Chapter Five #2
“Thank you, Merry.” Nerves stirring her middle like one of Cook’s spoons, Felicity led the way to the path winding through the abundance of roses dressed in their showiest colors.
Explosions of red, pink, white, and yellow filled the air with their sweet scents.
“My mother loved her roses. They were her children, too.”
“The garden is exquisite.” He tipped his head and treated her to one of those smiles that drew her in and made her feel as though he thought her the most important creature in his world. “Almost as exquisite as you.”
“Merry and I saw your garden, my lord,” she blurted out before she could stop the words from tumbling off her tongue.
A stoic seriousness fell across him like a dark curtain. He bowed his head as their stroll through the garden slowed. “I see.”
“I am sorry. I should not have said that.” She took her hand from his arm and hugged her middle, willing the churning to cease.
“It is just that Merry and I were walking home yesterday, and we had never seen your estate, and there was a large rock to stand upon and look over into your garden, and…” Heaven help her, could she not shut her mouth and stop speaking?
Could the earth not open up and swallow her?
“I am sorry,” she mumbled. “I fear we were quite rude in pushing our noses into your privacy.”
His mouth flattened into a taut line, and he twitched a half-hearted shrug. “You have nothing to apologize for, my lady. You were curious about the man who had asked to call upon you.” He offered her a bow. “I suppose I should take my leave now. Forgive me for wasting your time.”
She caught hold of his arm as he started to leave. “Wait.”
A bitterness flashed in his eyes as he paused and looked back at her. “What can I do for you, my lady? Although, as you already surmised from the state of my manor and gardens, I am sure you realize I cannot do much.”
Now was her opportunity. While still holding his arm, she pulled in a deep breath and braced herself. “Would you still have called upon me if you had known I had no dowry? If you believed I was a penniless kitchen maid, would you have pursued me? Still rushed to my door as soon as today?”
His scowl hardened as he looked away, either unwilling or unable to meet her gaze. “I would like to say ‘yes,’ my lady, but that would be a lie. I need a wife of means to repair the damage done not only to the Wakefield name, but to the estate as well. I fear my uncle left both in tatters.”
“I see.” The need to cry hit her so hard, she had to hold her breath to control it. “Why me, my lord? Did you figure I would be so desperate for a match that I would jump at the chance?”
He finally faced her, his scowl shifting to befuddlement. “Why would you be desperate for a match?”
“Answer my question, my lord, if you please. Why me?”
With a slow shake of his head, he lifted both hands as if surrendering.
“When I discovered that the lovely young woman who had taken it upon herself to feed me was not a kitchen maid, but a lady in her own right, I had to call upon you as soon as I could, before another gentleman stole you away. I was thrilled to learn your true identity.”
It was her turn to stare at him with a long, hard look. Was he lying? She so wished she were as adept as her sisters at sniffing out falsehoods. “No gentleman is about to steal me away, my lord.” She huffed a sad laugh. “Why do you think I was in Lady Atterley’s kitchen in the first place?”
Now, he looked even more confused. “I had wondered that, my lady, but thought it none of my affair, and therefore did not ask.”
“It appears you are more mannerly than my sister and me.” She watched him closely, trying to read the shadows in those hazel eyes of his. The way he quirked a single dark brow—did that mean he was lying? How could she know for certain? “I was in Lady Atterley’s kitchen because I was hiding.”
“Hiding?”
“Hiding.”
“From what?”
“Everything and everyone.” She proudly lifted her chin. “When a wallflower tires of being ignored yet cannot escape from being dragged to parties, she finds other means of disappearing.” She shrugged. “Mine is hiding in the kitchens and helping the cooks and maids with their duties.”
“Why in heaven’s name would you ever be ignored?” he asked so softly that it hurt her heart.
“It would seem I am not the pick of the Broadmere litter.”
His scowl hardened. “Who spoke ill of you? I would have their name at once.”
She shook her head. “They spoke ill of me when they thought I was nowhere nearby. When I confronted them, rather than apologize, the drink they had consumed that evening turned them defiant and proud of everything they had said. My brother, Chance, pummeled them, as did my brother-in-law Thorne.” She wet her lips, suddenly wishing she had waited to have this discussion over tea.
“It matters little, though. One cannot exactly un-ring a bell. The words remain with me to this day.”
Lord Wakefield started to speak, but she stopped him.
“Do not pity me. I know one cannot help or control what another thinks. However, my brother worries about it a great deal. You see, unless I marry for love to satisfy that specific part of my parents’ will, Chance will not receive the percentage of his inheritance that is attached to me.
” Stomach churning like a storm by now, she led the way back to the table.
“Surely, Fipps has brought our tea. Shall we rejoin Merry and Serendipity?” This terrible moment needed to end.
It had held such hope, but now she knew it for the truth it truly was.
“Lady Felicity.” He caught her by the arm. “Wait.”
“I will never marry for anything other than love,” she said with a defiance that surprised even her.
“You deserve that and so much more,” he said with surprising gentleness.
He kept hold of her arm. “My only hesitation in coming here was knowing I had nothing but a title to offer you in return. As I said, when I learned my lovely kitchen angel was a lady of the ton, I considered myself the most fortunate man in the world.”
The heat of him standing so close, his scent of sandalwood and spice, his rich, deep voice—they all spun their spells and made it so difficult not to believe him.
She so wanted to believe him, wanted to take in the sincerity in his eyes and accept it for what it was: the truth.
She tried in vain to harden her heart against him.
“We have only just met. Surely, you cannot claim to love me.”
He shook his head. “I make no claim of love, but there is something there. Something that, if it is nurtured, might just grow into what we both want and need.” He eased toward her, closing the distance between them. “Can you not feel it? That something?”
“I so want to believe you,” she said, then immediately wished she hadn’t. Joy would scold her for showing her hand.
“I want you to believe me, too, because it is the truth.”
If she just leaned in a little more and lifted her face, her mouth would be so very close to his. Heart pounding, she struggled to speak clearly. “Even a liar swears their words are true.”
“The only lie I have ever told is the lie of omission, and you surmised that when you saw Wakefield Hall.”
His warm breath tickled across her lips, making her part them.
“Felicity! Tea!” Merry’s boisterous shout rang through the garden. “Come along now. We mustn’t lose his lordship in the maze of Mama’s roses.”
With a resigned sigh, the earl took a step back and offered his arm once again. “We should return, my lady. After all, I would never wish to compromise you.”
That alone made her wonder if he was telling the truth about that something between them.
If he compromised her, the dowry would be his in a handy marriage of convenience.
Felicity swallowed hard at her choking knot of emotions as she took his arm.
“I would never wish you to compromise me either, my lord.” Then she would never know why they had ended up as man and wife. “Come and enjoy my lemon biscuits.”
“I look forward to them, my lady.” His smile was more tender now, his eyes penitent, reflecting a contrition that reached out, took hold of her heart, and squeezed.
She released his arm as they emerged from the roses and seated herself at the table. Serendipity had already poured and looked ready to pounce.
Felicity barely shook her head and whispered, “All is well.” She prayed that was the truth. She offered the salver of her prized biscuits to the earl. “My lord?”
“Absolutely.” He helped himself to not one, but three, piling them onto the small plate beside his teacup. But when he sank his teeth into the first one, his eagerness disappeared. He pressed a fist to his mouth and gave a single, barking cough. His face turned bright red.
“My lord? Are you all right?” Felicity rose from her chair and struck him between his shoulder blades, uncertain what else to do.
Lord Wakefield turned aside and coughed again, all the while chewing hard with his fist clamped to his mouth.
“Water. He needs water. Fipps!” Felicity called out. “Hurry! We need water.”
Merry hopped up and ran to the door, nearly running head-on into Fipps as he rushed forward with a glass and pitcher of water.
Serendipity snatched it from him, filled the glass, and handed it to the earl.
Wakefield grabbed it with both hands, drained it, then held it out again. “More, please.”
Serendipity filled it again, then set the pitcher in front of him.
“Good heavens, my lord.” Without thinking, Felicity rubbed and patted his back. “Are you quite well now? Did you choke on some loose crumbs?”
“Yes, crumbs,” he agreed in a strained voice, almost wheezing the words. “Forgive me, but I must take my leave now.”
“Of course, my lord.” Felicity awkwardly stopped rubbing his back, realizing it was most unseemly. She stepped away. “Fipps, do see Lord Wakefield out and ensure he is quite all right.”
Fipps bowed. “Of course, my lady.”