Chapter Six #3
“You may call me Felicity.” Her shy smile grew a little bolder. “We shall start with that.”
“Then I insist you call me Drake.”
“Drake,” she repeated. “A fine name.”
“And may I call upon your brother for permission to court you?”
“You are very persistent.”
“I am determined not to lose you,” he said quietly, then grazed a tender kiss across her knuckles, making her gasp again. “You entrance me, Felicity. I cannot bear the thought of your going to another.”
She eyed him with a disconcerting wariness. “I want to believe you,” she finally said. “Truly, I do.”
He realized it wasn’t him or his circumstances that held her back, but the hurtfulness foisted upon her in the past. She was like a mistreated animal, afraid to trust, afraid to get hurt again.
“I can only prove the truth of it to you if given time and the blessing of your company. Will you grant me that?”
From across the room came the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.
Felicity snatched her hands out of his and turned back to the window. “Did you say that field was planted in wheat or barley, my lord?”
“Barley, my lady.” Drake turned to see who dared interrupt them, relaxing as Merry crossed to the settee and had a seat.
She gave him an apologetic smile. “I thought it best to return. Mustn’t shirk my duties as chaperone.”
“Of course not.” He offered his hand to escort Felicity back to the settee. “Is His Grace in this afternoon, or should I wait until tomorrow?”
“I am not certain,” Felicity hedged, wiggling her nose as if it itched.
“Our brother is in,” Merry offered. “Other than a meeting with our steward, his diary was quite open the rest of the day. I saw it when I returned a book to our library.”
Felicity pinned her sister with a narrow-eyed glare. “Perhaps we should take our leave, Merry.” She turned a kinder gaze on him. “And thank you ever so much for the lovely cress sandwiches, and also for the generosity of your forgiveness about the bitter biscuits.”
He swept a bow. “Thank you for the generosity of your time, Lady Felicity. I cherish every moment you deign to give me.” Before she could comment, he added, “As a matter of fact, I shall escort the two of you home, so I might meet with your brother today.” He went to the doorway and called out, “Yateston, my hat and gloves, please.”
“Today?” Felicity repeated with an endearing squeak. “Are you quite certain, my lord?”
“More certain than I have ever been about anything.”
*
“You wish to court my sister.” It was not a question, but a statement.
The Duke of Broadmere paced back and forth behind his lavish desk, never taking his scowl off Drake.
“I am aware of your circumstances, Lord Wakefield. Felicity deserves better. She deserves a man who can provide for her and her children, should her marriage be so blessed.” His Grace’s tone suggested he wasn’t finished.
“A woman’s dowry should be set aside in case she becomes widowed.
It should not be used by her husband to restore his family’s coffers. Would you care to address that?”
Drake wouldn’t lie to the man who reminded him of a mighty caged lion, wily and ready to kill.
“I cannot deny that a portion of the dowry would be used to restore the Wakefield name, but I am better with finances than my uncle was. I hope to regain financial stability and would make as many provisions as possible for my wife and children.”
“Better than your uncle was,” the duke repeated.
“Serendipity informed me you are averse to gambling. That is one thing in your favor.” He studied Drake, his eyes a darker blue than Felicity’s, a steelier blue that was far more cutting.
“I am also aware that you treated my sister with respect when you thought her nothing more than a kitchen maid.” He nodded.
“Another boon for you.” He scrubbed his jaw as though it helped him think. “Does my sister wish to court you?”
“Your sister has made it quite clear that she wishes to marry for love—love for her. Not for her dowry.”
“And you love her?”
“There is something there, Your Grace. I honestly believe I could. Ever since meeting her in Lady Atterley’s kitchen, she is always in my thoughts—even in my dreams.”
The duke leaned across his desk, his scowl hardening. “I will not have my sister hurt. Of all seven of them, Felicity is the gentlest and most tenderhearted. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“You will avenge your sister if she is not treated with the care she deserves.”
His Grace nodded. “And not that I would need their help, but I have four brothers-in-law who will gladly join me in seeking justice.”
Drake swallowed hard, the lie about his title coming to mind. “I would never intentionally hurt your sister, Your Grace.”
“Intentionally or unintentionally, I will not have my sister hurt.” The duke straightened and folded his arms across his chest. “Tread carefully, Wakefield, for I will be watching. Whether or not you court my sister is up to Felicity—unless I am forced to get involved.” He resettled his stance.
“I do not advise that you get me involved.”
No coward, but determined to remain in the duke’s good graces, Drake gave a single curt nod. “You have made your position quite clear, Your Grace, and I expected nothing less.” If Drake had been blessed with a sister, he would have been just as protective.
“Very well, then.” Broadmere motioned toward the door. “Let us see what Felicity says.”
*
“Can you hear anything?” Felicity whispered to Merry. They both had their ears pressed to the library door.
“They are coming!” Merry sprang back, dragging Felicity with her.
Heart pounding, Felicity patted her hair and straightened the folds of her skirt, attempting to look as nonchalant as possible.
The library door opened, and Drake entered the hallway first, his somber expression making Felicity catch her bottom lip between her teeth.
What in heaven’s name had Chance said to him?
But more importantly, what in heaven’s name would she say to him if Chance had agreed?
Could she be certain he was telling the truth about that something that had sparked between them in Lady Atterley’s kitchen?
A something that might grow into so much more?
Or was he simply telling her what he knew she wished to hear?
She had felt an unmistakable liking for him, but had he really felt the same for her?
She held her breath as he approached, the look in his eyes unreadable.
“Lady Felicity?”
“Yes?” Good heavens, could she possibly sound any more like a cornered mouse? She cleared her throat. “Yes, Lord Wakefield?”
“Would you grant me the honor of courting you?”
So many things tumbled through her mind as she sank into the mossy-green depths of his hazel-eyed gaze.
Had Chance agreed? Was the decision truly hers?
Was she brave enough to risk courting this man who admitted he needed her dowry but also swore he felt something for her?
She had always been the mouse. Always the wallflower who hid from every possible interaction with a gentleman.
Was this providence’s way of nudging her to step away from the wall, to come out of hiding, and risk grabbing hold of the same joy her older sisters had found?
“Lady Felicity?” Drake said, his deep voice as soft and soothing as a tender touch. “I implore you to give us a chance. To give me a chance.”
And then she saw it—the sincerity in his eyes. She supposed it had always been there, but now it was stronger, the sincerity and caring. “Yes, Lord Wakefield,” she whispered back. “I shall grant you permission to court me.”
He smiled like a man granted freedom from the gallows. “Your answer pleases me greatly, my lady. I swear I shall not disappoint you.”
Without a word, Chance turned around, stepped back inside the library, and closed the door.
“Congratulations, Felli. You actually rendered our brother speechless,” Merry said.
“I am quite speechless myself.” Unable to resist, Felicity boldly reached out and touched Drake’s arm. “But do not underestimate me, my lord,” she warned him. “Remember my bitter biscuits.”
His smile dimmed the slightest bit, and he tipped a serious nod. “So noted, my lady. So noted.”