Chapter Nineteen
Felicity woke later than she’d ever slept in her entire life. Matilda had brought a breakfast tray, and it sat on the side table, long cold. Felicity lay in bed, staring at the plaster ceiling and refusing to dwell on what she should be doing—the thinking Mrs. Dove-Lyon had asked her to do.
But she couldn’t contemplate marrying Lord Hugstead. He was nice, reasonable, and handsome—but not in a way that made her heart race like Tristan. He oozed confidence and serious dedication, but he wasn’t Tristan.
All she wanted was Tristan and the home he described. She yearned for it, like some place inside her knew that was where she’d always belonged.
She wouldn’t be marrying Lord Hugstead. Or any other man Mrs. Dove-Lyon managed to conjure from the gaming floor to do her bidding.
Which left her in a spiral of guilt and despair.
Because she also couldn’t have Tristan, and she’d never see her sisters again if she didn’t marry Lord Hugstead or someone like him.
“Miss?” Matilda knocked on the door.
“Come in.” Felicity sat up in the bed, running her hand across the smooth sheet where Tristan would have lain this morning. She hadn’t felt him leave but was glad he had. She wanted him, but she needed space to think clearly.
“I thought you might like to have a proper bath.”
“A bath? Yes, that would be lovely.”
Felicity did not expect the behemoth of a copper tub that two footmen carried in. She’d expected a hip bath.
“It will be a moment before it’s ready,” Matilda warned. The two footmen carried buckets of steaming water back and forth until the tub was full. Felicity didn’t know what to say to such an extravagance.
“Lady Amelia recommended these oils to help you relax,” Matilda said.
“She did? I will have to thank her. Is she in residence?”
“She is, but she’s been in the study with her brother and a guest.”
What guest? Could it be Tristan? Would they keep him away from her?
“Do you know who it is?”
Matilda grinned. “It’s Mr. Chase!” she said cheerily. “Don’t know why he’d be meeting with his lordship, though. They didn’t get on well.”
“No. I wonder what it could be about,” Felicity said.
“You, I’d guess.” Matilda replied.
“Why would it be about me?”
“Well, he brought you back and forth last time, didn’t he?”
“He did. But I’m not working for his employer anymore.”
“Oh,” she frowned. “Then why would he be here?”
Felicity prayed it was to see her.
She stood and went to the dressing screen. “Uh, I thank you for your help, but I don’t like to undress in front of others.”
“Very well. I’ll place a towel here by the stool and leave you be.”
“How long has Mr. Chase been here?” Felicity asked Matilda’s retreating back as she busied herself behind the screen.
“Hours,” Matilda replied. “Curious, isn’t it?”
The door clicked and Felicity peeked over the top of the screen to find herself alone.
“Hours?” she wondered aloud. She slipped out of the nightgown and climbed into the bath. The hot water scalded at first but quickly soothed her tight muscles as she sank into the glorious depths of the tub. She’d never been in a tub this deep. The water came all the way to her shoulders.
“Oh, this is heaven,” she said to herself.
“I’d have to agree.”
Felicity yelped and splashed water everywhere. “Tristan! How did you get in here?”
“I’m familiar with the house,” he said as he locked the door.
“What are you doing here?” Felicity covered herself as he drew closer and squatted next to the tub. He’d already seen her naked, but she was not so brazen as to be used to the event just yet. He dipped his fingers in the water.
“I needed Lord Alston’s help with something.”
“You’ve been here for hours, according to Matilda.”
“Are you jealous?” He picked up a bottle of oil and sniffed it.
“Of course not.”
He tipped the bottle and poured a few drops into the water. “This is the lifestyle you deserve.”
Felicity frowned at him. “It’s rather excessive, don’t you think? You should have seen how much effort it took to fill the tub.”
He trailed his fingers through the oil. “Did it?”
“Yes. It was clearly troublesome to draw a bath. The first and last I’ll ever have.”
“That is a shame, Flick. In Lark Hall there’s a shared bathing chamber for the other rooms, and the main bedroom—for the master of the house—has a private bath, but our tub is barely half this size.”
Felicity splashed water at him. “What is your point? You keep insisting I deserve all these things that you can’t give me. It sounds like you’re trying to convince me to marry Hugstead.”
He scowled at her. “I’m not.”
“Then what are you saying it for? Between the two of us, your upbringing was far more comfortable than mine. You’re confusing me. I don’t know what you want. You said you—”
Felicity cut herself off. She wasn’t going to humiliate herself. There was too much on her mind. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, and the words caught in her throat.
He ran his wet fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her head. “I’m sorry. I must do something for Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Once that is done, things will be easier. Don’t make any decisions until I’m done. I’ll find a way to make this work.”
Tears pricked in her eyes. “You want to be with me, don’t you?”
“More than anything.”
“Then why can’t you?”
Why won’t you ask me to marry you? was what she wanted to ask. It would be the easiest answer for her. There would be no thinking. But he wasn’t asking. He was waiting. For what? For her to choose? For something else?
“I am with you. I’m right here and I’ll be with you tonight, as long as Alston doesn’t catch me sneaking into his house.”
Felicity splashed water over her face. She should be relieved to be away from the Den, where her father had found her, where the eyes of the servants and the players always seemed to find her, but she was more gutted than ever.
Nothing was clear. She knew what she wanted, but not how to get it.
How to make a future with Tristan was beyond her.
“What am I supposed to do, Tristan?”
“Love, I don’t want you to do anything other than stay here and relax. Let me do the rest.”
“Will you tell me what you are doing? Why you’ve been here for hours with Lord Alston?”
He grimaced. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“You have to trust me, Flick. Please.”
“I do.” She sank lower in the tub, her knees breaching the surface of the water. Tristan reached over to her knee and slid his hand into the water to her thigh.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I am too. But I don’t want you to worry about anything right now. I have a plan. When this is all over, we will be together.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Then kiss me,” she said.
He grinned wickedly. “I’d like to do more than that. I could use a bit of luck from my lady.”
Her heart fluttered and she sat up to meet his mouth as he leaned down to kiss her.
She gave herself up to the sensations of his mouth, the need that surged in her body, and blocked out everything else.
It was far easier to do when Tristan was near than it was when she was alone with her churning thoughts.
He slid his fingers into her hair and pulled away.
“Why are you stopping?” Felicity asked in disappointment.
He picked up strands of her hair and lifted them out of the water. “I want to wash your hair.”
Felicity frowned. “What do you know about washing a woman’s hair?”
“Hair is hair, and besides, I’ll have you know from the age of nineteen I’ve been raising my younger siblings. Gwen was five and Dougal only two when our father died.”
Felicity cupped his cheek. “Nineteen?”
“Aye, mum died giving birth to Dougal. I think my father held on just long enough to see Dougal healthy and then his heart gave out.”
“That’s terrible.”
He shrugged. “It’s what happened. There’s no time to grieve when two little people need so much tending.”
“Didn’t you have a nursemaid?” Or maybe they couldn’t afford one. She regretted asking.
“We did. But Gwen wouldn’t let anyone help her but me.
Dougal saw her fits and decided to go along with it.
So, for four years, I was their parent. Colin tried, but he didn’t have the patience.
After those rough four years, Gwen had grown so much she didn’t need her big brother to plait her hair anymore.
Dougal was running wild, but he had a good grasp of himself, and the nanny had managed to find a rhythm that worked for all three of them.
So . . . I left to chase glory and excitement.
I didn’t want to be a father just yet. I loved them, but I couldn’t wait to get away from there.
Now, all I want is to go back. To chase Dougal around the kitchen.
To see Gwen practice her dancing. I was gone three years, and in that time they’d both become people I didn’t know.
I’ll never forget that feeling. I think it will eat at me until I die. ”
“What feeling?”
“When I came home to fetch them after Colin’s death, they looked at me like I was a stranger.
The two little people I’d bathed and swaddled, rocked to sleep, sang to—they didn’t know who I was anymore, nor I them.
I was too selfish to understand that leaving them was the beginning of the end of our family.
My absence had washed away their memories of me. ”
“No. Maybe they were angry, but they still knew you.”
“I hope that is true. Gwen will turn thirteen in a month, and I won’t be there.” He closed his eyes and rested his head on the rim of the tub.
“You will,” Felicity said. She felt it in her bones.
“I pray that is true, but I don’t see how it’s possible.” They were both silent for a moment.
“Will you wash my hair?” she asked.
He lifted his head and smiled at her. “It would be my pleasure.”
He knelt behind her and Felicity leaned forward. He rubbed his hands with the soap and threaded his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Felicity moaned as she tipped her head back and he chuckled.
“My father used to wash my mother’s hair. I thought it strange, but now I understand,” he said.
“Understand what?”
“He just wanted to take care of her. It was one of the many ways he showed her his love.”
“They sound wonderful,” she said, a bit wistful.
“Aye. What of your parents?”
“My father was not an expressive man. My mother would hold us and sing to us, but never in front of him. Affection had to be secretive.”
“I like him less the more I know about him.”
“I wish I could say something redeeming. I wish I could take my mother and sisters away from him . . . or that he’d died shortly after my younger sister’s birth, sparing us years of his condemnation.
But then we would have been penniless. The Earl of Kilton provided the living, but he was neglectful. He’s my father’s cousin.”
Tristan cupped water over her hair and Felicity closed her eyes. She tipped her head back and sank lower as Tristan rinsed her hair. Then she sat up and he towel dried it. He draped it over the rim of the tub and brushed it.
“What are you doing now?” she asked as she felt him weaving her hair.
“Making sure I haven’t lost my talents for plaiting hair. There.”
Felicity lightly ran her hand over the intricate braid. “You’re better than I am, and I have two sisters.”
“I should go,” he said.
“Wait.” She pushed out of the tub, his gaze glued to her body as she reached for the second towel.
“Your skin looks like a polished pearl, Flick.” He offered his hand, and she stepped out of the tub. He took the towel and wrapped it around her. Felicity caught sight of his tented trousers, and she smiled knowingly at him.
“Don’t leave.”
“I must. I only had thirty minutes before I have to get back to the study and—”
“And?”
“You’ll see. When you do, I hope you’ll be happy.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” she begged.
“I don’t want you to worry.”
“It sounds dangerous.”
“It’s not, but there is immense risk.” He swiftly kissed her lips. “I have to go.”
Felicity glared at his retreating back as he slipped out her door. She dried herself in agitated swipes of the towel before putting on a fresh day dress.
Matilda reappeared and knocked before entering. “All done?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“What a lovely plait! You did that yourself?”
“Um, yes.”
“That is talent.”
“Well, I have two younger sisters.”
“But to do it to yourself is difficult.”
“It is,” Felicity agreed. She’d never been able to manage more than a three-strand plait on herself.
“I’ve brought lunch if you’re hungry.”
Felicity nodded even though her stomach was too unsettled to eat. She would make herself not waste the food. Whatever Tristan was doing, he wouldn’t tell her because he knew she wouldn’t agree with it or like it. Which meant whatever it was would determine their future together.
And she was helpless once again in creating the future she wanted.
If she had control of that money herself this would never have happened.
She could do what she wanted, save her sisters and mother, and move away from Winter’s Well.
But would she have had the chance to meet Tristan?
Her father had always said that God had a divine path for everyone.
Her path, while fraught with fear and pain, had brought her here.
Whatever happened next, she knew she and Tristan would be together.
All they had to do was stay the course and have faith in each other.