With any luck, he’d keep running and never be seen again.
*
Felicity had beenunder the impression that they were to have a cozy family evening. It would not be as cozy as they were in the Dales, as Lady Marchfield was coming and would no doubt havea lot to say about Lady Albright’s tiger, but she supposed they could sneak by a few things the lady did not approve of.
Grace might pitch a roll at their father’s head and hit a footman with it instead, which would really cheer the lads. They had always been in the habit of laying bets regarding where the roll would land, and Felicity suspected it was one of the highlights of their evenings.
She also supposed their father would give his usual speech about getting his daughters out of the house as fast as possible and barring the door at Christmas. Then, they could all call him a liar and be very jolly.
They might even stay on at table to keep their father company while he drank his port. Lady Marchfield did not like the habit, but she had seen the results when the duke was left on his own with the bottle and she’d found it very uncomfortable.
All of that seemed very usual, so she was surprised when her father casually said, “By the by, I expect Mr. Stratton will turn up.”
“Turn up?” Felicity asked. “For dinner?”
“Yes, dinner, what else? I sent him a note at his club. I pretended he’d already agreed to it, hah!”
“But why?” Felicity asked.
“Well now, he did come through with that tiger, after all. Mind you, I want all you girls out of my house as fast as possible, but being eaten by a wild animal is extreme, in my view.”
Felicity looked down at her dress, feeling she might have made a different choice if she’d known there would be a guest outside of Lady Marchfield. She wore a neat but plain muslin that did not do anything particular for her.
Of course, there was no reason why she should concern herself over her appearance on account of Mr. Stratton. It was not as if Lord Rustmont was coming.
Felicity paused. Her feelings about those two gentlemen were so mixed up. Her first impressions had been muddled. Lord Rustmont had abandoned her to her fate with the tiger and she dearly wished to encounter him and hear an explanation that washed her doubts away.
Mr. Stratton had not abandoned her. He had saved her. Though that would have been the last thing she would have predicted. And then, she had to admit her feelings had softened toward that gentleman when she’d seen the injuries he had incurred in doing it.
“But Papa,” Valor said, “won’t Mr. Stratton know that he never did agree to come?”
The duke shrugged. “We’ll see. I suspect that the doctor loaded him up with laudanum. If that was the case, he would have believed he could fly if someone told him so in a convincing manner.”
“Do you suppose he will show us his injuries from the tiger?” Winsome asked.
“Certainly not,” Felicity said. “They will be under his clothes.”
Felicity felt a certain flutter at the mention of anything being under Mr. Stratton’s clothes. It was highly ridiculous.
They heard carriage wheels rumble to a stop in front of the house.
“Well then,” the duke said, “here is either Lady Misery, otherwise known as my sister, or it is the tiger-managing mister.”
Felicity found herself unaccountably nervous. She really was making a cake of herself, even if she were the only one to know it.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, she really did not know which, it was Lady Marchfield.
“Roland,” she said in her usual disapproving tone. “Felicity, I was told you were unharmed from that scurrilous evening atLady Albright’s. I did tell you both not to attend it. I do not see why anybody goes—first it was that stupid monkey assaulting people and now it is a tiger. Somebody ought to put a stop to it.”
“Have a seat, Lady Misery,” the duke said, entirely ignoring her diatribe and seeming pleased that he’d invented a new moniker for her. “We only wait for the mister.”
“Do not call me names, Roland. You are no longer five years old. What mister?”
“Mr. Stratton, Aunt,” Felicity said.
“Mr. Stratton? Why?”
“Because even though Papa wants us all out of the house as fast as possible,” Patience said, “he does not care for the idea of one of us eaten by a tiger.”
