Chapter Six #2
“Yes—you see, when Walters told me you had come to call, I lost my place in the recipe and left out a great deal of the sugar that would have made those treats much tastier.”
“That is debatable,” her sister said, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Lemon biscuits appear to be the bane of her existence.”
“Merry!” Felicity stamped her foot so hard that her golden curls bounced.
She turned back to him, completely mesmerizing with her adorably humble sincerity.
“Do ignore her, please.” She lifted the cloth from the basket.
“I brought you a basket of delicious chocolate cakes to atone for my mistake. I promise they are my very best. Everyone loves them.” She cast a pointed look back at her sister. “Even Merry likes them.”
“They are quite tasty,” Merry said with an approving nod.
He eyed the basket, wanting to believe they were a peace offering after the earlier debacle. Not that he would blame her for trying to poison him. He deserved it. Accepting the gift, he offered her an apologetic smile. “You came here in haste,” he said, then wondered if he shouldn’t have said that.
“I had to.” She gave the barest shrug. “I feared you would believe I had tried to poison you.”
He forced a laugh that almost sounded authentic.
“How silly, my lady. I would never have suspected you capable of such a thing.” Well, he had—but since he deserved it, in his opinion, she was guilt-free.
He offered her a contrite bow. “But if you had chosen to punish me, I would not have blamed you. After all, I had not expounded on my circumstances.” He nodded for her to return to her seat.
“Mrs. Pepperhill is bringing tea. We can enjoy these lovely cakes together. Would you and Lady Merry do me the honor? Have you got time?” While it was still well within calling hours, it was later in the afternoon.
Visibly relieved, Felicity rejoined her sister on the settee and nodded. “We would love to. Would we not, Merry?”
“Indeed.” Merry grinned. “And we shall have Felicity eat the first cake, so we might gauge her reaction.”
“Merry!”
Drake laughed, unable to keep from it. The sisters brought the brightness of hope into his day. “I am so thankful you called. The two of you bring laughter that has sorely been needed.”
Yateston and Mrs. Pepperhill hurried into the room, each bearing trays. Drake noticed the housekeeper had removed her kitchen kerchief and patted her gray hair into a bun of somber submission that befitted her station.
“Your favorites, my lord,” she said with a pointed look his way. “Cress-and-butter sandwiches.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pepperhill, and Lady Felicity brought us some of her delicious chocolate cakes to enjoy as well.” He nodded at the basket on the large, round table that had once been used for extravagantly proper teas when they could afford them.
The housekeeper curtsied. “I shall fetch more plates and silver, my lord.”
“Shall I pour, my lord?” Yateston asked.
“Yes, Yateston. Thank you.”
“Cress-and-butter sandwiches are your favorites, my lord?” Felicity asked, her expression sweet and guileless, but he was still uneasy. Cress-and-butter sandwiches were known as poor man’s fare.
“Indeed, they are.” Or, at least, they had become his favorites because that was often all there was to eat with his tea.
“Mine too.” Her smile grew, lighting up her face. “Sometimes, simple is best. Do you not agree?”
“Most definitely.” He released the breath he had held as Yateston served the ladies, then handed him a cup of tea.
Mrs. Pepperhill hurried back in with a mismatched set of saucers and silverware. It couldn’t be helped. It was all they had left. She deftly served the cakes and then hurried back out of the room, leaving Yateston behind to manage any further needs.
Just as Drake sank his fork into the rich, tender cake with its swirl of white icing, Merry cleared her throat. “Felicity first,” she said with an evil grin.
“You are a troll,” Felicity told her, then held her plate higher, cut herself a bite, and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm. Delicious, if I do say so myself.”
Doing his best not to laugh, Drake took a taste, then groaned. “Oh, my dear Lady Felicity. This cake rivals the deliciousness of your coddled eggs and soldiers.”
The way her eyes danced and the lovely blush across her cheeks made him wonder if compliments to her were rare. “I am so very glad you like them,” she said. “I truly hated the biscuit debacle. Oh my goodness, those were awful. How humiliating.”
“I spat mine into the lily pot,” Merry said. “I fear it may kill them.”
Felicity glared at her. “I am beginning to regret bringing you.”
“Would you rather have Serendipity as a chaperone?” Merry wiggled her nose, then took a sip of her tea.
After a cutting look at her sister, Felicity turned back to Drake. “I hope you do not think it presumptuous of me, but I brought quite a few cakes. Serendipity mentioned that you are sheltering a disabled war veteran who served with your uncle. I thought the cakes might brighten his day as well.”
Clenching his teeth at the mention of his self-serving uncle, Drake forced a smile. “How kind of you, Lady Felicity. I am quite certain Mr. Pembroke will be most grateful.”
“I am glad.” Felicity took a bite of a cress sandwich, mesmerizing him with the way her lips embraced the bread.
He nearly groaned aloud when she flicked her tongue out and licked a bit of butter off the corner of her mouth.
She smiled and patted her napkin to her face. “I am sorry. Do I have more crumbs?”
“No, my lady. You have only beauty.” He startled himself with such boldness. “Forgive my forwardness, but it had to be said.”
Her cheeks took on an even rosier shade, and she wore the color well.
“Do you have a library, my lord?” Merry asked as she set her tea aside. “I adore books and would love to peruse your collection while you and Felli finish your tea.”
Aghast at her sister’s brazenness, Felicity turned to her. “Could you possibly be more obvious?”
“I am trying to be helpful.” Merry rose and arched a brow at him. “Well, Lord Wakefield? Where might I wander for a bit? That is, as long as I have your word that nothing unseemly will take place in this parlor and that the doors shall remain wide open.”
More than a little grateful for the opportunity, Drake rose from his seat and nodded at Yateston. “Show Lady Merry to the library, please.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Before the helpful young woman left them to themselves, Drake offered her a formal bow. “Thank you, Lady Merry, and let me assure you that I would never compromise your sister.”
Merry attempted a sternness and failed when she grinned. “See that you do not.” She flitted out of the room, chattering nonstop to Yateston.
Drake returned to the tea table. “More tea, Lady Felicity?”
She joined him. “There is no need to serve me, my lord. I should pour.” As she leaned to fill their cups, one of her curls fell forward onto her cheek, and without thinking, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear.
She gasped and met his gaze, her sapphire eyes wide with wonder and her temptingly kissable lips parted.
He let his hand fall away. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I could not resist.”
“No forgiveness necessary,” she said just as softly, then seemed to shake herself. She held out his teacup, holding it between them. “Your tea, my lord.”
“Thank you.” There were so many things he wished to say to her, but the shadow of the greatest lie of all, the lie about his title, lay heavily on his heart.
“I cannot tell you how much your visit means to me, my lady. I feared the bitter biscuits were your way of sending me away so that other suitors might take my place.”
Her fair brows arched even higher. “Suitors?”
“Yes, I am sure you have many.”
With a sad smile, she turned away, but rather than return to her seat, she took her tea to the window. “Wakefield Manor is quite lovely.”
“There is no need to lie, my lady.”
With a slow shake of her head, she kept her gaze locked on whatever was beyond the window’s pane. “It is no lie, my lord. The estate but needs a bit of care. It has good bones, my papa would say. Good bones and a good foundation mean everything.”
“Your papa sounds as though he was very wise.” He joined her at the window that overlooked a luscious meadow of barley. The summer’s breeze rippled across the sea of verdant green, making the grasses dance and sway.
“Papa always knew what to do. Very wise, indeed.” A heavy sigh left her. “I miss him still.”
“I understand, my lady. I too miss my father and his wisdom.” Drake found himself staring at the way the light from the window played across her, setting her golden hair aglow as if she truly were an angel.
“There was never a situation that stymied my father,” he said, “and I could always go to him for advice.” His father would not have approved of the dangerous lie Drake was living, even though it kept Uncle George alive.
Unlike his brother, Father was an honorable man.
But how could Drake tell Felicity the truth?
To do so would surely dash any and all hopes of courting her.
“What would your father say about me?” she asked quietly, then huffed a soft laugh. “‘Cast a blind eye to her many drawbacks, my son, and marry her quickly for her dowry’?”
He set his tea aside, then took hers from her and set it aside too. He gently took her hands and turned her toward him. “I see no drawbacks, my lady, and I wish I could tell you the dowry did not matter, but your own eyes can see that it does.”
She stared up at him, looking into his very soul. “I will not marry for anything less than love, my lord. Love for me. Not love for my money.”
“As I said before, you deserve nothing less.” He ran his calloused thumbs across the softness of her fingers as he kept hold of her hands. “May I at least court you, my lady, so we might see if this something between us blossoms into love?”