Page 46 of The Dangerous Lord

She glanced over at Emily, who perched on the dressing table stool. Emily’s occasional nod and encouraging murmur indicated that she sympathized with the young woman. That was understandable—Emily knew what it was like to maintain an elaborate pretense, having been forced into a masquerade last year that had nearly lost her everything. But then Emily had acted upon peril to her life whereas Felicity ...

Sara shook her head, returning her attention to Felicity, whose bold telling of her story contrasted with the feminine lace of her attire. Felicity was not like other young women of society that Sara knew. Then again, neither was Emily. Or herself.

Indeed, Sara did sympathize with Felicity’s motives for her actions—the woman’s concern for Miss Hastings’ future and then her humiliation after Ian had embarrassed her on the balcony. While Sara could never have initiated so public a battle, she certainly would have done something to retaliate. For heaven’s sake, Ian had toyed with Felicity’s affections, then pretended she was the wanton. Sara ought to have done more than toss Ian out of the house. She should have boxed his ears, too. Just wait until she got him alone later. He would get an earful from her.

One thing puzzled her, however. Why had Ian persisted in keeping Felicity’s secret about Lord X? Felicity said he had something to hide, but Sara wondered if he had another reason, one more romantic. That possibility intrigued her enormously.

The young woman was staring at her now, a guilty expression on her face. “You must find all this so horrible,” Felicity said, apparently misinterpreting Sara’s look of concentration. “You can never know how sorry I am that I misled you about Ian. I still think of it with shame. But I didn’t know you then. I couldn’t believe you might understand what really happened. And I didn’t know how kind you are or how different from most—” She broke off, her embarrassment more than obvious.

“Most what?” Sara prodded.

Felicity swallowed visibly. “Most noblewomen. They all treat me with condescension.” She glanced away, her gaze hardening. “They like me to entertain them with gossip or tales about Papa, but when I’m done, they cast me aside like any other amusement, leaving me to fend for myself with their sons and their husbands.”

“As did I,” Sara said softly.

“No! It wasn’t the same. Despite what I let you believe that night, Ian never took advantage of me. Not really. It was my own fault that I ... that I ...”

“Took his actions to heart? Believed in his kisses? No, that wasn’t your fault.”

“But I brought it on myself with my columns,” Felicity protested.

“Which you had every reason to write,” Sara interjected. “I don’t blame you in this. I wouldn’t like having my feelings trampled on by some careless lord either.”

“Still, it wasn’t the same,” she said in a low voice.

“The same as what?”

Felicity crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze downcast. “Those others. The ones I met because of Papa.”

Sara sucked in a breath. “What did the others do to you?”

“Oh, nothing very terrible,” Felicity said hastily, though her arms tightened over her chest. “An unwanted kiss here. A groping hand there. And not at first. I-I was eleven when I began to go with Papa to his patron’s houses and take notes for him.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “He had awful handwriting. He couldn’t even read it himself half the time. And I liked going with him to all those grand houses.” Her smile faded. “That is, until I found out what the people in them were like.”

“Not all of them, surely,” Emily interjected.

“Oh, no! Just some of the men. It was usually the eldest sons who wanted to ‘entertain’ me when Papa was busy with their parents, especially after I grew old enough to interest them. But I could handle them most of the time. And our footman showed me how to ... um ... hit them with my knee where it hurt.”

“Good for you,” Sara said, glad of protective servants.

“It was only the fathers who gave me any real trouble. I knew it wasn’t wise to rebuff them as boldly as I did their sons. So I had to be more creative in my refusals.”

The thought of a girl fighting off a grown man’s advances roused Sara’s outrage. “Where were these men’s wives, for God’s sake? The young men—where were their mothers? Did they not teach their sons any better than to assault young female guests?”

“Women tend to look the other way. Or worse.” Felicity spoke the words dispassionately, but Sara saw the pain she tried to hide. “Pelh— One man’s wife who caught her husband ... making advances to me blamed me to Papa and advised him to give me a good thrashing.”

“Surely he didn’t take her advice!” Sara exclaimed in horror.

Felicity looked startled. “And thrash me? Oh, no, Papa never lifted a hand to his children. In the case of my brothers, it might have been better if he had. Papa told the woman she was a jealous old witch with an octopus for a husband and refused to continue the project.” Her tone filled with self-reproach. “It took him a year to find another that paid as well, and Mama and I worked ourselves to death taking in mending.”

Sara saw bitterness flash across Felicity’s face, and her tender heart softened all the more. “So you learned not to complain about the men’s roving hands, didn’t you? Better to put up with it than be responsible for your family’s loss of fortune.”

A wan smile touched Felicity’s lips. “As always, Lady Worthing, you are more perceptive than most.”

“Won’t you call me by my given name any more?” Sara asked gently.

“I don’t deserve that attention.” Felicity’s face was wrought with remorse as she turned to pace once more. “I’m so ashamed. You’ve been nothing but kind to me from the day I arrived, but I abused your hospitality horribly that night on the balcony.”