Page 48 of The Dangerous Lord

“It doesn’t matter what you tell me. I know she’s his mistress.”

“I’m not so sure.” Sara debated a moment. But Felicity deserved to hear the truth, even if Ian wouldn’t reveal it. “You see, when I knew Miss Greenaway, she worked for Ian’s uncle as governess to the man’s children.”

“Then she’s an older woman?” Emily asked from her perch on the stool. “If so, she couldn’t be Ian’s mistress. Ian wouldn’t need an older woman for a mistress.”

“She’s not that old,” Sara said. “She can’t be more than 32. Miss Greenaway went to work at the Lennard household when she was only 20, a few years older than Ian at the time. Edgar Lennard’s estate adjoined Chesterley, so I imagine Ian had many opportunities to see her. But I never heard of anything between them.”

“Well, there’s something between them now,” Felicity said tersely. “She bore a child not long after Ian put her up on Waltham Street. She must be his mistress. I don’t know why he doesn’t just admit it.”

“There’s a child?”

Felicity nodded. “He says it’s not his.” Her voice sounded brittle and unconcerned, but Sara could tell that Felicity was anything but that.

A wave of pity for the young woman swamped her. “Then perhaps you should believe him. Ian’s an honorable man, despite the impression he’s given you. He would claim any child of his, bastard or no. The woman may be another man’s mistress, perhaps his uncle’s.”

“Why didn’t he say that, if it’s so innocuous? And why isn’t his uncle keeping her instead of Ian?” She swiped at her eyes, and only then did Sara realize she was crying. Felicity jumped to her feet, turning her back to them. “Well, I don’t care what Ian does with her. I won’t marry a man with a mistress. Other women accept it, but I couldn’t.”

“I don’t accept it,” Emily muttered sympathetically. “Believe me, Jordan knows if I ever found him with another woman, I’d take an axe to a certain part of his anatomy.”

Sara smiled at the image presenting itself, but her smile vanished when she caught sight of Felicity’s unbending posture. The poor woman wouldn’t admit the reason for her distress, but Sara knew. And she wished she could put Felicity’s mind at ease.

The trouble was, she no longer knew Ian at all. In the years since he’d visited with Jordan for weeks at Blackmore Hall, he’d grown secretive. Just look at his recent behavior. He’d lied to them from the time he’d arrived—about how he knew Felicity, the woman he kept in London, and probably even his reasons for his hurried trip to town.

What’s more, his manner had changed. These days he was always distant, aloof. The only time he’d behaved like his old congenial self was tonight in the hall. When he was speaking to Felicity.

Hmm. Sara surveyed the young woman thoughtfully. Perhaps Felicity was wrong about Ian’s motives for proposing marriage. What if Ian was merely having the same trouble accepting that he was falling in love as Gideon and Jordan had both had?

One thing her experience had taught her—some men hated falling in love. They fought it, they explained it away, they called it sex or passion or lust, anything but love. A man would rather brave hell than admit his weakness for a woman and give her power over him. So why should Ian be different? The more she thought about his behavior toward Felicity, the more that possibility made sense.

“So what do you plan to do about this mess?” she asked Felicity.

The young woman faced them. “I don’t know. Ian says he wants me to help him find a wife.”

“The two of you didn’t invent that tale to mislead us earlier?”

A mournful look crossed Felicity’s face. “I’m afraid not. He says I owe it to him, since my columns have ruined his chances and I refuse to marry him. He has a point, you know. So he wants me to introduce him to other women, advise him on who to marry ... that sort of thing.”

The sly dog. Sara understood his purpose now, and he was shrewder than she would ever have guessed. “And you intend to do so?”

“I suppose. But I know so few women who might suit him. It seems pointless for me to try.” Her voice grew sullen. “Yet he insists that I do so. It’s very annoying.”

“Perhaps you dislike the thought of matching him with another woman.”

“Not at all!” Felicity sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. “I don’t want to marry him! And I don’t care who else he marries, as long as it isn’t me!”

The devil you say. The prospect of watching Ian court other women was killing Felicity, and Ian undoubtedly counted on that to help him win his suit. What a despicable maneuver. And guaranteed to work, judging from Felicity’s misery.

Maybe Felicity was right, after all, and Ian was simply the most calculating male in England. He’d certainly been moving them all around like chess pieces. Such attention to strategy didn’t bode well for his feeling any strong emotion for the woman.

Then again, something had glittered in his eyes when he looked at Felicity⁠—

There was only one way to discover his true intentions. “You know, I could help you with your endeavor if you want,” Sara said in an offhand manner.

Felicity seemed more than eager to pounce on her offer. “Could you? How?”

Sara shrugged. “I know as many young women as you. I can make introductions and help dispel the rumors about him myself.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful! I wouldn’t have to be around hi—” Felicity broke off quickly. “That is, it would free me to attend to my own business.”