Chapter 5
Five
Unable to sleep, Nicole sat upon the bed where Felix’s letters were fanned out about her.
He'd sent her one every morning since their encounter in the library, despite seeing her nearly every day. She pressed her palms to her stomach. An awful knot had formed, much like the one that had ailed her three years ago when Felix had left for Cambridge. Unable to ignore her instincts all those years ago, she’d followed Felix to her Father’s initial dismay and, ultimately, relief.
Due to her hasty decision, both she and her Father knew the truth—the Duke of Strandon had fallen ill and Felix had taken on the ducal responsibilities. Her father forgave the duke for the sudden end to their friendship, while Nicole’s heart had remained in tatters.
Legs tucked under her shift, Nicole rested her chin on her knees and stared at the letters that she valued more than anything else. If she stayed put, if she remained optimistic, if she placed her trust in Felix, all would be well.
“Lass, are ye awake?” Her father’s voice wafted through her closed door.
“Yes, Father.”
He entered, eyes directed at the floor. Sensing her father’s pain, Nicole scrambled to her feet and rushed over to him. “What’s the matter?”
“Your uncle…”
“Which one? Uncle Brody… Uncle Malcom…” Her clan was large and dominated the Scottish border.
“Logan…” He inhaled deeply and slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. “Your Uncle Logan has passed.”
Nicole gripped her father’s wrists tight.
“Not Uncle Logan. He was hale when we saw him this past summer.” Her favorite uncle, her father’s youngest brother, was more like an older brother to her than an uncle.
Uncle Logan had convinced her father that it was time the family made alliances with the English, which had strengthened the clan and allowed Nicole to experience the world.
Uncle Logan had told her to follow her heart and had prevented her from being matched with a clansman as tradition dictated. What was she to do without her uncle?
“Are you certain he’s… he’s gone?”
“Aye. I just received word. Logan was thrown from a stallion he was breaking. Broke his back.”
Her whole world tilted as Father tugged her closer and hugged her tight. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and he comforted her as the sobs finally broke to the surface.
"Now… now. You know how Uncle Logan hated to see you cry.” He pulled back and, with serious eyes that were full of pain, he said, “We have to return to Scotland.”
“Of course.”
“We shall set out within the hour.” His hands cupped her shoulders. “I’m sorry, lass, but your plans for the morrow will have to be postponed.”
“I’m certain Felix will understand. I’ll inform him of our departure," she replied.
Her father gave her a weak smile and released her. Before he closed the door, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Before more tears could escape, she waved him off. “I need to pack if we are to be off in an hour.” As soon as the latch fell into place, Nicole moved to sit upon her bed, staring at the door. Her life had changed in a matter of minutes.
Her gaze fell to Felix’s letters, and her heart ached. This is how Felix must have felt as he set out for Oxford—torn between duty and love. No longer able to cry, she marched over to her wardrobe and extracted her valise as her maid rushed in.
“Allow me, Miss.” Her maid scurried about the room, collecting items and expertly folding them and packing them away.
Nicole sank into the chair at her desk and pulled out the draw to retrieve a piece of parchment.
What was she to say? Her thoughts shifted back to Uncle Logan, and she suddenly couldn't breathe. Her uncle—her kind, supportive, loving uncle who had written letters about how proud he was of his niece and her bravery in seeking out happiness—was gone. Why had she left the warm bosom of her clan to endure one tedious ton event after another? Felix was the one and only reason. For three years, she’d subjected herself to ridicule, all in the hope that she’d catch a glimpse of the man her heart had refused to relinquish.
“Miss Nicole, it’s time we leave. May I assist you with your gown?” her maid asked gently over her shoulder.
Out of time, she dipped her quill into the ink well and scribbled a hasty message:
Dearest Felix,
I can’t marry you. I must return to Scotland.
Yours,
Nicole
She sealed the missive and handed it to her maid. “I’ll dress myself. Please make sure a footman delivers this to Felix.”
Her maid took the note and bobbed a quick curtsy before hurrying out the door.
Nicole slipped the simple but warm traveling gown her maid had laid out on her bed over her head.
Unable to do up the buttons in the back, she’d have to wait for her maid to return.
Looking about the room, her gaze fell back to Felix’s letters.
She should gather them up and tuck them into her valise but as she collected them in a neat stack, she found herself storing them safely away in her desk.
Her maid burst through the door. “Miss Nicole, the baron is waiting.”
“A little help, please.” Nicole turned so her maid could do what she could not. As soon as the last button had slipped into place, her maid grabbed her hand and led her out to the awaiting travel coach.
She was leaving London… and Felix.
Felix left the Faculty Office of the Doctor’s Common with a bounce in his step and the special license safely tucked away in his coat pocket.
Being the heir apparent to a dukedom did have benefits after all.
The registrar didn’t even blink an eye at his request. The man simply completed the necessary forms, sparing but a brief moment to request the name of the woman he intended to marry before stamping the license on behalf of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who had earlier that morning confirmed he’d make himself available to preside over the formalities.
Felix pulled out his pocket watch and smiled.
Quarter past ten. Perfect. He’d have time to return home before he fetched Nicole for their daily jaunt about Hyde Park.
He settled into the corner when the coach door flung open once more. “Who the bloody…?” His words trailed off as a pale-faced Reg hopped in and sat across from him. Felix leaned forward to pat his brother down. “Are you hurt?”
Reg slowly shook his head. “No… it’s Father.”
Memories from the past, of the day he first received news of his father’s illness, rushed over him. It was as if he was reliving a recurring nightmare. Reeling from the weight of the duties that continued to fall upon him, Felix slumped back, his chin dropping to his chest.
“The physician sent word… Father is no longer with us. We must return to Strandon post haste.”
Both he and Reg had spent the last three years mourning the loss of their father all the while anticipating his eventual death.
They were prepared for his departure and had grieved for their once robust invincible father that had been reduced to a man with no mind of his own.
Numb to the news, he shook his head and said, “Nicole. She’s… “
"Felix." Reg's hand on his arm. "I know, but you can't go after her. You have to go to Strandon. The estate, the tenants, the funeral arrangements—you're the duke now. You have responsibilities."
Now that his father was gone, there was nothing left at Strandon Mannor but the duties of actually becoming the duke. "Damn the responsibilities.”
"I need you, the real Duke of Strandon." Reg's expression was sympathetic but firm. "You can't abandon your duties, not now. Send Nicole a note and inform her you'll return to marry her as soon as you can. But you have to go to Strandon first."
Felix wanted to argue, wanted to say that Nicole was more important than any estate or title.
But a duke never acted upon emotion. “Always act with a clear head,” his father had always said.
Reg was right. He was the duke now, and he had obligations he couldn't ignore, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Alright, Strandon Mannor it is." The words tasted like ash. "But I'm leaving to marry Nicole the moment matters are all settled."
"I won’t allow anything or anyone to stop you. Hell, I’ll even accompany you if necessary." Reg leaned forward and squeezed his shoulder. "Nicole will understand. She knows you love her."
Felix wasn't absolutely certain; a tendril of doubt continued to plague the back of his mind. But he had no choice but to go to Strandon.
He retrieved his traveling desk to draft a note to Nicole informing her of his father’s demise and his intent to marry her upon his return to London.
His hand shook as he scribbled the words he hated having to write.
Reg took the parchment from him and waved it about for a moment, allowing the ink to dry.
His eyes tracked the first missive he’d written as a duke and wanted to snatch the wretched thing out of his brother’s hand and rip it to shreds… but he couldn’t.
“Give me that.” Felix folded the note and addressed it to Nicole before opening the coach door. He handed the missive to the footman standing at attention, “Deliver this to Baron Swyft’s residence and tell the driver to set off for Strandon Mannor.”
The footman took the parchment from his begrudging fingers, and Felix returned to settle back into the forward-facing seat.
Reg stared at him, but there were no words spoken.
As twins, they shared a unique ability to communicate without words.
Although at that moment, Felix needed his brother's reassurance that history would not repeat itself, that when he returned, Nicole would still be waiting for him but this time with a warm smile and open arms. Instead, Reg gave him decisive nod before he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. Felix had received his twin’s message loud and clear; you’ve made the correct choice. Do not fret, all will be well.
Except his brother’s slumber was fitful.
Reg may act the devil-may-care fellow but his twin was by far the most considerate and reliable gentlemen of all the Lords in England.
Felix replaced his travel desk and mirrored his brother’s stretched-out position, which was far from as comfortable as Reg made it appear.
It would take them at least two days to reach Strandon.
He vowed to write to Nicole every day, and this time, he wouldn’t renege on his promise.
He closed his eyes, and a tear escaped the corner of his eye.
Felix swiped it away before Reg could see.
He wasn’t certain if the ache in his chest was due to the loss of his father or hastily leaving Nicole. He just knew his heart was broken.