Chapter Five
Her heart was pounding, but as Sir Elliot squired her around the floor, explaining some of the games and offering introductions to some of the other gentlemen, albeit older and likely married, Felicity calmed.
He had lovely auburn hair, thick, and styled in the Brutus fashion.
His eyes were green and vibrant. He wore clothes so fine she couldn’t name the fabric.
Was his jacket made of blue velvet? These wealthy men were so polished and colorful. They reminded her of birds.
She could do this. She could be amongst a crowded room of men and feel .
. . not relaxed, but not like she was about to be attacked.
She never used to feel this way. She had enjoyed outings in her home village, helping her neighbors, baking for the village fair, and helping her father during services.
She’d never had to be afraid before. Not until Chadwick Revere.
He’d shown her the truth, the things her father had alluded to like wickedness, evil, and sinning.
It wasn’t until after her attack that she realized those sins were unfairly applicable only to her.
When she’d needed help, when she was lying in pain in her darkest moment, her father had blamed her for Chadwick’s actions.
She was the wicked sinner. She had done something terrible, for which now only she had to repent.
Felicity found herself staring down at the floor, being jostled by passing gentlemen. She immediately looked to Tristan, and he was there, just behind her.
“We can leave whenever you’re ready,” he said, close enough to her to not have to say it loudly. Her other hand was still wrapped around Sir Elliot’s elbow.
“Bless my card with a kiss, Lady Mystery?” an unknown gentleman said.
Tristan stepped closer to her. “She will not,” he said menacingly.
“Deuced unsavory, Philips,” Sir Elliott chastised him. “Mind your manners. We’ve a fairy queen in our midst.”
“Forgive me. I was only hoping for a bit of luck.”
“I forgive you,” Felicity said. She touched his cards instead. “Luck bestowed. Carry on, sir.”
The crowd cheered. Mr. Philips did indeed win his hand and a handsome pile of tokens.
The next hour Felicity spent touching everyone’s cards, and it did seem to be a favorable night for most of the players.
Thus, she was no longer Lady Mystery but deemed to be Lady Luck.
Sir Elliot was always respectful and added a theatrical flavor to the evening, which Felicity could tell annoyed Tristan.
All night he stayed hidden behind her, stepping back into shadowy areas but never far away.
Whenever she needed to reassure herself, she’d look for him, and he was there, arms folded, scowling until he caught her eye, and he’d give her a nod.
As time wore on, the crowd thickened. Passing tables became a game of stop and go.
Bodies pressed closer. The men grew louder and livelier.
Felicity had to stand closer to Sir Elliot than she liked as the men parted for him, eyeing her as they passed.
These men were younger, their gazes heavier with interest. Their focus wandered over her body, her breasts, and her waist. She’d abandoned her cloak, which now rested over Tristan’s arm, but despite the warmth of the room, she wanted it back. She wanted to be covered.
“Is this the infamous Lady Luck?” A man approached, shouldering past protesting men.
“I don’t know you, sir,” Felicity said.
“I’ve been hearing about you all night. An exquisite vision in green and gold. The rumors weren’t exaggerated.”
“Th-thank you, sir.”
Sir Elliot leaned closer, his cologne a mixture of sweet and salty she didn’t find pleasant. In fact, the whole room had begun to smell like too many scents mixed together.
“Do you wish an introduction, my lady?”
No. Could she say no?
“Maybe she’ll blow on your cards,” another man said, and the gentlemen chuckled around her. Felicity glanced around, but she couldn’t see Tristan. The floor had become so crowded. Where was he?
“She won’t,” Sir Elliot said, his tone firmer than he’d been all night. Felicity clung tighter to his arm. She wasn’t alone.
Robust cheering erupted from another table, followed by curses, and that seemed to distract the men around her.
“I think I’m ready to leave—”
Someone grabbed her free elbow. Felicity shifted, relieved that Tristan had reached her. He’d help her escape. But when she turned, it was not Tristan holding her arm. The unknown man who’d been denied an introduction leaned close to her, his hand drifting down to her hip and around her back.
“However much Elliot is paying you for your company, I can pay more.”
The sweltering room disappeared as her vision narrowed to this one man with blond hair, styled in waves, and green eyes.
Chadwick. She was looking up at Chadwick.
No. He couldn’t be here. Icy terror slithered over her body and yet she began to sweat.
Felicity blinked rapidly as ringing filled her ears.
He cocked his head, and though she wanted nothing more than to run from him, her head cleared enough to see that this man was not Chadwick. Aside from the similarity of blond hair and green eyes, Chadwick was shorter and heavier in build.
“Please, sir.”
He smiled, the effect like slime on her tongue. “Please? You want me to steal you away from Elliot?” His hand drifted lower. “It would be my—”
He straightened, his demeanor changing as his face twisted in pain, and the hand on her rear was gone. He then bent forward, and there Tristan was, holding his wrist in a twist.
“Touch her again and see what I’ll do.”
“She’s just a—”
“Don’t say another word,” Tristan said, his tone filled with lethal darkness.
The room had stopped. Felicity couldn’t hear beyond the pounding of her heart. Every eye was now centered on them.
“Mr. Chase, it is a simple misunderstanding,” Sir Elliot said. “Let him go.”
“I’d rather hear the bone snap,” Tristan said. Something deadly blazed in his eyes.
“Please,” Felicity whispered. She couldn’t bear the tension and fear that swallowed her. The heaviness of violence now surrounded them. Her heart drummed so hard it might stop.
“I’ll have your job, Chase.”
“This is my job, Trent.”
Murmurs filled the room. “Her dog has teeth,” someone said.
Bile rose in her throat, and Felicity swallowed. Tristan’s gaze moved from his prey to her, the darkness softening. The edge of violence in the air lessened.
“Lady Luck is a special guest of Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Tristan said to the room at large.
“She is not employed here. You’ll treat her with the utmost respect because she is not here to please your appetites.
She’s here to judge your worthiness. Most of you will be found wanting.
” He let go of the blond man, and he fell to his knees, glaring up at Tristan.
“I’ll escort you back to the ladies’ area, if you wish,” Sir Elliot offered.
“I already have an escort. Thank you, Sir Elliot.” Felicity said. Tristan offered his hand, and she took it. The steely strength that infused his body steadied her as she stepped around Trent, whoever he was, and Tristan set her hand on his arm.
“Goodnight, gentlemen,” she said as they reached the stairs.
A chorus of goodnights followed her as the floor resumed its activity. The gentleman who accosted her received a fair bit of taunting.
“Are you all right?” Tristan said quietly as they climbed the stairs.
Felicity blushed in embarrassment.
“No.”
He nodded.
She wasn’t paying attention to where they were going, but suddenly they were in a dark hall, the noise snuffed out by the walls. She leaned back against the wall, and he did the same across her.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“This is the hall that leads to the kitchens from the servants’ quarters. It’s usually quiet this time of night while everyone is busy at work.
Felicity sucked in a relieved breath. “What must they be thinking of me?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How can it not matter? He assumed he could buy the use of my body,” she whispered.
“He is mistaken.”
Felicity wiped at the scalding tears on her cheeks. “Is he?”
In the shadows, she couldn’t read his face.
“You are not a courtesan, Flick, I know it, whatever your past has been. I also know you come from a small village, and you are hiding from something and someone who hurt you. But that is all I know. Mrs. Dove-Lyon revealed nothing else. I might be able to help you more if you could tell me why you’re in hiding. ”
Felicity shook her head. “I can’t.”
“I would never judge you.”
“I judge me. Just thinking about—” Felicity covered her face as shame, which she knew logically she shouldn’t feel, overcame her.
If this had happened to another girl, despite what her religious upbringing led her to believe, she would never treat a woman the way her parents had treated her or how society would treat her if they ever knew.
No woman would encourage or desire the things Chadwick had done to her.
She wished she had been stronger and fought harder.
Had she given him some sort of signal without knowing?
She questioned herself, her own mind, her thoughts, and her actions so much she didn’t know what to believe.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“I understand,” Tristan said. They were quiet for a moment. Distantly she could hear the clamor of the gaming floor, but for right now they were far away, and she could finally draw a full breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You don’t have to apologize to me.”
Felicity dropped her head against the wall with a thud, looking up at the plastered ceiling. “Say something. Tell me something to distract me. It can be anything.”
He was silent for a beat. She feared he’d leave her there in that dark hall.
“I’m here because my brother gambled away our family home, and then he died, drinking himself to death in that very house.
My sister and brother were home when he did this, but luckily, they didn’t see him.
I wasn’t there. I had . . . I was stationed in Dover.
When I got the news, they sent me home. It wasn’t until after his funeral that I learned that he’d lost our home in a bloody game. ”
Felicity held her breath before she asked, “Was it here?”
He nodded. “He hated that house and the responsibility that came with it. He hated our father, our grandfather. He thought their traditions and commitment to working the land themselves was beneath them. They fought bitterly over it, but I never thought he’d do something so reckless.”
“How could he hate them?” she whispered.
“Colin got it in his head that working the land was for common folk and not him. He wanted to dress like the dandies that came through Inverness, waste his days sleeping and his nights drinking. There was many a morn Father would wake him with a bucket of water.” He smiled as if this was a fond memory for him, and then he sobered.
“Lark Hall is everything to my family. Our mother and father, grandparents, great-grandparents, are buried in that land, and if I’m half as lucky as them, I will be too.
To know he could throw it all away so easily .
. . It makes me ashamed to call him my brother. ”
Felicity waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she pushed off the wall and came to stand at his side.
Her arm brushed his sleeve. He lifted her cloak, which still hung over his arm, and she straightened and turned her back to him.
He draped it over her shoulders, and she snuggled into the velvet and the warmth from his body.
Why was it him? What about him that made it so easy to be with him?
She had barely known him before. Now she knew a little bit more and still it was not enough.
What had it cost him to reveal that much of himself?
“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “What happened to your siblings?”
“They are staying with family friends in Edinburgh. One day, I hope we can all go home.”
Felicity’s eyes stung. “I had to leave my two sisters behind. I think about them—worry about them—every day.”
“They’re safe?” he asked.
Felicity nodded. “I believe so. They’re too young to marry.”