared his teeth as he slowly pressed on his ribs.
“None broken, I think. Just badly bruised. Been down that road before. By the way, how do you know it was the eldest one who failed to succumb to your charms? Will she not be the first to need to marry?”
“Lady Atterley’s dinner party was rife with gossip, and Lady Serendipity was pointed out as the eldest.”
“If she is the eldest, the sisters who have already married must be younger. They do not appear to be pairing off in the usual order.” His uncle had already returned to his sly, calculating self.
Drake was glad to hear the old codger’s ribs weren’t broken. It would take several weeks for Uncle to heal, but he would eventually be back in his bath chair, complaining about his lot in life.
“Full steam ahead, boy. Get thee to Broadmere House and call on Lady…Lady…” Uncle George frowned. “What did you say her name was again?”
“Lady Felicity.”
He grunted. “Means intense happiness or eloquence. Did you know that?”
“I did not, but I find it quite fitting. The lady is most pleasing to chat with.”
Uncle George waved him away. “Go see her today. Do not wait until tomorrow.”
“I asked permission to call upon her tomorrow, and she granted it. It would be rude and presumptuous of me to show up on her doorstep today.” Drake was as eager for his next meeting with Felicity as his uncle was, but he did not wish to overplay his hand.
“Well…I suppose you are right.” Uncle George cleared his throat, then grimaced and caught his ribs. “Keep her away from here. She must not discover the state of things until you have properly snared her, and she cannot escape.”
And that was where misgivings had started gnawing at Drake’s gut. Felicity was so kind and considerate. Didn’t the lady deserve to know the truth about his circumstances?
“I know that look,” his uncle growled. “You are just like your father. Get it out of your head right this very moment. If you tell her the entirety of the truth, you will lose her.”
“What look? Your eyes are swollen shut.”
Uncle George snorted again. “You know very well what I mean. Your conscience is your downfall, boy. Once you receive her dowry and set things right, she will never know the difference.” The old man managed a lopsided grin.
“And if there is any to spare, perhaps we might go gaming and increase our investment.”
“Never again, and you know it. I forbid you.” Drake had taken everything remotely worth being gambled away and ensured it was out of his uncle’s reach. In fact, most of it had been used to lessen the depth of their pit of debt.
His uncle gave an insulted huff and waved the words away. “Let an old man dream. What else is left to me in this life?”
Drake wanted to remind the man that his poor choices had led him to where he was today, and he had no one to blame but himself.
But he didn’t. It wouldn’t do any good. How many times had his father begged his uncle to do better?
“Try to get some sleep while I see about your bath chair. We can ill afford another.”
“Stop talking to me about what we cannot do!” His uncle threw an arm over his battered face and turned away.
It would be time for the tantrums now because Drake had dared to remind his uncle that he had left them with nothing but a mess.
Drake left the room, unwilling to listen to the foolish prattling of an ill-tempered old bastard who thought of no one but himself.
As he headed back to the garden, he pulled in a deep breath and let it back out with a groan.
Heaven help him in this venture, and God forgive him for pulling dear Lady Felicity into it.
But he had no choice, and he did like her very much and would never treat her poorly.
Hopefully, in the young lady’s eyes, that would be enough to at least start courting.
One of the bath chair’s iron rods was slightly bent. Nothing John couldn’t take to the forge and hammer back into place. Drake righted the thing and left it there, refusing to deal with it today. Besides, it wasn’t as though his uncle would leave the sickbed for a day or two.
He foraged deeper into the overgrown garden, hoping some of the flowers, maybe even a few roses, had survived the onslaught of the weeds.
He couldn’t very well call on Lady Felicity with nothing to offer other than a smile and the sincerest hope that she would find him as pleasant as she had seemed to last night in the kitchen.
The memory befuddled him. Why in heaven’s name had she been in the kitchen instead of among the crowd enjoying the games or the dancing?
A beautiful woman such as herself would be surrounded by likely suitors.
Perhaps she was shy? Or worse. Perhaps she was hiding away because she was saving herself for someone else. He sincerely hoped not.
She is mine. A possessiveness for her came to him as naturally as breathing. The tense knot in his chest eased a bit and calmed for the first time in a long while, because of her. And not just because of her money. Yes. She was his—or soon would be.
*
“Since we are not too far and spent hardly any time at all in the village, I say we walk by the Wakefield estate and have a peek,” Merry said, sounding entirely too excited about her plan.
Felicity knew from her sister’s tone that she would never be able to steer her toward another option. “Merry.”
“Do not say my name like that. Since Lord Wakefield intends to come calling tomorrow, it is only prudent that we see what you might eventually be mistress over, if all goes as I think it will.”
Felicity rolled her eyes and wished the day’s timing had not crossed their paths with the Earl of Wakefield. Now that Merry had seen him, she was like a hunting dog tracking her prey. “We should be getting back. I promised to help Cook with tea.”
“Cook can lay out a proper tea with her eyes closed,” Merry said, “and that includes the baking of seven different kinds of biscuits. Under her command in the kitchen, the tea practically prepares itself.” She tugged on Felicity’s arm. “Come along now. You know you want to see it too.”
“I do not.”
“Liar. You just wrinkled your nose.”
Dash it all. Felicity did her very best to keep her nose from twitching again. “I am not lying.”
Merry snickered, covering her mouth and pointing as she danced down the roadway. “Now you look as though you are trying to dislodge something stuck up your nose!”
“Oh, stop, Merry. Do!” Felicity halted in the middle of the road. “I refuse to take another step until you promise to be nice.”
Merry made her way back and assumed an almost convincing expression of contrition. “I am sorry.” She held out her hand. “Come along now. I promise to be nice, if you promise to peep over the Wakefield garden wall with me.”
“What if someone sees us?” Felicity couldn’t believe her sister’s brazenness. Here they were, two young ladies in their twenties, acting like—or at least threatening to act like—a pair of childish hoydens.
“We are out in the country and no one is around.” Merry twirled in a slow circle with her arms extended. “I see no one for miles. The day is quiet as can be.”
“A Wakefield servant might see us. Then what?”
Merry shrugged. “We run.”
“Run? Are you serious?”
“Quite.”
“What would Mama say?” Felicity asked in a last attempt at curbing her sister’s enthusiasm that would surely be her undoing. She had to admit, maybe a little sneak peek over the garden wall wouldn’t hurt. “And Papa?”
“They would say, ‘Do not get caught.’” Merry gave her a wicked grin. “You know Mama and Papa always loved a good lark themselves.”
Felicity closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly feeling quite sorry for Chance and Serendipity in their roles of trying to maintain order in the Broadmere household. With a resigned sigh, she dropped her hand away. “Fine. I give up.”
Merry hopped in place, beaming with excitement. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
Merry caught hold of her and tugged. “Come along, then. I believe it is just a little farther and down this lane to the right.”
Caught up in Merry’s sense of adventure, Felicity scurried alongside her, unable to keep from giggling. “If we get caught and word gets back to Seri…”
“We won’t, and it won’t,” Merry said. “We are much too sly, you and I.” She pointed at a modest stone manor house at the end of the lane. “There. I believe that is it.”