Chapter 1
Early October
“I suppose there is no point in me begging you not to chase away all your potential suitors while you are at the house party, Felicity,” said the Earl of Hythe to his sister, as the carriage turned in through the gates to Normanton Hall and began the approach to the house.
Lady Felicity Belvoir grinned at him. “I suppose there is no point in me pleading with you to choose a bride while you are in Brighton, Hythe,” she retorted.
Hythe shuddered. “At Prinny’s Pavilion? Hardly. And you would not thank me if I did, Felicity, as you well know.”
She chuckled, but she did know. Indeed, it was because of the Prince Regent and the company he gathered around him that Hythe didn’t want her coming to Brighton with him.
She had been Hythe’s companion and hostess in Vienna for the peace talks, in Brussels when the nations gathered there to counter Napoleon, in Paris after Waterloo, and then in London when his diplomatic duties called for his presence there.
His reluctance to subject her to probable insult in the household of the ruler he served spoke volumes about his personal opinion of the man.
Had Felicity wanted to go to Brighton, she would have argued.
Felicity was confident of her ability to discourage unwanted attention, even from royalty.
However, she had her own reasons for accepting an invitation from Sir Peter and Lady Somerville to a house party at Normanton Hall.
Indeed, unbeknownst to Hythe, she had written to Penelope, Lady Somerville, who was of an age with Felicity’s sister Sophia, and therefore something of a friend.
“Hythe needs to be in Brighton for a few weeks and won’t need me,” she had written. “May I visit you? The children will be growing apace, and I would love to see them.”
The invitation had arrived by return post. Penelope was having a house party and would be delighted to welcome her friend’s sister. Felicity had not told Penelope her true motives, nor Sophia, either. A secret was best kept when it was only known to one person.
They would be at the house at any moment. “I will marry one day, Hythe,” she told her brother. “And when I do, you will be in the suds! No hostess. No ear on the distaff side of the company. No chatelaine for your houses. Then, you will have to choose a wife.”
The carriage drew to a halt, and Hythe used that as an excuse not to answer.
Indeed, the point was unanswerable, as was the unfortunate truth that the pressure on a man to marry was less urgent than the pressure on a lady.
As a wealthy and well-respected earl, Hythe would be an attractive marriage prospect well into old age.
At twenty-three, Felicity would be on the shelf already, if she did not have an impeccable family name, the highest of social connections, a large dowry, and a personal fortune left to her by her maternal grandparents.
The footman opened the door and let down the steps, and Hythe bounded to the ground and offered his hand to Felicity.
Penelope was waiting at the foot of the steps leading up to the front door, and the next few minutes were devoted to the courtesies, Penelope inviting Hythe to stop for refreshments, and Hythe politely refusing for the sake of his horses, and so he could complete his journey to Brighton before nightfall.
By the time he had asked after Somerville and the Somerville offspring, and given Felicity a brotherly peck on the cheek, her luggage had been offloaded from the second carriage under the supervision of Felicity’s maid, and footmen were already carrying it inside.
“I shall be on my way, then,” Hythe said, with a polite bow. “Send me a message if you have need of the carriage, or anything else, my dear. Your servant, Lady Somerville.”
“Let me show you to your room, Felicity,” Penelope said, as the carriages retreated down the driveway.
“I will leave you to freshen up, and you may join the company whenever you are ready.
We are gathered in the large parlor this afternoon.
I daresay you will know some of the guests.
Lord Fontus Leigh? Lord and Lady Corey? Mr. Brannock?
Lord Rupert Swan and his granddaughter, Lady Florence? Lord Langley?
She prattled on, with Felicity having to do little but make interested noises, but her ears pricked up when Penelope said, “We have a suitor of yours in residence, too.”
Could it be that Justin had let Penelope know of his interest? But no, for her hostess continued, “Captain Vincent Grant was particularly pleased to know that you were coming, Felicity. He tells me he met you in Vienna. You have made quite a conquest there, my dear.”
Grant. Bother. She supposed there was no harm in him, but she could not warm to the man.
How would having him chasing after her affect her real errand?
She could not think it beneficial. Justin and Grant had been at loggerheads in Brussels.
Justin and Robin had both disliked the man, in fact, which did not speak well of Grant.
Was Robin here, too? “How is your brother-in-law?” she asked Penelope.
“My goodness,” said Penelope. “You are not interested in Robin, are you?”
Felicity was not certain whether to be amused or irritated by Penelope’s amazement. Robin’s brother and his wife seemed to think the decorated naval hero had not changed since he was a mischievous child. “Not romantically, Penelope. But we are friends.”
Penelope waved a dismissive hand. “He is living here, of course, as I am sure I’ve mentioned in my letters. What he gets up to I have no idea, and I am sure I do not want to know. Robin never changes. Still the same rogue as ever.”
“He is a fine officer,” Felicity commented, but Penelope waved a dismissive hand again.
“No doubt, but we are not at war now, and he needs to find something useful to do, Somerville says.”
When Penelope quoted Sir Peter Somerville, there was no arguing with her. “I’ll let you get back to your other guests, dear,” Felicity said, “and I shall be down shortly.”
Today’s mission. Find out the program for the rest of the day and tomorrow, and what direction to walk to the schoolhouse, where Justin Weatherall had taken up the unlikely role of schoolmaster.
It would have to be carefully managed, for she did not want to be missed, and she did not want company on the walk.
The road ahead of her had seemed clear before she met Justin. She was making a career out of being a diplomat’s sister and expected to eventually be a diplomat’s wife. But then along came Justin, and suddenly, the straight road, the safe road, was no longer enough.
She did not know what was around the bend, but she wanted to walk it with Justin.
Then… nothing. She assumed Justin had intended to send a message when he left Brussels without a word to her and disappeared from her life so completely. But what message?
I was merely an amusement. If so, her instincts had abandoned her entirely when her feelings became involved.
She could have sworn his attentions were sincere.
He is afraid of commitment. A possibility, but hopeful, for it would mean his thoughts were of marriage, and perhaps they could work through his fears.
He feels he is not worthy of me. If he tried that one, she just might throw something at his head.
Something heavy enough to knock some sense into his skull.