Chapter 10 #3
Well, he’d use that jealousy against her. He’d make her see that watching him court someone else was much worse than enduring his protection of Miss Greenaway. And if he had to dance with ten thousand women to make her see that, so be it.
Felicity cast a quick look up to heaven as if hoping for the Deity to advise her on his proposal. Then she lowered her gaze to his. “All right. I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.” When she went limp, he added, “And don’t think to renege once we’re back in London. I shall hold you to your promise.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said morosely.
Her misery delighted him. She was his already, whether she admitted it or not. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I must be off early to attend to business in London, but tomorrow night, I’ll be at Lord Caswell’s party. You intend to go, too, don’t you?”
She gave a stiff nod.
“Good. You can begin your efforts on my behalf then.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Of course, if you change your mind about my proposal—”
“I shan’t,” she retorted, though he noticed her words lacked conviction this time.
“Very well. Until tomorrow.” He gave a slight bow, then headed off toward the door. He didn’t want to leave. What he wanted was to toss her onto the feather bed and make love to her until morning. With any other woman, that would ensure a marriage.
But it might not with Felicity, and he wouldn’t risk the possibility that compromising her might firm her resolve to resist him.
As he opened the door, she called out behind him. “Wait, Ian!”
He turned with his hand on the knob to find her coming toward him with his coat, which he’d forgotten on the floor. As she neared him, however, her gaze shifted to a spot behind him, and the color drained from her face. He followed the direction of her gaze, already guessing what he would find.
Standing outside the nursery across the hall were several people who’d apparently been engaged in earnest conversation until he opened the door—Sara’s housekeeper, a nursery maid, another servant ...
and Sara and Emily. All eyes were locked on him standing in his shirt sleeves and Felicity clutching his coat, dressed in only her chemise and wrapper.
The servants melted away, averting their eyes as they scurried off along the hallway, but Sara and Emily stood frozen. Then shock hardened Sara’s expression, while Emily perversely began to smile.
Ian scarcely had time to decide how to handle the awkward situation.
Much as he wished he could use it to force Felicity’s hand, he doubted that would work.
She was much too independent to be swayed by his friends’ advice and would resent him even more if he urged the marriage on the basis of her now-compromised reputation.
Yet as his gaze locked with Sara’s, it occurred to him that Sara would be a good ally. The only way to gain her support, however, was to ensure she had a clear grasp of the facts and not merely what tale Felicity might spin.
“Good evening, ladies.” He smiled with casual ease. “I hope there’s nothing wrong in the nursery.” He heard Felicity groan behind him, but ignored her, focusing instead on Sara.
The young countess glared at him. “What are you doing here, Ian?”
“Miss Taylor has agreed to help me in my search for a wife,” he said truthfully. “We were consulting on strategy.”
“Yes,” Felicity chimed in with great eagerness. “Lord St. Clair and I were having a long discussion on the matter.”
As Emily rolled her eyes, Sara glanced at Felicity. “But my dear, the way you’re dressed—”
Ian shot Felicity an amused glance, wondering how she would explain that one away. With a little gasp of dismay, Felicity tugged her wrapper closed. Clearly, she’d forgotten she was wearing only her chemise and a scrap of lace.
“Don’t blame Miss Taylor,” Ian told Sara with great magnanimity. “I surprised her after she’d already prepared for bed, and we became so engrossed in our conversation that we completely forgot about the proprieties. Besides, Miss Taylor is fairly nonchalant about such matters.”
“So nonchalant that you removed your coat?” Her tone was stiff as starch, as stern as any mother’s. “Don’t try to fool me, Ian. I know how men work. And if you think I’ll allow you to take advantage of a woman in my house—”
“Truly, Sara, nothing happened,” Felicity protested. “I know it looks bad, but—”
“You needn’t defend him,” Sara retorted. “I know what he is about.”
Ian raised one eyebrow. “Do you really? Then you must know that I proposed marriage to Miss Taylor.”
With a look of shock, Sara shifted her gaze to Felicity. “Is this true?”
He fancied he could feel the heat of Felicity’s anger warm his back.
“Yes.” Felicity hurried to add, “But I refused him. We discussed it, and that’s all that happened. I swear it.”
Ian bit back a smile of triumph. Felicity might think her revelation would extricate her from this, but she didn’t know Sara as well as he did.
The woman loved making matches, and both she and Emily were eager to see him married.
They’d be on his side from now on, especially if it looked as if he were reasonable and Felicity were simply foolish.
How else could it look, after all? Without revealing what she knew about his connection to Miss Greenaway and how she knew it, Felicity could never reasonably explain why she’d refused him.
Thus her refusal would seem inexplicable, and Sara would have all the more reason to work at matching them up.
In truth, there was already a dangerously familiar gleam in his friend’s eye. “You refused Ian?”
“Yes.” Felicity looked from Sara to Emily.
When she caught sight of Emily’s broad smile, her expression grew panicky.
“That’s why I agreed to help. Him, I mean.
You know, find a wife. Because I refused him.
He said if I wouldn’t marry him, I ought to help, and I agreed, and we ...
we had a perfectly civil conversation. That’s all that happened. Truly ...”