Chapter Sixteen #3
What could she say when she had no idea herself? They had simply stayed because they were supposed to stay. They couldn’t very well toss him onto the inn’s porch like a sack of potatoes. She shrugged. “We stayed because it was the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do,” he repeated, his smile faint and trembling. “I have much to learn about the right thing to do.”
“Once you heal, perhaps you will find someone who might teach you.”
He turned to face her and locked eyes with her. “There will never be another. There is only you.”
Determined to escape his gaze, she busied herself around the already tidy room. “Do not say such things.”
“I have finally learned to speak nothing but the truth.” When she didn’t respond, he continued, “I hate what I did to you, to us. Hate it more than you will ever know.”
She went to the window and stared at nothing, holding her head high and fighting to show no emotion at all.
“We all have regrets. Make poor choices. I believe they call that living.” She pulled in a deep breath and held it.
Mama had always told her to hold her breath whenever she was angry to keep her from saying something she might regret.
She wondered if holding her breath would keep her heart from shattering even more. “Sleep now. You need your rest.”
“No,” he said. “I need you.”
“Well, you cannot have me,” she said, even though her heart screamed for her to relent and return to her ridiculous ways of trusting him. “Rest. If you rest now, you might be able to eat a bit of gruel this afternoon.”
“That is no way to entice me.”
She turned and glared at him. “I do not care to entice you. Do what you need to do to heal, so we might both escape this cruel prison in which we find ourselves.” She managed a stiff curtsy.
“Mrs. Bean will return shortly. I shall inform her you are awake, so she and Edmund can finish bathing you and change your dressing.”
“Felicity?”
She stared down at her hand on the door latch, her knuckles whitening as she tightened her grip. “What, my lord?”
“I am sorry.”
“So am I, my lord. So am I.” Then she charged from the room in search of her brother.
She needed to leave this place as soon as possible.
Since Drake no longer appeared to be at death’s door, someone else could be paid to take over his care until he became well enough to care for himself.
Perhaps Mrs. Bean and Edmund could do so before starting their employment at Broadmere Hall.
She found Chance downstairs in a corner of the dining room, sipping tea as he read a London paper that had to be old news by now. “I want to return home,” she said, flopping down into an empty chair at his table. “Immediately.”
Chance eyed her over the top of the paper, reminding her so much of Papa that she had to blink hard and fast to beat back the threat of tears. Drawing in a deep breath, then releasing it with a heavy sigh, he folded the Times and placed it on the table. “What has happened now?”
“Lord Wakefield is much improved and well on his way to recovery. With his fever gone, someone could be hired to care for him until he is strong enough to return to his home. We could hire the Beans. They could stay here and care for him until they are no longer needed. Then they could write to us, and we could fetch them to Broadmere Hall.” She jutted her chin higher, daring her brother to argue. “I need to go home. I am done here.”
“Are you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I have watched you these many days, Felli.” Chance paused for another sip of his tea, then lowered his cup back to its saucer, staring down at it with a thoughtful, narrow-eyed glare.
“The once-shy mouse turned into a protective lioness.” He looked up at her.
“A lioness protecting the one she loves.”
“I do not love him.”
“You also do not lie well.” Chance shifted with another heavy sigh. “His uncle manipulated him, Felli. Not a soul in Binnocksbourne despised the man for himself—they didn’t trust him because of his scoundrel of an uncle and all the debts the estate fell short of covering.”
She clenched her fists in her lap. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go. Chance should be fetching a carriage or renting her a horse or something. “How would you know? We have not been back to Binnocksbourne for days and days.”
He tapped on a leather pouch on the table. One she had failed to notice. “Along with my newspapers, Mr. Osbourne forwarded several letters from the villagers, the merchants to whom Wakefield owes the most money.”
“Are they so bold as to mock me at this low point in my life?”
“They are not mocking you.” Chance drew out one of the letters and slid it over to her.
“They are speaking on Lord Wakefield’s behalf, stating how very hard he tried to repay all his uncle’s debts rather than avoid them or flee the country.
In fact, most, if not all, have forgiven the remainder of what he owes. Your earl is debt free.”
“He is not my earl, and it is not a matter of the money or the title. Why can no one understand that?” She thumped the table with her fist, uncaring that she sounded like a fractious toddler denied a treat. “He lied to me.”
“He swore he was going to tell you at the proper time. Yes, it was a lie of omission—but not a bold, malicious lie in and of itself.” Chance motioned to the maid tending the dining room. “More tea, please.”
“I want to go home. Now. I should have gone rather than send for more dresses.”
“And what exactly do you intend to do? Hide?” He leaned closer, his eyes filled with compassion and a hefty gleam of brotherly stubbornness. “This will not go away, Felli. Your heart will not allow it. Are you too young to remember how Mama and Papa sometimes were?”
Doing her best not to melt into a sniveling puddle, she straightened her spine. “What the blazes are you talking about?”
“That is not proper language for a lady, Felicity. Do not make me regret telling Serendipity to remain at home with Merry.” He paused as the maid brought a fresh pot of tea and poured a cup for Felicity.
Once she left them, he continued, “Mama and Papa loved each other with a fury. I do not deny that, but as the eldest, I remember many times when they also argued and fought each other with that same passion.” He grinned.
“Mama once used the coarsest sort of language with Papa. Words I had never heard before. They didn’t realize I was in the room when they were arguing.
I don’t know what he had done, but she gave him a heated dressing-down—absolutely scalding, in fact. ”
Felicity folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. “If you had never heard such words before, how did you know they were coarse?”
“Because Mama overheard me use those same words and washed my mouth out with soap from the laundress.” He worked his mouth as if he could still taste it. “I never used those words again until university, and then my chums were quite impressed with my broadened vocabulary.”
She hugged herself tighter. This conversation was not going as she had planned. “Your point, brother?”
“People who love each other do not always get on.” He added milk to his tea and slowly stirred it.
“Our married sisters would tell you the same, and you know it. How many times have they fussed and fought with the loves of their lives? Couples learn and grow as their relationship ages and becomes richer, like cheese or a fine wine.”
“And how many times have you been in love, brother? How are you such an expert on marriage?”
“I do not claim to be an expert on anything other than my sisters, and I know what I have witnessed.” He pulled three more letters out of the pouch. “These are for you. From Blessing, Fortuity, and Grace. I will bet you my favorite horse they are telling you the same thing I just said.”
“I am not a fool, Chance. These letters have been opened.”
He gave her the sheepish grin he always wore whenever caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“I failed to notice they were addressed to you and not me.” His grin faded.
“I didn’t much like Wakefield until he saved your life.
” He patted the bulging leather mailbag again.
“And any man who is thought well enough of to cause a merchant to forgive a sizeable debt deserves a second chance.” He stared down at his tea and seemed almost sad.
“We all deserve a second chance when we have chosen poorly with the very best of intentions.”
Felicity studied her brother for a long moment, sensing this conversation wasn’t entirely about her and Drake. “What have you done, Chance? When have you chosen poorly?”
He shook his head and started stirring his tea once more. “Many things were left unsaid between me and Papa.” He shook his head faster. “Many things I should never have done. Things that made him ashamed of me.”
Felicity reached across the table and took her brother’s hand. “Papa loved you, Chance. You know that.”
He twitched with a half-hearted shrug. “I know he loved me, but I never made him proud.”
“You are doing so now.” She squeezed his hand. “Even though you are impossible at times, I feel certain Papa and Mama both are pleased with you.”
“I hope so,” he said quietly, then leveled a hard gaze upon her.
“Give Wakefield time to heal and explain himself fully, even though you think you know the entirety of his story. He deserves that much, Felli, before you fully condemn him. Both of you deserve that much, and then, if you still wish to end the engagement, do so.”
“In other words, you refuse to let me go home?”
He nodded. “I refuse to let you hide until you have put your demons to rest.”
“Fine.” She would do as he asked. This time. She waved down the maid, motioning for her to come over. “Have you any eels? I need a bucketful.”
“Felicity!” Chance pointed at her as if she were a naughty child. “Don’t you dare.”
She smiled, knowing all along she wouldn’t take a bucket of eels upstairs to his bed. She hated the slimy things—but Chance didn’t know that.